Thanksgiving Edition (in which I flip the bird)

(photo credit:  mattalltrades.blogspot.com.)  

It's like six days away from all of us sticking our hands up a bird's cavity at some ungodly hour in remembrance of Pilgrims and Indians Native Americans.  Is it safe to say you guys are all past this advice:  Buy the turkey, don't run into it?  Defrost the turkey?  Don't get salmonella?  Make sure the oven's on?

So, I decided since you guys clepped out of that drivel you might need some real tips to help take your Thanksgiving to the proverbial 'next level' (let's hope it's not the burning ring of hell level).

You're welcome.

Here we go.

1.  Read this.  It has nothing to do with Thanksgiving, but I'm thinking of making it my About Me page. 

2.  Thanksgiving is stressful, but it pales in comparison to the next 30 days.  So, instead of those name plates from paper you wove yourself, give everyone a shiny party blower and some fireworks.  It's kinda like the last day of summer (except you might not want to wear a bathing suit).

3.  And don't wear a costume either.  It confuses your guests.

4.  I'm an introvert (see #1).  But, damn it if like four of the five people in my inner circle have birthdays near Thanksgiving.  Sucks for them because they get Turkey Surprise! for their birthday dinner and their presents all come wrapped for Christmas.  Try to avoid making friends with these people.

5.  Don't eat turkey before Thanksgiving.  I recommend leaving approximately 364 days in between the times you eat turkey.

6.  Become a vegetarian and go gluten free right before Thanksgiving.  This will annoy the crap out of everyone you know thereby greatly relieving your stress.  You will have no family and friends left to dine with on the big day.

7.  When you cook the bird, flip it.  I did this completely by accident about 20 years ago.  It was my first turkey (I think I can tell you that, right?) and I had no idea what kind of protection to use, where to put my hands, what went in where, or which way was up.  Everyone raved at how smart I was because the breast? thigh? wing?  testicles? came out so juicy and moist because they were left to simmer in their own juices.  (I have no idea what I'm talking about, but it sounds like we're ready for #8.)

8.  Any mistake can be covered up with a "delicious gravy."  (This tip I actually stole from NPR.) 

This is what "delicious gravy" looks like.  I think you can find it on aisle 10.

Author's Note:  Turns out this isn't entirely true.  "Delicious gravy" does not remove gum from the dryer.

9.  Hubby knows a little rhyming joke about pumpkin pie (circa The Bible - or when he was in middle school).  As much as I cringe when I hear the joke I cannot get it out of my mind and it goes without saying that I cannot eat pumpkin pie.  Unless there is a lot of whip cream.  Or just whip cream.  Straight from the can into my mouth.  And a shot for my coffee.

(photo credit:  gumblestump.com)  That's about right.

10.  Alcohol.  If possible start drinking it right after your first pot of coffee (which will be at about 5 in the morning if you are cooking a 20 pound bird and want to eat while you are still upright).

11.  If you need a new foundation (or I would venture to say any home repair costing more than a grand), consider frying your turkey.

12.  If you have kids, you may need to brush up on Sqanto and the Wampanogs, so you can appropriately discuss this at the dinner table (you might want to follow that with The Trail of Tears just so that everyone is sufficiently depressed and so that there is an edge of reality to your history).  (Hint:  Wampanog is not a verb as in:  I'm gonna wampanog your a$$ if you don't make your bed.)

14.  Just in case there is not enough tryptophan in your turkey this year, I recommend crushing up sleeping pills in the stuffing.  This will ensure you can watch Not Football on TV.  

15.  This came from NPR, too:  When all else fails there is always The Google.  I've used this search before 'Restaurants open on Thanksgiving this year.'

Have a good one and I'll save you a piece of pie (or the whole pie).

Dear hackers: You're gonna need to build a taller wall.

Someone once said (it may have been Jack Handey), "Your valleys will be as low as your mountains are high."  And I immediately wanted to vomit in my mouth.  Until a few days ago.

When I found out (damn it) - it's true.

Sunday night I started to do paperwork for my job and found that I couldn't open a few of my files.  When I was finally able to open a few files - they were in Japanese (or something that looked like my six year old wrote it) (and, ironically, some six year old hacker in Russia probably did write it). 

I did what I often do when faced with an alarming problem that might eventually destroy my entire family, I casually mentioned it to hubby and tried my best to ignore it.

Monday morning my laptop became possessed.  And by 'possessed' I mean it acted as if someone else (let's call him The Devil) was controlling it.  I would press 'enter' and my trusty laptop would scroll to the top of the page.  I would press the scroll button and I'd end up on another site.  And all kinds of unsavory pop-ups asking me to buy enhancers were popping up. 

But, I had my oil to change, prints to complete, 27 loads of laundry to do, and basically everything that should have been done the previous three days because, um - Halloween.  So, again I reverted back to hubby.  He was incredibly patient with me while asking me a series of questions:

Is your computer plugged in?
Is your Maleware turned on?
Have you backed up your files recently?
Do you have spyware?
Have you recently scanned and deleted unnecessary files?
When was the last time you did a complete scan?
Did you send money to long-lost relatives in Africa who were in trouble???

I answered his questions to the best of my ability and then he sullenly pronounced me with an irreparable virus.

My response was something like this:

And then:

How could this have happened?  I was using protection?  Sometimes double protection.  (And - just FYI - my pleasure was not diminished by double protection.)  Are you sure?  Is it possible the files are just temporarily corrupted?  Shouldn't there be a record of them somewhere?  Y'know like how the Interweb knows what color underwear I'm wearing?  Shouldn't they also know what all my files look like?  AGAIN, HOW COULD THIS HAVE HAPPENED???  I never opened any emails from people telling me about my inheritance!!!  I SWEAR.

Calmly and patiently hubby told me how to go about "fixing" what had happened to the best of his knowledge.

This took quite a bit of time.

It was ugly.

Monday I got the ransom note from the hackers when I was attempting to delete infected files. 

The ransom note basically said:  We have  your files.  If you ever want to see them again in their unaltered form you will need to pay us one million Bitcoins (which in case you don't know is a form of currency similar to Monopoly money that people who fancy themselves to be those blue and pink little plastic people use to basically terrorize normal people) (one million Bitcoins is roughly equivalent to 500 U.S. dollars - although its value changes daily in accordance to astrological signs).

It was creepy and scary and naturally I wanted to call the police.

Instead I asked hubby:  Isn't this illegal???  Can't we sue these people and put them in jail???

Hubby patiently said:  Yes, this is illegal, but let's not involve the police.  Let's use the Google and find out what we can do. 

The next 48 hours were spent learning everything we could have ever wanted to know about a little virus called CryptoWall 2.0.  It's a nasty thing.  It's main symptoms are:  runny nose, fever, body aches.  No, wait.  That's Ebola (also a nasty little thing).  Crypto King's main symptoms are:  encrypted files, explicit pop-up messages (which albeit interesting - do get annoying), random possession of the keyboard, and basically the Devil on your shoulder.


Sidenote:  If you are (not even remotely) a techie, using the Google to research a computer virus is a little like going to a party where everyone is dressed up in Star Wars costumes (except you) and speaking a language where you understand every fifth word.   At this party you are not sure what you are supposed to be doing, so you just kind of stumble forward while everyone else is dancing wildly with abandon, having a great time, and drinking this purple juice.  You come home from the party with a bad headache feeling like you drank way too much even though you are thirsty.  You go to sleep and have nightmares about going to a party where everyone is dressed up in Star Wars costumes except you..........................................

I will lead you to the decryptor.

End of the story?  Roughly 48 hours later?

I lost everything important to my actual work while all my files like this one:  What's For Dinner?  (which included 31 Very Important dinner ideas) remained uncorrupted (of course).

I had not backed up my files in about a year. 

I know you are sitting there smugly reading this (if anyone is actually reading this) thinking, "Ms. Dayinthelife - WHAT IS WRONG WITH YOU?  You don't back up your files?  What century do you live in?  You should have a calendar and a strict schedule for precisely these types of activities!"

What can I say?  Backing up my files is like cleaning the fridge for me.  The last time I cleaned the fridge someone had dropped a jar of pickles inside of it.  

I have no defense.  I hide my head in shame.  But, I did learn some important life lessons.

Lessons learned

1.  When in trouble it's not always necessary to call the police.  Instead consult the Google.
2.  Hackers are the parasites of humanity.
3.  Parasites are very, very smart.
4.  Back up your files and then back them up again in case your back up gets a virus.  In fact, there can never be too many back ups.
5.  Do this regularly.
6.  Ditto for protection.  You can never have too much protection.  Sometimes you need so much protection that you will never be able to just have good 'ole irresponsible fun.
7.  When all is said and done, this is a First World Problem.  There are people starving in the world who don't even have laptops.  And in that respect I am thankful to just have been hacked and not starved.
8.  I will and have survived fairly intact.  My computer has been set back to Factory Settings (Google it - it's basically like when you shot out of your mom's womb).  I am resilient.
9.  I believe what hubby says.  He and I - we are Mexicans not Mexican'ts.
10.  And last but not least, I believe the other thing hubby has told me:  It takes a lot to stop a Mexican.  Hackers will need to build a taller wall to stop us. 

My first call from prison will be to you. Count on it.

It would be bad if a family member put an entire pack of gum through the washer and the dryer.

But, it would be worse if you were in a hurry to get your girls to school when you discovered said incident had occurred and you had to rush out and couldn't quite manage damage control then.

It would be bad if you didn't have time to attempt to clean the dryer, but you did have five seconds to quickly run the Vitamix so that it would be easier to clean later, but you didn't quite get the top on securely and the soapy/smoothie water sprayed all over your shirt.

But, it would be worse if you didn't quite have the two minutes it took to change your shirt.

It would be bad if while you were gone your dog (who recently developed a common? hankering for chewing gum) discovered that an entire pack of gum had gone through the laundry and there was still some scent of the gum on the clothes and so he decided to drag all the clothes out of the clothes basket searching for the clothes that still had particles of gum on them.

But, it would be worse if he found the clothes with gummy bits on them and chewed them to a point so unrecognizable that when you rushed in fifteen minutes later because you forgot to put the frozen smoothie items back in the freezer you thought you'd been robbed and somehow the robber threw up while robbing your house.

It would be bad if all this had happened and nothing else happened all the rest of the day while you were at work.

But, it would be worse if your husband helped you with the laundry - something he's not done in approximately 20 years - while you were at work and dried another load of laundry in the gummed up dryer.

It would be bad if all of this happened today.

But, it would be worse if I decided to just clean it all with Goo Gone because Goo Gone is flammable and could potentially catch the dryer on fire and burn down the whole house.

But, I'm pretty sure we need a new foundation for our house, so it might not be worse?

It might be really, really smart?

This-I$whysometimesI_hate

Today there was a phone message in a cheery robotic voice on my answering machine (remember those?) that said (paraphrased), "Hi, Ms. Dayinthelife!  It's Your Phone Company!  We just wanted to let you know that you have a bill due in a few days.  You can pay online, pay by mail, or pay by phone.  Just don't pay it late!"

I was almost happy when I thought, "Thanks, Phone Company!  Let me find that bill I owe right here in the pile of 1,000 other bills I owe!"

I checked my pile of bills and found a bill from said phone company for $.10 (no, that's not a typo - I owed ten cents).  (I won't even address how ridiculous a ten cent bill is in this post because there is already enough rage here.) 

Now, I usually pay my bills by mail (yes, probably my 97 year old father and I are the last people in the free world that still do that), but I think stamps are now like $1.47 each so I decided I would hop online while my ground beef was browning and take care of it online.

Here's how that went.

Me:  Hopped online.

Phone company's website:  What do you want to do online today?  Change your service?  Add a line?  Disconnect your cable?  Schedule a service?  Cancel a service?  Postpone a service?  Order a pizza?

Me:  Searched for Pay My Bill.

Me:  Typed in the Search Box - Pay My Bill.

Phone company's website:  I'm sorry nothing matches your request.

Me:  Great!  I won't pay my bill.

Me:  Searched again for how to pay my g*d d*mn bill.  Clicked on Billing and Payments.  Ah.  Thought, "Finally and good because my ground beef is almost browned."

Phone company's website:  Please enter your Phone Company login and password.

Me:  Cheesus Christ.  Login?  Password?  Where is my login book?  In the flippin' car.  Where someone could steal it and know all my passwords.  Note to self:  Take password book out of car.  Clicked - Help with login and password.

Phone company's website:  Type in your email and we will send help to your email within five minutes.  Just check your email.

Me:  Perfect!  I'll have this wrapped up soon.

Phone company's email:  Your login is your email.

Me:  OHMYGOD.  Why didn't they just say that?  The meat is done and I need to put the pasta on now for the love of all that is human.  Okay.  Login done.  Password?  Clicked on - password help.

Phone company's website:  Help with your password will be sent to your email within five minutes.

Phone company's email:  Type in your login and click reset your password.

Me:  AREYOUSERIOUS? 

Spent the next two minutes logging in and resetting my password.

Clicked on PAY BILL (and felt quite smug).

Phone company's website:  Type in your account number.

Me:  (Smugly) typed in my account number.

Phone company's website:  It appears your account number does not match your login and password information.  Please click here.

Me:  JESUSF8C97CHR*ST.  ISTHISFORREAL???  I ONLY OWE TEN FREAKING CENTS!!!

Me:  Okay.  Clicking here. 

Phone company's website:  Hello, Mr. Dayinthelife.  Please answer your two preset security questions.

Me:  WHAT???  MR. DAYINTHELIFE???  NO WONDER THIS IS SO MESSED UP!  HE NEVER PAYS BILLS WHY DOES HE HAVE SECURITY QUESTIONS???  It's a mother loving PHONE for God's sake.  NOT NATIONAL SECURITY.

Phone company's website:  Question #1:  What size shoe did you wear in second grade?  Question #2:  When your first pet fish died, how did you dispose of the body?

Me:  I'll take dead body for TEN CENTS.

Spent next two minutes successfully hacking into hubby's security questions for his secure PHONE COMPANY FREAKING LOGIN.

Phone company's website:  You will need to set a password for your secondary phone company login.  This password cannot be the same as your main phone company login and can only contain letters, numbers, hyphens and underscores.

Me:  Perfect.  I know just what my password will be.

For the next 10 minutes I typed every conceivable password I could beginning with IhatePhoneCompany_- and ending with YOUSUCKLIKEAHOOVER. 

Every single flippin' one ended with this error message:  There has been an error in your password.  Please read the terms and conditions of passwords and try again.

Me:  IS THERE SOMEONE ON THE OTHER END WHO HATES ME??? 

After 10 minutes of being utterly and completely defeated by the password administrator I clicked "cancel" and "log out."  After loudly cursing the phone company with every word I know, I picked up the phone.  I called the number on the bill, talked to a robotic female (I think the very same one who left a message on my machine saying that I better pay my 10 cents) and paid my ten cent bill in about five minutes.

I was filled with rage, my dinner was burned, but I can rest assured that I was not late in paying my (ten cent) bill. 

Thanks, Phone Company for the friendly heads up!

Memory Making 2014 (in which I do math).

So, recently I have been learning that you need an advanced college degree and a year to do nothing but plan in order to successfully get a family of six to Disneyworld.

We recently made our annual trip to a smaller scale amusement park (and by smaller scale I mean:  no college degree needed and - I can imagine - slightly less gleaming restrooms?) and although I would do it again (in approximately 360 days) I think a time allowance chart for less experienced parents on par with the Disneyworld planning blogs might be helpful.

I wanted to make you guys a pie graph (blueberry?) for this post, but I got too distracted with colors and accurate percentages and I was afraid that before I knew it my oldest would be filling out college applications and hubby would be asking me (again), "What are you doing?" 

Amusement Park Trip Time Breakdowns (approximate) For a Family of Six's Ten Hour Day 

1.  20% - walking around lost because everyone is too excited and then too hot to look at the map.
2.  20% - waiting for all the rides to open because you get there at Opening Time because you think logically it's the time the rides open. 
3.  50% - explaining that your admission ticket does not cover the cost of all the carny games that actually open at Opening Time and that there isn't really a "Winner every time!"
4.  60% - waiting in line for drinks because you waited until August to go and it's 106 degrees outside with 117% humidity.
5.  60% - waiting in line for bathrooms (see #4).
6.  20% - yelling at kids not to touch anything in the bathroom.
7.  40% - touching things in the public bathrooms (this applies to kids under 5 who you've told not to touch anything see #6).
8.  60% - in line for rides because of all the people using the Flash Pass.
9.  40% - explaining to four kids that yes, the rules are different for people with more money.  They don't have to wait in line with The Other People at amusement parks. 
10.  20% - applying sunscreen.
11.  40% - examining all the nuts and bolts on the two rides you convince yourself to go on.
12.  75% - praying your kids don't get their bathing suits stuck up their rears requiring surgical removal from the ride they continue going on which they proclaim loudly and enthusiastically gives them "a major wedgie".
13.  95% - in line for a funnel cake on the way out the door (right behind the approximately 1005 people who had the same idea).
14.  2% - inhaling said funnel cake with five other people.
15.  50% - talking about where to buy a funnel cake maker and what exactly is in a funnel cake that makes it so good. 
16.  50% - exclaiming repeatedly how that funnel cake is the best use of $10 since you bought two Frappuccino's in a row.
17.  20% - proclaiming earth shattering sentences that start with, "When we come next year..."
18.  20% - proclaiming equally earth shattering sentences that start with, "Remember last year..."
19.  100% - enjoying the heck out of the last days of summer.

No danger of lost bottoms or a wedgie.  And?  When I go next year I'm wearing the same red suit.

It's either writer's block or menopause. Either way I've gained 10 pounds.

Summer is almost over and I've not written a blog post since June 4.  I will not try to explain this except to say, in a move reminiscent of Janet Jackson at Superbowl VIIXIVITIT, I lost my swimsuit bottoms in a public pool shortly after summer started.  I might have PTSD.

After a long pause in blog production there are some things that are bound to annoy the crap out of readers.

1.  Trying to explain why there has been an extreme pause in writing. 

So, let me attempt to explain the long pause in writing.  I cleaned my copper bottom pans.  Jesus.  My lack of tricep muscles are still sore and I think I found the decomposed remains of Jimmy Hoffa under the black burned stuff that was on my pots.  On the upside - I can now taste my food and I will not be mildly embarrassed if Paula Deen chances by and decides to melt me some butter sprinkled with cheese and then salted (under the guise that she is a reformed diabetic racist).

2.  Trying to explain previous blog topics and why they didn't work. 

So, here are some things I have tried to write about in the past month and then after a rereading - promptly eaten the results (which could explain why I've gained 10 pounds).

a.  How Much I Hate Barbie.  Did you know that along with being an astronaut, physicist, hooker, veterinarian, and entrepreneur, she writes books now?  And (surprise) they read a lot like the genius script from Two Broke Girls.  Because I would never believe it unless I saw it, I've included one of the pages from the book that clearly makes me proud to support public libraries through all my fines.  In case the captions look like they're in Chinese (the book was made in China, after all), I've included the (interpreted) script for you below.



Unnamed character:  Barbie!  Ken's here!  Barbie:  Oh no!  I don't have my brain in yet!  Brunette:  Barbie!  Remember, you don't have a brain!  Barbie:  Oh, yeah!  That's a relief!

  And now I think I should be a published (paid) author.

b.  How Much I Hate Insurance. 

Insurance - n.noun

1. The act, business, or system of screwing.
2. The state of being screwed.
3. A means of being screwed.
4. Coverage by a contract binding a party to indemnify another against specified loss in return for premiums paid unless such premiums go toward a "deductible" in which case the party paying the premiums is screwed out of their premiums and stuck with said specified losses.  (See #1-3.)
5. The sum or rate for which such a contract insures something or not (See #4).
6. The periodic premium paid for this coverage.  "Coverage" being a relative term dependent on the amount of said deductible which is relative and rises in relation to the amount in which the paying party is being screwed.
7. A protective measure.
8. Bullshit.

Term in use:  I f*cking hate insurance.

c.  My inability to cook even with a recipe.

Here is what I made just this morning from a biscuit recipe:

Whatthef*ckisthat?

Y'know how some people have suffered tremendous stress and then go on to like win the Olympics?  Well, I'm kind of like that.  I have suffered the loss of ruining virtually every recipe I've set out to cook and yet I've managed to come out a winner almost every time.

*Eating that idea now.  (And, it's quite delicious I might add.  Score!)*

e.  Like every other female on the planet my hormones are all out of whack.  I think I've narrowed down my afflictions (thank you, WebMD) to either ebola, menopause, a stubbed toe, or a hangnail.  The list of symptoms of menopause is a blog in and of itself (the title of that blog is:  Menopause - Serve Yourself Some More Cake).  I seem to have experienced just a few symptoms (not a comprehensive list) in the time I've had writer's block:  fatigue, depression, hot flashes, mood swings, sudden tears, inability to articulate or write, inability to cook or do laundry, sudden bouts of bloat (although apparently not enough to make the elastic in my swimsuit bottoms hold), gastrointestinal distress (could be related to my cooking?), disturbing memory loss, increased tension in the muscles, and tinnitus (could be due to my kids not being in school?).

3.  Trying to describe how much you have missed your readers.

If it weren't for virtual friends, I'd have no friends at all and I know you guys have all been reading everyone else's superior blogs and having a party without me.  What can I say?  It hurts.

So, I will not try to tell you why I've been gone, what I've been doing instead of blogging, what topics have just not worked, or how much I've missed you guys.  As some guy once said in AA, "Today I am not enjoying life as it occurs.  Today I am blogging about it instead.  I'm not sure when I will do this again and I will not make any promises.  But today I hope you guys will join me."  (Or something like that.)

Marathon training. It's hard work, y'all.

This post is dedicated to all the people who have supported me during the training period for my marathon.  I couldn't do it without y'all.

So, the marathon starts in two days.  Here's what I've been doing to train.

1.  Gradually increasing the time that I watch TV. 

2.  Staying up consistently past 10:00 p.m.

3.  Eating a variety of foods consistent with a 'marathon body,' i.e. popcorn, peanuts, ice cream, chocolate, Dagwood sandwiches, Doritos, etc.

4.  Watching the last few episodes of Season 1.  If you remember I learned the importance of this training technique when Season 2 of House of Cards came out and I'd forgotten all of Season 1 so I had to waste time watching Season 1 again and all of the people passed me for Season 2 and I probably came in last for viewing time.  So annoying and totally preventable.

5.  Finding comfortable positions on the couch in order to avoid marathon injury.  (Hubby:  We may need to buy a new couch in the next two days.)

6.  Buying the proper shoes and clothes.  The importance of shoes and clothes during a marathon cannot be discounted.  Here's some quick and super easy advice from a 'professional.'  Choose clothes that are comfortable, loose fitting (see #3) and that are easy to get off (see #7).  Choose shoes that are soft and easy to kick off (see #5).

7.  Practicing peeing in less than five seconds and researching catheters.  (Kidding!)

8.  Finding everything I can on the interwebs about characters so that I can fully understand what I'll be up against.

9.  Buddying up with like-minded friends so that I can have encouragement and solidarity along the way.  (Research shows that this is really important for marathons, y'all.)

10.  Lastly, preparing my family for the test of my endurance the lies ahead.

It's all about the training.  Are you with me?

Breaking Badly

Where did April go?  I slept a few times, drank a beer and it was May.  Now May's almost gone. 

And to make matters worse, I thought I had one more week this month.  This explains a lot.

So, here it is.

1.  My Breaking Bad withdrawal lasted about one week.  I'm over it now.  Thanks for the cards.  What do I have to show for the million hours of my life spent on Netflix?  Just this.  Once I want to end a sentence with, "BITCHES."  Examples: 

• Make your beds, BITCHES.
• Dinner, BITCHES.
• I ain't cookin' tonight, BITCHES.
• Laundry is done, BITCHES.
• Yo, I'm not the maid, BITCHES.

2.  We are almost there and by that I mean my kids have turned into monkeys.  Straight from the Bronx zoo.  Serius.  They are ca-razy town.  Hubby and I lost our minds the other night and made them be respectful and clean up after themselves.  The audacity, right?  Cheesus.  Can I sell them to the circus for the next two weeks?

3.  My secret pal this semester gave me a lot of chocolate.  Here's what I discovered.  Ghiradelli Sea Salt Soiree.  (Is 'soiree' French because it just sounds naughty.  But, it's not.  It's an "evening party or social gathering."  Well.........Sea Salt Evening Party or Social Gathering?  Really, Ghiradelli?)  Today the monkeys were screaming at each other and it was just awful.  I wanted to go all Mommy Dearest on them, so I slipped into the pantry and broke open a package of these lovelies.  I ate about five squares.  Even though the name is fooked up, Get Some, you guys.  You can email me if you are not satisfied and I'll refund the time you took to read this post. 

4.  Forget Wife Swap.  Let's do Sister Wives.  I need help with the laundry.

5.  If there was an Academy Award for Procrastination I'd win it.   

6.  Remember the Do Not Call List and how it was supposed to save us from ourselves?  What the hell?  I think it's working worse than Nancy Reagan's Just Say No.  As far as I know, I am ON THE LIST and yet some gal keeps calling me (at dinner) telling me I won a 10 day cruise for me and my family.  Obviously, she has never met my family.

7.  A few months back I bought a Vitamix.  When you buy a Vitamix the first thing you have to do is refinance your house.  The second thing you have to do is read through the little recipe book and see that basically you can make anything in the Vitamix.  Like if you lose all your teeth you can make ribeye, baked potatoes, rolls, and a salad in the Vitamix.  But, if you still have your teeth, do you really want that?  Anyway.  I was looking for a margarita recipe and one of the kids said, "Look mom.  You could make peanut butter.  Is that what the pioneers did?"  It's an odd moment when you have to explain to your kid that no, the pioneers did not make peanut butter with a Vitamix. 

8.  Do you ever just want to let your kids watch all the shows to teach them a lesson?  For example, wouldn't Breaking Bad work a hell of a lot better than Just Say No?  Really?  I'd be all, "Drugs will ruin your life, guys.  I'm Serious.  Now, get some popcorn and let's watch another episode of Breaking Bad."

9.  We changed our phone service.  Now, you'd think this would be an easy process, right?  Not like rocket science or anything.  Wrong.  It is just like rocket science.  Or really just like this show I heard on Science Friday the other day when they were interviewing a scientist of Quantum Physics and he was talking about passing from different states of matter and was it possible to teleport and did your molecular composition change and could the original theories "we" had about this phenomena be incorrect.............and he was serious.  That's what it's like to change your phone service. 

Hubby handled it all because I can't talk to phone people without wanting to rush out and do meth or at least sell it.  Here's how the conversation went down:

Hubby:  I'd like to cancel my phone service.

Phone service:  Ok.  Let me connect you to someone who can help you.

Music from the 80's (that hubby actually liked and was singing along to)

Phone service:  Yes, can I get your number?

Hubby:  xxx-xxx-xxxx

Phone service:  Yes, and what can we help you with?

Hubby:  I'd like to cancel my phone service.

Phone service:  Oh no.  I'm sorry to hear that.  Are you moving?

Hubby:  No, I'm actually dissatisfied.

Phone service:  Oh no.  I'm sorry to hear that.  We don't actually handle people who are dissatisfied.  That's actually a different branch.  Let me connect you to someone who can help you.

Music from the 80's.

Phone service:  Yes, can I get your number?

Hubby:  xxx-xxx-xxxx

Phone service: Yes, and what can we help you with?

Hubby:  I'd like to cancel my phone service.

Phone service:  Oh no.  I'm sorry to hear that.  Are you dissatisfied?

Hubby:  Yes.

Phone service:  Oh no!  What are you dissatisfied with?

Cheesus.

Two weeks later:  We get a bill for everything we were told that day we would no longer have to pay for because of our dissatisfaction.  I Can't Get No Satisfaction, y'all.  Cue the f*cking music.

Don't be a stranger! 

(Because kids think it's creepy.)

Recrap

I'm writing over here today.  It's not really funny or sarcastic.  So, I won't be offended if you're not interested.  I'll be back with the schtick later when things get funny again.  If you do want to read today's post, here's somewhat of the backstory.  It may make more sense after that.  Or it might not.  Or you can just muddle through like I do most of the time.

Life is not Netflix.

Because it's Monday and they suck and there's nothing that's ever new on a Monday, I'm going Time Warner and doing a rerun.  Also because I've been flirting with running a 10K (someone stop me).

We'll call it TBM. Throwback Monday or The Bad Motivation.

Run a 10K or watch Breaking Bad for two hours?  Do you really have to ask?

It's all fun and games till the poop runs out of the diaper.

So, remember I said I was going to a baby shower?  Well, I did and it was fun.  We played all the standard games and despite being the somewhat successful mother of four children ("successful" in that all of my kids are still alive) I sucked at most all of them.  My lack of short and long term memory got in the way.  I got my clothes pin stolen after I'd worn it for about three minutes.  We couldn't say "baby" and I immediately referenced how I didn't win any games at my baby shower.  Duh.  I forgot not to say the word after three minutes.  (I knew I should have written it down.)

Anyway.  We played baby charades which was amusing.  Amusing because it's always fun to see what people will do under the guise of "acting it out."  The friend who is having the baby did an Oscar worthy silent interpretation of putting butt cream on a baby's a$$.  It was her two-fingered approach that made one of our team members (it might have been me) scream "DIAPER CREAM!"

But, here's the thing.  The words we had to act out (that I can remember) were:  diaper cream, stroller, baby food, diaper, diaper genie, wipes, baby backpack, robe (I had this one and made the mistake of buttoning rather than tying my robe which prevented any of my teammates from guessing the word.  They were screaming at me, "WHO BUTTONS A BABY'S ROBE???"  My question to them was, "WHOSE BABY WEARS A FREAKING ROBE???  HUGH HEFNER'S?  Cheesus.). 

Now, it's been nearly six years since I had an infant underfoot (figuratively), but I have a somewhat different memory of how infancy went down.  Here are a few words and situations that I'd like to see on the cards in a baby shower charade game.

• cleaning around the future bellybutton
• sore nipples
• ear infection
• projectile vomiting
• meconium
• poop outside the diaper
• breast pump
• being peed on while changing a diaper
• peeing while balancing a nursing baby
• brushing your teeth for the first time in a week
• mastitis
• severe sleep deprivation
• carpal tunnel from carrying the car seat
• colic
• spit-up
• spit-up stains

Let's face it, 90% of the next 18 years of this soon-to-be momma's life is going to be spent dealing with, discussing, or thinking about food, $hit, cleanliness, pain, or sleep. 

Might as well get an early start with it?

You can thank Facebook for guilting me into ignoring you less. (You're welcome.)

There's no theme and you don't have to consider this a real post.

1.  I'm considering a 10K (I'm also considering a 10G, but I blame Breaking Bad).  Not really.  But a great friend (who is short, but could kick your a$$ because she works out with more zeal than Richard Simmons but don't worry she's not kooky or annoying) is trying to convince me that this would somehow be good for me and that I might enjoy it.  Right.  Please comment why this is a worse idea than me staying up till 2:00 watching Breaking Bad when I have to get up at 5:00 and work.

2.  Said friend lent (not the one where you give something up) me a doo-hickey that you attach to your waist (attractively?) and it carries two water bottles.  Why do I need this?  Because it's April (check your calendars) in South Texas and I'm in pre-menopause (whatever that is) so that equals hot and thirsty, y'all.  So, why did this even make the quickie list?  Because it's dorky and more than vaguely reminiscent of the notorious fanny pack.  I know every like "serious" runner does it, but I can't shake the dork factor.  Would I rather die from heat exhaustion?  I'm still thinking about it.

3.  Will you guys still like me if I am the only person in the free world that doesn't care for Breaking Bad?  Here's the thing.  I'm used to House of Cards, Orange is the New Black, and The Killing.  Breaking Bad is s-l-o-w.  Like a turtle.  Now, I've written a small amount about hubby but something you might not know about him is that he's a "multi-tasker."  When we watch Netflix he plays a game on his phone, checks his laptop for emails, shares gourmet popcorn with Bandit, and explains difficult episode material to me.  "How does he do this???" you ask.  Simple answer?  He's a guiness.  Well, I could never do that.  I have a one track mind.  (Insert snicker.)  BUT, with Breaking Bad I can.  Last night while watching I did all my paperwork, emailed two customers, and did some actual work.  And this was well past 10:00 p.m.  The hell???  (I'm giving it two more episodes and then I'm calling it quits.)  No haters, please?

4.  Captcha (Completely Automated Public Turing test to tell Computers and Humans Apart) mocks me.  As you know, my eyes are aging at an accelerated rate.  Hubby calls me (affectionately?), "old eyes."  So every time I have to "prove I'm not a robot" I get it wrong.  It's become this battle between Captcha and me.  I imagine him as a real person sitting behind a laptop somewhere commenting under his breath as I type.  "She is a robot."  "What a moron!"  "Really?  She's either blind or she's not human."  Then it's like Captcha takes pity on me kinda (after I get like five of them wrong) and he's all, "Ok, Ms. Dayinthelife.  How about this, 'U R 2 S tpD.'"  At which point I'm like, "THANK YOU!  I can do this!"

5.  This is the funniest thing I've read all month.  In fact, read this gal's blog (but don't stop reading mine).  She is beyond hysterical and pretty much delivers the truth in a highly entertaining package.  I'm going to a baby shower today and I'm considering printing off this post, wrapping it up in fancy paper, and attaching a card that says, "You'll thank me later."  As much as I love this post, it has dashed all of my dreams of ever writing a parenting book.  Because absolutely nothing could compare to this advice.

 

If you are missing something, it might have been under my fridge.

So I've been doing a lot lately (besides watching every single show on Netflix).  Here's a list that will sum it up nicely (or just sum it up) and be easier (and I hope more entertaining) than me trying to explain it all.

1.  Bandit my dog is an awful painter's helper.  He took a fair amount of spackle off the wall in one fell swoop.  He tried to eat the painter's brushes when he was washing them (right after he'd had his first bath in about eight months naturally).  He drank the painter's Big Gulp because he left it on the table.  He ate the painter's tacos because the painter did not learn from his mistake.  And he ate numerous pieces of old (and new) baseboards like they were treats we'd bought just for him.

2.  The painter is still willing to come back to do another job upstairs.

3.  There are still people in the world with "work ethic." (I'm not talking about myself here.  "Duh," you say.)

4.  My kids *might* have careers in stand up.  Or I'm unusually prejudice (most likely the latter and my kids will be living with me for a long time which I probably will not find funny at all). 

5.  The time between spring break and summer can be compared to the time between Thanksgiving and Christmas.  It's painful for parents, kids, and teachers alike.  The kids are done learning anything.  So, naturally that's when the state testing occurs.

6.  It is possible to overthink things.  This can result in hours of time spent thinking and not actually doing.  I fall victim to this phenomena a lot and it explains quite a bit about the status of my life.

7.  When you've been married over 20 years another wedding and all the ensuing presents would be helpful and probably less expensive than trying to re-do your house with your own income.  I am considering a huge 25 year anniversary party.  I will not write Please no gifts on the invitations.  In fact, I'm asking Prudie if it would be presumptuous and rude to register.  At Target.

8.  My entire paycheck has gone to Target the past few months.  Wouldn't it be easier for me to just move in there?  I guess I could offer to work a few hours, too?  And promise to wear only red and khaki?

9.  Netflix has ruined regular TV for me.  It happened slowly, but I'm pretty sure now that I can't watch regular TV anymore.  SPOILER ALERT.  I knew something huge was happening on The Good Wife and I still finished Luther on Netflix that night instead.  What's wrong with me?  Then I read in the paper that Will died and I didn't really care unless I can watch it on Netflix.  Again, Will's dead!  What's wrong with me?

10.  The kids have discovered the dog whisperer on Netflix.  I've told you guys before how much I don't really like him?  I mean really.  If my parents watched the dog whisperer I think they'd think he was dropping acid (if my parents know what that is).  But, whatever.  The kids have told me that it's the owners that must be trained (yeah, I suspected a train wreck coming, too).  And that *maybe* Bandit behaves the way he does because of me.  So, basically the dog whisperer has taught my kids that parenting dogs and kids is basically the same.  The parents will invariably be blamed for everything.

10.  When you do home repair, maintenance, and painting it makes you feel good.  It also makes you notice all the things you didn't do.  How many permanent handprints will be on all the doors before we can repaint them all, too? 

11.  Painting also can make you want to clean everything.  Remember about a year ago when I went bat $hit crazy and tried to organize every area of my house?  Well, damn it if it didn't all get dirty and disorganized again.  The hell?  So, now I'm on a cleaning frenzy again.

12.  I don't pay my house cleaner enough.  She hasn't been here in a while because the chaos would probably give her a coronary and it takes everything out of me to clean the house.  Aside from the fact that it's covered in a thin layer of painting dust/grime, I'm just not a good house cleaner. 

13.  I cleaned under the stove for the first time in about 11 years and there was an ecosystem growing under there.  It was horrific, but I did find quite a few lost toys, magnets, kitchen tools, and popcorn from the early 2000's.  No more gourmet popcorn for Bandit.  Turns out he likes years old popcorn that's covered with goo just as much!

14.  This motivated me to clean under the other three movable appliances.  Not one of the five people I live with (or Bandit) noticed or cared that I'd done it.  The hell?  Lesson?  Not doing it again for another 10-20 years. 

15.  After seven years of having three of our four kids taking piano lessons and all practicing on a digital keyboard, we bought a piano.  Now, I've never seen the movie We Bought A Zoo (if it's on Netflix, though, there's a good chance I might see it someday), but I wanted to make a mockumentary for reality TV called We Bought a Piano.  They're *kinda* like children or dogs.  You have to take care of them, they respond to temperature changes, if you treat them right they can provide joy for you your entire life, they need annual tunings (sometimes more if they get sick), they're fragile, and they cost a buttload of money.  I'm hoping this piano does not want to go to college.

16.  I miss you guys a lot.  I've vowed to be better about reading my favorite blogs and I've vowed to post more.  But let's be honest.  This might be my last post for a while or until I get out of rehab.  Last night around 10:30 p.m. hubby and I started doing something we'd been putting off for a while.  We had sex?  No.  We started Breaking Bad.   

Six days (give or take) and I'll be back.  Maybe.

Fairy Tales for $10,000.

So, Girl 3 and I were at Costco when we saw this ginormous stock pot.


Being the non-cook that I am I guess I'll have to agree with Girl 3 on this one.

Girl 3 said, "What is THAT for?"

I said, "I have no idea."

To which Girl 3 said, "Well, I do.  It's for witches.  When they cook children."

House of Addiction

Step 1:  Admit you have a problem.

Hubby and I tore through season one of The Following on Netflix in record time.  Then we had a brief reprieve in which I think I worked and blogged and then season two of House of Cards came out and I've been on the campaign trail ever since.  It's exhausting.  We have one more episode to go and today I find myself digging out of a TV hole that's a few months thick. 

So, hello!

Remember when I told you I didn't care for Dexter too much and then I kind of changed my mind and then hubby tore through all 107 seasons and it ended and I was mildly sad?  Well, after season two of House of Cards I think I have it all sorted out.

Dexter (and actually The Following) were totally predictable.  We all knew (no spoiler alert - because really even if you haven't finished Dexter admit you know how it will end) that every single episode Dexter would find a way out, right?  He couldn't die because then the show would um....be over?  And what good would he be to his show if he were in jail?  So, it was kind of like a soap opera.  I missed or slept through quite a few scenes in a few episodes, but I was still able to keep up.  And I always knew how it would end. 

Same with The Following.  Once I figured out that Kevin Bacon was not Rob Lowe, I really didn't have much thinking to do.  Sure some people I had grown fond of die (again, admit you knew that would happen), but I'm still waiting for something totally unpredictable to happen.

Enter House of Cards.  I slept through a lot of season one and even told hubby I didn't like it much.  It was too political. 

Me to my former self, "Duh.  And:  You are stupid." 

Well, now I've decided it's really the only politics I care about.  Because of my irresponsibility during season one we had to watch the entire season again before watching season two so that I could refresh my memory and catch up to speed.  At first hubby admonished me but then he admitted he had forgotten entire scenes, too.

To any people under 30 reading my blog, "Old age sucks.  And sometimes it takes a lot of time.  Try to make a lot of money before you are old so that you will need less time to work because everything else (like watching TV) will take more time than it does now."

Here's why I love House of Cards. 

1.  Kevin Spacey.  That's acting.  Or is it?  Because sometimes I think he's just as heartless in real life as he is on TV.  Seriously.  He's on my list of People I Never Want to Meet.
2.  Robin Wright.  I have no short term (or long term) memory, so it took me all of season one to realize she was married to Sean Penn (which - why does he look like he's 110?).  If I cut my hair short in the next few months, I blame her.
3.  HOC is so compelling that I have been paranoid since starting season two/one.  Coupled with The Following and The Good Wife (which we watch on good 'ole regular TV), I'm sure our phones are tapped, my Facebook account is hacked, there are hidden cameras in my house, and the NSA is passing on relevant information about my dog to Homeland Security.
4.  I've finally learned what whip the votes means and I might be able to pass some sort of third grade government test.  Thank you, Netflix, for this edumacation.
5.  Remy Danton.

Easy.  On.  The.  Eyes.  Suit is optional.

6.  Excellent one liners.  There's even a website dedicated to the one-liners.  And it appears this website is sponsored by "Live Life By The Faith of Christ."  I say "appears" because I was scared to click the link (because my laptop is bugged).  Anyway - if The Faith of Christ sponsors the website dedicated to the one liners from HOC that is irony at its finest.
7.  It makes me miss Damages less.  Two shows about people without scruples.  The only difference I can see so far is that Damages had a few characters who were basically good. 

So, there you have it.  I've been busy and I'll be the first to admit - I probably need an intervention..

In the midst of all the TV politics we had a real life election.  I voted but it was kind of anti-climatic.  Many politicians' machines called me asking for my vote.  I hung up on all of them.  I'm waiting for Frank Underwood's office to call because, although I don't agree with Frank's psychotic politics, I can't wait to put this campaign bumper sticker on my car:

(in 2016.)

Irony: When Facebook sends you an email pleasantly reminding you that you're slacking.

My sister knows me well.  That could be why she emailed me this a while back (presumably to help me out with my laziness and possible procrastination - or at least to help me laugh and understand it):



It's from Reader's Digest.  (In case I didn't already feel ancient and sloth-like.)

Of course, there are a million things I'd rather be doing than working out (or working or doing anything remotely useful). 

Mainly surfing the net, Facebooking, blog reading, book reading, eating, and sleeping.  These are also the things I do in place of blogging and posting my blog posts to my Facebook page.

Apparently Facebook knows me well, too.  Imagine my sheer bewilderment when they emailed me presumably to help me out with my laziness and procrastination:

Thanks, Facebook for the reminder that I've been wasting too much time Facebooking instead of blogging and posting my posts to my Facebook page. 

Any Way You Want It. Or, just the way I remember it?

It's not my fault.  When this kind of stuff happens for real, it's just no wonder I get confused.

I fell asleep on the couch last night watching Sherlock and I woke up to see an Asian man with long glossy hair and perfect teeth talking to a camera saying, "I am living a dream.  I did not think this could be possible.  And I love cooking.  Right now I am making some kind of Chinese, Korean, Vietnamese food that is not kimchee and looks delicious."  I made up that last part because he was speaking in a foreign tongue and I wasn't awake enough to read the subtitles. 

It took me about a minute to realize this wasn't Sherlock.  Then the craziest thing happened.  This tiny Asian man started singing Journey.  Had this not happened right on the heels of seeing Lang Lang performing with Metallica, I could have sworn I was in an alternate universe.

Me:  Babe are you in here?

Hubby:  Yup. 

Me:  Who is this Asian guy?  What are we watching?  I was watching Sherlock and I woke up in an alternate universe.

Hubby:  He's some guy that sings Journey better than Journey.  And you are not in an alternate universe.  You are on the couch where you have fallen asleep the last five nights in a row at about 8:15.  I changed the channel when I realized you were asleep.  Again.

Me:  Right.  But who is he?  Is this real?  What are we watching?

Hubby:  Yes.  This is real.  I'm not sure I didn't see the first part of the show - because you were "watching" Sherlock.  We are now watching Independent Lens. 

There's many reasons why I confuse things so frequently in my head (mostly I blame it on the sheer number of things I have to remember at any given point in time).  Part of the reason I am so screwed up in my thinking is that we often stumble upon great shows halfway into the show.  (That's what happens when you still watch TV in real time and you get sleepy a lot.  Apparently.)  So, I blame great shows like Independent Lens that try to teach me something and I also blame hubby (naturally).  (Specifically I blame his degree in trivia with a minor in B.S.) 

We finished watching the show (which was great) and here's what I went to bed knowing (kind of):

1.  I hated Journey in high school.
2.  I still hate Journey although I have great respect for their lead singer (?) who Did Not Stop Believing. 
3. This was some sort of dream realized for him.
4.  Sometimes dreams come true but you probably need a YouTube account for this to happen (this was confirmed for me this morning - as in - you do need a YouTube account for your dreams to come true).
5.  As hubby said first, "He sings Journey better than Journey sings Journey."  (I just think that's a quote worth repeating.  Over and over.)
6.  This guy did not get to sing lead for Journey because someone in the "real" Journey died. Rest easy - no one in Journey has died, right?
7.  Hubby (generally as good as a small Google for trivia) was fairly useless in ascertaining any more information without the aid of his "smart" phone.  He never saw Journey in concert and he didn't really like Journey much either.
8.  The Asian man is Filipino and I think everyone in the Philippines turned out for his homecoming concert in which he sang Journey better than Journey.
9.  When he sang Don't Stop Believing I almost liked it.
10.  Independent Lens can make you love Journey even if you hate it.

So, after we were in bed hubby decided to look up some more trivia about Journey.  I already know some of this trivia is going to come back to haunt me (probably later today).

Hubby:  So, did you know Randy Jackson used to play with Journey?

Me:  Holy CRAP.  I CAN'T TAKE ANYMORE SURPRISES TONIGHT.  ARE YOU LOOKING AT THE REAL INTERNET OR A FAKE INTERNET THAT'S TRYING TO MESS WITH ME??? 

Hubby:  No.  I'm looking at the real Internet.

Me:  I cannot believe this!  Was that before or after Pulp Fiction?

Hubby:  No.  Randy Jackson.  You're thinking of Samuel Jackson.

Me:  Oh, right.  Are they brothers because they really look alike?

Hubby:  No.  Samuel Jackson is a movie star.  Randy Jackson sang with Journey and a bunch of other bands and now he's on American Idol.  And he's a spokesperson for Nutrisystems.

Me:  Oh.

Hubby:  I'm just kidding.

Me:  So, he wasn't with Metallica?  I mean Journey?

Hubby:  No, he was with Journey but he's not a spokesperson for Nutrisystems.  As far as I know.  But, he did lose about 200 pounds.

Me:  You suck for messing with my already messed up mind.  Speaking of music, you know that guy that just died Pete Seeger? 

Hubby:  Yup.

Me:  I'm so sad. 

Hubby:  Before you ask me, he doesn't sing the song you love Night Moves.  That's Bob Seger.

Me:  I knew that.  But Pete was his dad, right?

Hubby:  Um, no.

Me:  I was KIDDING!

Hubby:  Right.

 

How To Be (Kind of) Productive On A Snow Day in 19 Steps.

1.  Set your alarm for your usual 5:30 a.m. because when you go to bed, although it is colder than a witch's nipple, there is still no sign of snow or ice.

2.  When the alarm rings at 5:30, turn it off because you are getting up.

3.  Spring out of bed one hour later when you wake back up and realize you are screwed if there is no ice and the kids actually have school.

4.  Turn on the TV to see if there is indeed school.

5.  Listen to the brilliant south Texas weathermen say things like, "Water freezes at 32 degrees," and "Black ice is the most dangerous kind."  Briefly think about stabbing them.

6.  After watching for a full 10 minutes (you could have been getting coffee) hear the newscaster say, "There are too many school closures to announce them all.  Please check your district website for updates."

7.  Wait another 10 minutes for your laptop to boot up and actually connect to the Internet because apparently everyone else is at home accessing the Internet.

8.  Find out your kids don't have school because there is an 1/8 of an inch of ice (not black) on one overpass in south Texas no where near your kids' school.

9.  Go back upstairs to brush your teeth so you can still be productive with four kids underfoot.

10.  Lay down in your bed for just five more minutes.

11.  Wake up another hour later and decide you still have time to be productive.

12.  Go downstairs to find you are out of coffee, eggs, and flour.

13.  Preheat your truck for 30 minutes so that you can go to the store to buy food for breakfast.

14.  Check your email to find that several friends also have a snow day.  Most of them actually have snow.

15.  Fool around on the interwebs.

16.  Decide you can still make it a productive day by getting to the store.

17.  Go shopping.

18.  Spend the rest of what is left of the morning making six people breakfast, eating like you've not eaten in days, cleaning up, and sweeping multiple times (because five of the six people go in and out repeatedly looking for "black ice").

19.  Look at the clock which says past noon.  Wonder when the troops will be hungry again.  Decide to spend the rest of the day surfing the net.  (Productively, of course.)

Will this still be okay when it's not my birthday?

Yesterday I celebrated not dying for one more year.  And as an optimistic friend reminded me I'm "one more day closer to death."  Thank you, optimistic friend.

To celebrate this day my kids did everything I asked them the first time, completed their chores without complaining, and I didn't have to lift a finger all day.

And I won a hundred million dollars.

(That didn't happen either.)

What did happen is something that reminded me that on your birthday you are entitled to do the things that maybe all year long you try to limit.  Examples:  eat cake for all three meals, drink a martini at 8:00 a.m., shop till all your credit cards are declined, gab on the phone with all your friends who call while all your work emails go unanswered, etc.

I personally have been trying not to use commas excessively, and, also, more importantly to try to maintain a positive attitude, and not complain.

So, I think you can imagine how this card from Girl 3 made my entire day and might win a contest somewhere for................creativity?

To Mom I hope you have a good bich!  (Thank you!  Done and dunner!)

He didn't go to Jared. He went to heaven. *Awkward.*

So, I heard this on NPR. 

Outliving hubby might have its benefits?

I'm not saying I'm better than you. I'm saying I'm better than all of you.

Girl 2 - "Seeing a glacier" is on my bucket list.

Girl 1 - Going to college is on my bucket list.

Boy Child - What?  "Going to college" is not a bucket list item.  It's a goal.  Learn the difference.  Yeesh.

Girl 3 - DIGGING A HOLE TO CHINA IN THE SANDBOX ON THE PLAYGROUND IS ON MY BUCKET LIST.  Mom, what's a bucket list?

Boy Child - Oh my gosh, Girl 3.  You can't even dig a hole to China.  That's impossible.  Pick something in between "Going to college" and "Digging a hole in the sandbox to CHINA" and that's what should be on your bucket list.

Boy Child - Guess what's on my bucket list.

Me - Hang gliding?

Boy Child - Close.  Parachuting from an airplane.

Girl 2 - Seeing a glacier is much more exciting.

Boy Child - Oh yeah?  Not when I'm going to be parachuting from an airplane into the center of a glacier.

Nicely played, Internet.

I get that Google knows what kind of underwear I am wearing right now, but every once in a while I just get creeped out by what shows up in my sidebar or my inbox.  Forget spies being in my driveway.  Are these people in my head?

I hate talking on the phone, but I'm quite smug about my online cleverness.

Well, just now this ecard showed up in my sidebar. 

Okay, Internet.  I get it.  You know me.  Now get out of my soul.

Here's to TV giving me something to blog about when I'm not watching TV.

So, probably my kids went back to school and wrote their proverbial "What I Did On Christmas Vacation" paper like this:

"Over Christmas vacation I stayed in my room and gamed while my mom sat glued to TV like a meth addict on........meth.  The end."

Forget the polar vortex, I was in my own personal TV vortex. 

And this vortex came right on the heels of the frenzy of Season 3 of The Killing.  It's no wonder I'm exhausted.  I think you all know how I feel about The Killing (if you don't - it could be expressed with the emoticon of a cat roller skating carrying a huge heart) and Joel Kinnaman AKA Stephen Holder.  (And if you don't - I'm marrying him when hubby dies.  ((Shhh.  Don't tell John.))  Meanwhile, I'm a stalker.)

So, how did the TV watching stack up?

First hubby had to finish all freaking seasons of Dexter.  Here's my deal with Dexter.  I don't really like it.  I liked it the first couple of shows and then I quit liking it.  I cannot stand Dexter's sister.  Or the detective that always wears the hat.  Or his girlfriend/wife Maria.  Or the other Rob Loweish/Keven Baconish (more on how interchangeable they are later) detective that slept with Dexter's sister.

I do, however, love Dexter.  I love his clever lines and his personality mirrors my own (except for the serial killer part).  So what's not to love?

Why do I watch if that's all I like?  Partly because it's like a train wreck for me and partly because hubby is addicted (although he'll deny it).  Season 4 is out and so we had to watch all of Seasons 2 and 3.  Must.  Keep.  Watching.

Downton Abbey.  I made a noble attempt (which reminded me of someone trying to save themselves from the Titanic) to watch Seasons 2 and 3 between December 26 and this past Sunday when the new season came out on PBS.  I didn't make it.

But, I couldn't keep myself from listening to David Bianculli's review of the first episode of Season 4 on NPR though so now I know some of the juiciness from Season 3 even though I'm still not done with it.  Damn NPR.  (No self control.  That's me.)  And, by the way, I want Bianculli's job.  Sit and watch TV all day (which is what I do now), and then get to discuss it, and get paid for it (which is what hubby wished happened)?  Is that legal???

There is nothing about Downton Abbey that I do not love.  I watched so much over vacation that I was addressing hubby as, "My Lord."  I can't say he hated it?

And, Downton Abbey makes me feel so refined and less sleazy about all the other crap I watch.  It's like a food cleanse after you've eaten 20 Big Macs.

The Following.  So, I kinda got addicted to this by accident.  As usual, I blame hubby who I think  happened on it after I'd succumbed to sleep around two o'clock in the morning after watching about eight episodes of Dexter.

I had no respect for Kevin Bacon after his sex tape scandal of the eighties.  Then hubby informed me that that was Rob Lowe.  (Both of them have that look shared by what'shisface on Dexter, apparently.)  But, I still can't erase the horrors of Sleepers from my mind every time I see Bacon on screen.  (I know that's legit.)

I don't recommend The Following if you are suspicious by nature because then I think you would end up committed - to a mental institution (not a good man).  And after about the fifth or was it the eighth? episode it's getting on my nerves.  Really?  Everyone is out to get Bacon?

I've had to put this show on hold though because while I've had my nose so far up Netflix' a$$, the spring season of MY REGULAR SHOWS came out.  Alas, I already missed one.  Sorry, Mr. Reese!

So, that's it friends. 

If it weren't for my TV life, I'd have no life at all.

Does comedy pay well? How about bad comedy?

Me:  This pain in my lower back is awful.  It's radiating down to my thigh now.

Boy Child:  Wow.  That sounds bad.

Me:  (Is this concern?  Is this concern for his mother???)  Yeah, it is.

Boy Child:  So, it's radiating down to your thigh?  And are you sure this pain is not just in your head?

Me:  (Wait.  This does not sound like concern.  This sounds like something else.)  (In my tight lipped impatient mom voice.)  Yes.  I am quite sure it's not in my head.

Boy Child:  Then it sounds like you might need a thighchiatrist.

There it is.