Glory Dayz/Daze

Oh my goodness! Oh my goodness! I've been meaning to post all day, but I am seriously so tired.  It's 12:28 p.m. and I am just now sitting down to take a load off for the first time since I popped out of bed this morning.  

Its all because my hub wanted to know how my dumb and dumber cooking blog was coming along. And then he wanted to know how my windex cologne business was coming along.  And then he wanted to know if I was making any $$$ off my sushi shop slash vegetable oil gas station. 

I told him all three ideas were still in the conception stage, so he told me he had a business idea that was already in the labor and delivery stage. 

Fresh California oranges. 

Apparently I'm going to get rich and famous selling fresh Cali O.J. (minus the J). 

I'm no longer a dummy, peeps, I'm a bizness lady.  

And guess what else! I'm going back to school! You heard me right. I'm officially enrolled in traffic school and I'm going to major in coming-to-a-complete-stop-before-turning-in-front-of-the-nice-policeman-ology.

 

Hope I'm not too busy with my new bizness to go shopping for some new school clothes and a new backpack. I asked the nice policeman if traffic school is offering any scholarships this semester, so I could afford the new outfits, but he just shook his head. 

So guess what I got in the mail from my very first blog friend, Jami at Superfluous Miscellany?Guess! Guess! Guess!

Give up? huh? huh? huh?

Oh, you'll never guess.  I'll just show you. 

 

SPAM! Of every sort and variety.  A whole potpourri of SPAM.  PLUS a new musubi maker. CheeeeeeeeHoooo!

MAHALO Jami! 

(Just between you and me though, that one small act of kindness and consideration was both superfluous AND miscellaneous.) 

But life is random like that. 

Take Sunday, for instance. My MIL randomly decided, after 20 years, that it was time to get our storage out of her storage.  So we did, and guess what we've been storing all these years? 

Our glory dayz.  

That's right--my old cheer skirt and pon pons, (which I like to call pom poms) and my hub's old college basketball uniform. Maybe I should try to dig up some photographic evidence for your viewing pleasure.

Wait! There is no try, there is only do, right?



It's amazing how much fun your kids can have with your glory dayz. And even more amazing how sordid they can make you feel as they're dragging your glory dayz through the mud.

The first words out of my daughter's mouth when she saw my cheer skirt was, "That is DISGUSTING!"

I think she was a little grossed out that it fit my youngest son. 

I told her I was never a little boys size 10, but she didn't believe me.  

Until she tried it on herself. 

 

HA! Look who's a little boys size 10 now! (btw, that's my sister's daughter in my sister's cheer skirt).

 My kids also fit into my hubs basketball jersey.

 But who cares about that?

So my sister came over and our daughters dared both of us to squeeze into our old glory dayz cheer sweaters.

Which we did, (when we sucked in our breath).

So then they double dog dared us to fit into our glory dayz cheer skirts. 

Which we did (although we couldn't zip them up.)

So then they triple dog dared us to to do a glory dayz toe touch.  

 (*Note: You are about to see videographic evidence of my existence. And believe me, it's graphic! (but not as graphic as the above forementioned double jointed elbows. No wonder I got cut from SYTYCDance.) (**Note: I didn't know I was being videographed or I would have tried harder.) (***Note: I photoshopped that fake tree in the background into the picture. But I didn't get a chance to photoshop the ornaments.)

(I really need to take Cheiko Okasaki's advice and lighten up, don't I?  I take life way too seriously.) 

P.S.  If this post feels groggy, it's because I fell asleep at least a dozen times while writing it.