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“Fireworks Store” is Code for “Young, Hot Babes, Twenty Dolla”

Hi!  Did you miss me?  I mean, I didn’t post anything yesterday, veering way off course from my usual daily posting.   It’s just that I’ve been a bit busy, traveling ALONE with my two children.  (Yes they are both still alive and KICKING and SCREAMING, but barely.)  I spent the last few days visiting my parents and in-laws back in Missouri and have just returned to Indinanna (Carson’s spin on Indiana.)

While driving home, I attempted to drown out the wailing of my children in the backseat by coming up with some really great topics to discuss here.  I had hours and hours to contemplate possible subjects.  Since most of my topics fall under the categories of either “lame” or “who the heck cares,”  I truly wanted to come up with something that would knock your socks off and make you say, “Wow, that Jennifer came up with a topic that we will all be talking about for minutes to come.”

Luckily I was able to come up with a topic that fell into both the “lame” AND “who the heck cares” categories.   It’s my little gift to you, my readers.  This is what I came up with…my confusion about year-round mega fireworks stores.  I’m sure you’ve all seen those, right?  They are typically located along the Interstate and are huge buildings with flashy colors, advertising FIREWORKS!  FIREWORKS!  FIREWORKS!

This is what I wonder…How does a place like this remain open?  Why do people need Black Cats and Roman Candles in April, or any days besides July 4 and New Years’ Eve*?  Who shops at these places?

And then it occurred to me…maybe I’m naive.  Maybe these “fireworks” places don’t sell fireworks year round at all.  Maybe “Fireworks Store” is code for “Young, hot babes, twenty dolla!”  Or!  OR!  Maybe, it’s code for “buy your illegal drugs/weapons/contraband in our basement!”

I considered not even talking about this, just in case I accidentally stumbled upon a private, underground industry and have inadvertantly outed these “fireworks stores.”  It’s almost like I’m some sort of investigative journalist on Dateline NBC or 20/20.  Almost.

Don’t worry, I also came up with another topic to discuss later in the week while driving, “Why I don’t like eating at places that remind me of barns or poop.” 

I am clearly on my way to being a popular mommyblogger now with topics like these!  (Is that my subscriber count plummeting??)

PS.  Fireworks on New Year’s Eve is a very annoying southern thing.

Tags: Ask Teh Internets, my stream of consciousness by Jennifer
47 Comments »

I. Am. Famous.

Brad Pitt and I are practically cousins.  We grew up in the same town (Springfield, MO!  Holla to my homies in the 417!).  He attended my rival high school, the same one attended by my high school boyfriend.  That’s just two degrees of separation right there.  Back when he used to date Gwyneth Paltrow, the two of them came to Springfield for Thanksgiving and shopped at the local Smitty’s.  I have shopped at that VERY SAME SMITTY’S.  We probably touched the exact same floor tiles.  Another time when he was in town, he went downtown to bars where I used to frequent.  Also, my sorority sister in college, her boyfriend at the time grew up down the ACTUAL street from where Brad grew up.

See?  Practically related!

My hometown was also home to several other celebrities.  I like to drop their names sometimes to make myself look cool.

Ever heard of the Disney Channel?  How about the slightly popular, High School Musical?  Lucas Grabeel, better known as hunky ”Ryan Evans” from HSM also graduated from MY rival high school.   It’s like I KNOW him. 

Aaron Buerge, a former male slut suitor on The Bachelor STILL lives in my hometown and owns a restaurant in that same downtown district.  We have breathed the SAME AIR.

I went to the same college as Kathleen Turner of Romancing the Stone fame.  Really!  I did!  Also, John Goodman (Roseanne) went to my college.  Sure they attended DECADES *ahem* earlier than myself, but just the fact that we attended the very same school counts for something I say.

Have you heard of that auto parts store, O’Reilly’s, the one with all the catchy radio ads?  It started in MY hometown and my best friend in elementary school, her sister used to ride horses with the daughter of the owner of O’Reilly’s.  (O, O, O, O’Reillyyyyyyyyyyyyy’s.  Auto Parts.)

When I was in L.A. for spring break years ago, I saw Noah from Beverly Hills 90210 in a bar, Jack Nicholson driving around in a Jeep Grand Cherokee, and Chad Lowe in a Ford Taurus.

Impressive, no?

My bestestest claim to fame has to be from last Thursday night when I got to actually meet (and fall in LOVE with) Bossy when she and her Saturn stopped in Indiana during her road trip.   Also, I now know (and LOVE) her, her, her, and her.  I already knew (and LOVED) her and her. 

I. Am.  FAMOUS.  (For reals.)

What is your claim to fame?

Tags: Indiana, Lucky Me, Quirky Me, it's not a blog it's HBO by Jennifer
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Slide

Haiku Friday

Where’d my baby go?
Once so needy, difficult
Now independent

“No Mommy.  Carson
do it by hisself.”  I watch
as he runs away.

He looks to make sure
I am watching, his face beams
as he climbs higher

I see no fear, as
he reaches the top, “ready,
set, go!” Down he slides

I swoop him up and
hold him close, sniff his boy smell
Dirt, grass, sweat, and love 

To play along for Haiku Friday, follow these steps:
1. Write your own haiku on your blog. You can do one or many, all following a theme or just random. What’s a haiku, you ask? Click here.

2. Sign the Mister Linky below with your name and the link to your haiku post (the specific post URL, not your generic blog URL). We will delete your link if it doesn’t go to a haiku. If you need help with this, contact Christina or myself. REMEMBER…ONLY sign Mr. Linky if you have a HAIKU POST.

3. Pick up a Haiku Friday button to display on the post or in your sidebar by clicking the button above.

Tags: Little Monkeys, haiku friday by Jennifer
42 Comments »

Getting Through to Those Who Are Social Niceties Impaired

We have met every single person in our neighborhood.  It truly isn’t much of a feat considering there are only six other homes so far in my neighborhood.  Every person we’ve met is extraordinarily friendly (and I’m not  just saying that because several of them know about this blog and might be reading…**Hi neighbors!**)

Although that good for nothing Mother Nature didn’t bless us with the promised nice weather this past weekend, she has attempted to make up for it with the most perfect weather imaginable these past three days.  With this good weather, our family and most of my neighbors have taken every opportunity to get outside.  We wave at one another as we go for walks, or pedal by on a bicycles, or are outside watering the newly planted flowers.

We are a jovial bunch, me and the peeps in mah ‘hood.

I mention all of this because of ONE woman who lives in an adjoining neighborhood who has also been riding her bike in our neighborhood.  I certainly don’t mind if she rides in our neighborhood, it’s not as if we are a gated community trying to keep people out.  In fact there are lots of folks who meander into our neighborhood, waving and smiling as they walk past.

Except for that ONE woman.  I have said “hello” to her every evening, waved, and made eye contact.  Her response?

Nothing.

She just keeps pedaling away, without so much as a head nod to acknowledge my greeting.

The first time I thought that perhaps she didn’t hear me, possibly due to some sort of hearing impairment and NOT some sort of asshattery.  The second time, when I’m certain we were looking at one another, and she ignorned me yet again, I considered the possibility that she was blind and hearing impaired.  Seeing as how she was riding a bike and avoiding all the construction debris in the road, I feel confident that she is not blind.  I suppose it’s still a possibility that she’s hearing impaired, but my suspicion is that she’s social niceties impaired.  Or in other words some sort of asshattery is indeed at play here.

The next time she smugly pedals past my house, I’m tempted to yell at her, “Didn’t your mother teach you manners?!”  or “What’s your PROBLEM, HUH!?” or “HEEEELLLLOOOO!!!!!”  Of course, all of these sentences would be preceded by the always attention getting “Hey LAAAADDDY!”

But that would make me as obnoxious as her.

My goal is to get her to reciprocate a greeting.  I’d be happy with a nod, happier with a slight wave of the hand, and downright gleeful if she spoke back.  It’s a lofty goal, I know.  But, I won’t give up.  I’ll wave and say hello every. single. time. I see her until I get that coveted response.

Stick around for updates!  I’ll go make a pitcher of lemonade while you wait to show off my really awesome neighborly skills.

Tags: Go Fly a Kite, Huh?, Indiana by Jennifer
57 Comments »

And Then I Doused Him in Germ-X


The joys of (germy) playground equipment.

More (mostly) Wordless Wednesday……here.

Tags: Little Monkeys, Pictures, Wordless Wednesday by Jennifer
36 Comments »

Surviving a Ghost Attack and TWO Earthquakes

Have you ever seen that movie, The Entity?  That is one scary movie right there, one that I should never, ever have watched years ago.  Having a vivid imagination and being one who might occasionally overreact, I was certain that the rumbling I felt in my bed at 5:40 AM last Friday was definitely an evil ghost who’d come to get me.

Luckily for me it was JUST an earthquake. 

First I heard a very odd noise coming from the baby monitor, a noise that certainly wasn’t my children, but an eerie low frequency NON-HUMAN sounding something.  Obviously when I put all the facts together moments after the rumbling that fully awakened me, I positively KNEW that I was living with a ghost (or ghosts plural.)

I immediately turned on every light, running frantically away from my bedroom and the ghost or ghosts plural.  Finding my cell phone, I fumbled to find Tate’s number and call him.  He’s a man!  He could help beat the ghosts!  Or something.

When I finally got ahold of Tate seconds later, I explained the situation and my fear of our unwelcome guests ghost(s). 

“There was this rumbling that started at the bottom of the bed!  And!  I could hear it over the baby monitor!  And!!!  I could feel an energy in the room.  We have an infestation of ghosts!  I know we do, I just know it.  I’m not crazy, Tate.”

After repeating the above sentences about ten times to REALLY!  GET!  MY!  POINT!  ACROSS!, Tate asked if I had considered that it might be an earthquake.

I, obviously, thought that the possibility of an earthquake was downright WACKO.  A ghost or ghosts plural was a much more viable possibility.

But apparently, as it turns out, it was indeed an earthquake–an earthquake I BARELY survived. 

I also narrowly escaped death once before when I was woken up by an earthquake in Knoxville.  Now I can say I’ve survived TWO earthquakes and that makes me, like, really cool. 

Tags: I Still Have the Smarts Real Good, Indiana, Quirky Me, Religimcal Thoughts by Jennifer
56 Comments »

Tip Anxiety

The other night I discovered that you can order pizza ONLINE!  Since I have a bit of phone anxiety (I’ll post about that another time), ordering a pizza online is just beyond fabulous.

Since Tate and I rarely carry cash, I chose the option on the screen where you can pay by debit card (also beyond fabulous), but! there is the part that asks if you want to add a tip, and yet another one of my silly anxiety rears it’s ugly head.

Tip anxiety! (dunh, dunh, duuuuuhhhhhh)

I want to tip what’s acceptable.  I hear that you give 15% if service is average, 20% or more if you receive excellent service.  My stomach gets all fluttery just thinking about how this applies to the pizza man especially when you’re ordering online!  What if the driver sees that I’ve already tipped and thinks that it’s lousy and decides to hock a giant loogie on my pepperoni, mushroom, and black olive pizza?!  Or!  What if they take forever and a day to deliver the pizza, then I’m screwed in doling out the proper punishment of a crappy tip because I ALREADY PAID THE TIP! 

(By the way, even if they did deliver the pizza hours after I ordered, I probably wouldn’t give the driver a crappy tip because he might remember us the next time we ordered and somehow get his revenge on my pizza!)

Oh the TIP ANXIETY.  Stomach pains!

This is also a problem at carry-out/fast foodish type restaurants.  One of my most favorite places on Earth is Sonic.  If you’re not familiar with Sonic, it’s a drive-in style fast food restaurant where your food is brought to you by a carhop.  As I sit waiting for my food to arrive, my palms start to sweat and I feel a lump in my throat and my stomach starts to gurgle.  Do I tip?  If so, how much?  And why should I tip, they’re just delivering the food!  But if I don’t tip…I don’t want to EVEN THINK of the consequences.  Also, tip jars at places where you order from the counter boggle my mind.  I don’t think they should get a tip simply for ringing up my order and putting my food on a tray.  Again though, I worry that if I don’t tip they’ll eventually get their revenge.

Tip anxiety also struck last week when I got my hair all done up purdy like.  I got the bill, I saw the amount, I couldn’t breathe, just trying to quickly do the math in my head.  I know how to figure a tip, but whenever I’m put on the spot and the perky cashier is standing there waiting for me, politely smiling, as I stare, dumbfounded, at this little receipt as if I’ve never seen those new symbols–numbers!–before.  I’m completely embarrassed to admit this, please don’t tell ANYONE, but I once left a $20 tip for my hair stylist in Knoxville because I did the math WRONG.  I was so nervous, I didn’t even realize how ridiculous $20 was for A TIP until I was in the car and suddenly regained my ability to figure a tip in my head.

There are instances too numerous to count where my tip anxiety has or could come into play.  I’d never use a skycap or bellhop to help with luggage because of that awkward moment after they’ve lugged all your bags and then they just stand there waiting for a tip.  Thank goodness I don’t live in a city where taxi cabs are a primary means of transportation, I couldn’t bear to have to figure a tip!  Have you ever been someplace where there is someone in the bathroom handing out towels for you to dry your hands after you used the restroom!  That is THE WORST.  I’ll hold my pee to avoid having to deal with a washroom attendant. 

I did a little research and found many websites that explain how much to properly tip.  While this information is helpful, it doesn’t give me the ability to do math in my head under pressure.  I found one website that has tip cards!  Genius!  My luck, though, I’d lose the tip card, emptying the contents of my purse frantically searching for it and SWEATING.  All the while, the cashier stands there wondering why I don’t just figure the tip in my head and not-so-secretly thinks I’m an idiot.

Tags: Quirky Me, confession by Jennifer
69 Comments »

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