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Saturday, January 31, 2009

GROUP HUG PEEPS!


So thankful for all my friends.  Best friends ever!!! 

My eyes are seriously sweating just thinking about all the votes of support on my blog nominations and all of your excitement over the magic quilt.  

To borrow a phrase from John Adams, "I've been borrowing from my sleep" lately in order to do some extra round off back handsprings before bed.   That's how excited I am about the magic quilt.  

If you are scratching your head right now and thinking "what magic quilt?" click on the photo of the magic quilt on my right hand side bar.  

Or just click here, if you're lazy.  

A MQ button is in the works and should be done within a week so we can start promoting.  

That's not the only thing I've been borrowing sleep to do doing round off back for lately. 

I'm so excited about my new Crash-n-Friends Blog Across America site!!! 

Aaaaahhhh!  I can hardly wait for the grand opening to show it to you.  I'm just waiting on the design and template crew to finish up so I can unveil it and WE can get started.  

IF you must know . . . it's going to be our very own travel blog full of action, adventure and romance, not to mention three of my favorite things: food, nudity and profanity.  (No kids allowed in the van!  And Lo, you'll have to jog along side since you're rated G.)   

No good deed or bad deed will go unpunished over at Crash-n-Friends. 

Details TBA, but wouldn't it be awesome if a group of crazy bored mommies like us could win the best travel blog of 2009?   CBM Girl Power!  Just think of how many magic quilts we can pass along with all that exposure.

Even though I've had to borrow from my sleep lately, my dreams have been kind to me.  In fact I had the weirdest dream of my life a few nights ago and I need help interpreting.  

Setting: Russia

Scenery:  vivid, high res, super saturated mountains and city landscape. 

Mode of Transportation: Airplane

Antagonist:  A ginormous shark in a small pond of water. 

Conflict: Shark attack.    I was actually minding my own business when the shark leapt through the air and attached himself to my arm.  

Wounds sustained:  A mere flesh wound.  I totally took the shark down. 

Resolution:  I got to eat cookies.  I ate cookie after cookie after cookie.  I couldn't stop eating the cookies.  

But I'm perplexed because here's the WEIRD part:  I COULD TASTE THE COOKIE.  And I've never tasted the cookie before.  It was like a fruity Oreo.  What the what?  How can I taste a fruity Oreo in my sleep when I've never tasted a fruity Orea on my wake.  Helk, I don't think anyone has ever tasted a fruity oreo.

So what is the universe trying to tell me, peeps?

Friday, January 30, 2009

Peeps Patrol

Okay peeps, mark your calendars because the Crash Test Dummy is coming to Utah on July 10th. If you want to meet me at the airport with banners and balloons I'll send you my itinerary thingie.

And hey, maybe if I start jogging 10 miles a day I'll be able to fit into my HS cheer skirt so we can have a little pep rally by the baggage claim.

Let me know if you want me to bring my playlist and do a Kung Fu Panda workshop for your Young Women or teach your crazy bored friends how to survive 60 mph impacts w/o airbags.

Or, if you want, you can just take me out to lunch at the Olive Garden. (I accept Jamba Juice cards too.)

OR, OR, OR, we can have a quilting bee. I don't quilt myself, but you guys could quilt while I blog about it. And I can serve you chips and salsa while you quilt and I blog. I'm good at serving chips and salsa.

Dead serious--not about the chips and salsa,but about the quilting bee--thanks to Wendy @No Botox Allowed for giving wings to my magic quilt idea.

I've got a MIND BLOWING PLAN to heal the world (one quilt at a time.) Click here to read my plan and see my new site.



And you know what else I've been thinking about? Anjeny and how she nominated me for best blog of all time and how I giggled and called her a silly silly goose.

But why shouldn't I be best blog of all time? Why should I be intimidated by Pioneer Woman? I mean, true, I don't have any votes yet, but I'm only 20 votes behind pioneer woman and 24 votes behind Dooce. And I'm only 130 votes behind the real best blog of all times.

I still have time to catch up if I blog my brains out 24/7 for the next 300 days or so.

Maybe I could get Jack Johnson to write me a magic theme song that hypnotizes readers into voting for me . . .


The possibilities are endless.


I mean, I know by myself I'm not best blogger of all time, because, well, let's face it, I don't have a Marlboro man. My man doesn't even smoke. But I do have a happy German.

And a tremendous Austrian.

Seriously, what does the Pioneer Woman have that I don't have (besides a chain smoking husband)?

I may not have cows or horses, but I have cockroaches and geckos.

I may not be able to cook, but Mariko can and Damaris can and Amanda can.

Does PW have a published author who sold her first novel out of print in less than 2 months? Well, we do, thanks to Miss D. and Miss HeiD.

I may not take stunningly breath taking photographs, but Alyson does and so does Shelle.

PW has a mentally retarded brother, but I bet she doesn't have an apostate brother. And I bet she doesn't have a yellow submarine. And she probably doesn't speak to the universe or make magic quilts.

WE CAN DO THIS THING, girls!

All I need is 21 votes and I'll be on page one. And if I'm on page one, then we can make a gazillion quilts and heal the world a gazillion times faster. Then maybe we could get sponsors for our Blog-Across-America tour and we could write books about all the crazy people in America and go on Oprah and David Letterman and Regis and Kelly.

And then we could all get our hair Japanese straightened.



Are you as pumped as I am right now?





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Oh, and about my daughter's hoity toity SS teacher . . . I didn't end up busting a move on her because I had to give her the Heimlich instead. She was seriously choking on her words that she would shave her head if my daughter's group made it to the History Day district competition.

They did make it--(4th place so there's room for improvement, but STILL!)

And can I say something to my daughter's friends who also made it. Sydney/3rd place essay, Josi/3rd place performance, and Josie/2nd place documentary. WOOOHOOOOO!!!!!!

You go, girls! Seriously, SO TAMN Proud of You! (Don't tell your parents I said that.)

(Oh, and HAPPY BIRTHDAY, Josi! Can everyone leave some cake in my comment box. Wolfgang, will you bring your honey and granola frozen yogurt? And will everyone wear blue today in her honor.)



MAHALO!

You guys are da bomb!


And remember . . . A vote for Crash is a vote for Crash-n-Friends! Click on one of the blogger's choice buttons on the left hand side bar to vote. You do have to sign up and log in.

LY Friends!

Thursday, January 29, 2009

My Thursday Bucket List

Today I would love to . . .


1. Punch my daughter's teacher in the nose?

Not her Hoity Toity English teacher, but her hoity toity Social Studies teacher. If Kahuku High School had tennis courts I would arrange a duel after school behind the courts and I would channel my eagle powers and do some Kung Fu Panda on her, and maybe a Karate Kid kick or two.


Wax on! Wax Off!


2. Lift Miss Heidi on my shoulders and parade her around Borders singing We Are the Champions until I'm blue in the face. (But wait, it was HER book that just SOLD OUT OF PRINT, so I should sing YOU Are the Champion until I'm green in the face.) Does anyone want to help me carry her?


3. Get a shaka tattoo and join a rock band.



4. Buy every one of you a royal blue snuggi so we can crash Kristina P's Playboy photo shoot and yell, "Oh, GAD! Oh GLORY! Honest to PETE!"


5. Borrow an article of clothing from every person on the planet so I can quilt a patchwork bridge to Terabithia across the universe. I will start building the bridge with the quilt I just received from Kritta. (Mahalo Kritta!) This is the quilt I won from Shelle's Don't You Hate it When . . . contest.



Kritta is it a magic quilt? Does it have healing powers? When I'm healed should I pass it along to someone else who needs to be healed? And then they could pass it on to someone else and so on and so on until the whole world is healed. (But after everyone is healed can you guys send it back to me?)



6. Sleep for 36 hours straight.


7. Buy the whole state of Arizona a swirly cupcake in honor of Kute Kasey's engagement.


Kute Kasey's fiance surrounded by swirly cupcakes.



8. Kidnap April from her quarantine, and take her out for a Peenya Kowlada Jamba Juice (IN TAMPA BAY)! Then force her at gunpoint to wear yellow and sit in the Steelers section at the Superbowl.

GO STEELERS!


9. Let Anjeny sit shot gun on our Blog-Across-America so we can play Crash Test Dummys with the airbags and throw peanut M&M's out the window at biker dudes.


Anjeny earned a special place in my tie-dyed heart when she nominated me for 3 blogger's choice awards incognito as Emerida--my favorite being, Best Blog of All Times. Oh you silly silly goose, Anjeny, putting me up against Pioneer Woman, but that touched me, girl. Especially since my followers are dropping like flies.

As Charles Dickens would say: "It was the best of blogs, it was the worst of blogs."


But if I go to the top, YOU ALL go to the top. Submarine POWER!! Crash & Friends 4 ever, baby! Healing the world ONE quilt at a time!

Wednesday, January 28, 2009

Wordless Wednesday

PSYCH!

You didn't really think I could do Wordless Wednesday, did you?

Wordless Wednesday is like the biggest oxymoron in the history of the world.

Especially when I have a message for you from the universe.

Look before you leap.

I don't know which one of you it's for because I'm just the messenger but consider yourself warned.

Fortunately for you I speak fluent Metaphorese so when I came out of the shower this morning dripping like a wet poodle to find there were no towels within a mile radius I was able to understand and interpret the deeper meaning.

Look before you leap.

Unfortunately Metaphorese is not a romance language and object lessons are extremely difficult to interpret, particularly when they entail drying off with a wash cloth and a dozen cotton balls.


Besides bringing you that message I wanted to say I'm sorry for being absent, yet absent lately.

FTR, it's an excused absence and I can bring a doctor's note if needed.

I was sick. (to. death. of. me. myself. and. I.) (The only person I wasn't sick of was Crash. I never get sick of Crash because I'd rather pretend to be dumb than pretend to be smart.)

I blame my students for my sickness. Students these days are so demanding. They expect you to learn them something more than who's going to be the next American Idol.

I also blame John Adams. Since I'm no longer stalking Jack Johnson I've turned my attention to John Adams.

I'm finding that it's much harder to be in love with John Adams than it is to be in love with Hamlet. Maybe because HBO cast Homer Simpson to play Adams instead of Mel Gibson. I guess Mel Gibsen refused to get a perm and stop brushing his teeth for 3 years.

HBO makes it really hard to stay in love with Adams, but no worries, I'm committed. I just don't understand why they would hire Paula Abdul to hold the camera during filming. By the end of the 100-hour mini-series I felt like I was curled up on a vinyl couch aboard the Super Ferry trying not to BMBO. Every scene was either tipping or tilting or slanting or rocking or rolling. And there was one scene where John Adams was actually running through a field upside down.

What the HELK, Paula? Take is easssssy, girl!

I also blame my absence on my first editor and my first deadline for my first magazine article. It was small-kine so don't get all impressed and start hating me and resenting me and envying me and talking behind my back yet. The article was for Bloodstone Magazine, which is geared to the hemophilia community.

And if you're wondering why in the world I care about hemophila--read for yourself.

And finally, I blame Gad for my absence because Gad is to blame for everything. (Including your absence. Should I blame him for that too? Or should I blame myself?)


P.S. Everyone go look at my cousin, Sewl's beautiful art. She ROCKS so hard! And so does her blog. Best feng shui ever. Best Kharma. Best cewl vibe. But don't take my word for it.

Monday, January 26, 2009

(Swirl gets religion) (and Kute Kasey gets engaged)

Good grief, peeps, guess which three people I'm sick to death of right now?


Me, Myself and I!




And I'm sick to death of my thoughts and my words and my ideas . . .

Shall I go on?


Living on words and fumes, here.


No, living on words and a prayer.


No, no . . . just living on words, actually.


And not fun words, either. BIG words. Boring words. Hoity Toity words.


So exhausting pretending to be smart, you guys.


And guess what? There's no rest for the word-weary. When I look to the horizon all I see is wave after wave of words tumbling towards me.


I know what my daughter would say right now. Due dates and projects are (winnie-the) POOH (bear).

(Wow! If feels so good to say things like winnie-the-POOH-bear after saying things like prophylaxis and recombinant.)


Hey, do you guys want to know the results of my psychological experiment in sociological assumption?


It works!


If you want to get someone to bend to your will, Public humiliation is the #1 Doctor recommended method of choice.


Remember Swirl's fanatically self-righteous shoes that insisted on flaunting their committment to choosing the right?


After I publically humiliated her on my blog and privately spoke to her about the hypocrisy of choosing the right in open-toed shoes she saw the light. Within days I received this photo via email.


She has reformed and shall be welcomed back into the fold as soon as she purchases nylons.


Look to it, Swirl.


Oh, and GUESS WHAT! GUESS WHAT! GUESS WHAT! Sandi's daughter, Kute Kasey is engaged. Let's all go jump up and down and scream and look at her ring in her comment box.

Absent, yet present

Guess who I'm in love with now.

John Adams.

He's not as sexy as Hamlet when he's losing his mind, but the guy knows how to turn a phrase and I'm a sucker for a well turned phrase.

When it's authentic.

Seriously, his letters are intoxicating.

His wife's letters are intoxicating too. I just want to give her a high five and a you go, girl every time I read them.

Sometimes, when I'm up late at night reading her letters, I like to picture her sitting at her kitchen table in the bitter cold early New England mornings dipping her quill into her ink and wringing her heart onto the page, completely oblivious of me, a silly dummy over 130 years her junior, looking over her shoulder and hanging on her every word.

Isn't it such a weird thought?

She's absent yet present, as Emily Dickensen would say.

We are all absent, yet present.

Yet most of the time we're present, yet absent.

It's like some crazy time travel trick that you just can't wrap your mind around.


Alls I know is Abigail Adams would have made a great blogger. I wish she could join us in our yellow submarine across the country. I would love to drive across America with her and see what she thinks of the country she fought so hard to create!

LY, Abigail!


And hey everyone, Youngblood4ever needs a huge hug! (and a silent prayer). I'll meet you in her comment box.



LY Youngblood!

Sunday, January 25, 2009

Go Red Raiders! (And Go STEELERS!)

* I never thought I'd censor myself, but . . . some of you may notice this post has been changed from it's original state.


Guess what I've been doing all weekend?

Cheering my heart out at my daughter's soccer playoff games.

YAY! Go Team!

I even tried to fit into my old cheer skirt from high school but I couldn't zip it up. (My daughter was so bummed. She loves it when I wear it in public almost as much as she loves it when I talk about my comma in public.)


Remember the time when I saw Jack Johnson at my daughter's soccer game?

Well, I saw him again while I was taking this action shot of my daughter.



How lucky am I? Nicest famous guy in the world.

But famous people are people too and I vow never to speak his famous name again so as to respect his privacy and not embarrass his neice or put my daughter at risk of being stoned in the public square at school.

(Fame stinks! But I think I'd like fortune!)



BTW, My daughter's team took 2nd place! YAY! Go Red Raiders! They've never gone this far before.

(I just wish I could still fit into my cheer skirt so I could've done a round off back handspring.)

Friday, January 23, 2009

I'm in Love

Well, I'm out of my coma. (No thanks to YOU guys.)


Seriously feeling like a stranger right now in my own land full of strangers. It's like MY comment box is morphing into YOUR chat room. Not that I mind, it's just that I see what you guys are doing--using me for my Code Red, my bean bag chairs, my pool table, then trying to brainwash me into rooting for the CARDINALS in the Superbowl.


NEVER!


Go Steelers!!!!!


BTW, I'm wearing my Steelers flannel P.J. pants right now and sticking my tongue out at you! (Take that.)


But anyway, I'm out of my coma.


And now I'm in love. (Praise be to Hamlet.)


I know! Who'da thought it could be so dangerous to read Shakespeare.


There's just nothing sexier than an uber complex guy (played by Mel Gibson) grappling with life's deepest, darkest questions as he loses his mind.


If he were a vampire, he'd be tamn near perfect.


Sigh!


He's just so real I want to kiss him.


Sigh!


How come all the real guys are . . . dead.


And what does it say about me that my life is one long string of super hopeless romances and one super happy marriage?


So anyway, it's good to be out of my coma and I think I'm adjusting to my IL's being gone, but I still don't feel like myself.



I'm engaging in uncharacteristic activities.


Like this morning . . . I went j.o.g.g.i.n.g. EW! And I drank water. And I did something I swore I would never ever do. I flossed my teeth.



Do you think something's wrong with me?



And I snuggled with my son who has strep throat.


If feels like just yesterday that when he asked me to snuggle with him I handed him $18 and said, "here snuggle with this."


And he did.


And it feels like just yesterday that I was making my kids go out and mow lawns and wash cars to earn their own money to do their own grocery shopping so they could make their own Root beer floats and Fritos for dinner.


But tonight I want to bring home the bacon and fried it up in a pan myself.



Crazy!


Plus I think I might be having Post Traumatic Stress from the ILs 42 day visit because last night when I watched The Office, I couldn't stop shaking my head and thinking,"Oh Gad" and "Oh Glory" and "This is just stupid!"


Aaaaaah!


You know what I miss most about my MIL? Her sweet tooth. Every night I'd ask her if she wanted dessert and she would say "Yes, please. I'll take a tablespoon of ice cream and 4 chocolate covered raisins." How cute is that?


Gosh, I just wish I could poke her in the eye right now.


Sigh.


Well, gotsta go!




GO STEELERS, that is!






Ha! Gotcha!



P.S. I'm on my way to a Freakin' Funny Friday Carnival at Sue's. You guys want to come along and tease the freaks? I'll buy you some cotton candy.

Thursday, January 22, 2009

My Crash Coma

Oh guys, I'm a mess!


Seriously, I don't know what to do with myself.



Someone HELP ME!


In typical Crash Test Dummy fashion, I hit a wall today--an emotional wall. Totally crashed, and I couldn't get up off the couch for like 36 hours.


In fact I told my son, who now has strep throat, that if he wanted to go ahead and go to school I would be sick for him and lay around and be bored all day in his place.


I'm self sacrificing that way. Anything for my kids.


As it turned out he decided to stay home and be sick for himself and watch infomercials and I decided to read Shakespeare so I was bored all day anyway.


(J/K Shakespeare! You da bomb!)


So while I was in my Crash coma I couldn't stop thinking about all the things my MIL taught me while she was here.


Like did you know that you should chew your food at least 12 times before swallowing?


That's what she said.


And did you know that the trick to a yummy cup of creamy hot cocoa is mixing together a half a packet of cocoa with some non-fat, non-calorie, non-flavored skim milk and topping it off with a sprig of celery?


The list of things I learned is endless.


*SIDE NOTE (or ASIDE, as WS (Will Shakespeare) would say): If you are duct-taped to me for eternity through marriage and you want to know anything about your mom/grandma's childhood, just give me a call.


And if you want to know anything about my children's childhood, just give her a call. Especially if you want to know all the tricky ways my children sneak food out of the kitchen in-between meals.


Or maybe she's already told you that.


Back to my Crash coma. At one point I drifted off to sleep. Mostly out of sheer exhaustion from drop kicking the t.v. out the door during Yo Gabba Gabba--the show voted most likely to drive a dummy stark raving insane while she's in a coma.


While I was sleeping I had a disturbing dream that I must share. And I'm only sharing it because it's totally true--no embellishment whatsoever. If it weren't true I wouldn't share it because it's too gross.


It's hard for me to tell it because it's so disturbing and because my dream language is rated PG-13, not G like my waking language.

I dreamed that . . . .

Never mind.

I posted the dream for a limited time only, so if you missed it . . . PSYCH!

Let me just say it was about fraud and a bodily function that Shelle talks about all the time, but I never talk about because I'm dainty that way.

And I was putting myself at risk by publically speaking about my subconsious fears.



Bottom line: I think the universe trying to tell me I'm full of it?








P.S. GUESS WHO I CAUGHT LURKING HERE YOU GUYS?


KUTE KASEY! Remember Kute Kasey?


And you'll never believe it. She REALLY is kute and klever. I totally called it.


AND . . . get this . . . she's dating one of my students who just so happens to be a nephew to a guy who just so happens to be a pro-football player who just so happens to be married to my head cheerleader in high school.


True story.


I would give you the link to see for yourself, but Sandi hasn't signed the parental consent form yet.

Wednesday, January 21, 2009

In Laws! can't live with 'em, can't live without 'em

Aloha friends,

Can I say HOLA friends instead? Because I have a sick child home from school today watching Dora the Explorer.

Actually he's flipping between Dora and the Price is Right, which isn't helping my IL seperation anxiety and my get-your-buns-back-to-school-already complex.


Can I ask you guys a question? Do you guys ever get the urge to haul off and smack me?

Thought so.

Me too.

I really need to be smacked around today. Anyone up for it? Anyone? Anyone?

I'm flat today.

Totally deflated.

I don't even have an urge to inhale whipped cream from a can.

I think my ILs tricked me. I think they melted my stone cold heart when I wasn't looking, then poured it into a shampoo bottle and took it home with them on the jet plane. I just hope they didn't pack it in their carry on because that would mean my heart is stuck in some trash bin at the airport right now.

Ain't that just like life.

I am such a hypocrite!

There I said it. I like my ILs, OKAY! So sue me!

In fact, if I get enough sleep, I actually find them extremely entertaining.

Life is so JUNK when they're not around to point at and laugh.

SIGH!

(I think I'm going to have to add Barry Manilow's Can't Smile Without You to our BAA playlist.)


Hey, but Martha's parents are here now. Maybe I can point and laugh at them.

Or maybe I can point and laugh at my friends.

I'll start with these feet.


These are Swirl's feet. HELLOOOOOOO, Swirl. Haven't you ever heard the saying, Shoes make the man?

Well, shoes make the woman too, girlfriend. What the what are these 2 mismatched, oversized, two right slippahs saying about YOU? Especially on inaugaration day, darling.

I would have let it slide had it happened only once. The first time was funny, but repeat offending is just wrong.

Could everyone please go here and give Swirl a swift kick in the pants. And while you're at it get in line for her great bookclub4boys giveaway. (Grab me a fast pass while you're there. I want the Franny K. Stein books.)



Okay, now let's point and laugh at my next door neighbor, Martha.


Here's Martha trying to be a rock star on New Years eve. If you listen closely you can hear her singing LaBamba with great enthusiasm. (I would put it on the playlist, but . . . no.)

And here's my friend, Colleen. You don't know her yet (unless you read my comment box). We traveled to D.C. together last year and happened to run into Obama in the train station. She started screaming and waving her hands in the air like she just didn't care. (You would have thought it was Jack Johnson.)



(Not to be rude, but he's way thinner in person. And kinda blah. We couldn't get him to say two words.)

Oh and here's a picture of my MIL after I got her hooked on Rock Band.



She's the one in the Old Navy shoes. (SNIFF).

And finally, DRUMROLL PLEASE . . . here's what we got my son for Christmas.


And here's my son (in his STEELERS beanie--GO STEELERS!!!!) when he opened it.






SIGH!

Do you think this could be a magic baseball card? Maybe I could rub it and go back in time and tell Jackie Robinson that there's a black president in the White house. Do you think he would kiss me if I brought him such news?

Okay, I'm going to go blow my nose now.

Adios Amigos.


P.S. speaking of kissing . . . here are a few more . . . ahem . . . kissing stories:

Shelle, my virtual twin. Grab an ice water spray bottle for this one girls. (And Shelle's got 91 followers. Let's get her to the 100 mark.)

Mariko, my daughter's hoity toity English teacher waxing poetic on (im)perfect romance. (As only she can wax poetic.)

Jen, part II of how she got kicked out of the virgin lips club at Ricks. The conclusion was worth the wait.

Tuesday, January 20, 2009

Four Score and Forty Two days ago . . .

Today is a VID--a very important day. It's also a VED--a very emotional day.

Yes! January 20th! Not a day to be sharing TMI about kissing.

Why not?

Because four score and 42 days ago I rescued my ILs in a rainstorm.

You know what that means, don't you?

That means that today they are leaving on a jet plane to fly away somewhere over the rainbow. (I better add that song to the BAA playlist.)


Oh and btw, did you know the first black man became president of the United States today?


Whether you're a demlican or a republicrat, how can you resist the urge to wave your hands in the air, like you just don't care?

Do you want to know what I was thinking during the inauguration?


1. OMGOSH, did Juan Williams seriously just bring a lump to my throat? (that is one authentic dude.)


2. OMGOSH, Obama is a lefty? No wonder.



3. OMGOSH, is Cindy McCain seriuosly texing on camera? With one hand?



4. OMGOSH, is that Abraham Lincoln muppet freak dancing?



5. OMGOSH, is Ted Kennedy having a seizure?



6. OMGOSH, is Michelle Obama's dress made out of a heating pad because she looks so HOT. And she doesn't even look cold!


7. OMGOSH all you millions of freezing people, I totally saw the first black president come out of this bathroom at Turtlebay! Nani Nani boo boo!


8. OMGOSH, how many more hours until my ILs leave on a jet plane?

(I kid. I didn't think that until hours after the inauguration.)


But mostly I thought about Jackie Robinson. Anyone who's been reading me for a while knows I'm in love with him.

And this is why.

He would have loved to be in Washington D.C. today, bless his heart.

And that led me to the realization that I never showed you what I spent $100 on to put under the tree for my son.

Do you still want to see it?

Okay, I'll show you tomorrow. I don't have time tonight.

And don't forget that at the stroke of midnight this VID/VED will be over and we can go back to sharing TMI about kissing.

Here's how Jen lost her membership status in the Ricks College Virgin Lips club, Part I.

And here's the proof that Youngblood4ever wasn't a prude or a lip hussy.


P.S. Can you guess who's feet these are?


And they're not mine.

Monday, January 19, 2009

Some People Never Grow Up!

That's what my husband said when I told him we were sharing first kiss stories.

I said, THANK GOODNESS! (then poked him in the eye).

I know it would be more mature to blog about the first black president taking office tomorrow, but I'd rather be sharing TMI with you guys.

Is that so wrong?


That's why I am officially deeming this week SPNGU (Some People Never Grow Up) week!

(Which is code for, let's be like Stupid Smart girl and clean out our closets--love that anaology--right here in FRONT of each other. )

Seriously, how can we have a road trip without TMI? It's part of the initiation into the shaka sistah-hood.

There were so many fun first kiss stories in my comment box yesterday. If you didn't share yours, FEEL FREE to drop it off tonight.

OR . . . post it on your own blog and drop the link in my comment box. I will link to it on my blog and then we will all come over to your place and laugh ourselves silly before we shake our heads and say, Some people never grow up!

Here's our first link from Lo, our lovely Southern Belle.

Click here to read about how a super hot French guy tried to kiss her and then told her to meet him in Paris.

And here's the photographic evidence:




Unfortunately Lo did not take the opportunity granted her to kiss and then meet this French dude in Paris, much to her ma's chagrin.

Sooooo, LO, THIS is your LUCKY Road trip! After we pick up Blogging Mama in Germany we will be making a stop in France to find your French dude.

The universe has spoken!

And then Alyson from New England comes forth with a story about her own smoldering French dude. It was much hotter then Lo's story as she had to use Kung Fun on her French dude to keep his wandering hands at bay.

More photographic evidence coming your way:


Ooh-la-la! Can someone say _ _ _ _ _ _ tension!

Upon careful examination of the two photographs you will clearly see that both Alyson and Lo shared the SAME smokin' hot French dude!

The double-crossin' French!

So, then Sandi tries to get in on the action with a boring story about a boring guy named Tony who kissed her at a gas station in broad daylight.

GONG!

But Anjeny thought it was the funniest story in the history of the world.

GONG!

Then April jumps in and tries to top French dude with a Latino dude, because everyone knows Latino dudes are more rico and more suave than two-timing French dudes.

Photographic evidence STAT:


Okay, this is Latino dude 34 years later. Imagine him with hair and acne and that's what he looked like when he was rico and suave. (He's still PRETTY DARN rico and suave, even without the acne.)

Okay, so who wants to see MY first kiss? Huh? Huh? Huh?

Okay, everyone gather around. Close your eyes until I say open.

Ready?


Okay . . . OPEN!

This is Brigham. And me. Way after we had fallen out of TLA.

This photo was taken after his mission. He asked me out one last time while my now-husband was on his mission, but I was truly/madly/deeply in love with my now-husband so it didn't go anywhere.

Brigham was my best friend's brother and part of our neighborhood brat pack when I was 13 years old. He was two years older and ten inches taller than me.

One night he snuck in my bedroom window.

Imagine me laid out casket-style with the covers pulled up to my neck, stiff as a board and goody goody as a gum drop.

"I've come to kiss you like no one has kissed you before," he declared.

"No one HAS kissed me before," I said.

"The better to kiss you like no one has kissed you before my dear."

(Okay I made all of that up for dramatic effect. I don't remember what he said. I just remember what I said.)

"You'll have to wait until I'm 16!"

That's what I said.

A few months later he moved to Weiser, Idaho. Before he left he pulled me aside and said, "I'm going to kiss you now like no one has ever kissed you before." (I don't remember if he said this either.)

"You'll have to wait until I'm 16!"

That's what I said.

A few months later my brothers and I made a trip to Weiser, Idaho to spend Thanksgiving. We went to a dance and I fell in love with Brigham to Christopher Cross' Sailing. It was my first slow dance. (Just added it to the BAA soundtrack.)

Before I left he pulled me aside and said, "NOW can I kiss you like no one's ever kissed you before?" (I know he did say NOW but I filled in the rest).

"I TOLD YOU, you'll have to wait until I'm 16!"

That's what I said. (I was annoying like that.)

Then he started writing me letters that said, I love you, I love you, I love you.

And he sent a photo that said, "You're a sweet, good lookin girl who I'll never forget."

(That was a lie, of course, he forgot about me years ago. But I fell for it GOOD AND HARD.)



Even though he turned out to be a player and made me miserable with love, I loved him with all the fourteen-year-old-fierceness I could muster.



Okay, now for the kissing part, which is why you're here, right?




Brigham and his sister came to P.R.O.V.O. for New Years Eve. He read my palm and then held my hand. He was sneaky that way.

Then he looked in my eyes--I looked away, of course, because I couldn't handle intimacy until I was thirty somethin--and while I was looking away he leaned in and kissed me with a grin.



Here's what I said about it in my journal:

It was a short kiss. I can't remember it too good. I think I missed his mouth. I'm not sure. I don't even know if he thinks I'm a good kisser.

(As you can see I've always been very articulate and poetic in love.)



Sadly, I was totally over him by Valentines Day.



And that was that.



Now for the TMI part



I also said this in my journal:



Maybe we ought to get engaged and then if we're still in love in ten years, we'll get married. Ten years ain't that long.



It's true. I actually wrote the word ain't and I wasn't joking.



And guess what else? Not only did I say the words neat and special far too frequently, I also said the word Pooh a lot!



Serves me right, I suppose, for publicaly judging my daughter for saying it.



P.S. Hey we have our official photographers for the Road Trip! New England Aly will hang out the van window and capture America as we jog by, and SHELLE @ Plush Moments will capture all of you jogging and cycling in your little shorts. She'll also do all the road trip choreography. She's cool as helk that way! And a tamn good photographer. I'll give everyone who follows her photog blog a hymn book. (Don't think I won't check.)

Sunday, January 18, 2009

Let's Hit the Road!

Okay guys, enough blubbering . . . let's hit the open road!

We've got some new bloggers on board our Blog-Across-America so I added a song for them. Bicycle Race by Queen. I LOVE QUEEN and Bicycle Race is my daughter's favorite song.

Val of the South is living the vida Utah and has a broken ankle so she would rather ride her bike along side the yellow submarine. We also have Pedaling who is all about bikes and dogs. (Feel free to bring your dogs.)

My JA brother Stephen is also a major cycler and could probably kick our cute-little-running-short-clad booties in a bicycle race. (I wonder if he has this song on his playlist?)

I was thinking since we're going to be cycling and jogging and blogging, we should try to get people to sponser us for every mile. I know without a doubt I could set a new world record for most miles blogged in a row so while I'm blogging my brains out I might as well make some money for cancer research or something.

No, forget cancer research. I will buy every single cancer victim a 2 liter bottle of Code Red Mountain Dew.


OMGOSH! Guess who stopped by during the friendship basket to give me a craving for humble pie? Pat's mom, Marjorie! THANKS for coming by Marjorie, but I feel unworthy.

Can we call you Marjie?

Everyone give Marjie a big hug! She is up to bat right now against breast cancer so grab your pom poms. But don't forget to poke her in the eye so too she doesn't get a cavity from all the love.

Marjie we're all going to pitch in and buy you the complete Carol Burnett Show collection so you can laugh yourself silly. I hear that cancer is super ticklish. I LOVE CAROL BURNETT!



Hey Jami finally showed up for the lesson, so everybody pay attention.

Or we can just talk story behind her back and tell each other about our first kiss. It's a road trip must! My first kiss was to a boy named Brigham. I was only 13 years old and I was madly in love . . .

But you guys go first. Age before beauty, they always say.



Gee, what else could I say to make Funny Farmer's head spin?



Oh, do you guys want to hear about my first day in Relief Society as a commoner?

Well, I sat in the back. I didnt' realize it was so loud in the back, but I guess that's where all the giggly girls sit.

Don't look at ME! They were totally egging me on.

The opening song was every cotton picking verse of Master the Tempest is Raging. We sang it for 15 minutes straight. I kid you not. My stomach hurt so bad. But I was singing with all of my heart. Really, I was singing my lungs out. And then as soon as the song ended the sister sitting next to me handed me a peppermint altoid.

How RUDE!

And THEN we went right into the practice hymn and we sang the chorus on MTTisR AGAIN! But this time peacefully instead of fervantly. The old chorister kept turning around and giving me stink eye as if it was MY fault she wasn't up there leading a different song, so finally I just stuck my tongue out at her.

Okeedokee, gotsta get movin.

bLoG oN eVeRyOnE!

But first, YAY STEELERS!

Friendship Basket

This is the first week in 2 years I will be going to church as a non-relief-society-president.

SO WEIRD!

Can you guys help me transition? By just being there for me? And letting me be there for you?


Okay . . . I'll conduct. (If you don't mind, that is.)


How's about we pull the yellow sub over at the nearest rest stop so we can stretch and freshen up before we begin.


Okay, humor me here:


ALOHA Everyone!

First I'd like to welcome any visitors and invite them to please stand up and introduce themselves in the comment box so we can get to know them better.

I'd also like to thank everyone for helping me compile the CTD Blog-Across-America Soundtrack. It truly binds us together in spirit.

If any of the songs annoy you, please don't blame me, blame someone else. I personally like all of the songs because they represent YOU and sometimes YOU are annoying too.

But that's life and I still LY.

I'd like to open with a song. My apologies for not singing hymns but I gave my husband's hymn book away, (a few times).


Opening song: For Good, from Wicked

Practice song: He Ain't Heavy by the Bee Gees. (Don't hate me because it says Bee Gees. I think it's actually the Osmonds incognito.)

Closing: Wonderful World/Over the Rainbow by Braddah Iz


Kritta22, can you lead the music for us, since that's your new calling?

Our lesson today will be on testimony and will given by Jami. It was her anniversary last night and she was busy with some wholesome recreational activities so if she's not there when you arrive just talk among yourselves . . . I'll give you a topic . . . ummm . . . . hows about testimony? Or you can just tell each other about your first kiss. Your choice.


Before we begin our lesson there a few announcements:


1. Stupid Smart girl needs a hug. And she may need a hand cleaning out her closet. I'll send around a sign up sheet.

2. Kristina P is absent today and I'm worried that she's been playing truth or dare. Can someone please check on her and make sure she isn't going inactive.

3. Robin is still recovering from her sinus surgery and could use a visit or a hug, but please don't bring any scented candles.

4. April is still in quarantine from her radiation treatment and the roadie choir will be singing You Light Up My Life outside her bedroom window at midnight. Please warm up your voice before you arrive.


Okay, time for the good news minute? Anyone have any good news?

Anyone? Anyone?

Me neither.


Let's move on to our friendship basket.


Today's friendship basket goes to one of my favorite sistahs in the blog world. She's had an incredibly tough year so I filled the friendship basket with all her favorite things:





I'm not going to tell you her name, but she's nutty and she's a hamster and she's a chick.

Okay, I'll tell you . . . It's PAT!


Here's a post that will give some insight into what Pat has been dealing with.

Besides her son's hip surgery she also recently received the heart wrenching news that her mother has breast cancer. Two of my favorite blogging sisters, Jen and Annie, are dealing with the same heart wrenching news.

I have asked Jen and Annie, as well as a few other sistahs to come up and embarrass Pat.

Jen from Jen's Jingle: I just love her attitude, and her ability to be serious, funny, thoughtful, and spiritual - sometimes all in the same post. And she's SUCH a loyal fan. Seriously. That says something about a person. I don't think I could ever be that energetic or passionate about a hobby! I love Pat, and I truly hope that the many personal tragedies she's been facing will quickly be behind her. I don't know any details about her mom's cancer, but I hope she'll feel encouraged by the fabulous recovery rate for breast cancer! They can do some really amazing things these days. And I'm sure she's already putting her trust in the Lord, because that's the kind of girl she is. Love ya Pat! You are amazing!!!

Annie from Regarding Annie: When I first saw Pat's blog name, Hammond's Hamster Wheel, I thought she was clever, funny, and probably a little silly. But I've spent the past few months watching Pat and her wheel. Watching her run. And boy, does that girl know how to run.

She runs for her son. I have seldom seen a mother as devoted, invested, and loving with her child. She put it best when she said that he's been to Hell and took his mother with him. The thing about Pat is that I know there is no place she'd rather be then right there, with her boy. Be it a cot, couch, or traffic jam, Pat runs as long and as hard as it takes to lift him out of this mire and back on both feet. Trust yourself Pat, you're doing good.

She runs for her mother. We found out two weeks ago that my mom has breast cancer. I know first hand how that kind of information feels. The first wave hits hard, but it's the aftershocks that really get you. As a daughter, I feel helpless, like there's nothing I can do. It's a bad, bad feeling. So this year, I too am going to run. For my mom. For Pat's mom. We're in this together, my friend.

She runs for the Lord. Pat, watching the way you live, never hesitating to fall back on Christ's teachings, continually sobers me. In the midst of your humor and wit, you are ever an example of Christlike behavior and I love you for it. Whatever this new year brings you, just keep running. We're all right here, running with you. love you,


Alyson from New England Living: Pat is one awesome broad! And I say "broad" in the best possible meaning of the word. She's been through a lot, continues to go through a lot, but she maintains a wicked sense of humor with a softness and tenderness befitting the amazing mom, daughter, and wife she is. We're all behind you, Pat, with prayers, comments, and love! You rock, girl!

Emily from Art-n-Sewl: Pat is totally hilarious and is so sweet too. I hope her troubles become small very soon. All her blog friends LOVE her!!! Keep your chin up :)

Kristina P from Pulsipher Predilections: Pat just makes me smile. I love her unwavering faith and devotion in the Cougars, even if they completely suck, and her love and support of her family and children. It is clear that she loves being a mom, and I hope I have the kind of relationship with my hypothetical children that she does with hers. Cheers, Pat!

And Pat, Shelle from Blokthoughts sent me a tribute but I spilled Code Red on it and . . . okay, truthfully . . . I can't find it. I'm sorry. But I know she would have said something that would have made you go What the What?

LY YOU NUTTY HAMPSTER CHICK!

Class dismissed.

Amen!

Lo from I am Low has refreshments. (YOU GUYS, she is the cutest retro/vintage sistah in the world. Give her some comment love.)

Friday, January 16, 2009

Blog-Across-America

I'm so excited about our road trip across America. Can't wait to blog my brains out in all 49 states. (Or is it 50?) And can't wait to watch you guys jog your booties off.


Melanie J. had a great idea to create a Blog-Across-America soundtrack so I've started compiling songs. Feel free to drop your favorite song in my B/JAA Suggestion box. Also feel free to read MJ's blog. She's hitting her stride and the last 2 posts have left me ROTFLOL.

(NO pressure, MJ.) She's very ironical, btw (I know you know I know ironical ain't a word, but my husband likes it so I humor him. Plus MJ hates made up words so I like to bug her.)

So I've been thinking about the road trip a lot. We should probably have a theme and a motto and an objective and an agenda and an opening prayer.


Or should we just HIT THE OPEN ROAD and see what happens?


If we want to make a million bucks we'll need some CONFLICT on the road. Every good story needs conflict, otherwise people start smiling (and then yawning). Nothing spells lucrative like a good fist fight between friends.

Any volunteers?

We'll also need to meet some weird people. Nothing's funnier than laughing and pointing at weird people.

Any volunteers?

We'll also need to do some good deeds (for our personal progress)--open our hearts now and then and spill the contents.

Maybe you guys could pick up trash as you jog and I'll blog about it. We could clean up America.

Any volunteers?

And we should recycle all of our Code Red Mt. Dew bottles.


Is anyone writing this down?

Oh, I am. (sorry!)


Could someone please TURN THE MUSIC OFF FOR A SECOND! I'm tualkin' here!!!!

MAHALO!


Okay hows about we stop by places and visit people--like sick people and stuff. We could sing to them. Or we could sing them to us. Either way.


We could start with Robin since she had surgery this week and April since she had radiation. We'd have to abide by her rules of engagement though. (No sharing whipped cream out of the can.) But we can share our Code Red.


Then we could go see our imaginary friend who's on bed rest. Oh, and Tamn--she's on bed rest too. Hey, we could paint their toenails for them since they can't reach.


Then we could go see Jen and Annie's mom and Pat's mom/Lisa's MIL because they have breast cancer. We could tie little pink ribbons all over the trees in their front yards. And we could leave homemade herbal bath soaks on their porches then doorbell ditch and run.


It's going to be so much fun!


Can we stop by my mom's house first, because it's her birthday today. I want to show her the purple tie dye yellow submarine. In fact I put Purple Rain on the side bar just for her birthday so everyone go turn on Purple Rain right now and I'll tell you a little story.

She loves it when I tell this story. She goes bright red and then runs from the room in tears.

After my dad died, the movie, Purple Rain saved her sanity. You know how everyone has their own way of carrying their buckets? Well Prince helped her carry her bucket so I get choked up when I hear Purple Rain.

THANKS Artist-formerly-known-as-Prince-who-is-now-known-as-Prince-again-I-think. We really needed our mom to be sane!

Don't tell her I told you this, but she even went to a Prince concert in L.A. with her sister. She's uber cool like that.

Could you guys leave her some cake in my comment box? And if it's not too much trouble, her favorite is the chocolate cake from IKEA.


After the road trip is over and we collect the million dollars from all the famous sponsors let's go visit NieNie and then leave the million dollars on her doorstep and run. Wouldn't that be hilarious? Especially if it was all in $1 bills.

If you don't know Nie Nie and her sad story, click here. And then click on this cute button:




I do know NieNie.

Well, I don't know her, but I know her sister, Paige and her brother, Steve. I went to high school with them and they are the nicest people in the world. I've been trying to figure out ways to help them for a long time now, but the only thing I'm good at is writing so I wrote and now I've got a story in this cleverish book:




Thanks to Sue, who put all the cleverish stories together, all the proceeds will go to the NieNie recovery fund.


Everyone, let's go buy 1,000 copies each and we'll go door to door across America and sell them. (Annie you can pull them in your little red wagon.) Or we could just leave them in people's cars or on the bus or in our hotel rooms and hope they fall into the hands of someone who needs a good laugh.


The book only costs $19.60. (How odd is that?) And if you order within the next 20 minutes I will throw in a free hymn book.


Mahalo everyone! Can't wait to smack you around on the road trip and then blog about it.

p.s. Do you have a headache, Lisa?


Thursday, January 15, 2009

My Brilliant (million dollar) Idea(s)

Oh my goodness, oh my goodness! I am feeling extremely blogged down (and blogged up too) since I didn't unload all my extra thoughts yesterday.

The first thing I have to get off my chest is that I'm sad because one of my favorite authors died on Sunday.  I was lucky enough to interview and photograph him a few summers back in Fiji. Click here for my photo tribute.

I'm also sad because I think I need to start getting over the whole Jack Johnson thing.  It's too time consuming to listen to him sing as he walks toward me and then wraps his arm around me.

(But do you guys want to know what it feels like when Jack Johnson wraps his arm around you? Do you? Do you? Do you?) 

It feels like the universe is giving you a ginormous wink. 

Thanks Universe!  LY

So remember the other day when I saw Jack Johnson?   Do you remember how before I saw him I told my husband I was going to get a brilliant idea? And remember how before I saw him I had on the magical skimmer shorts that Martha bought for me at Kohls.com?  

Well I did have a brilliant idea that day.  Two brilliant ideas actually.  

My first brilliant idea was to start a sisterhood.  Kinda like a Ya Ya sisterhood of the traveling pants, but ours will be the Sha Ka sisterhood of the traveling shorts.  

We will send the magical shorts around the world to each other.  When you receive the shorts you CAN'T slip them on until you light a candle, do the shaka sign, and say hang loose 13 times--except Jami, who only has to say it 12 times because she's very superstitious.   

I pinky promis that while you are wearing the shorts, you will either get a brilliant idea, win a million dollars or have Jack Johnson wrap his arm around you.   

Best case scenario:  When Jack Johnson wraps his arm around you his creative power will supercharge your electrons which will then send nueronilogical impulses to your brain which will then induce the brilliant million dollar idea. 

That's how it happened for me anyway, so I can only speak for myself.  

Do you want to hear my brilliant million dollar idea?  

Roadies.  We become roadies.  We can start in California by renting a van down by the river which we will tie dye purple.  Or we could paint it to look like a yellow submarine.  Either one.  

We pick up Jami and Miss Heidi and Melanie J. and we start blogging across America.  We'll swing up and get Kritta22 in Alaska and Jen in Washington, then . . . 

No, wait!  Hows about we jog across America like Forrest Gump.  

OR . . . hows about you guys jog across America and I'll ride along side you in the yellow submarine and blog my brains out about it.  I can get photos of all you guys in your little running shorts.

We'll stop in Ideeho and pick the old boat guy to drive the submarine (so I can blog).  Then we'll go to the desert and pick up Pat and Nevadanistas and T and April and Shelle and Susan and Binks.  Then we'll move through Northern Utah like a storm, picking up everyone we know, except those who live in Provo.  In Provo we'll go from house to house poking everyone in the eye until they pinky promise to read me.  

We'll move through the entire united states until we get to Emily and Alyson.  Of course we should stop in New York City to watch Spamalot before we take our yellow submarine across the Atlantic to Germany where we'll pick up Blogging Mama.  We'll totally raid her closet before we make our final destination to the headbanger's house to see if he's really as happy as he claims to be.  

So who's in, guys?  

Just think of the stories we could tell?  Think of how much weight we/you could lose.  Annie Valentine could stop eating so much salami.  I will even donate my husband's Christmas bonus hymn book to the biggest loser. 

Think of the publicity!  Think of the fame and fortune and everything that goes with it--all the high adventure and the super hopeless romance.  

I'm seriously so pumped about it.  

Do you guys think Tamn would come?  We could blog about her labor and delivery and we could help her raise her twins in our van down by the river.


Okay, you guys keep brainstorming.  I Gotsta run!  Me ILs are moving back in tomorrow and for some reason they want clean sheets.  

TTFN

P.S.  Today is my jack-apostate brother Stephen's birthday.  HB, JAStephen!  And LY!  

Please leave him some cake in my comment box.  

Do you want to see a picture of us when we were best buddies? 



Wednesday, January 14, 2009

Knock Knock

Who's there?

Uber.

Uber who?

Uber tired mom, uber early morning, uber long day, uber messy house, uber hungry kids, and uber neglected husband.

Hence I'm going to leave my uber awesome Jack Johnson encounter post up for one more (uber patiently waiting for him to arrive) day. (J/K, JJ. I know you're (probably) not coming.)

Plus it's uber fun to listen to him sing while I'm watching him walk toward me, then stand next to me with his arm wrapped around me.

(Honestly, I don't think I'll ever wash this post again.)

Wow! I said what I needed to say in 6 minutes. Woohoo! World record for me.

Tuesday, January 13, 2009

BEST DAY EVER! (Thanks to Jack Johnson)

Anyone who reads my blog regularly knows that I am totally in tune with the universe. I learned from Kung Fu Panda that there are no accidents. (Or did I learn that from Benjamin Button? )

If a mirror falls off your wall in the middle of the night the universe is trying to tell you something. If your microwave tazers you or if you find spagetti noodles in the shape of Chinese characters on your ceiling, the universe is speaking.


Actually, the universe is a lot like my MIL. I have no idea what it's saying, but it talks a lot

So yesterday the universe spoke to me again. It happened after my next door neighbor, Martha, bought me a magical pair of skimmer shorts from Kohls.com. I slipped them on and began sweeping my hallway, when SUDDENLY, a light that has been burned out for a week began to flicker on and off.

I looked up with a question mark on my face. Why would a dead light bulb be winking at me?


I stepped away, it stopped winking. I stepped back, it started winking. Again. And again. And Again.


"I think I'm going to have a brilliant idea today," I told my husband.


"How do you know?" he said.


"Because the universe told me so."


All day I sat waiting for my brilliant idea, but it never came, so I went to my daughter's soccer game.


Then just as I was snapping this photo . . .


What to my wondering eyes did appear?

Mmmhmmm, Jack Johnson.


All I know is the whole world began to . . .

s l o w w a y d o w n a s h e m o v e d c l o s e r . . .


a n d c l o s e r . . .


a n d c l o s e r . . .



And then he looked at me . . . and I stopped snapping . . . and the world sped up again.


Can I just say, AAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAHHHHHHHHHHHHH!

Was I a princess in my former life or something? Seriously, did the universe really just give me a second chance to take photos of Jack Johnson?


Do I dare disturb the universe for a second chance to take photos of Obama coming out of the bathroom?


After the game my friend, Dolly Etta, saw Jack Johnson and she started doing cartwheels in the aisles. Then she grabbed my hand and said, "Let's go talk to him. I'll take a picture of you guys together for your blog."

That's when it hit me. Why my mom was always saying, "Remember who you are, and what you stand for, and don't forget to brush your hair before you go out in case you run into Jack Johnson."

And DUH! that dead light bulb wasn't winking at me, it was sending me Morse code for "better downsize your hair today, young lady!"

So do you want to see what my hair looks like when it's star struck?

I KNOW!

So then Dolly Etta is just chatting it up with Jack Johnson. She's really got the gift of gab, that one. She was asking him what Ben Stiller is like and what David Letterman is like and what Jay Leno is like while I tried to get my tongue untied.

Finally I blurted out, "So what's Curious George like? Is he really as rascally in real life as he is in the book? Huh? huh? huh? And what about the man in the yellow hat?"


(Awkward pause.)


Then Dolly Etta was like, "I love your music so much." And I was like, "I love it more!" And she was like "Oh no you don't, girlfriend. " And I was like "Do to!" And then we had a knock-down-drag-out fist fight right there in front of Jack Johnson.


(More awkward pausing.)


Then Dolly Etta told him about my blog. And he asked politely if he could check it out.


But of course he won't, right? right? right?


I mean, he's waaaaaaaaay too busy to stop by here, right? right? right?


Of course he won't stop by.


But what if he does???


You know how when Jackie Robinson comes over for dinner and you look around your house and it's like you're seeing it through Jackie Robinson's eyes, and you realize your house is a mess.


Well that's how I feel about this blog.


Why didn't anyone tell me that I'm not even funny? Or that I make no sense! Or that I'm confusing! Or that I'm lengthy! Or that I need to downsize my hair! You guys are s'possed to be my friends!

(I guess Lisa has told me all those things. Thanx Lisa.)


Do you guys think Jack Johnson likes The Office? Or Nacho Libre?


If, by chance, the universe leads Jack Johnson here, and then Jack Johnson asks me to go on tour with him so I can blog about it (and meet Keane and Coldplay and John Mayer and Dave Matthews) and then Jack Johnson writes a song about me and how I want to turn the whole world right side up, I pinky promise I will reduce, reuse and recycle every single word I ever say for the rest of my life.


Amen!

(But if he doesn't like The Office or Nacho Libre, I'll just ask him if my MIL can go on tour with him instead.)

P.S. Everyone meet me in April's comment box right now for family prayer. She's having a radiation treatment tomorrow and she'll be quarantined for 2 weeks.

LY April!

Monday, January 12, 2009

DANGER! KEEP OUT! DO NOT ENTER!

I swear I have no privacy anymore!!!!!!

My niece (in-law) Facebooked my daughter and said, "Everyone in the fam is talking about the blog. Which posts should I read to laugh at grandma?"

Then my husband's sister called and said, "Which posts should I read to chuckle at my mom?"

I was like, "Huh?"


UGH! How did THEY find me here?

So I spent the day curled up under my covers feeling blogged down and singing, "Make the World Go Away."

I just want to poke people in the eye, bloggonit! Is that so wrong?

Can't a girl poke her loved one's in the eye without making the whole world blind?

So here's the plan. If any of THEM show up and start asking around, just act DUMB, like, what MIL? I didn't even know she had an MIL!

Mahalo a million!

But fo' reals . . . I totally love Kellie Pikler, you guys know that, right? She was my 17th favorite American Idol. Alls I was sayin' was I didn't want to spend eternity in her family history class. Nothing against Pikler, bless her heart, I just think FH is a yawner and I'd rather play Rock Band and inhale whipped cream.

Can I ask your opinion? Since I am now aware that there are people duct taped to me through marriage reading this blog I should refrain from calling the Gads crazy and taking Tamn's name in vain, right?

Btw, Miss Heidi was wondering who started saying helk first and I raised me hand.

I did! I did! I did!

I told her I will sell it to her if I decide to go off kreativ kursing.

(FTR, those of you who insinuated I got released because of my irreverent blog, you couldn't be more WRONG. Bishop swore it had nothing to do with the nude beach or the pleasant profanity or the breaking of commandments or the happy German or the apostate brother thing.

He told me my times was up because I had already given every single pyrex baking dish and tupperware bowl away to feed my sheep. And don't tell me I should buy tinfoil pans and disposable Gladware. Everyone knows you have a better shot at heaven (and you don't have to feed your kids) if you martyr your best dishes.)

EMBARRASSING MOMENT: The Crash Test Dummy is taking over my personality. Today I said "ginormous" in front of my whole class during my lecture. Uhhh . . . can you say classy teacher of the year? Melanie J. would have slapped me silly.

Speaking of my classes, Wolfgang from Austria has moved on, but now I've got Raphael from France to smack around. He's a beat boxer. Beat boxer's are easy to smack around from what I hear.

I just hope the French are as tremendous as the Austrians.

I've also got a Benjamin Buttars. He wants to be called Ben, but I call him Benjamin Button, or Button, for short. I asked him how old he is and he said 21, so I bet he's like 61.

And then I have a guy who can bend his leg backwards 180 degrees and a girl who was born with a tooth in her mouth.

BORN WITH A TOOTH IN HER MOUTH, people!!!!

My class and I . . . we're thinking of blowing this BYU-H taco stand and running off to join the circus. Don't say anything though. It all depends on what kind of Christmas bonus Barnum and Bailey dishes out.

Okay, last question. I wasn't going to show you this because I know Sandi will mock me, but look!


This is my arm right now.

I know, right!?

Do you think this is that smokin' hot vampire's way of telling me, via a straightening iron burn, that he's in love with me, and that he's sorely tempted to suck my blood, but he will abstain because he respects me that way?

I mean how else could a fictional vampire communicate his love, you know what I mean?

PEACE OUT, Peeps!

Sunday, January 11, 2009

Today is the first day . . .

. . . of the rest of my Relief-Society-President-free life.

This morning my counselors and I were called into the bishop's office at 8 a.m. The YW presidency was coming out just as we were going in.


They didn't make eye contact.

The bishop broke the news that our time had come to step down from our throne.


We wandered from his office in a daze toward the YW Presidency. In a state of shock we hugged each other.

Then we started crying.



Then we started giggling.



Then we started cheerling.



Then we started high fiving.



Then we started going inactive.



J/K, everyone, Sheesh! Take a joke!




But seriously, it's a strange feeling when you get released from such an action packed responsibility. It's a heavy/light feeling.



It's sad/happy.


And then it's happy/sad.


And then it's just plain happy/happy!





But then you walk outside and the day is brilliantly blue and delightfully warm and calm and cheerful, and you think, "What? The universe isn't even going to shed a single tear? How RUDE!"




And then you go home and you have this overwhelming electrical charge running through your veins along with an exceeding desire to break the sabbath.





You look around. You blink. You rub your eyes.





It's as if you're seeing everything for the very first time. You can't believe it--your husband's hair is shabby, your children's fingernails are filthy and your house in in disarray.





How did this happen? And who lives here, anyway? And why is there a naked Christmas tree in the corner?

Needless to say this morning before church I scrubbed all my walls, and disinfected my toilets. I cleaned out my fridge and under my stove. I organized my garage. I washed all the windows and ironed all the screens. I did all my scrapbooks and all my geneology and all my 72 hour kits and all my canning. I made and froze 3 months worth of meals. I scrubbed my kids hands and feet with a wire brush and I tied them to the bed and made them suck on a toothpaste lolipop.


Then I tied my husband to the bed and kissed him on the forehead until he cried, "UNCLE!"


It's amazing what you can accomplish when the mantle is lifted.










Still . . .




I must admit, I'm kinda gonna miss my Sistahs!