Today’s Photohunt Theme is “Road”
I took that photo about a year ago. It’s been quite a long year, and yet, in the moment, it seems to have passed in the blink of an eye. The road was long and winding. A lot of it was uphill. There were definitely potholes. Once, I even hit a sinkhole. It felt like I would never escape that. It left me with some scars I’ll carry with me always, but I think I’ve climbed out of the hole now. And we’re driving ever onward.
The road may have been a rough one, true… But there were enough fun and thrilling curves to ride, and the number of speed bumps was low enough that, well… the light you see up ahead in that picture?
Well, I still see it, too.
Because his giggling is infectious and you all deserve to have some of it.
It is as if he was trying to headbang, tell you jokes, laugh, and give a speech all at the same time. Gotta love a toddler. Especially one with dried baked bean sauce around his mouth. Classy!
And I promise he wasn’t on any drugs, and I had not given him any candy or caffeine of any sort. That’s just “Everyday Braden.” 😉
And, oops, I turned the camera off right before he was going to tell you to leave your comment on this post so you can win $50 of merchandise!
Have you ever been going about your business as usual, not hungry at all, and all of a sudden you want to eat everything within reach? Like, your appetite doubles times infinity plus seventy-eleven, in the blink of an eye?
Or, you want greek olives, peanut butter, apples, and tuna fish all at the same time? Along with your tropical punch flavored juice?
Yeah. That was me earlier this evening, and I have absolutely no reason why. And before your brain cells start rubbing up against each other all excitedly and “squeeing” as they trip over themselves, anxious to stimulate you hurriedly to suggest that I am pregnant, that’s gonna be a big N-O, Roger.
I can’t stop myself from interjecting here to say that every.single.time I see/hear/think the name “Roger” nowadays, I instantly hear an asian man’s voice saying, “Sorry, Rogah, you tigah now.”
And it makes me happy. Every time. Why is that so funny to me? Anyway…
See, certain things have to happen to make a baby. For a baby to get inside of a Mommy’s tummy, a Mommy and a Daddy have to love each other very much and then get really close to each other, and the Daddy has to hug the Mommy and then… Ok, you know what? This is going nowhere.
Ya’ll KNOW how babies are made. If you don’t, you are either too young to be reading this blog (I AM SO GOING TO TELL YOUR PARENTS! YOU BETTER GO BACK TO NICKELODEON.COM RIGHT THIS MINUTE.) or you are not very bright, and in that case, perhaps it is for the best that you do not understand the whole process. The rest of you are probably visualizing dirty bits and such now.
(Haha, I made you all think about doing it. Well, except for those of you who were already thinking about it anyway. Pervs. You know who you are. I see you over there, stop trying to hide and avert your eyes. Oh, I also see you, you who are making really, direct, uncomfortable eye contact with me and twitching a little. You are freaking me out. Stop that.)
Uh… so, what was I saying again? Oh yeah. I’m definitely NOT pregnant. I mean, John was on the west coast of the US while I was ovulating, and while he is.. uh… not lacking in the manly parts department by any stretch of the imagination, he isn’t THAT gifted.
And really, if there’s any wenis out there that can reach from California to Tennessee? I AM SCARED. Keep that thing away from me. Also, inform the owner of said Giganto Wenis that he could make a FORTUNE in endorsement ads for all those creepy companies that send me emails claiming that their product will enable me to “knock down walls with your penis!” and “tear her apart with your rod!”
For the record, knocking down walls with my penis would be really cool, tearing someone apart, not so much. Maybe work on that ad campaign a little. Possibly only send it out to violent rapist types. And people who ACTUALLY HAVE PENISES.
Also, I do routinely joke that I actually have a penis (it’s funny, I don’t care what you say)… and you know what? Both my penis and I are pretty offended that I’m getting those emails at all. How insulting!
I wonder if John gets emails for products that will enable him to crush a man’s head to a pulp with his cleavage?
It’s hard to believe I started this post by talking about my weird cravings considering where it has lead.
Maybe that’s what happens when you eat dried cherries and pork sausage together. Hm.
I do a little thing around here where I post about ways that John and I try to become more environmentally friendly (and I invite people to link in with any of their recent “green posts”). I call it Project Support Beauty in Nature (PSBN) and I kind of declared that I would do that every month, on the second Monday of the month.
But I didn’t take into account the fact that:
a) At some point, the second Monday of the month would be when The Blood Curtain Dropped,
b) That when The Blood Curtain Drops, I can’t think of anything but yelling at my Uterus, angrily,
c) I’m a lazy douche, so obviously, at some point, I won’t remember to post the PSBN piece on the right day.
All this is to say that yesterday I was supposed to publish a PSBN post, but instead, I got all wrapped up in my menstruational emotions and berated my uterus for all to see, instead.
Somehow, I don’t think that’s going to save the earth.
For now, I’ll mention that we’ve started using a different shower soap around here that’s “earth kind.” It’s called Dr. Bronner’s Magic Soap/18-in-1 Hemp Pure-Castille Liquid Soap.
From the website:
- Completely Biodegradable and Vegetable-Based
- Made with Certified Fair Trade and Organic Oils
- Multi-Purpose: 18-in-1 Uses
- No Synthetic Foaming Agents, Thickeners or Preservatives
- 100% Post-Consumer Recycled (PCR) Cylinder Bottles and Paper Labels
- Simple, Ecological Formulations Based on Old-World Quality and Expertise
- #1-Selling Natural Brand of Soaps in North America
You can see the different fragrances here.
We’ve used 2 scents. The Lavender… um, it smells… interesting. But not in a bad way. It’s just that, well, it doesn’t particularly smell like lavender to me. ???
The peppermint one will kind of make your believe you’re a candy-cane. Compared to how I smell between my monthly showers, that’s not at all unpleasant, though.
You can use this stuff not only for body cleaning but also as shampoo – it’s an amazing all-in-one. If you have long hair, you’ll want to buy their conditioning product, b/c the soap will leave your hair a bit tangly. Other than that, it’s amazing. Cleans well, and leaves you feeling really fresh.
But I can’t talk about this stuff without mentioning the INSANE LABELS on the bottles.
Talk about some nutball-type mind control propaganda. Whew! They sure as hell want to make sure that when you buy their product you also buy into their entire philosophy on… well… everything batshit crazy under the sun, man.
(They probably have Internet Spies and will now send operatives to kill me, making the whole thing look like an accident. I am telling you all now, if I am found with a bottle of Pure Castille Soap crammed up my butt, it was NOT an accident, I did NOT fall on it! Lies! Lies!)
But on the serious, reading the labels of these soaps started making me feel that at any moment, I could be insanely driven to join a cult living in some remote place, perhaps the jungles of South America?
Random sampling of weirdness from the bottle:
“7th – Each swallow works hard to be perfect pilot – provider – builder – trainer – teacher – lover – mate, no half-true hate! So, each day like a bird, perfect thyself first! Have courage and smile my friend. Think and act 10 years ahead! And the man without fault? He’s dead! Do one thing at a time, work hard! Get done! Then teach friends & enemy the Moral ABC that unites all mankind free! Uniting One! All-One! Face the world with a smile, life is always worthwhile! To the fearless are given crowns, keep out the past, disappointments won’t last! Help unite mankind, or we’re wandering clowns! Diligent preparation, precede… spectacular restoration! So, help teach the whole human race, the Moral ABC’s All-One-God-Faith, lightning-like, for we’re All-One or None! All-One!!”
The whole bottle is covered with stuff like that, top to bottom, in tiny print.
Whenever I look at it for too long, I start wanting grape koolaid, for some reason.
Gotta go wash my hair and body with Pure Castille Soap now. If I start referring to my home as “The Compound” sometime soon, send help, okay?
Just so you know, it would totally be okay with me if you wanted to just… you know… leave. For awhile. Get out. GO AWAY. Consider it a vacation, whatever! WE really don’t need one another right now anyway, right? And the ripping, tearing, and cramping pain you’re causing me today is really not what I’d call “pleasant” or “enjoyable” or even “moderately bearable.” It’s more like “excruciating” and it “sucks ass.” It makes me want to “smash myself in the head with a sledge hammer to numb all feeling in my body.”
You’re also creating quite a mess around here. I, for one, don’t appreciate the stained crotches in my underwear that I can never seem to avoid when you start doing your special thing every month. Furthermore, I’m quite tired of feeling like a regularly tapped keg of Hawaiian Punch.
In case you’re trying to leave a “trail” because you were thinking I was lost in the woods and needed to find my way home, let me set you straight. I’m just fine, here at home, and there are no witches trying to eat me. (In fact, as long as you keep it up, Uterus, NO ONE is going to be trying to eat me. Thanks for that!)
So, really, please treat yourself to a Bahamas Cruise several times in a row, or a couple of months in Europe. Really, that would be great. Hell, go spelunking in some caves somewhere and get eaten by bats for all I care. I just think we need some time apart.
It’s not me. It’s you.
Dear Mind/Brain, Back, Stomach, and Legs,
Look. Just because Uterus gets the notion once a month to start acting like a total jerkface doesn’t mean that you should, too. I would really appreciate a little support here. I mean, at a time when I’m literally feeling like The Evil Undead is clawing its way out of my gut, you could step up to the plate and try to help me hold things together instead of chiming in with The Chorus of Pain and Insanity.
But no, you’re just a bunch of shameless lemmings. If you weren’t attached to me, I would say something like, “I hope you just fall off/out/rot/die/snap.”
But, um, don’t do any of that. Please.
Holding Onto Last Shred Of Sanity
(for as long as mind allows me to, damn you, mind)
It was a SNAKE.
AN EFFIN SNAKE!
Really? You had to listen to a SNAKE?
I HATE YOU.
One of Your Many Daughters, Bound To Your Sin,
They have now returned me to my regularly scheduled Internet Addiction program by replacing the power source in my Dell. I picked up the computer containing its nice, new power supply on Tuesday night.
Sorry I waited so long to let you guys know… I’ve been cuddling and snuggling with it privately for a day or so now. Making sure it knows how much I love it. (Even while I secretly forge plans to purchase a Mac Laptop behind its back. Shhhhh.)
By the way – Super Kudos to my own husband for making that exact diagnosis over the phone the day the failure first occurred when I called him to freak out about it. More Super Kudos to those of you who also correctly diagnosed the actual problem – Lisa, Michell’s husband, Lou, Sarah, Yam, Stephanie, Becky, Momma Mary, and beautifulmess . You are all computer geniuses. Someone should pay you! But not me. I’m saving all my $$ for Asian Porn. Sorry.
The Awesome Tech Nerd who helped me with my compie even made friendly jokes about the rather shrill, seemingly endless screaming that was emanating from the area of a certain stroller directly to my right while he was wrapping things up and getting the bill of sale in order for me.
Seriously. He made happy, silly, sweet jokes to Braden instead of clapping his hands over his ears and running away while the blood poured through his fingers and he cried out, “I just can’t take it anymore, God, Please give me the sweet release of DEATH!!!”
Oh, wait, that’s just what I always end up wanting to do. *nervous laugh*
Anyway, he was a really nice Tech Nerd who has kids and grandkids, so he gets both computers and parenting issues. See? Super Hot, Sexy and Awesome. He’s the one who ran to help me through the door yesterday when he saw me struggling with a stroller in one hand and a computer under the other arm. And he didn’t even let me think about trying to get everything to the car by myself. He took the computer and carried it out for me, placing it inside the vehicle. Then he said goodbye to Braden, giving him a kind little rub on the back while Braden screamed, “BYE-BYE! BYE-BYE!!! BYE.BYE.BYE.BYE.BYE BYYYYYYYYYYYYYYYYYYYYEEEEE!!!!”
Of course, it wasn’t free. I thought about offering to touch his no-no spot, and all, like I said before, but it really seemed inappropriate. Braden was there, after all. So I paid money. It hurt, but like they say, it hurt so, so good.
By the way, I really do get the Ultimate Assholes of the Universe Award –
– because you know what? You know how several of you advised me to buy an external hard-drive to back up all my documents in the future, etc. HAHAHAHA. Yeah. We already have one. It’s huge, too. And we’ve had it for MONTHS. Had I taken the time to move ONE THING to it yet?
NO! BIG FAT, STINKY NO! (Yah, I suck all the balls.)
Guess what I will be doing pronto?
All in all, I’m really glad to be up and running again on a computer that’s not farting at me or handing out rude taunts.
I’m the only one around this household who’s allowed to terrorize others by those methods, thank you very much.
Okay, quick compie update. Dropped computer off with awesome and super hot handsome and wonderful Tech Geeks today. Lugged the comp into the shop while pushing stroller, and one came running to help me. See? Super Wonderful and stuff. He said could be software issue, could be the hard drive (choking on own spit). His words: “If it’s the hard drive… well… it is what it is.” (blank stare of death)
And, as I type this, the old comp I’m using is making… interesting sounds. Like, it literally sounds as if the thing is ripping farts occasionally. So, needless to say, I’m in a hurry to finish this and shut it off.
I have a fun proposition. Well, it could be a complete disaster, but I think it will be fun.
I want you guys to write a poem here. No, I’m not going to help. That would TOTALLY downgrade the whole “lazy douche” thing I have going. I would never want to do that! In fact, I’m thinking of changing the name of the website to Lazy Douche. Not sure yet.
I want you to write a haiku series in the comments section, like I post here on most Fridays.
What’s a Haiku? Read this if you want to know what Wikipedia has to say about it.
All you need to know though is that it’s a poem with 3 lines. The first line has to be 5 syllables, second line is 7 syllables, 3rd line is 5 syllables.
(Again, you can click on “Fridays” above and see my past examples if you’re not sure.)
Got it? Okay. First commenter drops a five syllable line. When you get here, look at the last comment and figure out what to do next.
I know that there will be screwups and such, like people posting at the same time, but let’s just roll with the punches. When it’s all said and done, I’ll clean it up, and the end result will post here this Friday as my Haiku Friday Post.
Each line of yours that gets used will become a link back to you (if you have a website).
Yay! Make me proud, you wonderful people.
Serious technical difficulties here right now.
My (apparently piece of crap) Dell Inspiron 531 – less than a year old – crapped out on me midday Sunday. I was just starting an e-mail reply when the whole system just promptly shut down.
It didn’t say, “Psssst, I’m feelin’ tired, yo… I can has restings?” or anything before it kicked me in the nuts.
Just WHAM. BAM. THANK YOU, MA’AM, rolled over and went to sleep. I was sitting here, in the wet spot, listening to it snore before I even felt anything.
You get the drift.
I’ve tried everything to revive it.
FIrst I pretended that nothing out of the ordinary had happened. I pushed the power button, and as it booted up, I went for a pee break. Nonchalantly, I walked back into the room, input my password, and waited as my desktop picture popped up. Then I clicked the button to open FireFox. WHAM. BAM. F’YOU, MA’AM.
Then I tried saying lots of colorful curse words.
Pushed the power button. Computer started… got as far as the first screen that says, “DELL” and then it clicked off again. (Crap, it’s not even trying to penetrate anymore, DAMNIT.)
Then I tried staring at it in disbelief for several moments, putting my hand over my face, and getting really, really nervous.
Power button. Dell screen. Black Pit of Despair.
Next up, I tried walking out of the room, holding my hand over my mouth so that I would not scream, because Braden was napping in the next room. This was followed quickly by my incredible restraint from a) banging my head against the wall in the hallway repeatedly or b) flinging myself out the second story window onto the sidewalk below.
(Really, is life worth living without access to The Internet? This is my heroin, people. And someone just ripped the needle out of my arm!)
Returning to the room, I tried the technique known as, “Lay Hands On Computer Tower, Quietly Breathing, Then Push The Power Button and BEG GOD TO MAKE IT WORK – PLEASE, OH PLEASE, GOD JUST MAKE IT WORK, PLEEEAAAAASSSSSEEE?????”
God was not hip to fixing my computer.
Next, I actually thought about the “Drop-Kick That Sonofabitch” Method, but thankfully, my better judgment won out. I wasn’t wearing shoes, anyway.
I waited. Tried.
Actually got into Setup by holding F2 at one point.
Unfortunately, the computer was just taunting me. I swear I actually heard it say, “Psych, bitch!” right before it shut down that time.
Now it doesn’t even make it to the DELL screen. It just whispers, “sucks to be you” and winds down immediately.
All of this is to say that my computer is dead to me. Likely, I am going to have to take it somewhere in the coming days and pay out large sums of money that we’re trying to save (for things like student loan payments, medical bill payments, and the downpayment on a freakin’ house) to have it looked at/fixed. (I can only PRAY that it’s even possible for it to be fixed.)
Of course, I’ll have to lug it in somewhere while simultaneously carrying Braden and then try to explain to Unemotional Tech Nerds what happened (as they look at me with the look that says they think I probably don’t even know how to spell my own name). All the while Braden will be running wildly around someone’s business, screaming like a feral monkey, and I will be running after him trying to apply the duct tape with no success.
And I’m not even going to go in depth into the fact that every photo and video I’ve taken since October 2007 is on that hard-drive, and if it’s corrupted, I lose them all. Tons of other documents, too, of course. But the things that capture my kid in time sting me the most.
*stifling maddening banshee scream of despair and psychological breakdown*
Right now I’ve got a very old computer hooked up so I can get some things done. Unfortunately, it’s not very trustworthy (I can has lock-ups and crashes, too?) and it could also die at any moment.
I’ll keep posting as I can. Hang in there with me, folks. I’ll try to hang onto the fringe of The Internet that I have my little fingers hooked onto right now. My feet are dangling!
Dear Tech Nerds: I love you, please do not be mad at me. You are Super Awesome Handsome and Sexy-Hot Tech Nerds and I will love you forever and ever if you fix my computer. All those silly words up there mean nothing. I am just a flighty tart who was tapping out random things on my computer! You are wonderful and amazing, and I will totally touch your no-no spot if you want me to. Just PLEASE OH PLEASE, FIX MY COMPIE?
Slave To Your Computer Knowledge Having Awesomaciousness