AND THIS!

<< Insert music from PSYCHO here >>

Yes--that is exactly what you think it is. A MATH PROBLEM IN MY SHOWER.

Obviously placed there by the sadistic hotel decorating staff so that when I was done lamenting the loss of my youth I could realize my brain had also taken a powder. Apparently I have taken a detour to Hell and this is the typical restroom there. The only thing missing would be a Glade Puff Air Freshener shooting gardenia into the air every 5 seconds.

For those of you who still have brain cells that you didn't kill off in college--here is the problem:

If a truck is 100 feet long and is going 100 feet per minute and has to cross a bridge 100 feet in length...how long will it take to cross the bridge?

First person to answer correctly wins an original SMARTY PANTS mug.

Home Again Home Again Jiggety Jizz

I arrived home from Hotlanta late this afternoon. I will write more about my fabulous trip next week as well as slander and besmirch the fine reputation I know Delta Airlines has.

In addition to the hugs and joyous cries of "Mommy! You're Home! WHAT DID YOU BRING US?!?" I got "a report."

Let me just digress for a minute and say that that if anyone has a few million to invest ( an I know at least ONE of you who actually does) then a fine business concept would be a franchise of airport stores named something like "YOU CAN'T GO HOME EMPTY HANDED" or " GIFTS THAT ALLEVIATE GUILT." Because in the three hours that Delta delayed my flight home it amazed me that even as I shuttled from terminal to terminal all I was able to find was a cheap ass snowglobe and an Atlanta Braves baseball which Sexyhusbandomine is going to call blasphemous and probably throw into the trash while giving me the "We are Phillies Fans" lecture; which goes basically "Blah blah Phillies blah blah Eagles blah blah Dominic McNabb blah blah."

But back to the "report." Our Nanny, Shewhocannotlearnenglish, gestured in the usual sign language we use to communicate and pulled me into The Bananna's room. The solemn look on her face and her grave manner had me afraid that maybe the spawn had been SO AWFUL that she was giving notice. AND THEN I MIGHT HAVE TO WATCH MY OWN CHILDREN so you can imagine the horror.

But it turns out that it was not Complicatedboy or Bananna who had been in the doghouse whilst I was away. Ironically, it was Lenny the Hypercat.

In broken English and using descriptive hand gestures she explained that she had caught Lenny ON NUMEROUS OCCASIONS having sex with the stuffed animals that cover Bananna's bed. Apparently, Crocky the Crocodile had been grossly abused, along with Bunny the Bunny and Horsey the Pony. Fans of this blog will remember that my office chair used to suffer the same indignities when Lenny was at work with me. Maybe we should have sent him away to one of those Christian camps before we brought him home.

What perplexes me further is that I have a dim memory of having something essential to this act snipped when Lenny was a kitten- although- come to think of it- that action hasn't made Sexyhusbandomine a bigger fan of "Just a Backrub" either.

Shewhocannotlearnenglish washed all the victims and placed them high up on shelves that Lenny cannot possibly access. She stood there, arms crossed indignantly across her chest after pointing with disdain at Lenny who lay, smoking an invisible cigarette, across Bananna's bedspread. She waited to see what I would do.

If you think Sophie had a hard choice; try going through a shoe bag full of beanie babies searching for a sacrificial lamb. Except it wasn't a lamb. Lenny's designated girlfriend is a Webkinz Elephant. They make a great couple.

I'll leave Tweety Bird on My Left Butt Cheek

Last image of me getting ready to go to Atlanta to meet and greet, dine with the big whigs and basically bang my gong and sell my candies:

Last night I covered my self in temporary tatoos. Not just any temporary tattoos; but OUR NAME IS MUD tattoos we had specially made back in the day where we thought we were ALL THAT. The tattoos are black and have our logo and a handprint and I put them various places on my body for a hoot while I tried on 57 outfits looking for one that would make my butt look smaller.

I was under the impression that baby oil would remove these suckers fairly easily but apparently our temporary tats are of the INDUSTRIAL STRENGTH variety.

The problem with scrubbing myself raw with the cosmetic version of steel wool called BUFF PUFF, was that I had applied the tats over my new spray tan..which I got because it actually does help make your butt look smaller.

So if you come by Atlanta's Gift Mart today or tomorrow, I will be female Michael Jackson impersonator. So purdy.

I'd Like To Thank...

GUESS WHAT?!? I won the lottery in Nigeria AND a blogging award all in the same week!

First, about this incredible honor: It is THE ARTE Y PICO BLOG AWARD. This award was created to be given to bloggers who inspire others with their creativity, and for contributing to the blogging world in whatever medium. Very few people are ever given this award. In fact research shows that ONLY SIXTY FIVE THOUSAND of these Arte Y Pico awards have been bestowed; so please don't infer that this is a chain letter in sheep's clothing. Each award links back to the original site: The Arte Y Pico Blog, which is entirely in Spanish but I am sure is an absolute honor to be associated with, since there were no pornographic pictures that I could see. In addition there are RULES associated with winning this award which I am required to post here or there may be an accident or some other great misfortune--but not in a chain mailey kind of way, I'm just sayin. You would have to get up PRETTY EARLY to fool a gal like me.

First, I need to acknowledge the kind Bloggess who bestowed this award upon me. A Ginormous Thank You to Mrs. B. Roth whose musings can be found at http://mrsbroth.blogspot.com. Mrs. B. is a new reader who is fond of purple. You are welcome here anytime Mrs. B. although I realize you will probably not join us for cocktails as you are breastfeeding. That's ok. More for me...

Next, I need to do my bit by increasing the number of awards given to SIXTY FIVE THOUSAND AND FIVE by passing it on to five blogs of note. May I have the envelope please.........

(BTW: I had WAY more than 5 blogs to give awards to-but technospazz that I am could not figure out some of your blog addresses from the comments you leave on my blog. Please spell it out going forward. Like I said, I may be coming into some money...)

www.therecoveringlethargic.blogspot.com This blog is so much better than my crappy blog.
www.missthystle.com Funny and Classy with a capital K.
www.rocketwife.com in an effort to atone for calling her tween sister a douchebag.
www.myliberalguilt.blogspot.com Who knew funny and smart were like peanut butter and chocolate?
www.creativenachos.com For Tasha, my most loyal reader who loves rainbows and sunshine

I don't think Dooce needs this particular award. Something about the fact that her WII fit giveaway garnered TWENTY FIVE THOUSAND PLUS comments leads me to believe that she's a bit beyond arte y pico.

So, thank you to all the little people and the big hipped people and the people who are related to me and the people who married me for reading my occassionally drunken ramblings. I SHLOVE YOUSH GUYS SHO MUCH.

Here are the rules for the award recipients:
Here are the Arte Y Pico Award rules :
1. You have to pick 5 blogs that you consider deserve this award through creativity, design, interesting material, and also contributes to the blogger community, no matter of language.
2. Each award should have the name of the author with a link to their blog.
3. Award winners have to post the award with the name and link to the blog of the person who gave them the award.
4. Please include a link to the “Arte Y Pico” blog so that everyone will know where the award came from.

Lost City of Atlanta

Hello cyberspace-it's great to be back! Took a week off to vacation at the beach with the spawn and Sexyhusbandomine. Did my best impression of Responsible Mom and utilized "Supermom Tools" like MATH FLASHCARDS and the word "NO" while spending Actual Time with Complicatedboy and Thebananna. For once, I did not feel like innocent bystanders were placing emergency calls to Supernanny whenever they found themselves in our proximity.

We even let them do sparklers, and nobody lost a finger or an eye.

Anyhow-this week Sexyhusbandomine will be in Atlanta at the Enesco Showroom. He'll be appearing Monday-Wednesday. I will personally be flying in to sign something on Thursday Night--usually I just write "suck it" on some shard of pottery but my new bosses may have different ideas...so we'll see. Please stop by and see us.

Scenes From My A Fair

Yesterday we went to the New Jersey State Fair. Ok, actually--we drove out to TARGET, and then just did the Fair as an afterthought. They say New York has everything--but a Real New Yorker knows if you want EVERYTHING you have to hit this shopping mecca on Route 3 in Joisey.

We are TARGET's ideal shoppers because we fool ourselves into thinking that just because it is in a Big Mega Store, that everything is super cheap. We're always shocked when we get to the check out--WHAT DO YOU MEAN THIS ENTIRE CART FULL OF THINGS WE DON'T REALLY NEED IS HUNDREDS OF DOLLARS? WHAT KIND OF SUPER STORE ARE YOU ANYWAY?!? Remorse....Shame....Guilt....-the cycle begins, and can only be stopped with ice cream.

We hit The Fair with the few dollars we had left. We had steeled ourselves for Sunday crowds and were pleasantly surprised to find the parking lot almost empty- turns out many people actually listen to/watch weather reports. Not THE VEASEYS. we see a looming storm on the horizon and we just flash back to the cheesy video we watched of The Secret and imagine those clouds blowing right past. We visualize the heavens filled with light, and the entire Brady Clan singing "Sunshine Day."

The Fair is a really great place to buy expensive straw -filled stuffed animals under the guise of playing games of skill. And a place where all that is unholy about American Cuisine is gathered together; fried twinkies shoulder to shoulder with mystery meat on a kabab. It's where it's possible to gain ten pounds in an afternoon and then get your picture photo shopped onto a fake Sports Illustrated Bikini Issue magazine cover.

The kids had fun and rode a variety of rides--including a lap around a parking lot on the back of a camel; although we had suggested they hop on the elephant instead. As the sky grew darker, we had the brilliant idea to take shelter in the adjacent petting zoo tent. The petting zoo had an antelope, a blind kangaroo, fifty hungry and aggressive goats, a few lemurs, two donkeys, a cow, and a miniature pony. All housed behind minimal fencing so that you could pet them. We waited under the tent, safe and dry, as the heaven's opened up and the torrential downpour began.

Unfortunately, the elephant & camel ride and entire petting zoo tent were situated on the bottom of a sloped parking lot with no drainage. Ten minutes into the storm, the water began to rise. It was a mini tsunami under the tent--in fifteen minutes we were all standing ankle deep in hay- filled, brackish rainwater. Everything that had been in the pens with the animals now floated around our feet. We held Bananna up as the water swirled around us. Complicatedboy had a great time watching the water level rise and noting that the log- like objects which were floating past us appeared to be Elephant poo.

We had actually received a portend of these events earlier in the day, when Sexyhusbandomine realized that he had run his entire wallet through the washing machine on a double rinse cycle. Clearly that had been a sign--a warning from our Higher Power to stay home.

We stood knee-deep in what was pretty much a giant toilet bowl used by four legged creatures for approximately 45 minutes while Complicatedboy asked helpful questions like "When Is It Going To Stopppppp Mommmy?" and Sexyhusbandomine made helpful statements like "I wish we always traveled with Purell. You should always keep some Purell in your pocketbook. Purell would be good to have right about now." THEN the rain finally abated and the Fair Workers began pulling out pumps and Sexyhusbandomine commanded us all to jump in what he called "Clean Puddles" and I was like "Honey, this is JOISEY." The smell of wet goat clung to me the rest of the day.

This morning, Sexyhusbandomine said to me: "If you blog about the fair, make sure you write about how I Drowned the Clown." Because indeed, for $6 he threw ten baseballs at the offensive Bozo in a booth and did manage to knock him off his perch, after being called a Loser in front of Complicatedboy. And I am sure his shoulder will not require surgery.

A little dysentery is a small price to pay indeed for a day filled with such fun.

I Can't Quit You

I HEART my new readers & commentators. Of course, I realize that we are in the early stages of our relationship, and that at some point down the road I could discover that you are rude to waitstaff, enjoyed the movie English Patient, or don't clip your toenails.. and it could be SOOOO OVER, but for now let's just enjoy this moment that has me singing every song I ever heard on AM radio. You are smart, funny, and KNOW THE PERFECT THING TO SAY. You are like typed Crack Cocaine, and worth every damn penny I spent to get some time with you. Should I reply to your replies? Should I go another week? Can you move in permanently next month? I know that you will tell me the truth...except when I ask if this blog makes my butt look big, which is your cue to suggest we order in Chinese Food. Just so ya know.

Let me down easy---cause I'm thinking this could lead to LINKS. Ah, *sigh* Love....

Yesterday when I went to pick up Thebananna and Complicatedboy at school on our scenic New York City block, which includes two porn shops and a Men's bar by the name of SADDLESOAP ( where all those NYC Cowboys gather), the crossing guard called upon me to act in my former role of PTA President and address complaints that one of the porn shops on the block was showing porn on the TV in their window.

Sexyhusbandomine waited outside the porn shop with the two Fruits of our Loins while I went in to speak to the manager. And for the record, if you ever want to make people in a porn shop nervous, just walk through the joint asking loudly "You work here? Hey buddy-you in charge here?" Because it was like I channeled a character from Law & Order SUV.

The Manager seemed like a nice enough fellow. He moved the toothpick from one side of his mouth to another to indicate interest, as I told him that I was the former PRESIDENT OF THE PTA and that I had received complaints about porn movies playing in the front window at 8:30 a.m. as our children made their way to school. And then he took me by the arm and walked me outside of the shop to stand in front of the window beside him.

"You watch" he said. And from the corner of my eye I spied Complicatedboy beginning to freak on Sexyhusbandomine 1/2 down the block, and screaming: "What is he DOING TO MOMMMMMMY? What is that BAD MAN doing to Mommmmmmmy?" And sexyhusbandomine was all like "He's making her watch TV, ok?" But I could tell he was worried for me. And for the record--Sexyhusbandomine had originally insisted that HE go in to speak to the Porn Shop Manager, but I overruled him-which right there tells ya that I was the Gal For The Job. Because if anybody is going to put the Kibosh on the Sausage, Sexyhusbandomine knows it is me. I HAVE EXPERIENCE.

So I stood in front of the TV with the Porn Shop Manager and watched the scene on the window TV as a dark haired young man ordered pizza by phone... And then got bored waiting for the pizza to come, and so decided to pour olive oil all over the upper half of his chiseled torso... And so was glistening and well oiled when the blonde pizza boy finally did arrive...And they did not so much as embrace as kind of slip beside each other...at which point the film spooled and dark haired young man was hungry for pizza yet again...

At that, Porn Shop Manager asked me "You see any intercourse? You tell me if you see intercourse. YOU SHOW ME THE INTERCOURSE..." And while I was going to say that technically, the two actor's conversation about the pepperoni counted as such, I didn't want to spend all afternoon talking with Porn Shop Manager while my own spawn and better half waited. So I said:

"I see no intercourse. I have no problem with this video. In fact, young dark haired stallion with the olive oil on his chest is a visual treat. And I am sure olive oil is a great moisturizer. In fact, I am going to suggest Sexyhusbandomine deals with his occassional excema in this manner. HOWEVER...8:30 am is a little early for a pizza delivery, dontcha think? And while i promise you I will stop EVERY SINGLE MORNING and watch the video start to finish--I cannot promise every other parent walking by will stop to see what the content is...SO...I am thinking in order to avoid a pitch fork and lantern situation you might want to keep the TV off at arrival and dismissal times."

Porn Shop Manager paused for a moment and say "Lady, you talk a lot, huh? I feel for your husband."

And with that he returned to his position behind the counter and I went to join my family and declared VICTORY! And Complicatedboy wanted to know what the deal was and I explained that we only allow 2-3 hours of tv a day and he TOTALLY GOT IT.

Pompous and Circumstances

Today was Thebananna's graduation. It's been a crazy week-what with prom and all those keg parties-but I managed to pull it together--after all, you only graduate from Pre-Kindergarten once.

Thebananna wore sunshine yellow as the theme of Graduation was "Sunshine, Lollipops & Rainbows." (I had lobbied hard for Stairway to Heaven but the rest of the moms outvoted me.) Bananna has been counting the days for the past three weeks to this event-asking each night before bed HOW MANY DAYS IS IT UNTIL TOMORROW? And I was all like "THIS maybe the reason you did not pass that test for the Talented and Gifted Class my dear, let me introduce you to my friend The Calendar." Then we found out that they were actually singing THE SONG "Tomorrow." I await my Mother of the Year Trophy any minute now.

Bananna was dressed and ready to go half an hour before we needed to walk out the door. Complicatedboy ( who was scheduled to perform as an older sibling at the ceremony) changed outfits up until the very last minute--almost deciding to wear a nylon football jersey until I informed him that it would be totally see-through when he got in front of the bright lights. And since Complicatedboy firmly believes in Santa, The Toothfairy, and the existence of Paparazzi-he agreed to change.

Bananna, who thinks she lives in a Stephen Sondheim Musical, performed Here Comes The Sun, You are My Sunshine and Good Day Sunshine like a pro, although we can't figure out where she learned to stand on the stage with one hand on her hip and the other outstretched for money. Complicatedboy was very much himself--singing his solo in Sunrise,Sunset with vigor, then banging his fist repetitively against his forehead and in general, Acting Out-- but not enough where we could make some cash off of his behavior by sending it off to Americas Funniest Videos.

As the Graduates recessed to Walking on Sunshine, Complicatedboy broke ranks and ran to walk the aisle beside her. Because Gosh Forbid Bananna should have that attention all to Herself.

Another child might have been angry. Another child might have yelled, or tattled, or even pushed him away. But Bananna just smiled and reached for his hand. And when her eyes met mine as they walked past together; her walking slowly and seriously and him doing some goofy duck dance, I could read in them the promise that if he gew up and I allowed him to do this at her wedding, she would kill me.

Uno... Dooce....

First of all, I am not Heather B. Armstrong, and this is not her web site. If you are a fan of the GREATEST BLOG EVER WRITTEN BY A REFORMED MORMON ON PROSAC and have stumbled across my musings through the ad placed on www.dooce.com, I want to say "Welcome" and apologize for all this garish purple... and the complete lack of flicker photos... and the fact that I am a Cat Person. I am to Heather B. Armstrong what Britney Spears is to Audrey Hepburn.

Then I want to tell you to immediately LOWER YOUR EXPECTATIONS. Because under pressure I am about as funny as an Avocado. (See? Heather would have used something like Mango. Or CROUTON.) Frankly, I suggest to get Full Enjoyment of this blog that you do a shot EVERY TIME I TYPE IN CAPITALS.

And then, for gosh sakes, please COMMENT. Because Dooce readers are fearless about their responses, while MUD readers--such as my fellow PTA Executive Board Members-- traditionally just send me discreet private Emails that say things like "May I Respectfully Suggest that you Refrain from telling the Board of Education to SUCK IT."

Heather & I share a few similarities. We are both blonde--although I have to admit I question sometimes if her carpet matches her drapes. We have both had skin cancers removed. We both have big, dark haired lumbering husbands that fix things for us. (Jon fixes Heather's computer issues. Sexyhusbandomine fixes cocktails.)

But mostly we are a study in contrasts. She lives in a beautiful house where there are mountains and they complain about the cold all the time. I live in New York in a loft apartment that looks like someone smoked crack before hitting Ikea. Her child was born with a few special needs. I screwed mine up all by myself. She faithfully records each developmental milestone and writes beautiful tributes to her daughter every month. I may ocassionally blog about Complicatedboy or Thebananna but most of the time I am yelling at them to LOWER THE VOLUME ON THOSE G-DAMN BACKYARDIGANS FOR CRIPES SAKE MAMAS GOT A BLOG TO WRITE.

I once sent Heather B. Armstrong a mug I made. One side said DOOCE JUICE and the other said I AM HEATHER B. ARMSTRONG AND THIS IS MY MUG. Then I made myself a mug that said STOP BEING ALL CREEPY STALKERISH.

Anyway, if you found your way to me through her--again--WELCOME. If you are lucky, you can follow the breadcrumbs back.

BFFs FOREVER

The Reign of the Two Blondes ended officially last night as Boobs Mitchell and I stepped down from our respective positions as PTA Co-Presidents of our school.

BOOBS MITCHELL: You have got to stop calling me Boobs--I have no boobs.
ME: You will always be BOOBS to me.
BOOBS MITCHELL: Well I need an ironic name for you then...how about I start calling you SOBER?

And I was all like; Go Ahead, but that will only be ironic about 90% of the time.

Boobs is thinking about escaping from the rat race that is Manhattan and moving into the wild, unexplored territories of Brooklyn. Brooklyn is to New Yorkers what dryers are to socks. People go there and you NEVER SEE THEM AGAIN.

I am not a supporter of this plan; as Boobs now lives close enough that we can plunk our kids in front of a video, have an adult beverage (Boobs is a fan of Pabst), and I don't have to worry about her safety as she staggers home. I am thinking that her life plan of a move to Brooklyn is in serious conflict with my plan to consume copious amounts of Pinot Grigio. I am thinking about telling her prospective buyers that she and her husband practice Santeria Rituals on the weekends in their kitchen and that as new owners they would have to contend with some serious Voodoo Hoodoo.

I actually did this for a friend in real life during my Junior year in college. Her roommate had moved out, leaving her with a much coveted SINGLE and Student Housing kept sending prospective replacements. Prior to an interview, we used to stage Wiccan rituals in the center of the room and douse the place with patruli. She got to keep that single her whole Junior year and she was a lucky one with the boys, if you know what I mean.

New York is such a hard place to make real friends. There is a sense of the temporary at all times. You refrain from getting close because--who knows--tomorrow someone might decide to move to Greenwich so their kid can see what grass looks like without having to get on a subway and travel uptown. For this reason, We try to surround ourselves with people who have BOUGHT their Manhattan abodes. And not just because they often pick up the check. We're thinking-hey-you own a place, perhaps you're sticking around for a bit. So next thing you know you are opening up and forming bonds and it's just like a Lifetime TV movie except you never have an affair with each other's husbands.

But the bond Boobs and I have is unbreakable--forged by two years of experiences that have included heated discussions about REALLY REALLY REALLY IMPORTANT stuff: like our complicated children, our desires to be better mothers like the Mennonite Mom we know, how cute the gym teacher at our kid's school is (O My gosh he so is, and sometimes he comes to school in SOCCER SHORTS) , and how children could be traumatized if at the Holiday Fair there were TWO SANTAS instead of one. And she has taught me A LOT. Lessons like: "Don't Put It in Writing", "There Is Always a Chance They Won't Notice", and "Thou Shalt Not Volunteer." I weep at the thought of not kareoking with her again, or having her Notarize some forged document. We have plans to write books together--fabulous best sellers about our Great Adventures in the PTA or Funny Stories about People Dying.

So obviously, I must stop blogging now and get to the Green Market to try to find the live chicken I need for my plan.

Next She'll Get a Tramp Stamp

Dear Mommies Who Stuck Their Noses in The Air As I Walked Thebananna and Complicatedchild to School This Morning Looking Like This....

It's Crazy Hair Day--ok? Thus declareth Thebananna as "Principal For a Day" which she is today. She earned that title the old fashioned way--through her parent's cold, hard CASH at the last school auction. We figured it was good practice for a future Presidency. Nothing says "Work Ethic" like a little Nepotism.

Really, our goal for Thebananna is to just keep her off the pole. And make sure the piercings are in discreet places.

This Week in DALLAS

I get it, I get it. Even Worldsgreatestmotherinlaw Emailed to THANK ME for ending the 120 blogs in a row postings. I think if she could have figured out a way to enclose cash, she would have. The last time people were this effusive about me stopping something, I was singing the full length version of COUNTRY ROADS at karaoke night. It's a crying shame I never got to do my rendition of SUNSHINE ON MY SHOULDERS because I feel confident I could have brought the house down. Especially since I had choreographed my own interpretive dance to go with it.

So let's all just get in the proverbial shower together and realize it was...just a dream.

The "experiment" did show off the great sense of humor Sexyhusbandomine has. If you read back through the comments you'll see just how lucky I am to have a man who is the Wind Beneath My Wings-even if that wind is from last night's chili supper and even if he often blames that same wind on one of our children or the cats.

Perhaps you will be lucky enough to sit beside Sexyhusbandomine on a plane this week. If not--try to stop by and see him this week in the Enesco showroom. He'll be at The World Trade Center in Suite 409 at the Dallas Giftshow. We'll be launching our brand new OUR NAME IS MUD lines including Garden and Partyware. I'll be staying home with the chilluns. Barefoot in the kitchen as usual, practicing my rendition of MUSKRAT LOVE, sans the hand motions.

Meet The Lorries

Blog post 2 of 120 in a row.

I have decided that in addition to posting 120 blog posts in a row, that I will also seek out and meet 120 Lorries on the internet.

Starting with THIS.... the number one image result on GOGGLE. Sadly, in order to communicate with her I had to provide my credit card and proof that I am over 18 years of age.

Our Name IS Blog

I was listening to Matt & Meredith this morning and they did the lead in for A COUPLE WHO DECIDED TO HAVE SEX EVERY DAY FOR 120 DAYS IN A ROW. At which point I shut off the TV...in case Sexyhusbandomine was paying attention. I just hope Sexyhusbandomine realizes that it is A) The Kids B) the Job and 3) Because I am soooo tired from the Kids and the Job, which are the primary reason he is not participating in a similar experiment like: LET'S GIVE HUSBAND A FOOT RUB FOR 120 DAYS IN A ROW or LET'S GO TO BED AND FALL ASLEEP INSTEAD OF PASSING OUT DRUNK FOR 120 DAYS IN A ROW.

Instead- I have decided to BLOG FOR 120 DAYS IN A ROW. Yes- EVERYDAY. I am taking the proverbial newspaper into the proverbial can, and I am going to do my business.

BLOG 1:

Crap.

119 Blogs to go. Writer's Block already setting in. Can this end without me doing something desperate like creating a dream sequence that ends in a shower or eating my companions?

Or writing about........the weather?

Beastly hot. Two words to describe my agony: Thigh Chafe. More tomorrow.....

Banned From Book Club.

Recently, I stumbled across a blog called The Undomestic Diva (http://www.undomesticdiva.typepad.com ) which has the promising tagline: Just Doin the Best I Can When I Feel Like It. The woman who writes it turns a great phrase and seems to have a healthy share of a little something I like to call A SENSE OF HUMOR. I was psyched to see her "NOT A BOOK CLUB BOOKCLUB," which she billed as the mullet of bookclubs: business in the front, party in the back. And then I read the book list:

THE LIST
One for the Money - Janet Evanovich
Two for the Dough - Janet Evanovich
Three to get Deadly - Janet Evanovich
Four to Score - Janet Evanovich
High Five - Janet Evanovich
Hot Six - Janet Evanovich
Seven Up - Janet Evanovich
Hard Eight - Janet Evanovich
To the Nines - Janet Evanovich
Ten Big Ones - Janet Evanovich
Eleven On Top - Janet Evanovich
Twelve Sharp - Janet Evanovich
Lean Mean Thirteen - Janet Evanovich
Fearless Fourteen - Janet Evanovich
Something Borrowed - Emily Giffin
Something Blue - Emily Giffin
Baby Proof - Emily Giffin
Love the One You're With - Emily Giffin
Swapping Lives - Jane Green
Ask Again Later - Jill A. Davis
Remember Me - Sophie Kinsella
Good in Bed - Jennifer Weiner
Welcome to Temptation - Jennifer Cruise
Running With Scissors - Augusten Burroughs
Water for Elephants - Sara Gruen

I pride myself on being somewhat of a voracious reader: I can do PEOPLE cover to cover in one short visit to the powder room. And so I commented on the book selections and here is what I wrote:

I just stumbled across your blog and thought WHAT LUCK! Now I know what Janet Evanovich's publisher is doing with her spare time!

I had SUCH HOPES for this list. After reading your posts I thought-here is someone who will recognize the true genius of Jackie Collins. I've always wanted to explore the literary prowess of Stephen King. And if you threw in that new autobiography by Tori Selling I WOULD BE YOUR FAN FOR LIFE.

May I please spare you and your readers the agony of reading Water For Elephants (HE DIES IN THE END OK) and recommend The Final Confessions of Mabel Stark by Robert Hough? I realize the paragraph above puts my literary taste in question--but this is an awesome book about the original lion tamer for Ringling and involves escapes from mental institutions and animal maulings and DAMN I know you will love it.

For gosh sakes, wouldn't ONE Janet Evanovich be enough? Or is she like the Chinese Food of authors?

NOTE: Water For Elephants starts with a 98 year old author bemoaning that he will die soon--so in terms of spoiling it for everyone it is sort of like saying "The Mystery Gets Solved" when discussing a Nancy Drew book because it is THAT OBVIOUS.

And so it was with SUCH SURPRISE that I read the following comment:
Lorrie-
Hey thanks for ruining the ending of WFE for me.

I have been following this web site for quite a while & never have I read such a rude comment. If you don't like the book choices that we voted on months ago, please feel free to show yourself to the door.

This has been a place to go for comic relief in our day & you know what? WE ALL DIE IN THE END.

and this one in support of that one:
Sing it Beth!


Now to be honest-in between that response I had waxed a little poetic about MY OWN BOOKCLUB which my faithful readers will remember was held at a cocktail bar and involved a visit by Teen Idol Leif Garret. But really; that comment was to further endear people to me because AFTER ALL: I"M WORKING FOR YOUR ENJOYMENT HERE PEOPLE.

That said- it was a shock to find myself totally and completely BANNED from commenting on this website. I was in such denial i wrote lengthy replies TWICE; each carefully crafted to be one part snort wine out of your nose funny one part charming and endearing. BUT THOSE BITCHES WOULD NOT GIVE ME A SECOND CHANCE. Not that I really mind.

Ok, I do. Not that I am suggesting that any one of you 1600 readers (AND YES DAMN IT--BLOGGER STATS SHOW THAT WHILE I GET 1-2 COMMENTS, 1600 OF YOU READ MY INANE MUSINGS REGULARLY) not that I am suggesting that any of you go to her website and write some sort of snarky post. I mean, that would be wrong. Even though you can do it anonymously. But I'm not saying you should do that because I AM THE BIGGER PERSON and maybe, just maybe...Janet Evonovitch books are worth all this fuss.

Libra does not mean a French brassiere

Advice from my horoscope:

Don't make nasty comments about yourself behind your own back.

Do play soccer in bunny slippers at dawn in a supermarket parking lot with a gang of sadomasochistic stockbrokers who've promised to teach you the Balinese monkey chant.

Don't decorate your thigh with a sloppy tattoo of the devil pushing a lawn mower.

Do eat ripe organic strawberries that have been genetically modified and irradiated, and do chain-smoke Marlboros as you peddle your exercise bicycle, and do wander through a garbage dump while listening to Mozart on your iPod.

Don't get hooked on the fantasy that there are only two kinds of people, those who align themselves with the forces of light and those who align themselves with the forces of darkness.

Do start an organization called POMP (Proud Owners of Multiple Personalities), dedicated to erasing negative stereotypes about healthy non-schizophrenics who enjoy being a community of many different selves.

Don't lie on a floor surrounded by wine-stained poetry books, crumpled Matisse prints, abandoned underwear, and half-eaten bowls of corn flakes as you stare up at the ceiling with a mad gaze, muttering gibberish and waving your hands as if swatting away demons.

Do run along the tops of cars during a traffic jam, escaping from bad guys as you make your way to a helicopter that takes you to a spot hovering over an erupting volcano, into which you drop the Buns of Steel video.

Don't put your soul up for auction on the eBay website.

Do write a cookbook filled with recipes you've channeled from dead celebrities.

If you come upon a lamp with a genie in it, don't wish you had a magic wand.

Hmmm. Damn good thing I'm a Libra.
All predictions from www.freewillastrology.com

Friends, Romans, Countrymen...lend me your

ear.

Tonight I had a big chunk of my right ear removed--the price I paid for several years spent slathered in baby oil and iodine and trying to get highlights from lemon juice. The surgery was pretty much painless and (woopee) I got to read an ENTIRE ISSUE of Good Housekeeping which featured seven women who WALKED THEIR WAY TO SKINNY which is all kinds of inspiring (read: I'll start Monday.)

The thing about having your ear cartilage cut away with a scalpel is that YOU CAN HEAR IT and it sounds like the Pacman video game. Like Pacman on Red Bull.

I have seven stitches. I have finally done something that impresses my son. Who knew that the key to his heart was disfigurement? I would have cut off a few toes a long time ago had I known the injury would elevate me to such status.

Sadly, sexyhusband o' mine does not find the ear wound that attractive. In between trying to take pictures of it with his cell phone camera so he can show me HOW DISGUSTING IT IS he described it as rather oozy and wet. And if I weren't absolutely sure that his mother reads this blog (HI NONNEE) I would have something to say about his previous reactions to those two words.

The Constipated Blogger

So, in case you haven't noticed, I have been a little--shall we say "stopped up" --on this blog these past few weeks. Maybe it's because nothing interesting has happened lately in my personal life (skin cancer is really a bummer of a topic) or because I have become newly aware of the need to be hyper vigilant not to offend my current boss, any ethnic or religious group, family members, current friends and former acquaintances, and THE ENTIRE PTA OF PS11. Or maybe it's because in an effort to lose that last pesky 50 lbs I have foregone my usual nightly glass (read: bottle) of pinot grigio and as a result have totally lost my blog mojo.

Whatever the reason: the results are the same and now I fear that all three of my loyal readers are set to desert me for some blog by a mom who COOKS! or KNOWS CELEBRITIES! or DOES A GOOD JOB AS A MOM! It will just be me and my uber supportive Mother In Law (HI NONNEE) out here in cyberspace. So I turned to the most reliable source in times of trouble and I GOOGLED THE HELL out of blog topics.

The number one GOOGLE result is www.chrisbrogan.com/ 100-blog-topics-i-hope-you-write. And he starts off like this:
People often ask me how I come up with things to blog about, and I find the question strange, because my problem is the opposite. I have too much to blog about.

Which made me want to say: "well whoop-de-freeking-do Chris Brogan. You must lead AN INCREDIBLY EXCITING LIFE." But then I looked at the 100 suggested blog topics and here is a sampling:

How I Use Facebook
Should My Town Use Social Media?
Technology That Empowers Me
Twitter Jaiku Pownce Facebook
The Difference Between Fark and Truemors

WHAT THE HELL IS CHRIS BROGAN TALKING ABOUT ANYWAY? Because I have absolutely no idea what a Twitter is (distant cousin of Tweety Bird, maybe?) and Facebook is a place my young nephews hang out on and hope I never figure out. So Fark yourself Mr. Brogan. Where are the inspiring blog topics like: My Recent Trip To Kmart. Because I CAN RUN WITH THAT BALL. And by the way, Jacqueline Smith-not only beautiful, but what a designer.

Luckily-there is always a NUMBER TWO in Google and this was "The World's Largest Blog Niche and Topic Idea List" which sounds Mighty Promising, doesn't it? I was all prepared to SUPERSIZE ME a writing topic. So what a disappointment to find that these were the listed topics:

Adult Education
Your Brain & Learning
Campus Life
Education Reform
Home Schooling

I don't have a helluva lot to say about any of the above except maybe The Campus Life topic, but both my husband and my father are readers so I couldn't be truthful and WHAT FUN IS THAT. So we were back to square one, or Google #3, which pointed me towards www.timschmoyer.com and the "100 blog topics I Hope You Write" which again, SOUNDS SO PROMISING....
But turns out Mr. Schmoyer is a fan of Mr. Brogan and he basically just appropriated Mr. Brogan's list and put a Christian Right spin on it as follows:

How to use Facebook for Ministry
Technology I use in Youth Ministry

BUT THEN I SAW IT! Blog topic #18 on his list! Addressing Porn and Masturbation at Youth Group! Now THERE was a topic I could sink my teeth into! If I were not worried about offending my boss, any ethnic, religious or social group, friends and family and former acquaintances and that damn ENTIRE PTA of PS11.

Lindsay Lohan Has Great Taste

And I'm not just calling this entry that because I want to move up in Google! Behold this week's issue of PEOPLE magazine. That's our MOTHER tile hanging in La Lohan's room! It has a FEATURED ROLE in the opening credits of Dianah Lohan's new reality show on e.

I'm off to make a mug for the Spears girls.

Shameless Promotion

This is a shot from the June issue of Entrepreneur Start Ups magazine. Pick up a copy at your local newstand.

Almost Famous

I just got the news that I will be appearing beside Katherine Heigil in the movie The Ugly Truth which starts filming this week and will be released by Columbia Pictures in 2009. OK- I won't actually be appearing BESIDE her...more like BEHIND HER or ON HER DESK. It is also quite possible that the director will have her DRINK FROM ME. I was up for the part against millions of mugs and they chose me! I can hardly believe it! I may never have to waitress again.

I'll admit for a long time we were jealous of that PRINCESS mug that has been appearing regularly on Law and Order. Ever since she got that gig she has stopped returning phone calls and the only time we see her is if the paps happen to catch her leaving lunch at the Ivy. I've heard there's a possibility she is moving into Phoebe Price's cupboards.

But truthfully....what I really want to do is direct.

CLOWNS

In my previous post I wrote to a circus director that we both knew similar clowns. I need to go on the record that I meant ACTUAL CLOWNS. I was in no way referring to my family, co workers, friends, superiors, local union people or any ethnic or religious group I have had contact with in the past 44 years.

My friend Nancy Schwartz left Drew University, where we both were studying, to attend Clown College in Orlando. Nancy was four foot tall and she felt she could really carve out a future for herself if she could master the unicycle and learn how to cram thirty people into a Volkswagon Bug. I went to visit her on Spring Break and I can tell you that there's no fraternity in existence that can out-party the kids at Clown College. Two words: Naked Juggling.

As fun as that experience was, I admit to not being a fan of those who don the red rubber nose. Maybe it was Stephen King's book IT--in which he wrote graphically about a clown's face appearing in in the space between the sidewalk curb and the sewer grate. Maybe it was the fact that most children's party entertainers I met smelled of a mixture of flop sweat and beer. Or maybe it was Judy Collins singing ISN'T IT RICH, DON'T YOU AGREE. (Until recently I used to think she was singing ISN'T IT RICH, DON'T YOU LOVE TEA.)

Along with all the other odd proclivities and genetically programmed angst that I have passed on to Jesse, FEAR OF CLOWNS definitely ranks in the top 5 (Along with FEAR OF BALLOONS FLYING AWAY and FEAR OF CHOKING ON A PIECE OF POPCORN.) He was two the first time we encountered a band of them, randomly strolling on stilts through a restaurant, wearing clothing with patches and bright red smiles. Ours was the child that had to be physically removed from the setting, screaming hysterically at the top of his lungs, and obviously SCARRED FOR LIFE. Since then we must always be certain that anywhere we go is a CLOWN FREE ZONE.

Just like Pagliacci did
I try to keep my surface hid
Smiling in the crowd I try
But in a lonely room I cry
The tears of a clown

More Real Mail

The following message was sent from ournameismud.com by Al:

I recently received a gift from your company.  It is a desk plaque that reads "Impossible you say?  Nothing is impossible when you work for the circus."
I love it.  Do you know where that quote came from?  Who said it?  I'm more curious than anything else.  I am a circus director for Illinois State University. You see I actually do work for a circus and this motto applies to me very appropriately.  Any help on this issue would be great. 

sincerely,

Al


Hi Al!
Thanks for your Email. I'm so glad you like our plaque. As to who first said: "Impossible you say? Nothing is impossible when you work for the circus." the answer would be: Me. You see, I work for a circus too: except instead of three rings I have two different phone lines and a computer and instead of lions and tigers I have small children and an endless TO-DO LIST. But I think we both know similar clowns.


Kindest Regards,
Lorrie

Happy Mother's Day!

.
One of the ways that I try to balance Motherhood with Everything Else is to LIVE BY THE CALENDAR. It hangs prominently in the kitchen and Our Entire Lives are carefully noted on the Appropriate Dates. In addition to helping us avoid scheduling conflicts, we can be ready anytime Annie asks HOW MANY DAYS IS IT UNTIL MY BIRTHDAY--which is asked and answered at least three times weekly...for approximately eleven months at a time.

Lately, odd entries have appeared on certain dates. Last week, Tuesday May 13th, the entry read in bold letters: NO SCHOOL. I almost fell for it.... but in his eagerness Jesse had added the word "YAY" underneath.

Today is Mother's Day, and oddly enough the next two Thursdays are National Jesse and Annie Days. Apparently the calendar company has decided to add these holidays into May--along with the words "No Yelling Allowed."

Marry Sheree's Brother

(You can see a picture on Sheree's blog at www.musewarepottery.com)

This is my brother, Russell. He's 6'4" and around 210 lbs. He turned 50 on August 15, which makes him a Leo - fire sign - strong willed, opinionated, bossy, charming. He's handsome, wicked funny, a gifted musician and chronically single. While there is nothing actually wrong with him, he does work weird hours & often has to travel to make a living. The last time I counted, he had something like four (five?) cars and seven motorcycles. This alone may explain why he has never married. Who wants to park a block away?

This is a man who can fix just about anything - ok, your car or motorcycle but maybe not your broken furniture. He will make you laugh every day. He might cook you hot dogs or spaghetti but you'll have get the dishes out of the sink first. You'll need to seriously clean the bathroom. He'll write you a song and sing it to you and it will be poetic and romantic. You won't want to mess with his garage. I call it Man Land. And even though he tortured me as a child and I hated his guts, I'm very fond of him now so you'll have to share him. Our family is crazy. You'll need to be, too.

Back to Blog

Forgive me, dear readers, for leaving you hanging these past two weeks. Nothing really noteworthy happened this week with the exception of these two OMG moments:

I caught Jesse at the bathroom sink with a tube of self tanning cream that he mistook for Kip's hair gel.

and

I caught Jesse sitting at the keyboard hitting random keys--one of which happened to be DELETE--while my email was open on the screen. So if you haven't heard back from me, now you know why......

Another Real Email

Back from vacation and digging out of a pile of emails. Like this one....... (Thank you for sending it to me!)


Well now THIS has GOT to be the ODDEST and LONGEST story to add to the Bizarre story of this plate that i can imagine!....i BELIEVE you mailed this a LONG LONG time ago....and i actually KNOW that it ARRIVED here a LONG LONG time ago also!....
HOWEVER...today it's actually REALLY HONESTLY HERE!....
here's what happened....i live in a small very rural town....everybody pretty much knows everyone else....i'm in the process of moving to an even MORE nowhere land in Northern North Dakota where my daughter's entire school only has 65 students (boy is SHE in for a culture shock!)...i've known about the move since my dream came true in January and i started packing then...and i'm STILL packing now (YIKES) and we are moving in 6 weeks....
sorry i just had to give you a background on this GORGEOUS and WONDERFUL plate you sent me (and probably thought i was a total JERK for not letting you know it arrived...which i WOULD have done IF i had KNOWN it arrived!)
so here's the most "Twilight Zone" story behind this.....(play the "da da da daaaa da da da daaa" Twilight Zone music for this! LOL
anyway....it seems that i wasn't home the day it was delivered...it was raining or sleeting or something nasty and my postmistress (who is also my next door neighbor down the road a piece as they say) didn't want to leave it and it didn't fit in my mailbox...ANYWAY whoever it was happened upon ANOTHER neighbor (down the road apiece in the opposite direction) was walking her dog (she AND the dog are about 90 years old ...in people AND in dog years i'm guessing LOL)...well SHE said she'd take the box and bring it to me when she figured i was back home....
that WOULD have been FINE except (now this is where it gets even MORE weird) her SISTER was ill in another state and it was unexpected SO she ended up going there for almost a month....THEN when she got home of course she wasn't thinking of the package that SHOULD have come to me...BUT
eventually she found it AND...
now this gets MORE unbelieveable...i wasn't home again BUT the person (my sort've ex boyfriend who broke the plate in the first place) was at the house moving packing boxes around....he took it AND put it in a box....a "TO BE MOVED" box....and forgot to tell me about it....
OK here is the only GOOD part of this....we were out at Flea Market/ Antique Show last weekend....on one of the tables was one of your Mudd Cat Mugs....it got me thinking about the plate you said you'd send me....i mentioned it to him and he said something like "hhhhmmmmm well there WAS this box about a century of months ago that some old lady dropped off that didn't get to you from a mailing and i don't know what happened to it? are you missing anything you were expecting??...well i said i wasn't EXPECTING ANYTHING but i was HOPING that you had had a chance to make me that plate....HE said he wondered what happened to it?...i said "I wonder what happened to that BOX?!?!" he said he THOUGHT it might have ended up in a PACKED box...and i said (ok NOT that nicely)..."WELL WE BETTER FIND that box!!!"
.....(intermission here)....to let you know that there are OVER 150 boxes all packed floor to ceiling in an empty guest room right now...and MOST of them were packed in the last 2 months which MEANT that the "Probable" box this might have been packed in was at the VERY BACK of the room behind about 120 boxes more RECENTLY packed and stacked...did that make a difference to me?!?! NOT ONE BIT...now don't imagine that i hate men JUST because they are from another planet...not to mention my ex husband's 27 affairs in 17 years of marriage...just believe that THIS man (which is why he's my EX boyfriend) can be a bit dense....he said "well i guess you'll find out what's in the box when you get to ND"...my reply of course was..."H**# NO i won't....i will have it about 6 weeks BEFORE that!....SO)
to make this rediculously long story a BIT shorter as i'm SURE you don't want to hear about the 3 a.m. UNpacking and REpacking frenzy that went on here for the last 4 nights....about BOX #132 opened and VOILA an unopened box WHICH (like the end of pandora's box) held A GORGEOUS Feline Groovy Plate that is WONDERFUL BEAUTIFUL AND makes my heart sing!
i'm leaving it displayed until i move as i will pack it last again so i can look at it now and enjoy it SO MUCH!!!...it's got the most PERFECT NEW home in MY new home to be looked at every day...i know JUST where it's going to be on the wall....a place of high honor near to it's Poodle with a Mohawk (they are great friends now)....i can't EVER thank you enough....i wish the BEST to you and your daughter (MY this age is hard!!!!! mine is 12).....you are every explative that's goddess like that i can't think of now but will CERTAINLY continue to think of every time i look at this gorgeous plate!
i don't know what i could ever do to repay you....but you name it and i'll do it....i'm an ex college professor of creative writing and english lit (i'm great at editing writing)...i had to retire because of MS...i make weird and funky glass jewelry and sun catchers....my quilts are more like "Martha Stwart on Drugs" but SOME people like them (ok ok I like them anyway LOL)....and if you're ever in Northern North Dakota i'm an excellent cook and there's a REALLY nice guest room too!
or ALL of the above LOL
thank you thank you thank you
may all your dreams come true too
JL

We're Off Again!

What's with the "test" blog below you ask? (Well, actually--YOU didn't ask, Tash did. YOU never ask me anything. More about that later.)

The Veaseys are heading out of town today to sunny Charleston for a week. We're leaving Yillman and the seven rotweillers in charge as usual. (Hopefully I will not forget to post my address and the location of my silver.) In an effort to find coverage for this blog in my absence, I was testing my capability to snatch images and content from other blogs and post them here. And just like there was a learning curve in the mastery of copying Susan Miller's History exam answers upside down and backward while in High School, it's going to take a while before I can easily cheat the Blogger Man.

Why Worry you ask? (Well, actually--YOU didn't ask. Again. You personify the sound of silence.) A check of this blogs stats shows that I have almost 1600 readers to date! 1600 readers... and only 3 people comment.

Which means you guys like to use me for your pleasure and then not speak to me afterwards.....HEY THIS IS JUST LIKE COLLEGE! (sorry, Dad.)

So I am bringing a laptop with us.

Test

see more crazy cat pics">

Mama's Got a Boo Boo

Scene: 6:30 a.m. at the Veasey household. Last night's dinner dishes line the counter. Kip & Lorrie stand together at the kitchen table, looking at mysterious packets that arrived from their insurance company.

LORRIE: What does it say?
KIP: I'm trying to read it.
LORRIE: What are these things for?
KIP: I'm trying to figure out the directions.
LORRIE: This does not look good. What is this thing?
KIP: STOP MESSING UP THE STUFF.

Kip picks up a small plastic thingamabob and holds it against his middle finger and pushes a hidden button. Instantly blood begins to pour from his self inflicted wound. He holds the injured finger over a piece of cardboard with three circles on it and begins to fill each space with blood.

LORRIE: Did that hurt?
KIP: It hurt like a Mother.
LORRIE: You should do mine then, cause I'm not doing it.
KIP: You have to do it.
LORRIE: No I don't. We eat basically the same thing--our cholesterol should be pretty even.
KIP: You have to do it for the insurance company.
LORRIE: COME ON. I WOULD GIVE YOU MY PEE IF IT WERE RANDOM DRUG TESTING--GIVE ME YOUR BLOOD.
KIP: You gotta do it.
LORRIE: I'm NOT GONNA DO IT!

KIp grabs Lorrie's arm and the two wrestle about the kitchen. There is much sweating and swearing. Finally Kip manages to pin Lorrie's arm down on the table and jams the metal lance into the tiny sensitive pad of her finger. Blood splurts. She collapses, betrayed and defeated, and allows him to drip her lifeblood onto the three tiny circles on the card that he will send to the insurance company.

LORRIE: I can't believe you just did that to me.
KIP: For the record, I'm not going with you when you have to get a colonoscopy.

Off into the Funset

I leave tomorrow to go to Ft. Lauderdale and film an episode of DESIGNING SPACES for The Learning Channel. I'll be appearing on an episode as AN EXPERT ON GIFTS FOR NEW PARENTS which is funny because I am usually the one handing an unwrapped gift card and an apology to a friend when the child is about two years old.

I did all the things I hate in preparation for this appearance: like SHAVE MY LEGS AND PLUCK MY EYEBROWS. Well, actually i shaved my eyebrows because it's a lot quicker and a heckuva lot less painful. The downside is that hair then grows all over your eyelids--but that's a small price to pay to avoid the tweezers.

I also got a fancy Spray On Tan in a booth which took me right back to the days of my childhood-- standing in the backyard with my arms straight out at either side while my mother sprayed me with bug spray. No matter how tight as I locked up my lips I would still taste that stuff in my mouth for hours afterwards. I'd like to say that Spray On Tan tastes a little bit like chicken...but it doesn't.

I also stopped at a trendy little boutique store to possibly buy something that I did not need. As I stood over a display of leggings--wondering if there was anyway I could possibly pull off a pair of footless tights--the 20 something sales clerk strolled right up to me and announced in a voice filled with Excitement Just For Me : WE JUST GOT READING GLASSES IN!

Cripes

How often do you get to open up your email and see the following:


The following message was sent from ournameismud.com by Jesus:

Hello, my name is Jesus <>, and I am writing from Iraq.

What follows is a long email request for a cereal bowl for his girlfriend, which I will make--because I was tickled to say I got an email from Jesus, and happy to let my agnostic friends know that He is alive and well and currently in Iraq.

My Little Chica

We took Annie and Jesse to a new park this weekend. A small group of children were playing together and speaking in Spanish. Annie watched for a moment and then went up to the group.
"HOLA." She said shyly to one child.
"HOLA" She repeated, louder to another.
"HOLA! HOLA! HOLA!" She cried out to the dark haired children who ran in circles around her, but did not acknowledge her greeting.

"You're not Spanish!" one of them finally called to her, before climbing up the slide.
Annie turned to me, crestfallen.
"But I FEEL Spanish" she said.

PART ONE: MEET THE PARENTS

It is always interesting to see yourself through the eyes of your children. In my mind, Annie and Jesse picture me as a stunning blonde, fabulously creative and uber patient--prancing through a field of flowers leaving a trail of homemade chocolate chip cookies and kisses that make everything all better.

So it was a shocking blow to see that Jesse had included my track marks in this portrait he did of me recently.

However...I think I fared better than my better half....

PART TWO: MEET THE PARENTS

(Continued from above)

Who-as you can see--needs to start shaving his neck, and has been smoking so much of the ganja that his eyes are a lovely shade of red.

ACTUAL conversation this weekend

An Honest-to-Gosh conversation, word for word, with Jesse and Annie yesterday:

ME: Do you guys know what that yellow bush is called?
JESSE: Daffodils
ANNIE: Potpourri
ME: Forsythia
ANNIE: Who's Sythia?
JESSE: Mom, when can we go to A capella?
ME: It's a flower; Forsythia
JESSE: No it's not-it's in Mexico.

The Art in My Office- A Series

Many people assume that because I work in a creative field that I have taste outside of my mouth. They imagine me in a room painted in tasteful colors, surrounded by carefully selected objects d'art. What a disappointment it must be to find me in my little office; which is actually decorated with stuff like the unused High School Musical wrapping paper from Jesse's birthday and half eaten packages of rice cakes.

I had some difficulties posting this series. To begin with, my iphone camera lense is like a little electric bellybutton with a major lint problem. I don't know what I got in there: but it was certainly greasy with a hint of sand--so all of these photos will look a bit fuzzy; for that reason I strongly recommend drinking heavily before viewing.

Blogger also took about nine years to upload each image--so by the time you are reading this, I have moved to a corner office in a skyscraper somewhere and I have a glass topped desk and a painting of a naked spanish lady over my leather couch.

More Art in my Office- Cats by Denitza

This is an amazing painting given to me by Denitza, who is an incredibly talented artist with a great website at www.denitza-nyc.com

This is a painting of Lenny & Boots. Boots is the pretty one with the green eyes. They were our studio cats at my old studio which was infested with mice. Boots fell in love with Dan--a sit on your lap mew to be petted constantly kind of love--and he took her home to live with him when we moved to our new space.

Lenny stayed with me, although we really should seek some kind of counseling. Somedays I don't know if he truly loves me or if I am just his catnip dealer. Lately in the middle of a phone conference with My Boss he will sneak onto the table behind me and jump onto my back and shoulders-causing me to drop the phone and swear loudly. My Boss thinks I have Tourettes.

More Art in my Office- Jesse

Here is a recent painting by my (newly turned) 7 year old. I don't know if the incredible detail will show up on this blog: I am waiting for them to invent the iphone with FLASH. Please get right on that, people at apple.

Anyway- we feel there is a good possibility that Jesse will grow up to do something artistic. It's not just the paintings and sculptures he makes...it's that he continues to pursue a line of questioning that often starts with "Mommy, what would happen if I decided that what I wanted to be when I grew up was someone who didn't work?"

More Art in my Office- Denitza's Trees

I do have a window in my office with a lovely view of a brick wall. Denitza gave me this painting as a gift, and when I look at it I can almost feel myself in a lush black and white forest.

The Art In My Office-Last in the Series

This is a portrait done by a former employee named Stephan--who was creative and imaginative and very artistic but was also unfortunately a bit of dyslexic-which tripped him up when he had to do the final proof of our catalog and well...SORRY WE FIRED YOU STEPHAN BUT I STILL LOVE THE PAINTING.

That would be me in the center with flowing locks of hair, and in a stunning kiss-ass move, Stephan has me looking about 25 pounds thinner than I am in real life. Around me are: Judith (works across the street now) Connie (Moved to Florida but still drunk emails me) Andrea (we don't speak) Nasan (Somewhere in the Midwest now-much missed) Dan (Still here. Yep still here. No really-it's been like 11 years and he is still here.) and Denitza (still my girl.) I have always been lucky to be surrounded by the greatest people.

The Plague Comes To VeaseyTown

I read once that nothing fights a nasty virus like a DIET HIGH IN FAT. I embraced that doctrine wholeheartedly (pondering it over a half gallon of Ben & Jerry's) -because type two diabetes and heart attacks aside--I will do anything to avoid a flu bug. However-this particular germ that has been stalking us and has kept my children out of school for two weeks and ruined a perfectly good plan to play hookey at Disneyland--caught up with me yesterday morning and knocked me on my keister just in time to ruin Easter.

The thing about being a Mom and being sick is that there is NOWHERE TO RUN TO, BABY...NOWHERE TO HIDE. If you lay on your bed, curled in a fetal position, a child will find you and ask to cuddle. If you try to escape to the bathroom they will stand outside the door pleading an emergency of their own. So while Kip did his best to run interference for me, I escaped to the one place I thought they might not look for me: in their own room. I fell fast asleep in Annie's toddler bed, my body bent at an impossible angle. Only to be awakened moments later by Jesse, who stood beside me and repetitively thrust the ear thermometer in my ear, checking me for fever, grinding it INTO MY BRAIN, asking "is 104 bad or good Mom?"

Later, I sat beside Annie on the couch watching the thirteenth episode of Sponge Bob and sharing a box of tissues with her. She is still unwell herself, and at one point sneezed loudly. Her exact words were: "Merciful Heavens, this cold has got to end." If I were not so doped up on sudafed, I might ask her where she picked the whole "Merciful Heavens" thing up.

And we'rrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrre Back: and just in time to help Tibet

We are back. I am doing my best to eradicate several memories associated with this particular vacation--such as hotel waste baskets full of child vomit and 4 am fever wake up calls, but I am unsure as to wether or not ENOUGH WINE EXISTS IN THIS WORLD. So we shall talk no more of it--and if I win the award for Worst Vacation Ever it better not be a trip to Disneyland. Shout out to my girl Christine for sitting in for me as Guest Blogger so that I could continue my slow climb up the Google search engines, as well as keep all 3 of my readers entertained in my absence...although it's really 2 readers since Christine is reader number 3, so I am not sure if she counts.

I do my best to be the COOL WHIP of blogs. And you know if you eat a bowl of it--often served as dinner at Chez Veasey--that while sweet, cool and uber whipped; it is all air and NO SUBSTANCE. So I avoid typing the words Obama and Empty Rhetoric in the same sentence, or crafting a discourse on this Stupid War, or even weighing in on Global Warming except to occassionally mention that Al Gore has just gotten so much better looking with age. I mean, I know everyone is all like George Clooney is The Man-but for me it's All Al. That would be the sound of my ice caps melting.

My friend Sophie is verrrrry smart and verrrry English and sometimes she is both together--like when she wears "wellies with heels." She emailed the following about what's happening in another neck of the woods (not ours)

Dear friends,

After decades of suffering, the Tibetan people have burst onto the streets in protests and riots. The spotlight of the upcoming Olympic Games is now on China, and Tibetan Nobel peace prize winner the Dalai Lama is calling to end all violence through restraint and dialogue--he urgently needs the world's people to support him.

China's leaders are lashing out publicly at the Dalai Lama--but we're told many Chinese officials believe dialogue is the best hope for stability in Tibet. China's leadership is right now considering a crucial choice between crackdown and dialogue that could determine Tibet's--and China's--future.

We can affect this historic choice--China does care about its international reputation, and we can help them choose the right path. China's President Hu Jintao needs to hear that the 'Made in China' brand and the upcoming Olympics in Beijing will succeed only if he makes the right choice. But it will take an avalanche of global people power to get his attention. Click below now to join 250,000 others and sign the petition--and tell absolutely everyone you can right away--our goal is 1 million voices united for Tibet:

http://www.avaaz.org/en/tibet_end_the_violence/20.php

China's economy is dependent on "Made in China" exports that we all buy, and the government is keen to make the Olympics in Beijing this summer a celebration of a new and respected China. China is also a sprawling, diverse country with much brutality in its past. And it has good reasons to be concerned about stability -- some of Tibet's rioters killed innocent people. But President Hu must recognize that the greatest danger to Chinese stability and development today comes from hardliners who advocate escalating repression, not from those Tibetans seeking dialogue and reform.

We will deliver our petition directly to Chinese officials in New York, London and Beijing, but it must be a massive number before we deliver the petition. Please forward this email to your address book with a note explaining to your friends why this is important, or use our tell-a-friend tool to email your address book--it will come up after you sign.

The Tibetan people have suffered quietly for decades. It is finally their moment to speak--we must help them be heard.

With hope and respect,

Ricken, Iain, Graziela, Paul, Galit, Pascal, Milena, Ben and the whole Avaaz team

Here are some links with more information on the Tibetan protests and the Chinese response:

Crackdown in Tibet, but protests spreading:
http://www.guardian.co.uk/world/2008/mar/19/tibet.china
http://www.theage.com.au/news/world/crackdown-on-protests-widens/2008/03/17/1205602289349.html

Dalai Lama calling for dialogue and restraint, and an end to violence:
http://www.dalailama.com/news.216.htm
http://www.agi.it/world/news/200803191258-pol-ren0032-art.html

Leaders across Europe and Asia starting to back dialogue as the way forward:
http://news.bbc.co.uk/1/hi/world/asia-pacific/7300157.stm

Chinese Prime Minister attacks "Dalai clique", leaves door open for talks:
http://news.xinhuanet.com/english/2008-03/18/content_7813194.htm

Other Chinese signals:
http://timesofindia.indiatimes.com/China_looks_at_India_to_talk_to_Dalai_Lama/articleshow/2875142.cms
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ABOUT AVAAZ
Avaaz.org is an independent, not-for-profit global campaigning organization that works to ensure that the views and values of the world's people inform global decision-making. (Avaaz means "voice" in many languages.) Avaaz receives no money from governments or corporations, and is staffed by a global team based in London, Rio de Janeiro, New York, Paris, Washington DC, and Geneva.

Christine's Last & Final Guest Blog

Today is St. Patrick’s Day. Considering I am half Irish (the good half!) I usually celebrate the occasion. I am also half German. This can be a lethal concoction when someone makes me VERY angry. “You wouldn’t like me when I’m angry”.. get it? The Hulk? (ooh! and he is green, how perfect!) LOL!

Anyway…unfortunately for me, in the words of our Lovely Lorrie, LIFE SUCKS EGGS! (sometimes), therefore I wasn’t doing any celebrating today. But that is okay, there is a GOOD reason.

Today was the day from 7734 (I know, I can act SO grade skool!). For those of you who aren’t familiar with 7734, get a calculator, type it in, and turn it upside down! LOL. I thought I would use the numerical version of the word so I wouldn’t get myself in trouble and be banned from possibly being a guest blogger in the future if the privilege ever arises again (ahem, hint….hint! *giggle*).

Today SUCKS because I am about to lose my mother to cancer. She has lung cancer and we believe her time has come. When I went to see her, my mother as I know her, wasn’t there. It was truly heartbreaking. She is on oxygen now, and is being made comfortable. My father is just beside himself. We all are. She is a fighter though. Now I know where I get it from. She will continue to fight too. It is unbelievable.

There is strength to be found in situations like this. Strength that you never knew you had. Although this is a very sad time, it is also one of awakening. Yeah, I have my occasional meltdown. And I tell myself that it is OKAY to feel. So today, after said meltdown, I told myself “okay, pick your butt UP, stand TALL, and move forward….and go indulge in some peanut butter and chocolate.” And that I did. Gertie hooked me up LOVELY! Let’s give a shout out to Gertie!

The Queen of Clay will be returning tomorrow! Yaaaaaaaayyy!! So this is Christine, signing off!

Happy St. Patrick’s Day! I hope everyone indulged themselves in some green beer(s). If you have any left, have one (or MANY) for me!
May the road rise to meet you,
May the wind be always at your back,
May the sun shine warm upon your face,
The rains fall soft upon your fields,
And until we meet again,
May God hold you
In the palm of his hand

Guest Blog #4

Meet the REAL Squirtle!

Hello Mud fans! Yes, Christine is back with her 4th guest blog! I now think that this is becoming an obsession! I love it!

Today I thought I would introduce everyone to the REAL life Squirtle. For those of you who don’t know who the cartoon Squirtle is, he is a turtle who is part of the Pokemon team. I admit, I do not watch Pokemon. I became familiar with Squirtle while watching a Robot Chicken skit on Adult Swim. I never laughed so hard in my life. I almost wet my pants!

For me, Squirtle is not a cartoon nor a turtle. But he is VERY real and a godsend! Squirtle is my spray bottle that has THE only control over Creamy. Creamy hates him, but that is the idea! Sometimes all Squirtle has to do to control Creamy is give a good shake. There are times, however, when it is absolutely necessary for Squirtle to start spewing water all over the place. This does have its drawbacks.

For example, when Creamy is wet, EVERYTHING gets wet. It gets even better when, after battling it out with Squirtle, Creamy decides to roll around in the litter box and then lie on my bed. I SWEAR he plots these evil shenanigans!

Squirtle has been my best friend this morning. This cat is completely out of control today. Perhaps I can slap him up on eBay and throw in Squirtle for free! LOL! Naaaaaah, I love him! He is a Creamy kitten, there are many like him but this one is MINE!

It is obvious that Creamy did NOT drink decatf this morning!

Guest Blog #3

I Want To Be a Cat

Bonjour! Tis me Christine again! Can you tell I am just having the time of my life writing blogs? I think I am going to start my own! What fun! I didn’t realize how much I like to ramble!

I looked at my cat this evening, who is the CUTEST cat in the world in my eyes because I am his mommy, and I thought to myself…man, I want to be a cat! Here are the 10 reasons why I want to be a cat:

You are loved every single moment of every single day!
Someone feeds you. You don’t have to cook, EVER.
You don’t have to clean, do laundry, go grocery shopping, or pay bills.
You can sleep ALLLLL day, anywhere in the house convenient or not, and not get moved because you are just “too cute”.
You are loved every single moment of every single day!
Massages are available, anytime of the day, at your request.
You are given every type of treat made (known here as “num-nums”) no matter HOW you behave.
You still get something to eat when it is dinner time for your parents.
Someone cleans your “bathroom” every single day, throughout the day.
Oh yeah, did I mention you are loved every single moment of every single day?

As you can see my cat Creamy is completely worn out. This is from being B-A-D! He is constantly doing something bad when he isn’t sleeping. But he is just AWESOME! I LOVE him! However, I must admit that I REALLY like it when he sleeps because this means he is not eating my silk plants, opening the refrigerator, chewing on the remote controls, clawing at the glass on my entertainment center, chewing the strings on my guitars, running away with my writing utensils in his mouth, chewing on my text books, knocking everything off my nightstand, chewing on my toes while I am trying to sleep, chewing my laptop or mouse cord, chewing on my shoes, or hacking up hairballs a foot long. I know there is other bad stuff, but this is all I can think up at the immediate moment. Let’s just say I love it when my cat drinks decatf (lol)!

Yeah…I want to be a cat.

Guest Blog #2

Question: What goes GREAT with a cup of Smarty Pants coffee on a Saturday night at 10:00 pm?

Answer: That’s right… satellite radio! Yeah baby! Groovy!

Hello everyone! It’s me again..Christine! This is my second blog for the Queen of Craft, Lorrie. Boy do I have some very prestigious shoes to fill! Whew!

It is Saturday night and I decided that after doing 12 loads of laundry today (equaling 24 laps up and down 2 flights of stairs and a driveway – ye gads!) I deserved to have some fun. Perhaps I worked off some of that peanut butter. So I grabbed my other favorite and treasured mug, my satellite radio, some good java, and my kitties, and kicked back to enjoy some tune-age. Funny story about the radio…

The satellite radio was given to me as a gift, along with the car and home installation kits. When I first opened it, I was totally psyched! Imagine me… having satellite radio when the stereo in my living room still has to be manually tuned (in other words, no push buttons to adjust the stations). For a geek like me, that is just sooooo sad!

I ripped open the radio boxes with uncontrollable excitement and there were the installation manuals AND user guides. Great, something I had to read AND study. Computer geek? Yes. Stereo aficionado, um NO. But hey, no problem, I am an A+ student in school, so if I can write business and marketing plans, do statistical analyses, and all other M.B.A. stuff, I can hook up a satellite radio! Piece of cake! How hard can it be? (ummmmm, yeeeaaahh).

My first feat would be the car kit. I studied the manual all night on a Sunday night, and printed out all of the guides from the website. I made a step by step plan, and on Monday morning I was ready to go after downing 5 cups of coffee (I had a feeling it was going to be a LONG day). The first step was to install the antenna on top of the roof of the car. Being 5’1, and having the shakes from having OD’d on coffee, this posed a challenge. So I went on my porch and grabbed one of those flimsy white plastic patio chairs to stand to reach the roof (“smart” eh?). I thought to myself, “I used to be a ballerina, I can balance on this, no problem.” My little Italian neighbor, Mr. Thomasetti, walked over to check out what I was doing (besides rocking back and forth on the chair). Our conversation went as follows:

Mr. T: Whatta you doin Christina? You falla down and break somethinga!

Me: I’m okay! I’m just installing this antenna for my satellite radio.

Mr. T: Heh? Whatta radio?

Me: Satellite radio.

Mr. T: I hava no idea whatta you do Christina, justa be careful. You no fall!

Me: Okie dokie!

He then walks away shaking his head. Too funny!

The good new is that I didn’t fall AND I did get the radio installed in both my car and my home. I RULE! LOL! I was so proud of myself. Now I tell everyone to get one and I will install it for them! Heh heh heh!

I guess the Smarty Pants mug does, in fact, apply afterall!

Guest Blog #1

Chunky Dunking

(Picture coming)

Greetings everyone! My name is Christine and I will be a guest blogger for Lorrie while she and her family are away playing with Mickey and friends! Before I start to ramble, I want to convey just how privileged I feel to be a guest blogger for Lorrie and Our Name is Mud! Given a choice, I would rather blog for Lorrie than meet Johnny Depp! (Yes, that is the truth. Give me a lie detector test and I’ll prove it!). So, without further adieu, here is my first guest blog for Goddess Veasey, and of course it has to do with my arch enemy, food….with today’s topic being breakfast.

Cracked, 100% whole wheat bread, toasted: GOOOOOD!

Coffee in a Genius mug made by the Princess of Pottery: EXCEEEELLLENT!

Tons of Peanut Butter: BAAAAAAAD!

Yes, this is supposed to be my version of a healthy breakfast! Coffee with Equal and fat free Half & Half (because we have to save those calories!). The mug of course makes my coffee taste a million times better! And then there is the EVIL of all evil, peanut butter. Although I usually go chunky dunking, a.k.a. chunky peanut butter, I was in such a hurry in the store yesterday that I grabbed creamy instead. When I noticed it when I got home, I said to myself “well, at least I will save a few calories without the peanuts”… yeah, right!

According to the jar of peanut butter, a measly 2 tbsp. of this creamy temptation equates to 190 calories and 17g fat. While I am happy with the carbs (6g), and protein (7g), the rest just makes me shutter! Ugh!

I have absolutely no idea how much peanut butter I put on my toast this morning. I just took the knife and dug deep into the world of creaminess and slathered it on nice and thick. Yum! And I sit here and wonder why my elastic waist lines seem to expand gradually!

Could I live without peanut butter? Probably. Do I want to? No way! The problem is that I have absolutely NO self control with it, especially when it is wrapped in chocolate. And don’t even get me started on that! I think a majority of Reese’s and Gertrude Hawk profits come from my pocket! Oh those wretched little peanut butter smidgens!!

But lets face reality here people…

Tons of peanut butter: GOOOOOOD!!
Lorrie – if you happen to see Peter Pan flying around Disney anywhere, give him my warmest regards!!