booby war continues

as you are aware, we have had fascination with boobies and all that goes with it for a while.

while swimming at our local rec center, benjamin, was delighted to see that the woman with the biggest breasts in the entire rec center and smallest bikini top come into the hot tub where he just happened to be relaxing.

me?

not so much.

“benjamin, don’t stare.” i reminded him.

and bless his heart, he did not, though it was an epic struggle.

i was feeling pretty good about our trip to booby paradise and thought we could leave the rec center having not made anyone uncomfortable and our heads held high, that is, until we were putting on our shoes.

“boobies!” ben said while pointing.

i turned to look and see him pointing at a man, who did have boobies, but probably did not need to have that fact pointed out.

another rec center, another walk of shame.

shame

on a different note, i looked over at emma during church yesterday, to see her reading her book about lizards and their mating rituals.

it was the most enlightening moment i had in church.

change

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our computer died

we have been without the computer for a week.

in one week, it is surprising how far we fell without the computer to guide our every day life.

here is our family picture after 7 days:

family pic

 

as you can clearly see in the above picture, someone died from lack of computer use.

we were forced to live off the land without coupons to print off the hubby’s savvy shopping sites.

hunting

realizing we were not hunters, and more gatherers, we made a trip to walmart.

walmart

luckily, the computer is now up and running, and in just one day it has changed our life dramatically.

moon

God bless computers every where.

white girl strikes again

the hardest thing for me while running, is not to break out my wicked awesome white girl dance moves while listening to my music. therefore creating a dance block party of epic proportion that will cause the shut down of at least 3 major freeways and 2 side streets.

i taught him everything he knows.

what i don’t understand, is how francis buxton, of pee wee herman fame,

francis

and uma thurman, of pulp fiction fame, made it on this episode of batman.

uma

 

the real reason the seahawks won

i just want you all to know the real reason for the seahawks’ miraculous win, was because my daughter prayed they would.

and as soon as she said ‘amen,’ she immediately knocked on wood to avoid the jinx,┬átherefore covering both religious and pagan rituals.

and that, dear readers, is how you raise a child.

luckysaid no one ever.

can’t unring that bell

i will be 43 this year.

in that 43 years, i have not ever used the mother of all bad words.

that’s right, the ‘F’ word.

fudge

not only did i decide to use it.

i used it 3 times in a row.

while yelling.

while at work.

and at someone who may or may have been my supervisor.

and as my tongue suddenly decided to take a walk on the wrong side of the tracks, all i could think while yelling this word was: ‘my mother will kill me.” except i used her first name in my head. “frances will kill me.”

i am in my 43rd year of life, a mother myself, owner of a home, car, bills, and old enough to yell profanities if i darn well feel like it. but still, thoughts of what my mother would do if she had been standing there pop into my head.

soap

and that, gentle readers, is the power of this name.

frances

to the boy who thinks he can like my daughter

dear don juan,

your christmas gifts were thoughtful.

your shy glances, endearing.

your thoughtful questions, nice.

your manners, a winner.

thinking you can share your love in clever words you learned in beginner spanish with my 12 year old and suddenly become her boyfriend?

shock

listen rico,

rico

until your voice does not sound like mine, and you need to shave,

just keep walking by.

boy

sincerely,

just be glad i haven’t told her father yet.

the first two days can say a lot about how your year will be

upon arriving home from work this morning, and walking into my humble abode, i was hit by a wall of poo smell.

“oh.my.gosh. did the dog poo?” i asked.

“no, that was us, we have just all been pooing this morning.” replied one of my poo smelling children.

i took matters into my own non-smelling poo hands and got the matches to light the candles.

i still had my stocking hat on, which my hair lives vicariously through, so it has braids.

braids

somehow, in the process of striking the match, it broke in half, flew end over end, and landed on my hat.

therefore, catching my hat on fire.

while still on my head.

“@#$%” i said, while sucking in smoke, ripping my hat off my head.

“what happened?” my poo smelling child asked.

“i just set myself on fire!!”

she just stared at me.

things i learned while on fire, although briefly.

1) i could never be a smoker, just the one mouthful and my dreams of sexy smoking were over.

smoker

2) it is only 2 days into the new year and i have already set myself on fire.

it is going to be one helluva year.