The spirit of Christmas is presents. And y'all aint gettin' none.

I have managed to not put any presents on my credit card this year.
This is a damn Christmas miracle.

Oh wait, when I start thinking about why I haven't, I realize that it's because I've been a tight ass this year.  I'll apologize in advance to anyone who thinks they might be getting something from me. Instead, you're all getting a hug and a York peppermint patty. But not the big individual ones, the small ones that come in a bag. And only one.

Which brings me to the topic of finding my Christmas present today. Or actually just stumbling upon it.
I went to put some cat toys back in Satan's basket, and there it was.
Haphazardly shoved behind the love seat in the worst hiding spot of all time.

I'm going to be pretty excited on Christmas morning..... and I might be the only one.

Skinny girls are whores. End of discussion.

And I mean "whore"
in the most polite and jealous "everything-looks-good-on-you-stupid-bitches sort of way"......

Yesterday I confirmed something that I'd thought to be true. I'm usually always pretty much absolutely right.
About everything.
But sometimes I have to prove that I'm right to myself.


Fat girls can't wear skinny jeans.


Just because they make them that big does not make it in any way right.

I literally LOLed at myself in the dressing room last night. There was this triangle shaped mess looking back at me and it was hilarious.

Oh well. At least I can add this to my extravagantly long list of "shit I'm right about".

The death of my soulmate(s).

Yesterday I said goodbye to some good friends. Granted, we hadn't connected for the past couple years, it was still hard. Even when you know the time is coming, and denial sets in, it's still hard.

Our relationship started about 8 years ago. We met through our mutual friend, Erica. She convinced me that we'd be great together. I had my reservations, but finally gave in. We spent many happy years together and fond memories. They were always there for me, and swore that their mere presence made my ass look smaller.

We hadn't gotten together for quite a while because of the extent of my friend's deterioration. Every time I saw them, I knew the time was drawing near, but refused to accept it.

Last night was the end.  I put a plastic bag over them and drew it tight.


I put their lifeless bodies in the garbage can and had a moment of silence.

You will be missed, best shoes EVER, you will be missed.

Today begins the rest of my relatively short life

I stumbled upon this website today has this article
7 Thoughts that are bad for you.
It goes through 7 thoughts that supposedly knock minutes off your lifespan.
I'm going to share my thoughts with you on these feelings even without you asking. You're welcome.

7. Cynicism.
Oh, Yeah, I'm definitely a cynic. Or maybe a realist.  I think there's probably a pretty damn fine line between cynicism and realism if you think about it. Apparently being a cynic will give me a 25% greater chance of obtaining heart disease. Well if that isn't cynical...

6. Lack of Meaning.
Apparently, not having goals and aspirations in life will cut your stay short. This does not apply to me. I know full well that the purpose of my life is to be an enigma to modern science and prove that it IS possible to support human life solely on Mt. Dew and 7-11 nachos.

5. Fretting.
I don't really do much of this. Sometimes my verbal vomiting gets me in trouble and I wish for half a second that I wouldn't have said something.... but then I realize that it was probably for the best and  I'm over it. I don't think this will contribute to my untimely demise.

4. Lack of Self Control.
This article seems to express that organization is a big part of self control. I think I'm good here too. Clean stuff goes on hangers, dirty stuff goes on the floor. Don't drink before 5 pm (unless you're on vacation or shopping or depressed or thirsty). Organized AND in control.

3. Anxiety.
I will admit that I have moments of anxiety. When I think about it though, it's mostly other people's actions that make me nervous, not so much my own.  When Manuel flies by the seat of his pants and refuses to make plans 9 months in advance, I get a little bit anxious.  Not my problem though, that's totally his.

2. Gloom and Doom.
Again, this doesn't really apply to me as much as it does other people. I don't have gloom and doom thoughts about myself, but more others. I have a mild case of road rage and often threaten to follow douchey drivers and "teach them a lesson". Manuel then reminds me that he's not going to fight my battles and I make the executive decision of flight rather than fight. What good is a muscular sidekick when he won't fight your ridiculously underthought battles?  I'm holding out that one day he'll defend my honor and redeem himself.

1. Stress.
Ah Stress. I stress at work in short bursts around deadline time, but the rest is pretty smooth sailing. 
I stress at home when my house isn't as clean as my sister's and she's coming over, but I think I've come to the conclusion that it will NEVER be that clean so I might as well give up.
I stress about money pretty regularly, but I guess if that got to be a big enough issue I could always move back home and empty the dishwasher for rent.
I stress about the environment and get upset when people aren't doing their share, but I heard once that a true environmentalist would have to end up committing suicide because they could never fully erase their impact on the earth.
I've stressed a lot this year in particular about relationships and have come to the conclusion that good ones shouldn't stress you out at all.
I don't really stress about my health much because the nachos keep me pretty regular.

It only takes one person to ruin it for the whole class.

So here's the deal, friends.  I realize that having a stalker would imply that I'm super duper neat and rad. Someone thinks I'm bomb diggity enough to obsessively check my blog multiple times per day.
This should bring flattery and reaffirm what I've known all along: 
I'm totally kickass.

HOWEVER. This is not the case. I'm actually annoyed.

If you're one of my subscribers that DOES enjoy my blog and thinks I'm cooler than sliced bread, shoot me an email because I'm going private at the first of the year: lairlyn AT gmail DOT com.
Don't be shy: there are certainly a share of blogs I enjoy reading of people whom I vaguely know or don't know at all.

Blog stalking is fun! Just not when you're the one being stalked, and it's by a creeper that most likely takes voodoo dolls of you to bed instead of taping your picture to the ceiling and hoping the masking tape gives out.

This has been a hard decision since I'm a big fan of saying how I feel and not really caring who knows it.  Oh well.

Get your ern fill while you can, Stalkzilla. You're gettin' cut off!

American Holiday: All about the fatties.

Last night was BFF Thanksgiving 09er.
Some of these little wiseasses made jokes about what they were thankful for, but in reality I think we were all thankful to just be around each other.
Thanksgiving is a great holiday because it revolves around food. If you've not picked up on this little nugget, I'll fill you in.  I love food.
Hello, holiday that encourages you to eat until you cannot physically move and must unbutton your jeans.  WINNER.



<-- Some random crap meticulously placed in a bowl. That's right ladies, you can call me Martha.

 <-- Turkey straight out of the Keg Roaster. Kudos, Keystone Light, you served your purpose well...

 <--Yeah, it was THIS GOOD.
 




 <-- The only time EVER that more than four burners would have come in handy. You can rest now little stove, you probably won't get used again till next year....

<-- Mmmmm this is what Thanksgiving is all about, 3/4 carbs to 1/4 protein ratio :)

<-- PIE. OMG.

<-- Aww. Tender moment.

 <-- Aww. Ruined moment. Jackass.

<-- The girls, and I think there's a Larsen under there somewhere....



I love muh friends and I'm glad we got to do this. Oh, I also love pie. Amen.

What I've gotten myself into now....

Quite a while ago, Laura mentioned stumbling upon a website for a charity that accepts knitted eight inch squares and sews them into blankets for orphaned children in South Africa. This appealed to me since I'm a sucker for service projects and knitting is something I love.
About a month ago I started looking into it deeper and decided I wanted to plan some sort of drive to collect squares to send. I mentioned on my Facebook page that I'd be collecting them, and Rebecca offered her assistance in my crazy scheme.
Rebecca wrote an article that was put in the News Journal and we planned a "Knit-a-Square Day" for last Saturday. A girl from the Standard-Examiner even called to interview me and did a story.
I did some research on postage and found that a 20 lb. box would cost about $53 to mail. I worried that I'd never collect 20 pounds of knitted squares.

Laura asked me what my expectations were, and I told her that I had none.  I planned on sending the 15 or so squares that I'd done, and anything above that would be fantastic. She told me that she thought 500 was a good number. At which point I told her that she was a lunatic.

The turnout on Saturday was overwhelming.  People kept dropping off squares they'd knit or crochet and I was genuinely amazed. My fear of not having enough squares to send quickly turned into "how the hell am I going to raise enough money to send all the squares I have?!"

Going from having no expectations to sitting in a huge pile of handiwork was crazy, but looking at the bigger picture, it's such a drop in the bucket.

"The aim of knit-a-square is to raise as much awareness as possible for the plight of the children of South Africa. As well as to warm them with beautifully hand knitted and crocheted blankets from around the world. The issue of children orphaned by HIV/AIDS is widely unknown around the world. There are 1.4 million children already orphaned in South Africa followed by a sickening 500 children orphaned daily. This is so sad and one of the biggest issues in the world today." - Kalai McDonald, Knit-a-Square

We've collected 395 squares so far, which will go towards keeping 15 children warm. 15 kids out of 1,500,000. Wow.

The feeling of great pleasure over the amount of squares collected is quickly dispelled by a look at the numbers. 
I guess I just need to remember that as a community, we HAVE helped 15 children that otherwise wouldn't have received a blanket. 
Looking at the amount of good that's been done is easier than looking at the amount of work that needs to still be done.

This time of year gets everyone thinking about what they're thankful for, what they have.  Take a second to think about what's great about your life and the freedoms and opportunities you enjoy. Then take a second to think about people who have it a lot worse than you.

Next time you see the Salvation Army bellringers at Wal-Mart- don't avoid making eye contact and shuffle by, smile and give them your pocket change. They're out there freezing their asses off trying to make life better for someone else.

And next time you see me, cough up ten bucks for postage, I got some damn squares to send!

Open mouth, insert turkey.

We're having Thanksgiving at Manny's mom's this year.
I asked him last night if his family ate white people food, or what. 
I thought it was a legitimate question.
He replied sarcastically with that squinty look I love: "No, we eat burritos and enchiladas........ Just like the Pilgrims did."
At which point I said "Well... you guys make tamales for Christmas, and I'm pretty sure that's not what Jesus did....."

I'm thankful for a man that enjoys (read: tolerates) my humor.

However you're celebrating, have a Happy Thanksgiving!
And find something to be thankful for!

Home on the range

Yesterday we made the thirty minute pilgrimage to heaven on earth. And we took hot dogs.

We took the kids out to my family's property in Corinne to run amok in the wide open spaces.


They had fun running and hiding in the Brayden-tall grasses, exploring around the pond and finding dead stuff. I had fun simply being in the middle of nowhere enjoying the quiet and gorgeous surroundings. Fall is the perfect time to be out there- it's not too wet like Spring, and there aren't mosquitos big enough to carry you away like in Summer.


It was warm enough to cook hot dogs outside so we had one last outdoor cookout for the year.


We took a four-wheeler ride to the pond where I spent most of my time taking pictures. I was using my old camera since my new one met an unfortunate demise.

We won't get in to exactly how it died, just let it be known that I'm not responsible enough to own a camera, and this is the second one that has been fried via water in a 6 month period.




Going back to the cabin, I realized that my camera had jumped from my hoodie pocket somewhere along the way. Like I said, completely irresponsible.
We drove back to find it sitting upright on the salt flat. I didn't move it, but turned it on and took a picture. This is fate's vision. Pretty damn neat, I say.


Check out the rest of my super rad pics here

Brand Whore.

I feel like I've come full circle in my quest to be clothed decently. Everyone recalls when they were younger, specifically Jr. High, when all you wanted was name-brand clothing. It was as if the pubescent gods would cause you to spontaneously combust if you did not own a pair of Lucky jeans. In reality, you'd just be knocked down a peg on the social totem pole, which felt like the same thing.
Getting your parents to spend outrageous amounts of money on what seemed like the exact same thing as something you'd get at K-Mart but was labeled "what the cool kids wore" took a force of nature.
Christensen's has ruined me. I've been somewhat of a tightass in my adulthood anyway, but working at a clothing store has made me even worse.
A $59 price tag on a great hoodie in the real world is unacceptable. FIFTY NINE DOLLARS? Seriously? And lets get back to jeans- A pair of Big Stars out in the real world run about $108. I own several pairs of these, but surely did not pay that price. In fact, I didn't pay ANY price. See, I work for clothes. Two Saturdays a month affords me pretty much anything I want in this store. Which makes paying actual dollars in the real world impossible.
I'm the best dressed poor kid in town.
Basically, I'm a 24/7 posterchild for Billabong and Hurley, which I happen to usually like but feel limited to since I won't go out and pay full price for anything else.

Recently my mother called me a brand whore. This is probably true. Even though I get amazing deals on my brand whore items, I don't ever really look at clothing at cheap stores.

This all changed last week when trying on close to one million pairs of jeans. None of which fit me. I've always said that I'm not built for jeans. Something about my small ass and bran muffin top just doesn't work. If I can find jeans that fit my butt, they're too tight up top, and if I find jeans that fit my waist.... well... then... I walk around looking like I just crapped my pants. I'm also able to regularly perform a magic trick of walking OUT of my pants.
Utterly defeated in my quest for new jeans, I got a crazy idea.
I'm going to Shopko.
I tentatively wandered into the clothing section towards the denim. I quickly realized that I no longer trust anything Stacy London has to say, since she's endorsing Rider Jeans. I looked at them and realized that I wanted nothing to do with trying to find jeans at this store.
As I felt like hope was lost and I'd be destined to wear sweat pants for the rest of my existence- which Stacy London says would be the coup de grace of my social life, but I'm not listening to her anymore so who cares anyway- I discovered the juniors denim.
I found a few pairs that looked pretty decent and made my way towards the dressing rooms.
In a matter of minutes, I found two pairs that actually felt like they fit. They didn't squish the hell out of me and they didn't produce sag ass.
Excellent.
Suddenly, I've gone from wearing $108 jeans to $19 ones. Yeah, they were even on sale.

I guess when you get older (and you also happen to be misshaped) you come to realize that having something that actually fits you is worth a lot more than someone recognizing that you have a $200 True Religion tag on your ass.

Yeah, I own those too, and yeah, they fit like shit.

Happy Halloweeners

Usually for Halloween I have a pretty good idea for a costume in advance, but due to the fact that I was on my deathbed the week before this Halloween, it kinda put a damper on the festivities.
I was sick. Hella sick. So sick that I didn't knit or read, but rather just sit like a zombie on the couch and watch tv with remembering to breathe as my only concern. I was too lethargic to even steal my neighbor's internet to tell you all how sick I was.
At this point, I kind of wish I would have gotten tested for H1N1 because I really wonder if that's what I had, so I'm just pretending that I did.

I didn't start feeling like a human being again until the day before Halloween, which meant that a costume was pretty much just thrown together.
I can't even tell you what I was, only that I was probably time warped out of the 80's. I found this shirt at the DI that was tragically hideous, so I had to wear it.

Now going through the pictures, I realize that it looks like a giant pastel potato sack and as though I've gained 50 lbs. Probably a mistake. Oh well, I was pretty damn comfortable and didn't need to keep making sure my cleavage was still intact like all the other whores at the bar that night ;)

Manuel started out looking for things to be an 80's child with me, but ended up as what we've decided was a long-haul white-trash red-neck trucker. Ah well.

It ended up being a good holiday from what I remember, I was pretty hopped up on dayquil, sudafed, ibuprofen and caffeine.

Just kidding mom.

Kinda.

Please excuse my EMO moment....

Hello blog, it's been awhile.

I am quite melancholy today, and have been intermittently for a while now.
In an effort to finish this chapter of my life entitled nuclear fallout, and move on, I attempt to scribble my thoughts.

There are so many things I can think to blog about, yet can't.
So many things I could say, and at the same time, don't really want to.

When was the exact moment I turned into a pussy? Unsure.

Is it because I don't want to unleash the Pandora's jar that's rattling around in my nugget? Perhaps.

Is it because I can't even put certain emotions into words? We'll blame it on that.

Why are you being such a cryptic creep? How 'bout we get on with the blog, smartass.


This is what I've come up with.

On the road of life, you collect things on your journeys.
You collect people, places, things. You collect experiences and knowledge.
Some of these bring you happiness and contentment.
Others bring heartbreak and sorrow.
Do you hold on to the happy ones and let go of the sad ones?
No. They all stay with you.
Do good times have a higher value than hard ones?
No. They all culminate and bring forth the current version of you.

I have a special place in my home where I keep material things that are precious to me.
I have a similar place in my heart where I keep people that are precious to me.

The place in my heart where the people are stored has been robbed.
I will not receive a restitution for my loss, nor will things ever be the same.

The only thing I can do at this point is install a security system so that this can't happen again.

I will continue down my road, and be slightly more cautious of the people I put in my heart.

The day the dance-dance revolution ended.

I had to take Bud to school today.

This is bad on several different levels.
1. My body's natural wake-up time is nine. Not seven-thirty.
2. My life has little structure. There isn't anywhere on a daily basis I have to be to at a certain time. This makes me think time has no relevance.
3. It typically takes me 30 minutes to wake up after my alarm has gone off.

After my alarm went off this morning, and I realized that I DID have somewhere to be on time today, reality hit that I couldn't push the snooze button.
Which made me crack open my little peepers enough to think "uhhhhhhhhhhgh. Mother bitch. It's still dark outsiiiiiddddde." I threw a miniature kicking tantrum in my bed and threw myself out of it.

I tripped into Brayden's room and as I got closer to his bed to wake his precious little sleeping angel head, he jumped and scared me.
Little booger was waiting for me.

We ate our cereal discussing the fruit sudoku on the back of the cereal box and why Harley likes to eat leaves when she just throws them back up.

On the way to school (barely 30 minutes since my awakening) I decided maybe dancing in the car would do me some good, get my blood flowing.
I had let Bud sit in the front seat so he happened to have a good view of this.

After about 20 seconds at a stop light, he says "Ok, you're starting to make me embarrassed now."

Sad thing, is that we weren't even anywhere NEAR his school.

Thanks to the males in my life for letting it be known loud and clear that I'm not allowed to dance anymore. Even a 7-year-old knows this.
Damn.

Poriticary Correct

If you know by brother James at all, you know that he rarely says his 'l's.
I don't know why.
He just thinks it's hilarious. Or maybe hirarious.

He calls our niece Hadlee, 'Hadree'.
He named his bicycle 'Hirrary Crinton'.
He says 'prease and thank you'.

Well, sometimes crap like that rubs off on you.

As we sat in a Chinese restaurant last night, the waitress brought our tab with fortune cookies. There were two cookies in one wrapper.
To this I exclaimed "Hory Shit!"
Probably a bit too loud.
Inappropriate for the setting? Highly.

Manny shakes his head and says "You know, I used to think that maybe you were a racist, but now I know for sure."

"Are you serious?!"

"No, I'm not, I never thought you were, I always knew."

The next 10 minutes were spent trying to convince my boyfriend that I was not a racist. Hello, I AM dating a Mexican.
Wait, was that racist?

Anyway, as we made our way home in the truck, my hip-hop song of the week came on the radio and I proceeded to bust out my version of krumping.

That's when I heard "Cracker ass, don't dance."

HA! Gotcha bitch!

The moral of the story is that I am in fact not a racist. There are however, certain stereotypes that have some truth to them. Asians have a hard time with their 'l's, white girls can not krump, and well, I'm wondering where Manny keeps getting all the stereos I find in the garage....

I think I'm going Japanese

Japanese words I know.

Konnichiwa: Hello. Everyone knows this word, as well as

Kamikaze: "divine wind", suicide airplane pilots.

Murasaki: Purple. I know this word because it's what James named one of our family's cats after he returned from Tokyo.

Sushi: Vinegar rice, usually topped with other ingredients, such as fish. I know this word because it is delicious.

Karaoke: Singing to a song with no vocal track. I know this word because it is both terrifying and necessary. Terrifying because I cannot sing. Necessary because it's how Manuel makes extra money.

Manny was the Karaoke Jockey at a bar in town that closed a couple years ago and he hasn't really used his equipment since then.
With money being tight lately, he started talking to the owner of the B&B who expressed interest in trying it.
Last weekend was our first Karaoke job at B&B.

Look who showed up to the party and had the same outfit idea I did that night :)
Proof we were separated at birth.

Jess, Me, Erica

Sean was really great! Who knew?!

Karaoke Duet


Serenading me: Dance Dance Dance
Oh, but this wasn't the only serenade of the night.....


I was talking to Erica when her eyes got HUGE. I turned around to see this dude leaning on the back of my chair giving his rendition of a certain Bloodhound Gang song.... Holy embarrassing. Never turn your back on karaoke singers, it's dangerous.

We went to McDonald's for Sunday dinner again, but this time when I asked if we were ordering off the dollar menu, Manny said "No, you get whatever you want."
Wahoo! The best part of a karaoke gig? Having a couple bucks to take your sweetheart on a NON dollar menu date to McDonald's :)

Domo Arigato to everyone who came out and made it a great night, we'll be back on Halloween!

You Capture: Still Life

I was at my parent's house this morning and couldn't help but notice some of the great fall leaves that had already made their way to the ground.
I was particularly drawn to this one, and my dad and I went around putting it different places.

Here are some of its travels :)



See the other entries here

DONE!

The sweater is done!
I really thought it was going to take forever, but after 3 months here she is!

I can't even begin to estimate the hours it took- Aaron made a pretty accurate statement when he said "so there's no money in knitting sweaters, huh?" Uh. No. Not unless someone would like to pay $1500 for one!

It actually feels pretty priceless though :)

Thanks, to Laura for persuading me into doing this, answering my dumb technical questions and sitting with me for a good hour deliberating over what buttons to choose.









And thanks Dad for the photo shoot :)

Don't stop till you get enough, ch'mon

Holy shit this last week has been busy!
I'd waited for weeks in anticipation of last weekend.
Two girl's nights in one weekend. giddy UP.

Friday night was at Laura's mom's house- one of my second mothers.
Since I don't have any biological sisters, these girls have taken me in to assure that I have FIVE. They include me in the good times and I don't have to deal with much of the sister drama. WINNER.

We ordered in from Maddox and each brought our own project to work on, mine of course was my sweater.
Jenn was working on gorgeous quilts for her daughters, Kate on some needlepoint, Eileen knitting on a baby sweater, Sar was cutting jeans for a quilt, Hayley switched projects so often I'm not really sure what she was doing, and Laura was doing a pumpkin.
It was a great night being with my adopted sisters and I got the sleeves done on my sweater! Holy balls. It's actually coming right along and I hope to have it finished in a week :)

I've never laughed so hard as I did Friday night, until Saturday night rolled around....

The night started out with dinner at Tona, which is always amazing. It was fun trying to help Rebecca (aka B-DOG) decide on what sushi rolls to order since she'd only had it once before. I still have a hard time deciding. It's all SO GOOD.
After dinner we skipped next door (ok, actually walked like a complete handicap since I had new heels on... :/ ) to Brewskis for a drink or two.

Breanne, Erica, Rebecca, Me

I love this picture of Breezy, what a cutie.

After Brewskis we went back to Erica's for a pajama party. We played the longest Jenga game EVER and laughed the night away.

With enough peer pressure (and booze), Erica eventually did her Raptor impression, which is frighteningly retarded comedy. Don't worry kids, Alicia has a video preserved for posterity.

Some of the pictures taken throughout the night I'd like to put up, but would require consent forms from the parties involved, and that's just too much damn work.

Thanks girls (Erica, Brein, Rebecca, Breanne, Alicia, Jenn, Megan), for a most excellent night!




Sunday night we were straight ballers.
Dollar Menunaires. Oh yeah, that's right.

Due to circumstances in this shit ball economy, we've had to cut way back. It was Erica's first Sunday family dinner joining the ranks of the destitute and there's no better fitted meal for that than McDonald's dollar menu. It really doesn't matter where we eat because we're always in good company.

On Monday, Laura tempted me with craft stores. One of our favorites in Roy is closing, so we had to go pay our respects (and get awesome deals).
Let me all clue you in on a secret. Get closer. Closer. Ok.
-Shopping with a two year old wears you out.

Oh, you may have heard this before? Yeah, well, this was my first experience.
Picking up things thrown out of the cart, quelling the panic attacks when his mother leaves his line of sight, making sure he isn't adding items to the cart or putting back what you've put in it. These may be every day issues for mothers, and I'm sure you get used to them, but hells was I tired. I love Cody. Don't get me wrong. He just has the uncanny ability to make my brain turn to mush.

Which brings us to Today. I feel like I'm getting sick, and this really shouldn't surprise me since I feel like all I've done is run for 4 days.
I took a nap, and now I think I might drink a dayquil-vodka cocktail and go out to the shop and run the scroll saw for a while.
Safety is for suckers. :)

You Capture: Fall

This week's challenge was to capture the feeling of fall.
I took this picture last week as I was decorating my house with pumpkins because the challenge was happiness, and fall definitely makes me happy.
Then as I was reading ahead I saw that the next week was fall, so I decided to save my photo for this week :)

Check out all the other photos here.

New fall comedy review

I love television.
It's genetic. I get it from my mother.

I look forward to watching 'my stories' in the fall when they return, and enjoy watching new ones.
I also hate it. My dual DVR is already clogged with all the old stuff that I have to record, it's hard to decide what new shows might be worthy of a slot on the hard drive.
Until I discovered hulu.

The internetses is a great invention. Then paired with television....
It's like a slippery-slide of Cheez Whiz with Oreos and Funyuns at the bottom.
In other words, incredible.

Here are a few new shows that are definitely worth checking out.

Glee
I do not sing. Choir horrified me. I'm terrible. The end.
My ears have become immune to the sounds my vocal cords can make, but I'd never wish that on anyone else. I sing in the shower, in the car, and in my office- but only if I'm alone in all of those places.
The only exception to this is Journey. I am utterly helpless when a Journey song comes on.
I can't NOT sing Journey.
Sadly, this takeover sometimes has a dancing side effect.
The only thing I'm worse at than singing, is dancing.
I use the term 'dancing' loosely, it's more like an epileptic giraffe that's just learning to walk. Oh, and my tongue is always sticking out the side of my mouth South Park Cartman style. This movement horrifies Manuel.
He tells me, "babe, you really shouldn't dance...."
Of course, he's totally right, but damnit, sometimes I just can't help myself.

As I watched the first episode of Glee, I found myself singing and dancing to their rendition of "Don't stop believing" by Journey.
Thankfully I was alone.

I didn't think this show was something I could relate to, but I find it strangely amusing and it's pretty funny too.

As long as I continue to watch it alone, I think everyone is safe.

Cougartown
As I watched the series premier last week with Erica, we both ended up staring at each other in amazement. Someone had seen our lives 20 years in the future and made a television series out of it.
Courtney Cox is hilarious and she's perfect for this role.
The interaction between characters is dysfunctional and well scripted- and oddly familiar- Right down to the ex-husband that hangs around, neighbor best friends, "wine and scrabble" night and a sarcasm overload.

Community
This is a pretty funny show with twisted honest humor that is near and dear to my heart.
It includes great characters- Joel McHale from The Soup, Jon Oliver from The Daily Show, Ken Jeong and Chevy Chase.

The best thing I've learned from this one is the term "douche-ray vision".

Modern Family
This show is great. It follows three families that are related to each other, each very different.
The dad that's married to the Colombian MILF with a pain-in-the-ass step son, the daughter whose family takes a hilarious approach to parenting, and the son and his partner who just adopted a child from asia.
The dynamics are hilarious. It's filmed Office-style showing interviews of the characters throughout the episode.


So glad Al Gore invented the www so I can watch these new beauties without conflict in the DVR (or 3 VCRs like my mom. Love you mom!)

Hello flu shot!

Co-worker Lynne's daughter Ginger came in to visit today, she's a nurse at McKay-Dee in Ogden.
The purpose of her visit was to thoroughly scare the shit out of us in regards to the upcoming flu season.
"I want you to get a flu shot, because I love you, and I don't want you to die", She tells us.

I've never had a flu shot.
My mom had one last year and was so sick that she was hallucinating... not something I really wanted to sign up for.

So I took a poll.
I called my mom, she said that she probably wouldn't get another one, but that my dad has had them every year and has been fine.
Two other ladies in the office claim to have had them every year with no adverse reaction.
Erica said that she had one once and was sick all year long.

Shit.

I went out front to discuss the findings of my survey with Ginger, at which point she told me she'd buy me an ice cream cone if I went.

Done deal.

When we got to the health department, Lynne went first. She is the bravest.
Sean was waiting in line when I finished my paperwork, but still made me go before him. He is the pussiest.

He told me that he was going to watch my eyes for signs of fear and pain, but he actually just sat there covering them.

When I was done, I asked Sean if he was aware that they give dosages by weight, and since he was so much bigger than me, he'd probably have to have two shots.

He was too busy yelling at me for making "fat jokes" that he didn't even feel his shot.

It's all about distraction. Apparently this tactic works on 5-year-olds AND 30-year-olds.

To reward Sean for his success, the nurse applied him with a Hello Kitty band-aid.

Gay Saturday

One of my best friends killed himself six years ago.
I feel like a liberal gay kid trying to gain acceptance in a conservative straight life just became too much.
I ask myself all the time why it is that people aren't accepting of each other.
Why is it so damn hard?
Why is it easier for people to hurt others than to accept them?
Especially people with lifestyles that aren't replicas of their own.

To this day it's still hard for me to try and picture myself in his place before he took his life. How it was that he could have felt so alone and alienated.

I remember back to Jr. High when he told me that I wouldn't get so many zits if I didn't eat so many french fries, advice I still have not heeded. The summer before we could drive when we spent hours on the phone and drove our parents crazy. High School when we went to dances together and wrote notes which I still read. Trick-or-treating at his parent's house because they gave out twinkies. They still do, and I still go.

Zane was a good friend, before and after I learned he was gay.
He's a total bastard for doing what he did and I'm still pretty pissed off at him, but he was a good friend despite this.

We learned a lot of things through our journey together, and I'm not in anyway a believer of the "things happen for a reason" bullshit, but I do think we were paired at such a young age for a purpose.

A year after Zane's death, I learned that my own brother was gay.
My brother was still my brother, the only thing that this knowledge changed for me was add a new sense of fear.

I worry so much about him. This world, specifically this state, is supremely unjust when it comes to the LGBT community.
I worry that his life will be harder. I worry about the things he'll have to deal with that I never will. I'm scared for his safety.

The reason I'm sharing these things is that I went Saturday to Salt Lake to listen to Judy Shepard speak. She is Matthew Shepard's mother.
Matthew was brutally beaten and left for dead tied to a fence post in Laramie, Wyoming in 1998.
His murderers testified that they attacked him because he was gay.
Judy now speaks out in hopes of passing hate-crime legislation and working toward general acceptance of the LGBT community, not just tolerance.

There were several wonderful things she said, including that those in the LGBT community and their allies need to share their stories and let their voices be heard. She said that stereotypes live on when no one speaks out to change them.

As I said in a previous blog, "when there's love, who loses?"
The fact that so many people get so riled up over "the gays" simply turns my stomach and brings me to tears. They're people, just like everyone else. People who contribute to society, have jobs, pay taxes, have families, white picket fences and love. Yes. They love.
What a terrible crime against society.


I didn't lose a son like Judy Shepard did, but I certainly have had experiences in my life that have made me want to vocalize my feelings in support of a minority who needs and deserves it.

To my gay friends and family members- I love you very much. Never stop being who you are. Never forget that there are people out there who have your back.

My profound lack of motheringishness

Yesterday I was folding laundry and heard the fridge open and shut, followed by numerous cupboards.
I poked my head around the corner to see Brayden in a fit of desperation.

"Uh.... Is there any snacks"

"Did you look in the cupboard?"

"Well yeah."

"Did you find anything?"

"No."

"Dude, there's like, graham crackers, goldfish crackers, chips, granola bars, fruit snacks....."

"Uh, I have that stuff every DAY. Isn't there anything good?"

"Whatever. That stuff is awesome. Just eat it."

*sigh* "Alright, I guess I'll just have graham crackers with milk...."

"Yeah... about the milk..."

*sigh*

".....sorry pal."

As he gathers his crackers with OUT milk and his attitude, he saunters into the living room for Sesame Street or Today's Special or whatever the kids these days are watching.

What I was left realizing, is that it is completely beyond my comprehension to speak to kids like normal people do.

I have one inflection, and it's standard for everyone.

Maybe starting with babies makes it easier to grow with them and talk on their level, but I started with a 5-year-old.

If they learn anything from my profound lack of motheringishness, I would hope that it would be they are able to be treated like adults and not be coddled.

If I learn anything, it would be that I should really try to keep milk around.

Harvest Overload

Here are two seasons of knitted pumpkins, as requested by Greg.
If I knit until I'm taken over by blindness, arthritis or senility, I figure I've got a maximum of 20 years of knitting left
(since I'm already working on all three of these....)
x 4 pumpkins per year = I'll probably die by drowning in pumpkins, or my house will catch on fire and smolder for days with the high content of synthetic materials it contains.

The second photo is the entire pumpkin collection that gets dispersed about the house.
There's even the amalgamate of both my loves: A pumpkin headed cat.

I love finding weird and different specimens, not just buying any pumpkin I see.

The best thing about them as a seasonal decoration is they get twice the exhibition of normal decor- Halloween AND Thanksgiving! WOOT!

Maybe it's weird, but I just really like pumpkins... hello, my living room is even orange, people.

Happy Autumn!

The first day of Autumn is brought to you by the

BIGGEST PEACH EVER!!!!

A day in the life of Tank

Photos taken over a 24-Hour period.

Looks like a pretty good life. I think she's on to something.