Love, Kindergarten Style

Apparently, the middle kid is involved in some kind of 5 year old love triangle.

You see, he had a mission when he started Kindergarten this year. He was out to "find a girl to marry." The first day brought no luck, but the second day, he jumped into the van at Parent Pickup to tell me he found the girl of his dreams. I asked what her name was and he said, "I don't know."

The next day he jumps in the van at Parent Pickup to tell me he found out his True Love's name and it is Morgan. I asked if she was in his class, and he said, no, that he talks to her at PP. So that means that they get, what, 5 minutes a day to talk? (I have since found out that "sometimes" they are on the playground together at the same time, so I guess we can add another 15 minutes every so often to that time...)

I asked him what she looked like and he said, "I don't know."

I asked what color hair she has and he said, "I don't know."

I asked why he wanted to marry her and he said, "Because I asked her and she said yes."

The boy doesn't have very high standards. Apparently, all it takes to win his heart is to say "yes" when he proposes.

Today he came home to tell me that Jake used to be Morgan's best friend, but Morgan told Jake on the playground today that he is no longer the carrier of that title, because now she is Hunter's best friend.

So, Jake challenged Hunter to a fight.

*sigh...*

And Jake said he didn't care and didn't want to be Morgan's friend ANYWAY, SO THERE! and this made Morgan cry.

Which threw Hunter into Knight in Shining Armor mode. Can't resist a damsel in distress.

But I told him that he needed to tell Jake that they could all be friends, and that there would be no such duel, no matter how fair the maiden.

Hunter said he would just put up a force field and block Jake from fighting with him. Good luck with that, kid. Let me know how that worked once you pick your arse up out of the dirt where Jake knocks you.

I said that if Jake really wanted to fight, that he needed to tell the teacher. Let her handle it. He still was not happy with that solution, so I pulled out the big guns and told him that fighting would put him on the red light. Make no mistake, it is a big fat deal to be on the red light. Hunter stays on green and is very proud of that. He comes home to tell me in whispered tones of so-and-so, who got in trouble today and "...was on the....YELLOW light...!" Yikes.

So, hopefully, this scared him into just narc-ing out this Jake character to the teacher if there is any trouble a-brewin'.

Oh, this boy....the girls already are playing him like a fiddle...

Thrift Store Thursday

It's that time again...Thrift Store Thursday! (Yes, and I am doing it on a Friday once again. But Thrift Store Friday just doesn't have the same ring to it. So, let's play a little game called Every Time I Post One of These Threads, Let's Pretend It Is Freakin' Thursday. K? Thx.)

This was my WTF? moment.

These sofas were lime green and bright yellow. And they were selling them for ONE HUNDRED AND FORTY DOLLARS. That's right. And that is criminal. Criminal, I say.

I may go back and get this bobble-head teacher creature. Not for the teachers my boys have this year, for they are oh-so-very delightful. But we all had one of "those" teachers some time in our lives...one that was deserving of a gift as heinous as this...*cough*Mrs. Ortiz*cough*

Missed? With what, my car? Now, I had a piano growing up. And I skipped lessons because they were BORING as all get-out. But I wouldn't exactly say I "missed" them.

"Duuuuude...look at the liiiiiight... It's like, so bright and junk. Hehehehehe......"

From the similar look on his face, it appears that she passed the pipe to this right jolly old elf. And he is bogarting it. We all knew a guy like this in school. Come on, man, it's puff, puff, pass...


...and so, apparently, are crappy crafts.



This...

is one pissed-off looking lamb. I am guessing it is because he is so poorly painted. Either that, or it is because of the white afro.

I wish I had the stones to have taken a picture of a woman that I saw as I was leaving the store. She looked to be about 250-plus pounds, was sporting what looked suspiciously like prison tattoos, and was wearing a shirt that said "Keep Off". But I wasn't looking for a beatdown today. Trust me, it was some funny shiznit.

Another open letter...

...to a celebrity.

Not unlike my letter way back when to The Hotness, Joaquin Phoenix, this one goes out to...

Kanye West.

Dearest Kanye,

You are a complete tool.


I know, I know...you've heard it from everyone at this point, even the POTUS, who, I must say, has a tendency to make a little sense when he has his guard down. Of course, immediately following calling you a "jackass", he began to backpedal on the comment, but he said it. Yes, he did. Of course, one of my friends pointed out to me that he just jumped on the Kanye-bashing bandwagon, which should give us more reason to dislike him... something to consider.


But I still think you are a tool. No backpedaling here, baby. You stepped all over a moment by a noob singer who will never get that "first award" moment back. Way to go. And add to the classlessness, you don't even give her a personal apology until she calls you out on "The Cackling Hens", er, I mean "The View". Shhhh.....do you hear that? It is the sound of your career coming to a screeching halt. I think this, added to the spectacle you made of yourself during the Hurricane Katrina telethon has given people their fill of your nonsense. If I was your mother, I would jerk a knot in your tail. Drink less, rap and produce more, and Shut. The. Hell. Up. Nobody cares about your contrived conspiracy theories or your opinions. Do what you are famous for, and put a lid on it. Tightly.





And if that doesn't work out, I am sure Handy Manny is hiring. Looks like there is room to fit one more in the box.

Irrational fears

OK, so I have a couple.

One of which is bacon. Not eating it, mind you. Not even handling it raw (which I hate to do with raw chicken...I gag and come close to dry-heaving. Yes, seriously...) My fear with bacon is cooking the stuff. I rarely order it when I am out for breakfast, either, because I like my bacon *thisclose* to being totally burnt. Just the way I like my roasted marshmallows. Nobody ever gets it just right.

I am always afraid I am going to get spit and popped on, and I always, always freaking do. But once in a while I get a hankering for eggs and bacon, and I will break out the pre-cooked bacon so I can avoid the hot grease spitting at me. But I was out. And I had a craving. And I learned my lesson, once again.

See what happened tonight?

Shut UP. Yes there is a mark there. It got me. The evil bacon grease got me. And when it did, I screamed like a big sissy, causing the boys to come running in to the kitchen to see what horrible tragedy had befallen me. Even the cat came in. And I swear I saw her roll her eyes at me.

But I ended up with my nummy dinner.

Oh, and my second irrational fear? Clowns. Go ahead and laugh. Then read "It" and hop on my little bandwagon.

Woof...? Please...?

The middle kid's new obsession is obtaining a dog. I am not sure where this came from...maybe from antagonizing my sister's dog, Abby, while we were (taking over) visiting her house this summer. I dunno, but the whole, "I reaaaaaaaaaally want a dog, mom...What about a dog, mom...? Wouldn't having a dog totally rock, mom?" thing is on my very last good nerve. I have put him off by saying, "well, maybe some day..." (while actually meaning hell to the no) but it is not pacifying the kid.

I am so not a dog person. I mean, I like my neph-and niece-dogs, Ernie and Lilly. Very cute, very furry, and very not at my house. All plusses in my book. I know if we got a dog, it would be another thing for me to take care of, and we all know my record with critters...*cough*fish killer*cough*.

So, I said that maybe he should just talk to Daddy about it, to which he said, "But talking is so boring." I asked what he meant and he said, "Daddy talks a lot.' Well-said, young squire. Yes, Daddy is a talker, and really likes to explain and (go on and on) share...

So, I said, "Well, we really should let Daddy say how he feels about it, since we are all part of the family and it should be a decision we all make.

And the kid wrapped it up with,"But, mom, you are in charge, anyway."

And I bought him a bag of Starburst and let him stay up late tonight. That kid is a rockstar in my book.

Thrift Store Thursday

I know, I know, it's Friday...but this actually happened yesterday and it has taken me a day to FINALLY figure out how to transfer pics from my Blackberry to my computer.

Yesterday, I headed to the local thrift store (don't want to say the name, but let's just say it rhymes with Shmalvation Shmarmy...) to drop off a box of stuff that should not have made the move to the new house. After dropping off the box o' crap (AKA Dave's stuff that I don't think he needs), I decided to go inside and take a look around. And, brother, am I glad I did. I found so many things to tell you about. It was kind of funny trying to take pictures with my phone on the DL and not look like a complete tool. Pictures say a thousand words, so let's start at the beginning...

Did you know they sell lingerie at thrift stores? Am I the only one who finds that so...wrong? I spotted this lady checking out the brassieres and (ick) garter belts.

Her next stop was at the bathing suit rack, but I was afraid she would see me taking pics of her and pull a blade on me, so I didn't get another one. But really, bathing suits and lingerie? Is there even enough bleach on the planet to get me to consider going there?

Then I stumbled upon this gem.

Yes, that is a candle with bottlecaps embedded in the wax. Note that the tag is still on it, so whoever was the lucky recipient of this gift got rid of it without even lighting it first. Decorating FAIL. WW Vern Yip D?

I think I found the Three Ugliest Chairs in the Continental United States. And if any of your furniture even remotely resembles this, I am sorry. Not for making fun of it, but just sorry. For you.

My camera phone did not really capture the extreme heinousness of the one chair on the far right. It was a lovely combination of doo-doo brown and "I ate too many candy corn and puked" orange.

On to the lovely and oh-so-Klassy bridal well.

Why yes, that appears to be a laundry basket at the bottom.

Clever, no?

No.

Why do I get the feeling that the wedding reception was held in someone's garage and involved a couple of kegs of Old Milwaukee?

I am thinking of making this a regular thing. I may head into the aforementioned thrift shop from time to time, just to see what divine things they are attempting to sell. Maybe next trip will be to, oh, Shmoodwill.

The Big K

Today the middle kid started Kindergarten. The oldest kid graduated from high school last year and I thought, "Hey, that was fun. Let's do it all over again." Riiiiight.

Hunter was so excited today. All day yesterday and this morning, I was so nervous that I couldn't eat (I know! Right? Crazy talk.) And woke up at 6 am today. I kept it together until I pulled away from the school and had myself a little cry-time. Not sure why, though. The kid went to preschool for the last two years and I didn't get all verklempt over it. Today, though, I was "that" mom. The Boo-Frickety-Hoo, My Little Baby Started Kindergarten Nutso mom.

He had a great day, though. He was all excited when I picked him up and proclaimed that they actually "...let me play on the playground! And I made a new friend, but I forget her name. I will ask her again tomorrow. I hope I remember this time, oh, and I had fruit chews for a snack, but nothing to drink, just the fruit chews... Oh, my teacher was nice, and did I tell you I made a new friend? I can't remember her name, but I know her face..." So I guess the big K was a hit. Maybe I can keep my junk together at the drop-off line tomorrow.

Then the littlest kid starts preschool next week.

I may need to be medicated for that.