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Category Archives: Randomness

Yell no

Written on February 5, 2009 by Jennifer in Huh?, Quirky Me, Randomness

Something that bugs the crap out of me is yelling across the house to someone instead of just walking to wherever they are and speaking in a nice, even, low voice.

It bugs me, but I do it all the time and annoy MYSELF. Despite my repeated self-reminders to STOP YELLING ACROSS THE HOUSE, I have such a hard time stopping. I’ll yell downstairs to Carson and Ella to say that dinner is ready, shake my head at myself in disgust, and promise myself to STOP. It’s just a few extra steps and those extra steps would really make for a much calmer and quieter house. The next evening I’ll remember not to yell and instead calmly go downstairs and tell Carson and Ella to come up for dinner. Such a sense of accomplishment! Such a sense of calm! So quiet! Until the next night when I yell again for them to come to dinner.

It’s a vicious, vicious cycle.

And I wonder why my children yell. Geez louise.

What category do you fit into? Are you a yell-across-the-house kind of person or a walk-across-the-house-to-get-their-attention kind of person?

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On a completely unrelated note, I just want to thank those of you who recommended that I read The Book Thief a few weeks ago. WOW! I LOVED THAT BOOK SO MUCH! DO YOU HEAR ME?! I LOVED THAT BOOK!!!!!! SUCH AN AMAZING STORY!

Damn, I really need to stop yelling.

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Superbowl party lessons

Written on February 3, 2009 by Jennifer in my stream of consciousness, Randomness

1. We will be eating chili for the next 4 months due to my gross overestimation of our Superbowl party attendance. On one hand, I do love the fact that dinner can be heated in the microwave, voila! dinner is SERVED!, but on the other hand…chili. For the next 4 months. My poor husband’s ass and my family’s poor noses may never recover.

2. Unsupervised children will rearrange furniture and dismantle a painstakingly assembled Thomas layout in 2.3 seconds.

3. Legos and games with many parts should be hidden prior to the start of the party.

4. When many children are together, they become chronic tattle tells. I finally had to tell the tattlers that unless they saw blood, they weren’t allowed to talk to me.

5. I should have added “Carson naked” to the list of reasons to come talk to me.

6. The dryer is a good place to find missing children.

7. Watch out for one of the guest’s homemade wine.

8. Husbands need very specific “how to get ready for a party” instructions. Unpacking the talking deer head/karaoke machine was not on that list.

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All dressed up

Written on January 21, 2009 by Jennifer in my hawt body, Pictures, Quirky Me, Randomness

I am not the dress wearing type. Ever since I sprouted hips and the accompanying saddlebags superglued to my legs, I just never thought I had the body for a dress.

Then I saw OHmommy in a dress, she who LOVES to dress up and has great fashion sense. I was inspired by her gospel to get thy own self to the mall and shop. Amen! Praise OHmommy!

And to thy mall I went. And shopped. And bought not one, but two dresses! Alleluia!

(Secretly I hoped that my legs would suddenly transform into OHmommy’s nice looking legs in my dresses inspired by her, but alas, my legs are the same knobby kneed legs as before.)

I think I still look good enough to take out in public, despite the sourpuss face in the second picture. Maybe I could wear these to a cocktail party, or possibly even on a much needed date with my husband.

(Tate did mention something about leaving just the boots on [redacted].)

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I’m not sure which part is funnier

Written on January 2, 2009 by Jennifer in Randomness

As luck would have it, well…MY luck, it started pouring down rain as Carson, Ella, and I were leaving Target, the umbrella in our car parked at the opposite end of the parking lot.

With my hands full getting Ella’s hood up, I was unable to help Carson as he tried unsuccessfully to put the hood up on his own coat.

“Mommy!” he huffed. “I CAN’T GET IT UP!” he shouted. And I mean REALLY shouted.

An older, bordering on elderly, gentleman and his wife, passing us in the parking lot, looked directly at us and without missing a beat said, “Me either, kiddo.” He smiled and winked.

His wife’s eyes and mouth opened wide in horror as she grabbed his arm a little too roughly. “Lighten up, Alice,” he said with a shrug.

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The contents of my purse. The stolen post.

Written on November 17, 2008 by Jennifer in Contest, my stream of consciousness, Pictures, Quirky Me, Randomness, Reader Appreciation

I’ve stolen the idea for this post from Ali. I’m hoping that the extradition to Canada to face her wrath will be too complicated and she’ll forgo prosecution.

So now that we’ve gotten the fact that I’m a thief out of the way, I’d like to show you the contents of my purse. You’ll be pleased to know that none of the contents of my purse were stolen.

C.O. Bigelow Lemon Hand Treatment (LOVE!), 2 tubes of C.O. Bigelow Mentha Lip Tint (I’ve already talked about my love of these), 2 tubes of Lip Smackers (flashback: 1987), 3 packages of peanut butter crackers, a USB cord, 100 calorie pack of Lorna Doone cookies (they’re FOR THE KIDS!), my name tag from Blissdom ’08, small bottle of 50 SPF Coppertone, Jessie Baylin CD (LOVE her!), trash, crumbs (not pictured), my cell phone, a maxi pad, an old grocery list, 3 coupons that are worthless, Skip Hop diaper caddy, my wallet, {***GIFT CERTIFICATE TO BUILD A BEAR!!!!!!****}, USB flash drive, baby nail clippers, 1 Germ-X hand wipe, 2 Dentabursts, a going away card from her, All About Trains DVD (what? don’t you carry DVDs in your purse?), my business cards, the formula from Aveda to color my hair, a juice box, a box of raisins, spare contact case, contact lens solution.

One of these items is today’s Reader Appreciation Giveaway…

Can you guess which one?? I mean, it’s not {***OBVIOUS***} or anything.

Well just in case you need a little help…here’s one more HINT.

Have you all seen their new Christmas Moose (or is it Meese?)…Holly and Hal? SO cute.

To enter to win the $25 gift certificate to Build a Bear Workshop, leave a comment telling me whether your purse is as random as mine!

Comments will close at 7 AM, EST, November, 19, 2008.

Don’t forget you can still enter the nonny & boo $50 gift certificate giveaway until tomorrow morning! Who new that the timing of this giveaway would be so perfect in the light of the Motrin ad fiasco and babywearing mamas….

This contest is over, comments closed!! Thanks for playing!!

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I’m thinking of a word that rhymes with “cluck”

Written on October 27, 2008 by Jennifer in kitchens are no place for playgroupies, Quirky Me, Randomness

Photo credit

One of the things I pride myself on is my ability to cook. In fact, I’m a pretty darn good cook if I do say so myself. Where I lack in fashion sensibilities and the ability to decorate a home, I make up for in my cooking abilities.

I make a mean Tortellini with spinach walnut pesto. Just ask me.

There is one MAJORLY GLARING exception to my cooking prowess, however.

I cannot cook chicken to save my life.

Being thrifty, I often buy whole chickens or chicken thighs at the grocery store. (Which, by the way, I miss Meijer so much, it’s physically painful to even think about.) I don’t know why I keep torturing myself, though, because COME ON! I should just spend the extra money to buy the pot roast or pork tenderloin instead of causing myself immense amounts of stress related trauma due to utter inability to cook chicken.

I follow all the recipes I’ve read on the proper ways to cook chicken. I mean, I DO know how to read. NEVER is it done when it’s supposed to be done, though. Never, ever, ever, ever, ever! It’s always that pinkish gray color and when I cut into it to see on the off chance that it’s done, it’s always a bloody. And then I’m so grossed out, I pass out on the kitchen floor and start convulsing.

The first time AND LAST TIME I attempted to cook fried chicken, it was RAW with a lovely, perfectly browned crust. I was so pissed, I almost left on a jet plane to hunt Emeril down, because it was HIS cookbook’s fault that my much toiled over fried chicken was RAW.

Not only do I have trouble with chicken on a bone, I cannot cook boneless, skinless chicken breasts without making them taste like a tire.

Needless to say, this is causing me a lot of undue stress.

Am I the only one who can’t cook chicken? Will I ever learn? Am I doomed to serve RAW chicken for the remainder of my life?

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My polygamist beginnings, please don’t tell the Pope

Written on October 16, 2008 by Jennifer in marriage, my stream of consciousness, Quirky Me, Randomness

Post inspired by a comment I left at Amanda’s site, Shamelessy Sassy.

When I was around three-years-old, I was married to a man named Robert. OBVIOUSLY Robert was imaginary, but he was as excellent a husband as an imaginary husband could be.

Robert had dark hair and was short, like me as a wee tot. We did all sorts of things together that married toddlers do. We played Barbies and with Weeble Wobbles. I drug him around everywhere I went (not to be confused with actually being DRUGGED with legal and/or non-legal pharmeceuticals…because it would be near impossible to drug someone who is imaginary). Robert and I were a very happy couple, as he always did whatever I wanted him to, as any husband worth his salt would do.

It’s possible that Robert and I had children together, I’m not really sure since it’s hard for me to remember DETAILS from 30 25 20 (Yeah!) years ago. I may be skipping ahead a bit in the story, but I know that I had LOTS of kids with LOTS of husbands during my childhood years. Most of my children never grew up past the age of “baby,” which is good, because, MAN, think of the college education costs.

Like many marriages that start off with passion (fruit juice, that is), my fairytale relationship with Robert eventually ended. For some reason, and again my memory from all those years ago fails me, Robert and I broke up. In fact, it was a pretty nasty break-up. Maybe it’s because we were SO YOUNG. Maybe he made eyes at an older four-year-old woman. Maybe he wouldn’t share his Cheetos. Who knows? Robert ended up stuffed in a trash can, which I *think* is how most toddler marriages are annulled. And I ended up married to Mark.

Details from my marriage to Mark are also fuzzy. Kids? I don’t remember? Marital activities? (NO, not marital RELATIONS, I was THREE.) I simply don’t know. I do know, though, that I have no recollection of ever having divorced Mark (Mom?? Do you remember?). Like I mentioned above, I know that I went on to marry lots of other fellas and make lots of babies during my childhood, but I cannot remember if my marriage to Mark was ever formally annulled.

Fast forward to today and I’m (again) married, keeping my fingers crossed that I’m not unintentionally practicing polygamy. I’m certain the Pope would NOT like that, although come to think of it, he probably wouldn’t be too thrilled at the sheer number of husbands I’ve had through my life.

When you were a child, did you have imaginary friends? Imaginary husbands?

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