Spam Warrior

I am a spam warrior.

Obviously this isn't my official job title, but it really should be.

One of the duties of my part time job is to help write and manage a blog on engineering stuff. (Apparently having frequently updated content on your website helps with search engine optimization.)

I have been assigned the honor of moderating all the comments.

Word verification hasn't been added to work blog yet. This is not a good thing. The blog is on wordpress and apparently their spam filter is nonexistent.

At this point, I feel like I'm on a first name basis with the spammers. I read countless advertisements for jewelry (freakish amounts and types of jewelry), mortgage calculators, pills, creams, life insurance and pornography.

These are some of the best spam titles I've come across:

Nudie (I like it. Short and to the point)

Removable gold tooth jewelry (Because really who couldn't use that?)

University of California, Irvine distance learning animal science courses (You definitely want to pick a college that advertises via spam. It's a sign of a good quality education.)

Naughty Secretary Jewelry (A costume I could see, but jewelry?)

Cancer Jewelry Man Survivor Testicular (WTF? I guess they are just trying to cover all the bases.)

My current all time favorite spam is one included a link and urged me to "Enter your url at this website to stop spam. Please install the software to end spam." (Please tell me this never works.)

This whole spam situation is completely out of control.

Marketing the Madness

Last year, a doctor found the perfect way to capitalize on the madness that is just around the corner.

A March madness vasectomy special.

Check this out - Urologist: Shoot, Don't Score

(This is the best headline I've seen in awhile.)

In addition to the convenient timing, the special comes with a selection of sports magazines, frozen peas (for the swelling) and a free pizza.

So guys get an iron clad excuse to glue their butts to the couch for a weekend of college basketball and pizza.

If you have to do it, this seems like a great way to recuperate.

My Credit Crunch

Ten charges in the past 3 days?

Well..this isn't a good sign since I haven't used my credit card for a week.

A wave of complete panic passed through my body.

Somebody, who is not me, is using my credit card.

Not good...not good at all.

(Thank goodness for online banking or I wouldn't even know.)

A quick check revealed that I still physically had my card. Not that this fact was doing me a lot of good, but for some reason it made me feel better.

Wait a minute...ten charges and not a single one is over twenty buck?

Who steals credit card numbers to charge $3.99 at napster?

Twice.

I think I'm actually insulted.

Do you think my credit limit is a hundred dollars? How broke do you think I am?

Why bother to steal my card to do a whopping $98 dollars in damage?

Where is the imagination people?

Seriously, if you're going to rip me off at least buy something cool.

Why even bother to commit a crime if the payoff is so lame? If I ever turn rogue you can bet your behind I'll be getting a lot more than $98 bucks out of the deal.

I'm pretty sure there is a pimply, computer savvy 15 year old somewhere who is enjoying his newly downloaded music courtesy of my credit card. (FYI kid, you can make a lot more than $98 bucks legally with your computer skills. Stop being an idiot.)

It appears that shredding my card and a 15 minute call to my bank is all it will take to clean up this mess. But it is still a bit scary to experience credit card fraud, even at its lamest.

I'll be pulling a credit report soon because I'm feeling a bit paranoid.

My Happy Kid

In the last week, I've had four different, random people ask me "is he always this happy?".

And the honest answer is "pretty much".

As long as my son is well fed and rested, he is usually a happy little flirt.

He's the type of kid who routinely breaks out in dance (when there is no music playing), will happily go to complete strangers (which is slightly scary) and is easy to get big belly laughing (which is just awesome).

Obviously, he has his rough moments and off days. Don't we all?

But in general he really is a pretty pleasant little toddler sidekick.

I know that his cheerful disposition has more to do with his natural temperament than anything I do as a mother, but it still feels pretty good.

I might be completely wrong, but I hope the fact he is so happy means I'm not totally screwing up this whole mothering thing.

Enjoy Fat Tuesday folks!

P.S. Today is my class with the mean moms. I'm not sure yet, but I think I might wear my tightest jeans and best push up bra.

A Bang-ing Weekend

OH MY GOD!

When he turned me around to show me my new 'do, the first thing that crossed my mind was that I looked like Country Music Barbie.

Seriously, my hair was big...really big.

And not in the good way.

Also, I now have bangs.

When I went to get my hair cut, I had almost shoulder length hair with long layers and long bangs that barely even counted as bang.

Now I have real bangs. Bangs straight across the front of my hair. Bangs like I had when I was 12.

The lady who usually cuts my hair was out, but I had waited way too long to get a hair cut so I was desperate. I decided to try somebody new. I really should know better, it's such a rookie mistake.

I thought I said I'd like a trim because I'm trying to grow my hair out. Apparently, what was actually communicated was "Please make me look like Dolly Parton's less well-endowed, not as stylish daughter."

Well, mission accomplished!

I'm not sure it would be physically possible to give me any more volume.

Am I the only one who cries after haircuts on a semi regular basis?

My husband is a veteran of the hair wars. He is also a smart man. He calmly talked me into taking a shower and removing the eight tons of hair stray immediately upon my teary arrival home.

Once I had calmed down a bit and my hair's presence wasn't quite so commanding, things did look a bit better.

It's still not what I was expecting.

But it could be worse.

I'm also taking some comfort from the fact that my hair will grow on me.

Literally.

Mean Moms Suck

Dear Other Moms in My Mommy and Me Class,

I will continue to take my son to class because he enjoys it and in the end that really is the main point. In addition, I find your children charming and pleasant to be around.

That said, I find the adult company lacking in both of those qualities.

I don't think I'm quite as young or dumb as you think I am.

Yes, I am noticeably the youngest mommy in the room, but I think 27 is a pretty respectable age to give birth. And no, I am NOT the nanny. Seriously people, the kid looks just like me.

Yes, I only have one child, but that doesn't mean "I don't understand what's it's like to be a mom yet". I think two years of kid wrangling earns me the right to join in at least some of the conversations without being completely talked down too.

Yes, I will agree that you probably have it harder if you have 3 kids under 5. This seems like a sore point with you. I can assure you that I did not personally cause this to happen. If you need advice on where babies come from, I'm sure there are helpful resources available online.

Yes, I did get all "dressed up for class", if by that you mean I put on pants that don't have an elastic waist band. Feel free to wear sweats if it makes you happy, but I promise it doesn't really take that much more time to zip a pair of jeans.

I must admit I am also guilty of putting on about 3 minutes worth of make up and a sweater. It makes me feel human and I think it will help with the plan to have a second child someday. I promise my extravagant grooming occurs before my son wakes so I'm not neglecting him as a result of my vanity.

Please stop assuming so much about me. Didn't you ever hear that clever bit about what assuming makes out of you and me?

At least have a conversation before you completely write me off (or there just might be blog hell to pay even if you never know about it).

Sincerely,
Me

Today's Guest- Sprite's Keeper

Today's guest post is from Sprite's Keeper.

There might be one or two fashionable late guests to my blog party, but this is the last of the currently scheduled guest bloggers.

Thank you to everyone who participated either by writing or reading. For better or for worse, this blog will be all mine again starting tomorrow.

I hope you all enjoy today's poem. I think it's a wonderful note to end the party on.

I feel the need to go take pictures of my son and give him extra hugs and kisses after reading it.

So I'm going to shut up and let you read it yourself.
******************************************************
I happen to love the idea of guest posters taking over this site, mostly because Kim is spreading the linky love, something I try to do every week with the Spin Cycle, only Kim is going one better. She's letting us take over her site for the day!

I immediately signed on and started working on a new post about bathroom etiquette, something that's been niggling in my brain for a couple of weeks now. However, my husband's family suffered a loss and the mood has been a little sad in our house for the last couple of days, so every time I went back to my draft, the words came out dry, uninteresting, unworthy of the space on Kim's blog. So, I decided I would offer one of my favorite posts.

I've been called the Dr. Suess of the blogosphere, who began that moniker, I'm not sure anymore, but it's well known that I love to rhyme. One day, at work actually, I kept thinking back to an encounter I had had with some old friends while at a restaurant and how I felt about it, and the following poem just flowed out of me. (It took awhile to clean up the mess.) (Hm, maybe my snark IS coming back..)

This poem always makes me smile when I need it and I hope you enjoy it as well.

"She's Fine" originally posted 8/5/08

While out and about and sharing a meal with my best friend Sue,
I encounter old friends in the restaurant, and share a word or two.
This couple asks how my daughter is, they don't have kids of their own,
But I'd never hold that question against them, for how could they have known?
Just how much meaning, how much love can be squeezed into mere phrase,
When asked to describe my thoughts and feelings of the toddler days.
So they don't understand, these friends of mine, just what they're asking me,
When they ask the most seemingly simple question, "So, how is she?"
Do you really want to know?
She's the first thought in my mind when I face the morning light,
She's the driving purpose of my days, she's my kiss goodnight.
She's the highest highs and lowest lows, and all the in-betweens,
Her words may not make sense to you, but I know what she means.
Her joys in discovering, her laughter in play,
Can lift me up from misery and change about my day.
Her tantrums can be brutal, her tears can come out quick,
And when she wants my sympathy, she can lay it on real thick.
But her sweet moments are all the sweeter, the love in her eyes more great,
Because she is so pure in life, she knows not how to hate.
The only sadness in raising her is that these things can't last,
Every day, she changes a little, every week goes by too fast.
And did you know she's out of the crib, shed the last of babyhood?
Such a big girl now, she's healthy and strong, doing more than I thought she would.
She puts her all into what she does, every song she tries to sing,
She may not know these facts offhand, but she's my everything.
She's changed our lives in every way, as only a child can,
She's made me a better woman, she's made John a better man.
These are the words I want to say, that can truly describe my bliss,
When the innocent question comes into play and I'm asked how my daughter is.
But I know my friends are not looking for depth, and won't comprehend the divine,
So I spare them the onslaught and answer them simply, with just two words,
"She's fine."

Today's Guest Post - Fingers and Paws

Today, I have the distinct pleasure of having CBD from Fingers and Paws guest posting.

In the interest of full disclosure, I should probably tell you that this is one of only two blog friends that I also know in real life. We met right before both our sons were born so we've been comparing notes and helping keep each other sane for the past 2 years.

That said, Fingers and Paws is a great blog and I am only willing to promote it shamelessly because I actually enjoy it. Please stop by and see it for yourself.
********************************************

Since I'm guest posting on K's wonderful blog, which is quite an honor, I felt it honorable to start by introducing myself. What it lacks in humor will make up in interesting [filler] explanation.

My name is Colleen [gasp! And a hush falls over the crowd.] Yes, my real name. I go by 'CDB' in bloggyland but what I'm realizing now that I'm in the thick of it, is that it's not so scary. I haven't picked up any stalkers. Dang it! I'm way more important in my own mind, it would seem.

The blog that I [beg you all to go visit because I'm still new and nobody reads it] write daily is "Fingers and Paws," a blog devoted to the idea that we love all of our children, furry and otherwise. Is this true? Let me know what you find out. Oh, is it true for me? Let me point out a frustration.

When we adopted our dogs, who were left in a cardboard box in an apartment, we were obviously concerned about doggy social skills. We went to dog parks, had mixed results, and enrolled them (separately, so they didn't have twin separation anxiety) in dog obedience class. It sounds more harsh than it was. We used actual cut-up hot dogs as temptation to do "good dog" stuff.

The long and the short of it is, they sat when we told them. They stayed where we told them. They laid down. They would "LEAVE IT!" even when the [it] was a dead bunny picked up on the side of the trail. Very obedient dogs.

Now, I find myself telling my toddler to "sit there" and "stay" and "leave it" all the time. "No" to drawing on the flat-panel TV with crayon. "No" to lurching from my hand down the sidewalk into the street. "No," don't climb into the dishwasher!

For some inexplicable reason, it doesn't seem to be working.

If I had the time, I would write a book on training toddlers to sit and stay as trained dogs. But honestly. What fun would that be?

Guest Post - I thought my life would be different

Today's guest post is Jan from I thought my life would be different.

There is nothing like a wedding to stir up emotions and family drama.

I hope my parents don't mind too much that my big day was actually tiny. Just the two of us, our parents and a Jamaican rain storm.

Enjoy!

****************************************
Man Those Were Good Times

The wedding was great. The bride was beautiful. The church was in Birmingham and was also beautiful. The weather was just perfect. Stef and I cleaned up real well and arrived on time even though she had some anxiety about that. I raised one child that can't be late and one that can't be on time. More on that some other day.

We did meet the new boyfriend and we love him. If they break up maybe Stef and I can keep seeing him. He sat with us for the wedding and for the reception so we got plenty of opportunity to embarrass Danielle and ourselves but I think we did well.

I got tears in my eyes when I looked back at the bridal party and saw that the bride's grandfather was preparing to walk her down the aisle. He had been such a factor in her growing up years that it just seemed right that he give her away. He bought her the first car, paid for her first semester of college, provided a safe haven for her when her mother would periodically kick her out of the house. It just seemed right. Her father only just recently established any relationship with her even though his two other grown children were in her wedding party. He called the day of the wedding and told her that he not only wasn't coming to the wedding but that he wouldn't be talking to her again.

The reception was very nice just hard to find. I guess the limo driver (Super Mario) got lost too, so I didn't feel so bad. I had the sun in my eyes trying to drive into the west at sunset, the first street MapQuest told me t0 turn down was closed for construction and it went downhill from there. Stef kept saying, "I'm hungry". I finally told her, "Shut up! There's no food here!" But we did find it after all and so did everyone else.

After dinner, I went up to the bride's grandfather to tell him how happy I was to see him walk her down the aisle. He told me a story about how Danielle had lost a piece of jewelry in the lake when she was little and the girls were staying at his house. He dug in the murky lake water for hours looking for a ring because she was so upset about losing something that had belonged to me. She had it in her towel and forgot when she went to dry off after swimming and the ring went into the water. He looked at me and told me how beautiful Danielle is and just how much fun it was when the girls were young. He said, "Man those were good times". And they were.

P.S. Danielle did live through the maid of honor speech. She talked about how they have known each other since they were five and what the bride and groom can do to make a good marriage together. She told the bride to admit it when she is wrong and shut up when she is right. She then told the groom to remember "Happy wife happy life".

P.P.S. But when I think back on the evening, I will just remember that, "Man those were good times".

Today's Guest - Soyez la Bienvenue Chez Moi

Today's guest post is bought to us by Dedene from Soyez la Bienvenue Chez Moi.

I know I can certainly relate to this one. We all have those moments that cement a friendship.

(And I would struggle to sit still in silence for an entire day too.)

I love my girlfriends and I am afraid to think where I would be without them.

Enjoy!

*********************************
Gini and I had been hanging out since fall term. We met in a class and decided we’d become friends. By the winter term, we were choosing our classes together.

When you start a new “relationship”, you’re always on your best behavior. You want the other person to find you interesting and worth the time you take up in their lives.

Gini was oh-so spiritual, trying hard to get connected to a higher power. I, on the other hand, was a heathen and a doubter.

We had chosen a World Religions class. In the class, the professor covered dozens of different religions. The assignment for the following week was a presentation to the class about a direct experience we had had with one of the world religions. Gini and I decided to spend Saturday at the local Buddhist Center. We called and reserved. Saturday morning came and off we went.

The monk in charge instructed us that we’d be meditating silently most of the day. There’d be a few pauses for the bathroom and stretching, but SILENCE was the law for the entire day. He continued to explain this and that. I looked over and Gini and she seemed thrilled. I was not.

We each had a little tiny pillow to sit on. We were supposed to sit cross-legged and stare at the wall while meditating. Closing my eyes, humming, and thinking of everything else I could be doing was strictly forbidden.

After about 10 minutes, I was ready to scream. My legs hurt and my feet were numb. I desperately looked around the room for Gini to see if she was ready to leave. There she was, meditating her little heart out, having found Nirvana.

Crap! What was I going to do to get through six more hours of the day? I tried to calm down and rearrange my priorities. Concentrate until you can get up and go to the toilet.

After what seemed like eons sitting on that damned pillow, it was time for lunch. Finally, I could breathe. Finally, I could get my legs working again. Maybe I could slip a word to Gini and we could leave.

The group sat at a long common table. I was kitty-corner and down a bit from Gini, but we could see each other. The soup came first. Oh boy! I was starving. The soup was more of a split-pea tea instead of soup. I glanced furtively down at Gini, she was fine and happy and slurping the tea.

I was so unhappy. I was sure that not only was I stuck here all day long, but I had also lost my new best friend to a life of meditation and watered-down soup. I’d worked so hard getting to know her and now, it was all ruined, finished!

While I was bemoaning my fate, the next course arrived. Brussel sprouts, I loved brussel sprouts. Everyone took some and waited politely to dig in. I speared a sprout and shovelled it into my mouth. Just as I did, I looked over at Gini. She was popping a sprout into her mouth. At the same time, I bit into mine. It wasn’t cooked! It was almost raw! Rolling my eyes, I looked into hers. We started laughing! And laughing, we spit out the sprouts. We were roaring with laughter. Crying and spitting. It was glorious! We were still friends.

A Mother Daughter Love Story

Too Much Information is written by a mother named Tara who has a beautiful daughter named Chloe who has special needs. Chloe has big blue eyes, blond hair and takes the cutest pictures.

Maybe it's the fact that Chloe is so close to my son's age, but this blog really hits home for me.

Every post Tara writes is a lovely statement of a mother's love. I am humbled by her positive, fun attitude.

So I wanted to help spread the word that Tara is starting a new blog called Kidz.

In her own words -

It is a site that celebrates the lives and lessons of special needs children, a.k.a. kidz. It is a site for everyone, not just friends and families of kidz. The mission is to increase awareness and understanding about different health conditions and to help all people cope with challenges and enjoy life!

If you have ever read Tara's blog you know she really means the part about enjoying life.

Please pass this information to anyone who might be interested.

Hope everyone is having a great Valentine's Day.

My hubby is on travel so it's a lonely one in our house.

Luckily, I still have my small escort to keep me company and lots of chocolate.

XOXOXOXO

The Future Is Now?

I'm reclaiming control of my blog until Monday.

Don't worry, there are more talented guest posters visiting next week.
********************

Did anybody else see this news story?- World's first flying car prepares for takeoff

Some scientists in England tested the first "flying car" last week. I didn't even know anyone was seriously working on it.

I checked out the company's website. The flying car is called the Terrafugia Transition, which I have a hard time believing is the is coolest name they could come up with. It is expected to be ready for customer delivery in 2010.

Before you get too excited, you should probably know that the "flying car" is pretty much a two seat plane with wheels and retractable wings. Unfortunately, it's not quite as exciting as the flying cars in all the futuristic movies.

But let's pretend that all the technical and logistical issues were solved and you could have a truly "flying car", would you really want one?

I think I would want one, but only if everybody else didn't have one.

Seriously, have you driven in traffic lately?

A regular old car is already giving people plenty of options to be dumb.

I don't think I'm ready for the up/down variable to be added to the driving experience.

Not to mention the fun possibility of a vertical drop when an accident occurs midair.

I don't know about the rest of you, but I think I'm going to hold out for a hoover board like the one in Back to the Future 2.

Today's Guest - Life with a Little One and More

Today's guest post is from Jenners from Life with a Little One and More.

She is a fellow slightly nerdy mom (meant in the best way) of a small boy who devours books. She also joins me in not so crafty club.

This is a post from her early days of blogging that it definitely deserves a second look.

And the homemade treats are also always welcome at my house.

**************************************************


I don't like getting homemade gifts. The perfect example of why is shown above. This is a "punch needle" project that I am making for my sister-in-law as a joke. Notice the poor stitchwork, the raggedy border between the colors, the horrible skin condition that the cat appears to suffer.

Would you really want to receive something like this as a gift? Of course you wouldn't. And neither would anyone else. Except for two exceptions discussed below, homemade gifts should not be given unless all of the following criteria are met.

1. You are a professional artisan who is actually skilled in the art you are creating. If you are professional painter whose works sell for hundreds of dollars, then by all means give me a painting for a gift. Otherwise, keep your amateur paintings (woodworking project, needlepoint, craft, sweater) to yourself.

2. You know for a fact that the gift is compatible with the receiver's home decor. Unless the person for whom you are making the gift decorates their house in Early Cross Stitch and Kitsch, chances are they don't want the lovely needlepoint picture you made for them--no matter how good the workmanship. I also suspect that virtually no one decorates their house with pictures of cute kittens, clowns, children with big eyes, puppies, and inspirational sayings--all hallmarks of cross stitch and "do it yourself' needlework kits.

3. You were personally asked to create the gift. If someone truly asks you to create them something--without prodding, hinting, or strong-arming by you--it is acceptable to create that gift. For example, if you knitted a sweater and someone admires it and says: "Could you make me a sweater just like that for my next birthday?," you are then permitted to begin work on such a project.

Besides being hideous and poorly constructed, homemade gifts also provide an additional burden on the receiver. Because you made the gift with your own two hands (presumably after much aggravation, sweat, and tears), the receiver cannot in good conscience throw away, return or regift the item. They are stuck with it. And if you are a frequent visitor to their home, they may even feel obligated to put the gift in a prominent spot in their home, where it causes them to shudder each time they pass by it.

As I mentioned, there are two exceptions to the homemade gift rule. The first is that homemade baked goods are acceptable and even encouraged (especially really sinful, gooey, chocolate ones).
However, it is critical to ensure such items taste good before you give them. My rule is to make a batch for yourself, eat the entire batch to ensure quality, and then make another identical batch for the gift. (Keep in mind that fruitcake is not acceptable; nor are those kits where the receiver gets the ingredients and has to make the cookies/brownies/cake themselves).

The second exception is if the gift is made by a child. A child's craft should look poorly made and on the brink of falling apart--that is what makes it charming and cute. (Not so cute when a 40-year-old makes it.) Of course, it should go without saying that a handmade gift from a child should only been given to someone who adores and worships the child--such as a beloved aunt, grandparent or parent. No one else wants your child's crappy artwork.

Today's Guest Post - Here's What Let's Do

Today's guest poster is Mikki Black from Here's What Let's Do.

I really like this post because I can completely relate to it.

My son is also an aquatic dare devil. Long before he could walk he would joyfully shove his face under water.

Fear is a concept that alludes my son. I now have a much better understanding of it

Dad will be taking him to his swim lessons that start in March.

******************************
It was great! I almost died!

(No, I am NOT preoccupied with death.)

Today is Sunday. Today is the day I get to go to church and be with all my little lovely kids. It's been a little quiet there the last few weeks through the holidays. We have a fairly young church group, so many, many people go away to visit moms and dads and families. They go home.

Some of them also go on trips or vacations, of course, like WE did last year (Disney Christmas 2007!).

One of the families at our church came back from a cruise this week, and their darling daughter bounced up to the Kids Church table to pick up her name tag and announced, "I went on a cruise!"

"And how was it? Was it fun?" I asked her.

"It was great!" she was bouncing up and down. "I almost died! There was this wave, and it tackled me!"

Mom smiled (a smile I can TOTALLY empathize with, by the way) and said, "Yes, we had our own personal life guard at the beach...." I smiled back.

I heard that story twice more that day as the little girl told others at church about it. She's so cute!

Why I can empathize: My lovely son.

Water is not really his best friend, but he thinks it is. He has nearly drowned so many times that I have lost count. We bought floaties. It didn't help. We went in with him. It didn't help. We taught him to swim. It didn't help.

I'm not exaggerating! It's happened so many times, in so many places, under the supervision of so many different people, that it's become a family joke: "It's not vacation if Jimmy doesn't drown."

Because, you see, Jimmy didn't come home when he was littler and say, "I almost died," like the little girl from church did. He would come home and say, "Guess what? I drowned on vacation! Twice! The lifeguard had to jump in once, but once he wasn't there, and then insert family member's name here told me that maybe I'd better just sit in the baby pool, but that wasn't any fun. Next time, I'm going to go in the DEEP end!"

--sigh--

The last time he drowned, he had gone to a friend's house. That friend took him to another friend's to go swimming. He pulled his regular I-can-swim-so-it's-ok-then-I-drown routine. Enter friend's mom's panic attack at nearly killing the pastor's kid. His response? "Don't worry, Mrs. ___, I drown all the time. Mom's used to it."

--sigh--

I remember when he was afraid of the water. Those were good days.

Today's Guest - It's a Dog's Life

Today's guest poster is Michele from It's a Dog's Life.

She is a librarian with a wicked sense of humor. If you're into recipes, she frequently posts great, easy vegetarian meals on her blog.

She originally posted this entry during the early, under read blog days. She was kind enough to include the original comments for our enjoyment.

Happy reading!

*******************************************
Pseudocode for guys

My carpool partner/daughter-in-law and I were talking about how nice it would be if you could program men like you would a computer. That led us to create a few If/Then statements. The following are a few that we thought were important. I'm sure that we only hit the tip of the iceberg on this one. Feel free to add a few of your own in the comment section. I'm not the best programmer so if the syntax is not quite right I'll apologize now.

#1
If toilet seat is up Then
Put it down
Else
or I'll be screaming at you when I fall in
End If

#2
If you drink the last of anything in the refrigerator Then
Throw the container away

#3
If your clothing is dirty Then
Put in laundry basket
Else they won’t get washed
End If

#4
If garbage can is full Xor smelly Then
Take out
Else I will hit you over the head with an empty egg carton
End If

#5
If you take a cap off the beer bottle Then
Throw the cap in the garbage
Else I will no longer buy beer
End If

#6
If you pass gas under the bed covers Then
Do not lift the covers
Else you will be sleeping in another room
End If

#7
If light is On Then Turn it off

#8
If you want a drink Then
Get a glass
Else I'll empty the container you just drank out of over your head
End If

#9
If I am talking to you Then
Make the effort to listen
Else I will just nag you about it later
End If

#10
If you are lost Then
ask for directions
Else If we are late Then I will glare at you and give you the silent treatment
End If

****************************
3 comments:
Sam said... (A friend of my son’s)

If woman is talking
Then pretend to pay attention (pause game if necessary)
Else endless rounds of "you never listen" ensues.
End if

Sry, had to get some man code in there ;) In all fairness:

If woman is talking
Then she is clearly right, stop while you're ahead.
Else you are totally fucked.

See, only one year deep and I am already trained =D

February 14, 2008 2:11 AM

Ben R said... (I don’t even want to know what he was planning to say if it was worse than he wrote below.)

This post has been removed by the author.

February 14, 2008 1:05 PM

Ben R said... (He gets this from his father)

I should make up some of these for women but it would require a class because they are just Objects. (For those that might not know it “class” and “Objects”are programming terms but I pretty sure he didn’t mean them that way. He caught hell for it anyway.)

Guest Poster 2 - The Raisin Chronicles

Today's guest post is by the lovely Jeanne of The Raisin Chronicles.

She is wise, witty and insightful. I love her blog and I hope you'll appreciate it as much as I do.

*****************************************************
Paper Moon

Today we consider the age-old philosophical question: how much toilet paper is enough?

On the one hand, we have the conservationists, who believe every sheet beyond the bare minimum constitutes a crime against nature. On the other, the hygienists, who consider that thin ribbon of paper to be all that stands between mankind and germ terrorists.

My husband, like my father before him, belongs to the first group. He feels that toilet tissue should be treated as a precious resource. Based on a tip he heard on TV, he squashes the toilet paper rolls before he mounts them on the dispenser, so that they don’t roll freely, but bump along, a square at a time, until you give up in disgust and take what you’re given.

And he’s by no means the most extreme. Growing up, I had a girlfriend whose father decreed that four squares were sufficient. And he knew that, given 200 sheets to a roll, if his four daughters used the toilet an average of three times per day (five on the weekends), a roll should last two to three days.

All I can say is, this is clearly the viewpoint of someone who shakes and dabs, as opposed to owning real estate that actually needs to be de-moisturized. Sara was my best friend from age 6, when we met in first grade, to 12, when she moved away, so I don’t know if he adjusted his formula in response to the demands of puberty, but if not, there was some really unpleasant drippage in that house.

My step-daughter, on the other hand, leans to the hygienist ilk.

The term “cheapskate” has sometimes been bandied about among my husband’s offspring, though he prefers to think of himself as prudent. His tightfistedness is second, however, to his reticence. This is a man who, when he goes to buy underwear, checks to see who’s working the register. If the clerk is female, he puts his purchase back on the shelf and returns another day. So, when the amount of toilet paper we were buying doubled soon after his youngest daughter came to live with us, he found himself caught between the Scylla of shyness and the Charybdis of cheap.

One day when she was in the bathroom, he motioned me over to the door.

“Listen,” he hissed.

Concerned that she might be in pain, I joined him, but it was not an organic noise, but a sort of rattling “wheeeee” sound, like a cardboard spool performing rhythmic gymnastics.

“You need to talk to her about this,” he said.

I shook my head. I’ve done enough step-parenting to know that my input should be limited to, “Thank you,” “Nice job!” and “Are you sure you have enough money for lunch?”

“She’s your daughter,” I said.

He stewed about it for a while and, as I could have predicted, chose not to address it.

He got his revenge, however, when she called a while back, complaining that her 4-year-old had fed the end of a roll of toilet paper into the bowl and then pulled the handle.

Because today’s hygienists are tomorrow’s cheapskates.

First Guest to Show Up - Fawty

Belle over at Fawty is one of my first and best blog friends.

I stumbled upon her brilliant blog when we were both brand spanking new to the blog world. And I have been religiously reading ever since.

She is absolute hilarious and I hope you love her as much as I do.

***************************************
The Colour of Money

I know it’s the credit crunch, but Groucho spends his life trying to extort money out of me. What a smutty little man.

‘Do you have any coins for parking?’ he always asks. And today at the shop. ‘I’ve forgotten my wallet. Do you have money for a newspaper?’

This is a man that accompanies me to the supermarket to make sure that I do not buy anything we ‘don’t need’.

‘Do you need that?’ he says as I put oranges into the trolley.

Only if you want the children to get scurvy.

‘What about that coffee? Can’t you get it cheaper anywhere else?’

Only if I go to Brazil and pick the coffee beans myself.

‘Do the kids really need doughnuts?’

No, we can feed them gruel and water until they are six and ready to go and work in the mines!’

How hard I used to try to get him to stay home, but he would insist. ‘I enjoy shopping with you’ he would say. It is something we can do together’. Groucho - you are so romantic.

He insists on pushing the trolley.

I am a professional shopper. I work with practised precision. Up and down the isles. I know where everything is and I know what I need. No distractions. I’m wise to the ways of the Marketing Manipulators. Two for the Price of One does not put me off my stride.

Groucho is putty in their hands. He lingers up and down the isles, comparing prices and looking at the ‘bargains’.

I always have to walk back three isles to find him, laden down with my booty. It drives me mad.

And then I’m off again, smiling to myself that I managed to drop the ‘double ply silky soft’ toilet paper in the trolley before he could see.

It is only when I’m unpacking at the till, that I see that he has swapped the ’silky soft’ for the ’sand paper’ value pack.

I look at him and he smiles. ‘I found a cheaper one’ he says smugly.

Forgotten his wallet? I really do not think so.

His wallet is surgically attached to his inside pocket.

So I scratch around in the bottom of my handbag. I have enough change to sponsor an African family for a month down there.

And I say

‘Sorry - I don’t have any change for your newspaper.’

I'm Throwing a Party - 100 Posts!

This is my 100th post!

I'm not really a giveaway kind of girl and I don't want to list 100 things about myself (I struggled coming up with 7), but I did want to do a little something special to honor the milestone.

So..

If anybody is interested, I'd like to throw a little virtual party.

I've decided to open my blog to guest posters so you can all introduce yourselves and get to know each other.

I hope you all will participate because my favorite thing about blogging is all my fun fellow bloggers and I'd like to show you off.

I'm really impressed with all the blogs I read. You all are amazing. I've developed a severe case of blog envy.

Okay, now that I'm done being a total suck up, let's move on to the rules.

Let's keep this as simple and easy as possible.

I'll write a quick introduction, including a link to to your blog. All credit for the content of your guest post will absolutely be given to you.

It would obviously be cool if you linked back here on the day of your guest post letting your reader know that you're visiting, but you don't have to if you don't want to.

I'd love it if you are inspired to write a brand new post, but you can reuse a favorite post if you want.

No recipes and no craft tips. (Disclaimer: If you feel strongly, I could probably be talked into whatever type of post you want, especially if it's funny. I just don't usually do the crafty cooky thing.)

If you want to play along, just leave me a comment. I will post one guest entry for any blog friend I recognize. Fairly new friends are welcome to play, but complete strangers are not invited to the party. Sorry.

Please let me know a good way to get in touch with your the comment. Or if you want to reuse an old favorite, you can just leave the link and I will take care of the rest.

Depending on the number of takers, I may spread it out over a few weeks.

That's it people.

I hope you enjoy the guest post party and get a chance to meet some fun new blog friends.

*****************
UPDATE

Thanks to everyone who volunteered to guest post. I have about a dozen participants who I will be posting over the next few weeks so I'm going to close the doors on the invite. Thank you all.

I'm excited for the party and I hope enjoy it.

The Good, The Bad and The Ugly

I find that I don't have much extra time on my hands as a SAHM, but I do have a lot of time on my brain. As much as I try to live in the moment and all that jazz, my brain tends to wander off to greener pastures after the third consecutive reading of the same board book.

I have a lot more time to think than I had in my full time working life.

BUT - I don't have as many outlets for expressing all these thoughts so they tend to get back logged and tangled up in my head. As a fun side effect, I now tend to talk way, way too much when the rare opportunity presents itself . (Seriously, I embarrass myself.)

Luckily, I found blogging a few months ago or the situation would have already reached critical mass.

I love my blog.

I like to post regularly because it forces me to constantly search for new ideas. I find that I read things more critically and listen more carefully to the news. (And I'm a bit of a dork and find that fun.)

The blog helps keeps the brain in full working older. (No matter how many times a day I sing "The Wheels on the Bus" or "Old McDonald".)

I try to post 5 or 6 times a week.

This seems to be the right balance of blog versus real life for me.

While frequent posting solves the brain atrophy crisis, it creates a few blog issues.

Sometimes, my posts have writing mistakes, spelling errors or typos. (Does anybody else spell so badly that they routinely stump the spell checker?)

I'm sorry and I'm working on it. I'm usually writing in a hurry, trying to finish before my son wakes up, so my proof reading leaves something to be desired.

Also, I know my overall blog topics aren't always that exciting. (Today is probably a good example of that.)

Sometimes I'm afraid a new reader will visit on an "off" day and never come back again.

I'm not sure what to do about that, but I've added a new blog category (over on the right) called Favorite Posts so I can at least showcase some of my favorite stuff.

I'm not sure any new readers will even notice the category, but at least it makes me feel better.

If anybody has a suggestion for a favorite post, please let me know.

So far, I've only added two of my fairly early posts that I thought were pretty funny (feel free to check out my attempts at humor for yourself).

I would love any input you have because one thing I've learned while blogging is that I have no idea what other people will like.

Sometimes the posts I love don't get much reaction and the ones I feel so-so about get tons of comments.

I promise not to judge your missteps too harshly, if you'll forgive me for mine.

Blog on people!

Random Thoughts Tuesday

The Un-Mom hosts a fun little game called "Random Tuesday Thoughts". I thought I'd play along this week.

So here goes, the random thoughts running through my brain this morning....

Yesterday, I beat my all time best score at the grocery store. Between fantastic sales and coupons, I saved 46% on my bill. (I paid $52.45 and saved $43.93).

I'm quite proud of myself (probably prouder than I should be, but there isn't a lot of positive feedback in the SAHM world).

After spending the past year and a half grocery shopping with a small child, I really think it should be added as an Olympic sport. I only have one so I'm still in the amateur division, but I saw a mom wrangling four kids through the store yesterday and she was definitely a pro. It's like she grew another pair of arms.

It was every bit as impressive as rhythmic gymnastics. (What is the deal with the ribbon twirling?)

Apparently, Dr. Heimlich (as in the guy who invented the Heimlich maneuver for choking) turns 89 today. My local radio station felt the need to include that information in with the celebrity birthday announcements this morning. I think this raises more questions than it answers.

I think Groundhog day is the weirdest of all American "holidays". I tried to look up the history of day and I just ended up more confused. (Don't worry wikipedia, I still love you.)

And I think that's about all I got today.

If you're looking for more ways to waste time this morning, you should check out The Un Mom and the rest of the participates in Random Tuesday Thoughts.

(Don't let my attempt turn you off to the game because it is usually hilarious.)

Super Steelers!

I'm glad the Steelers won the Super Bowl, but mostly I'm just glad football season is over!

Am I the only one who finds the over the top celebrations hilarious?

I can kind of understand the need to express the joy when you make a major play like a touch down, but some of these guys go all out and do a little fist pumping dance whenever they make a regular old tackle.

So basically they did their job (which they are paid millions to do) and are so happy they need to do a little dance.

Can you imagine if this habit carried over to other professions?

A successful conference call would end with a bunch of suit wearing office workers jumping up and down and enthusiastically chest bumping each other.

Sign out a hard hitting memo and you could do a little funky chicken dance down the hallway.

I think it would spice up the work environment a bit. Heck, who couldn't use a little extra exercise during the work day?

Speaking of spice... this news story really cracked me up - Porn interrupts Super Bowl Broadcast in Tucson. If you thought a little flash of Janet Jackson's nipple was bad, the folks in Tucson got treated to a little full frontal male nudity.

Happy Groundhog Day people!