Sounds Good...

Some things sound like such great ideas. 

Take HE washers and dryers. I bet a lot of you guys have these babies. 

Shiny. Pretty. 

Save money on water and energy!

WRONG. 

See this picture? 

That is your saved money getting spent all over again. 

This is what happens when you put the door of the stinking washing machine on the front. 

Sometimes, you just shouldn't mess with a good thing. 

Do you see the clothing, tangled up like lovers? 

Do you see the clothing on the floor? 

It didn't make it into the dryer. 

This is because I just don't have six hands. 

Pity. 

Six hands would frigging rock my world, baby.

I still tell people I love my HE machines. 

I spent too much money not to lie. 

Besides, they're not lying–even after a million washes (which add up when everything is falling on the floor)–clothes still look like new.

Happy Birthday Twitter.

Rugged Chic

This post lacks a photo because I'm unable to force my iPhone to photograph itself. 

This post is about the blatantly evil world of cellular phones. 

I bet you didn't even REALIZE evil existed in the wireless world. 

It does. 

I'd start a petition or something, but those things are so freaking lame. 

They're like a web trend. 

"Oh woe is me. The world sucks. THEY suck. Let's band together and SIGN THIS!"

That'll learn 'em. 

I'm all for non-violent protest. 

I just think we have better tools these days than whining. 

Anyway. 

I have three small weapons of mass destruction. 

They steal my iPhone every chance they get. 

I used to buy ruggedized phones (may they rest in peace).

I stopped because the sound is rotten. Denmark rotten. I wanted a real phone.

But real phones don't respond well to biohazards. 

So I searched for a ruggedized case. 

Case #1 broke. 

Case #2 is PINK (ulk) & falling apart after a week. 

NOTE TO CELL PHONE DESIGNERS: 

Not every person needing a ruggedized phone wants something brick-shaped and black. 

Not every person wanting the latest tech wants something delicate.

Sleek is good. Breakable is not.

It should not look like it is designed for a construction worker. 

NOTE TO CASE DESIGNERS:

A case should protect a cell phone from apocalypse.

Cases need to come in a range of colors. 

Black, red, white, green, and pink is only a range if you've been shopping the Wal-Mart men's department all your life and want something "fun" for the ladies.

It should not look like it is designed for a construction worker. 

I am so freaking tired of looking for a phone+case that fills the following requirements: 

A) I can find phone numbers without reading a manual

B) It survives my kids

C) I don't lose it because it is BLACK, or SILVER, and the size of a credit card.

D) I can hear people talk, and they can hear me.

E) I don't have to charge it midday. 

Oh, and pleas, Santa, I've only been marginally bad this year, so can I have one that doesn't look like it's made for a construction worker?

Potty Mouth

The last several months I've been sometimes victorious in my battle against foul language. 

No, this isn't an extension of that vigilante justice superhero effort. 

Nothing that cool. 

Just me, my potty mouth, and my ongoing effort to prevent my kindergartener from school banishment. 

Mostly, I do okay. 

After intense negotiations with Mr. Rules the school kid (totally unlike his rebellious mom) regarding the word crap, I was permitted it's usage off school grounds. 

I have SOMETHING to hold onto at least. 

The funny thing is

My three-year-old has come up with his own plan. 

See, he doesn't care about rules. 

(Not surprised)

And he probably thinks my struggle to say certain words and not say other ones is a freaking hoot. 

And I'm pretty sure that little demon wreaks mischief just to watch me squirm. 

That's true love you know: sadistic, evil pre-schooler.

Anyway. 

Three-year-old has taken to saying, "Oh, NUGGETS!" whenever he finds something aggravating, frustrating, amusing, or in any way appropriate for an expletive. 

I'm actually jealous.

His word is cooler than mine. 

Crap.

Who's The Boss?

Today I wanted to punch a woman in the face. 

This woman felt the need to pass judgement on something I was doing, or rather something she assumed I'd already done. She informed me of the appropriate way to do it (not asking if it might fit into my life or abilities), and attempted to push me aside so she could demonstrate on my child. 

A total stranger wanted to touch my kid after calling me inconsiderate. 

Yeah.

I corrected her on a few points, and left before I said everything I wanted. A wise move. 

But later I talked to my son about it. I can't stop nutbags who think they can tell people what's copacetic and what's sleazy in our lives, but I can teach him why it's never okay

to step into a stranger's path and dish out advice. 

YOU ARE NOT THE BOSS OF THAT PERSON. 

It's easy enough my five-year-old grasped it in less than sixty seconds. 

Obviously, we've got people in our society we pay for advice: doctors, lawyers, psychiatrists, your frigging personal trainer.

And obviously, you've got friends that probably say, "Hey, dude, maybe you'd get better results this way," because your friends earned that right. 

And obviously, there's a cool justice system in place where you can report illegal activities. This protects you from getting shot by heroin-crazed psycho-killers. 

It's all good. 

But, you know, if you'd rather be Czar of the Galaxy, go for it. I'll give the junkies your address.

Fatness

Okay, before you say anything, I already know my kids have enormous heads. 

Lately fast food joints are warring over who can offer the healthiest kid's meal. 

'Cause, you know, healthy is what kids are all about. 

It may have started with uber-crunchy parents rampaging against the viral spread of cellulite. Last I heard, that crap gets in the water and infects entire cities.

Now, Chick-Fil-A stuffs their meals with thinly disguised cult-lit on how to be good, Mickey D's offers mini-fries and mini-apples instead of a full dose of either. Another place my boys despise eliminated the toy completely forcing kids to think about food choices rather than fun. 

And that's vital. Fun can be deadly.

Amusing thing is, no matter what options I offer my boys, they make the same choices. Like this picture. We picked out this stupid cheesecake for my birthday a few years back, they ate one bite each, then drove trucks through it for thirty minutes before feeding it to the dog.

Seriously. 

I have pics of the dog eating the cake. 

Also, they're kind of built, well, like they're built. I diversified to get more mileage out of thrift-store clothing.  

Nah, it's actually genetics. 

I do know that as a mother, I offer them an array of physical opportunities to burn off all the fast food they take in (and my kids take in more than some). Maybe the crunchy parents should attack cable TV or Nintendo instead of McDonalds. 

But maybe we're all just made up of a lot of tiny choices and tiny unavoidable factors like those pesky genetics. 

I mean, my hips were there at a size eight too. I'm not going to lie. I'd like to pretend I could be a slender size four or something someday. 

But that's sort of like dreaming about a healthy Happy Meal. 

The Skinny

I've spent a week working up a post about panties, but multiple interruptions kept it in my pants where it probably belongs.


Instead, I'm offering one of you access to my amazing new diet plan.There is no special food to buy or eat. Ever. No food combinations. Nothing to cut. No weighing or counting or reading labels. No pills, supplements, or strenuous exercise programs. In fact, you may find yourself dropping your usual exercise routines AND STILL LOSING!

It's a healthy way to lose weight at a pace physicians say stays off–a pound or so a week.

All you need to do is take over my life.

That's right.

Take over my life.

My three assistants will eat 75% of your meals, preventing those nasty eating habits from running away with you!
They'll see to it you get your exercise every day as you chase them around my home preventing their deaths, averting mayhem, and saving the planet...or at least saving kittens.
You'll burn more fat than you ever thought possible.

What are you waiting for?