Eleven Years Old

This weekend The Husband and I spent several hours hanging out with Serenity Springs' offspring. He is eleven years old, totally awesome, and a complete spaz in the very best way possible. During our evening of excellent funness, we:

Played video games
Watched The Simpsons
Ate quesadillas
Played Monopoly
Splashed around in the hot tub (Bonus awesome points to The Offspring for figuring out how to make the hot tub lights flash in a disco-party type fashion. Also, he is the first guest in our house who has even been willing to get in the hot tub)
Played Outburst
Played Moods (which was really weird because that's the game I usually make everyone play when I'm drunk)
Played Twister (Jeez! I am way too old and decrepit to be doing that.)
Ate cupcakes
Played Jenga

Evidently we are tons of fun and awesome ourselves because we virtually had to throw him forcibly out the door when his folks came to pick him up.

Thanks, Holly, for trusting us with your kid and saving me from having to give birth to my own. I hope you'll let us borrow him from time to time when we need a little spaztastic fun time in our lazy grown up lives.

It's a Meme!

I stole this from Redneck Mother who stole it from someone else who stole it from someone else, etc., etc., ad nauseum.

Anyhoo, the idea is to find five phrases for which your blog is the #1 hit on Google. To make it more interesting, I didn't allow phrases in quotation marks. Here are my five in the order in which they please me.

1. giant squirrel lady-parts

2. toilet-trained moron convention

3. chasing chimichangas

4. not-so-HOTT anal action

5. arbitrary gender doodad

This blog is also the #1 hit for Unruly Duckling, but that seemed too easy.

Post yours or a link to them in the comments.

Random Photo Friday: Halloween Edition

This is a timely selection for this week.



On Halloween 2001, The Husband and I had only been dating for about a month. At this early stage in our relationship, he was still acting like a good sport who was willing to go along with my goofy schemes, and I was still acting like I was thin.

After the next year's Sonny and Cher debacle, we never attended another costume party together again.

However, he did have the awesome idea to dress up like a headless wolf to go along with my murderous Little Red Riding Hood costume this year. Alas, that would have required way more effort than we were willing to expend, but I give him full credit for suggesting it.

Halloween Kickoff

The Halloween season got off to an early start this year with the traditional annual crazy-ass costume party last Saturday. I actually sustained an injury to my right eyebrow when I was whapped in the face with pirate-Jesus' cutlass during an ax/sword fight with a phony soldier. At least I'm pretty sure that's what happened; I'm a bit fuzzy on the details.

Here I am at the beginning of the evening:



I hated to pixelate myself because I think I looked pretty cute here. Granted I was going for maniacal, but I'm just too adorable to pull it off.

Now, here I am at the end of the night:



Again, too bad this is a pseudonymous blog because the expression on my face here is way past maniacal and heading towards whacked out. I do not remember posing for this picture. Please note the giant drink in my hand above.

Other highlights included the pirate-Jesus/pimp-Jesus face off and the wildly inappropriate "Klutzo the Christian Clown" costume.

Random Photo Friday: Edition française

This pic of La Grande Arche de la Defense was originally posted on my old TikiWikiGeeky whatever blog during the trip The Husband (then The Boyfriend) and I took to Paris in 2003. Evidently the guidebook we were carrying that day really sucked because we were completely flummoxed as to what the hell this big square thing was for.

Although his comment has been lost to the ages, Lunchstealer correctly pointed out that it is a monument to humanitarian ideals, etc. but also an office building and exhibition space. I believe the net you see there in the middle was erected because pieces of the thing were falling on people's heads, but I don't remember where I heard that, so don't quote me on it.

So, What's Up With That Pain in Your Neck?

Thanks for asking.

According to the MRI report I have a minor bulge in the disk between my C5 and C6 vertebrae. It is not currently "wreaking havoc," which is a relief, I suppose, but somehow, that doesn't strike me as the proper technical medical terminology. Unfortunately, the orthopedist did not have the actual films to read, but I'm hoping that whoever wrote the report is trustworthy.

Evidently, this bulgy disk is causing cervical radiculopathy. I had to look that up to be sure that it wasn't some secret doctor-speak for "this patient has a ridiculous complaint" because when I heard it out loud, that's exactly what it sounded like to me.

I'll have to take plenty of pills, although none of the fun ones. Boo! Also, I have to subject myself to physical therapy a couple of times a week. The next step in the course of treatment is to receive some sort of "risky" neck injections, so I really want this drugs and therapy thing to work. The bad news is that these problems generally do progress, so someday (may it be many years from now) I probably will need surgery. In that case, I'm definitely insisting on the fun pills.

Hallow-weenie

Evidently becoming a homeowner has turned me into a big dork who may be one step away from wearing denim jumpers and sweatshirts with kittens appliquéd on them.

Marvel at my adorable fall decorations.



I am way too pleased with this tiny hay bale to be normal.



Finally no denim-jumper wearing kitten-sweatshirt loving dork can be without the ever so lovely fake flower arrangement.

Note to Self

Do not eat nothing but Pop-Tarts for breakfast. You will experience a near fatal blood sugar crash well before noon.

Just Call Me Farmer Duckling

The Husband and I spent most of the last two weekends putting in a new flower bed.

First we had to break ground.



Just digging up this perimeter resulted in two wheelbarrows full of grass and dirt.



It turns out that The Husband and I kind of suck at digging, so we brought in his mom for some expert help. With her assistance we cleared the bed in a few hours.



Yesterday, we got to do the easy part: plant stuff.



These plants have barely been surviving for the past couple of years in pots that were too small and enduring much neglect, just biding their time until they could put down real roots. The Husband bought several of these plants for me on my first birthday after we were married. He grew the Eve's Necklace from seed. The plan all along was to put these plants in the ground when we had a home of our own.

The Return of Random Photo Friday - Paternal Edition

Here's my dad. He's great.

I remember when my brother and I were little, he taught us how to catch crawdads in the creek behind our house with a piece of twine and some bacon. He also made us bows and arrows out of sticks and kite string.

Sometimes when we were falling asleep in the back seat, he'd swerve the car just a little to see if he could make us bonk our heads on the window.

I'm not sure who it was, but someone gave him some snake eggs, and he had the idea to hatch them in our yogurt maker. One day we woke up to a yogurt maker full of hatched snake eggs and no snakes. Turns out yogurt makers are not appropriate devices for post-hatching baby snake containment.

My grandfather used to raise small ponies/large miniature horses. They were more or less feral, but of course I always wanted to ride them despite the fact they were nearly impossible to catch and not trained to wear a saddle at all. Being such a brilliant child, I told my dad I thought I could ride one if it came near the fence and I jumped on it. Being such a thoughtful dad, he suggested I try it.

I did get one leg over the black one and good enough grip on its mane that I managed to hang on as it sprinted half way across the field. When I finally fell off in a pile of rocks and weeds, my dad came running over laughing so hard he could barely stand up.

I remember my dad laughing that hard another time. Just after my 17th birthday, I got my driver's license. As my birthday present, my parent's had our old VW bug painted purple for me. My very first act as a new driver was to pull the car, with its brand new paint job, off the street and into the garage. As my family stood in the yard watching me, I popped the clutch, and the car, with its brand new paint job, jumped the curb and hit a light pole.

One time my dad got to the post office too late, and it was closed, so he cursed, "poopsticks." I still crack up when I think about it.

ETA: I can't believe I forgot about this one:

In junior high I really hated P.E. There was very little actual exercise involved, and changing clothes seemed like a stupid waste of time. One day I was whining at my dad before school, asking him to write me a note so I didn't have to participate in P.E., and he said he would.

Several minutes later he asked, "How do you spell 'weenie'?" For some reason this did not seem particularly strange to me.

When he gave me the note, I just stuck it in my pocket and didn't think any more about it until I was on my way to P.E.

Fortunately I opened the note before I gave it to my teacher. The note read, "Please excuse Unruly from P.E. today. She is a weenie."

At Home With The Husband

Scene: The Husband and I are watching television when an odd-looking actress appears on the screen.

Me: Her eyes are so dark! She looks like an alien.

The Husband: I wish you were an alien.

Me: Why? I might infect you with black goo.

The Husband: Because then we could have human-alien hybrids.

Me: I thought you didn't want any children.

The Husband, rolling eyes: Not human ones.

Pain in the Neck, Pt. 2

About a week ago my neck malfunctioned again, this time while I was picking up a piece of paper. Since this was the second time in a month, I decided to take it seriously and go to my doctor. I didn't get any fun medicine, but I did get a referral to an orthopedist.

While I was sitting in the exam room yesterday waiting for the appointment, I could hear someone in the next room crying, "Oh, oh, oh! No, stop! Please stop!" I considered leaving right then, but the doctor came in and started thumping me in various places with a rubber mallet and yanking my arms and manhandling my head. Fortunately, my injury is not so severe that I had to beg for mercy at any point.

Not finding anything obviously wrong with me, the doctor sent me to get an MRI today. That experience sucked 1000% more than I possibly could have predicted. The machine is extraordinarily loud, so they put foam plugs in my ears. As the foam expanded, all the sounds slowly faded away. Then they slid me into the tube - the nice, cozy, coffin-sized tube.

Immediately, I closed my eyes and tried to think spacious thoughts, but I started panicking. When they checked on me after the first minute, I told the Peter-Tork-looking technician that I was freaking out, so he advised me to imagine I was in a wide-open space, like the beach. Whatever. I could already tell that wasn't going to work, so I asked how long it would take. 20-25 minutes, he told me. Nearly half an hour without losing my mind and shrieking and flailing - I thought maybe I could do that.

No matter how hard I tried, I could not convince myself that I was in a wide-open space or any kind of space at all. Instead I pretended I was on a water slide. It was the only situation I could imagine where I would be happy to be stuck in a tube, and luckily it seemed to work, seeing as I'm not gibbering and drooling in an institution right now.

Not only was I fighting off buried-alive-in-a-coffin-type thoughts, but I also had to concentrate on staying perfectly still. Some of the images took 6 minutes to complete, and during that time I couldn't twitch, breathe too much, or even swallow. It's nearly impossible not to swallow while you're lying perfectly still on your back thinking desperately about not swallowing.

Finally they told me they were finished and would take me out. But then nothing happened for about 30 seconds. If it had taken 31 seconds I would have lost it. When the table didn't start moving right away, I was convinced that someone was wrong, and I was trapped. A full-scale panic was ratcheting up when they finally rescued me.

Of course, then my hospital gown came untied as I was leaving to retrieve my clothes, but at that point, I was more than happy to show them my ass, as long as it meant I was getting the hell out of there.