Parlez Vous?

When I was in 6th grade, we had to learn some Spanish basics. We learned colors and simple phrases and...I don't know, whatever means "the basics." Obviously, I didn't learn much because the only phrase I remember at all is:

Donde esta el bano? (And even that I didn't learn well because I spelled "bano" as "banyo" and had to google it to get it right. Doh.)

Which means:

Where is the bathroom?

At some point in the school year, I thought it would be funny during Spanish Time to go up to the teacher and say "Donde esta el bano?" and give him a good little chuckle. You know because when you're twelve, anything to do with the bathroom is hilarious. Heck, it still is most of the time...at least to my husband. Who I wonder about his maturity sometimes...which is probably about the level of a twelve year old..

Anyway, I went up to him and with a big goofy grin on my face delivered the words in espanol.

He glanced at me and told me to go ahead and go to the bathroom.

Not a crack of a smile. Nothin'...

As I trudged down the hallway I realized two things:

a. Not everyone gets my sense of humor.

and

b. I really didn't have to go to the bathroom.

I'm a Fool for April

My favorite April Fool's Joke EVER:


When Oldest Daughter was just a little baby, April Fool's came around. She was only a few months old, so still had pretty unpredictable bowel movements. Are you getting a little scared that I went right into poop? Oh yes, this story definitely has to do with poop! All the best stories have poop in them! Or do they? Well, this one does...

So, we went to the store and bought a jar of Nutella. Have you ever seen it? Its a hazelnut/chocolate (the consistency of say peanut butter-ish) spread, delicious really, but we weren't using it to put on toast--oh no we weren't! I made Husband do it, because I just can't keep my face straight in these sort of situations, no poker face whatsoever.

We were at Husband's parents' house for...well, because we lived there thats why. He went in the other room to "get a diaper", while he was in there he spread some of the Nutella on the clean diaper. Can you see where this is going?

He put Oldest on the floor where his parents weren't paying attention, and switched out the diapers. All of a sudden he started making a fuss, "OH MAN! This diaper is horrible! She totally had a blow-out!!" and then "*SNIFF* WOW, this diaper totally smells like chocolate!! Weird!" and finally "Hmmmm, I wonder if it...tastes...like...choco..." LICK! He stuck the diaper to his mouth, and licked up some of the Nutella! hehehehehehe!

You should have heard the commotion!! Husband's mom screaming, his dad just put his hand over his face and laughed (I think he knew something was up, yes?), I stayed off to the side laughing the whole time--it was HILARIOUS!

And to this day we have never played another April Fool's joke, because how can you top that?! Can you top my April Fool's joke?

Because Ditching Class is Fun to Do!

When I was in high school I was a really good kid. Very naive, very innocent. But every once in awhile I went out on a limb, pushed the envelope.

One day, we had a fire drill. Some sort of emergency, where everyone single filed outside and just waited. I was with my best friend and another guy friend of ours, and we decided waiting outside was LAA-ame.

So we ditched class.

Oh yeah, we ditched.

We got in our guy friend's truck, and started driving--FREEEEEDOM! We didn't even know where to go or what to do, but we were driving away, away, away from the dreaded high school.

As we were driving, a guy in a little car came right up behind us fast, right up on our butt. Our friend tapped on his breaks to let him know he was too close. There were two lanes and we were in the right slow lane and the left lane was wide open, the guy was being a jerk.

He didn't like the tapping of the breaks. Not at all.

He zoomed around us and got right in front of us. We were all a little weirded out by it, but figured whatever it was over.

Not so my friends, not so. It was not over.

We got to the stop light, with crazy guy stopped in front of us, we're still on a happy high from skipping class. All of a sudden the guy gets out of his car! I swear on my life, the car raised about five inches--the guy was HUGE.

He shuffled his tree log legs over to us and muttered, "Roll the window down." in a grovelly, menacing voice. My friend rolled his window down all of two inches.

The man proceeded to scream at my friend that he was a punk and he was going to call the police and he was such a little PUNK! We were flabbergasted, and a little confused.

And then he tried to HIT my friend through the little two inch gap!!

It was the weirdest/scariest thing a total stranger has ever done to me (or with me present, I suppose)! Needless to say, we turned around and went back to school.

And I never skipped class again. Let that be a lesson to you.

(Yeah right, I still skipped class plenty of times after that, who am I kidding?!)

Since High School Was so GRAND the First Time...

Dude guys, life has been so crazy! With trying to get the whole TV thing set up (which includes and is not limited to, unhooking all the trillion wires that were behind the TV, moving old ginormous entertainment center out of the house, putting together--yes, me, by myself--a new entertainment center, selling the old TV, and re-hooking the trillion and one wires back up, and more but I'll stop now because I've tuckered me little self out.) I haven't been on here much to blog. But don't worry, I've been thinking about you and thinking about things to blog about. I just can't do any long posts right now because I've got to get ready for Husband's family to come in tonight--again. Don't ask, just pray. Pray really hard for me. Kidding guys, it will be great! I hope.

But I did want to throw something out here while I have a spare minute. Do you remember my post about the crush I had in high school/junior high? No? Jerks. Okay here it is. And then do you remember me posting about that same crush asking to be my friend on Facebook?! NO AGAIN!? Sheesh guys, come on! So anyway, to get to the point of it all, the guy was visiting the area I live in currently, and left a message on my Facebook that he was in town. And it wasn't like a wanted or did not want to see him, it was just...sort of...weird. Ya know?! I wasn't sure what it would be like to see him again. Here's how it played out in my head:

Meet at a random place, say the mall or I-HOP.

I sit in a lowly booth, or on a bench somewhere, awaiting his presence.

In walks GQ model.

It's HIM!

I fall madly in love with him and we run away together.

The end.

NOT!! hahahahaha!

Okay, if you want me to be honest, this is really how it played out in my head:

We meet at someplace random, like a mall or I-HOP.

I sit in a lowly booth, or on a bench. With my booger encrusted children squirming and yelling and crawling on the floor, eating gum off the bottom of the bench. And I have poop on my shirt from The Boy.

In walks that guy, looking and acting exactly the same way as high school.

I barf out of complete and utter intolerance of people acting like they're still in high school.

He's completely weirded out that *I* have not one, not two, but three children; but also seriously impressed that I'm still so hot. (hey, this is my brain, it could happen.)

After the first thirty seconds of "Hey, its been so long! What've you been up to?! How's life?!" and maybe "WOW! You have three kids!! That's so crazy!", we'll have nothing to say to each other and it will be awkward and weird and. . . awkward.


Anyway, really, when he said he would be in town I didn't know what to say. So I went for tactful: Oh yeah? We'll have to get together sometime while you're here.

And then never said anything or tried at all to get in contact with him while he was here.

Do you think that's wrong? Do you think I was so immature about it? Do you, do you, do you!?!

Well, he obviously did because he hasn't talked to me since. Not even when I said sorry I missed getting together with him. Looks like its all back to high school once again. And you know what?

I didn't like high school the first time. Pooey.

Why Buses Aren't in My Economic Plan

I think the best (HA!) "embarrassing moment" story I have (I have lots, this is just THE BEST), is about riding the school bus.

Did you ever have to ride the school bus? That in itself should be embarrassing enough, but NO, it gets way better from here!

How about having to ride the bus in HIGH SCHOOL?! How about that? Do you think THAT is embarrassing enough?

HECK NO!

How about when you're in high school, you have a swimming class (which I will have to talk about more another time...), which is your last period of the day, so you have to shower and change and all that and RUN for the bus so it doesn't leave you behind? With your hair dripping wet and smelling like chlorine?

STILL not enough?

Okay, how about one day, you're rushing for the bus after said swimming class, its about to leave! Oh no! Start bookin it--as in sprinting with your wet hair streaming behind you, backpack bouncing on your back--toward the bus. You see it. You're running.

Can't. Miss. That. Bus!

You get there just before it pulls away, oh sweet relief!

Simultaneously as your foot touches the bottom step, the bus door starts to close...

You are stuck in the bus door. Half of your body is outside the bus, still stranded out there in purgatory. The other half, including your head, is INSIDE the bus. Not a pretty sight really.

The bus driver is shocked and inhales sharply, "OH!" and finally opens the door back up to let you inside the hell hole. You take the three steps up into the main frame of the bus and see Super Hott Guy sitting right in the front seat laughing hysterically at you.

Take the walk of shame to the back of the bus, hanging head.

Insist to your parents, you WILL be starting driver's ed. right away!


So whats your most embarrassing story?

I won't do it!! NO NO NO!! WAAAAH!

Oldest is going to a birthday party in half an hour and I'm going to try REALLY hard to be good and get things done while she's there (now what do I do with the other two?). So before she goes I'm going to blog! Whooey!

When I was young and impressionable, I was a VERY picky eater. VERY. I didn't like a lot of food and I was super dramatic if my parents tried to force me to eat something. Or super stubborn, I'm not sure which. Well, how about both? Yes, that works.

I would sit at the table bawling. They would tell me I couldn't get up until I finished my plate. I would sit there for a veeeeerrrry long time. Maybe fall asleep. Cry some more. Would NOT finish my plate. And so it went for many a year.

One of my mom's favorite dinner's to make--that NO ONE in our family liked except my parents--was sweet 'n sour meatballs. *GAG* I still can't think about them without retching a little. They were so nasty. Eeew sicko! *whoo whoo...in....out....deep breaths*

It was meatballs (duh), on a bed of rice, with a big ol' slice of pineapple under them and some secret gonna-make-you-hurl sweet 'n sour sauce. Sounds delish huh? NOT AT ALL.

Anyway, one night my mom made the dreaded "food" and I wasn't having none of it. But she had places to go and things to do, things I ALSO wanted to do. She told me if I didn't finish eating I wasn't going to go with her to wherever it was we were supposed to go. Maybe I didn't think she would actually do it. Maybe that was the stubborn part of me. But when it came time for her to go, I still hadn't eaten anything. So she went out, got in the car and started driving away.

I shoved the stupid meatballs in my mouth and ran outside, gagging and crying and screaming and gagging...after her. Maybe that was the dramatic part of me. She stopped, rolled her eyes, and then let me get in.

Funny mom, don't you know when we get older our taste buds MUST change and then all of a sudden we will actually try to eat normally? Silly mom, don't you know that kids are NOT reasonable on any level? Silly kid, don't you know mom's will ALWAYS try to make you eat dinner? Dumb child, don't you know she was helping you grow?!

Things worked out in the end though, she can make sweet 'n sour meatballs any time she wants, and I now will in no way ever have to eat them again! Amen.

I Don't Need Anymore Iron-y

I was a really annoying teenager.

Truly, I was. I was really hyper and giggly and loud and dorky. Well, at least around my friends and their families. (There were times where in classes if I felt insecure or didn't have any friends, that I was very shy and quiet) But for the most part: a loud, obnoxious dork.

Some of the things I did as an annoying teenager?

Thinking how I was acting was REALLY SUPER COOL, when in fact it was REALLY SUPER ANNOYING!
For example, going to Target and running up and down the aisles laughing maniacally, playing with the toys and being generally obnoxious.
Going to the prom dress stores and trying on like twenty different dresses, wasn't ever going to buy one, but we felt pretty.
Toilet papering our friends' houses. This one time we went to a grocery store beforehand to buy toilet paper and whatnot, and talked in British accents the entire time (thinking we were AWESOME) and sat in the grocery carts and pushed each other around. *shudder*

I could go on, but I'm internally cringing over my naivety enough to make me sick. Besides the fact that I just drank 24 oz of Mountain Dew, that might be making me sick as well. And my son is sitting next to me with a poopy diaper, I think that's getting to me too.
(alright, I took a little break and changed the diaper, I know, I'm such a good mom...)

The thing I feel even worse about than how stupid I acted? I have no tolerance for stupid teenagers. Well, I have very little tolerance for stupid teenagers. I catch you walking around talking in a fake accent, you get the dirty look from me and an eye roll. Some guy was using his grocery cart like a scooter today--wheeeeeee!-- and just about ran over one of my kids, you should've seen how terrified he looked of me after he saw my face. And I'm not very intimidating normally.

Girls being really loud and laughing hysterically = my blood boiling.

What a hypocrite I am.

I can't help it though, they're so obnoxious! I didn't come to horrible Wal-Mart to have to deal with someone else's dumb teenagers, and where are their parents anyway?! The worst is at the dollar theater. Oh how I loathe the dollar theater. Teenage kids run rampant there and if I have to hear them laughing and clapping in the middle of my movie and they always say the stupidest stuff......alright, I'm working myself up now. I've got to stop.

Really, the irony in this? More than you know I'm going to have obnoxious teenagers myself? I work in Young Women's....and I LOVE IT! haha

You know you Swallow your Spit too

I don't know what kind of parents you have, but I'm positive your parents are NOTHING like my parents.

My parents are awesome, maybe we have that in common. My parents were--I would say--fairly strict, maybe we don't have that in common, maybe so. My parents are dorks, who knows about yours?

One thing my parents maybe needed to work on though? Embarrassment.

What do you mean sweet Melinda? Well, if something was embarrassing we didn't talk about it. Peeing your pants? No talky. You deal with it, on your own. And I did. :)

Maybe that makes me a stronger person, maybe not? Maybe it taught me how to rely on my own strengths, maybe it made me scared to deal with things? I'm pretty normal (HA, ha ha ha! Shut up.) so I don't hold anything against my parents. I know they were doing the VERY best they could, so I can't be upset with them. But sometimes I wish I could have asked them SOME things. Or been able to talk to them about some concerns I had.

I tried to once you know, this is how it turned out.

"Mom, you know how you have spit in your mouth?"

"Yes?"

"Do you swallow your spit like I do?" (I was only around 10, and wondered if I was the only person in the world who swallowed their spit, I was quite worried over it actually.)

"Ummm....NO, no I don't." (She was probably preoccupied by something else, or wasn't paying attention to what I was really asking, because HELLO, everyone swallows their spit!)

"Okay........" (OH MY GOSH!! WHAT'S WRONG WITH ME?!?!?!)

So I learned to keep my concerns to myself. Which is quite sad because when I was 12 I was over at an elderly neighbor's house visiting with them and a show was playing in the background. After awhile I started paying attention to it. It was about breast cancer and how to detect if you have breast cancer. It told my young 12 year old mind that if you have any lumps in your breast, you have cancer. Well, I obviously didn't have ANY sort of breasts at the age of 12, but I did have a "lump". Which would have been my nipple. I was TERRIFIED. No joke guys, not even funny, I seriously thought I had breast cancer. And I didn't tell anyone for YEARS, because I was too scared to talk to my mom or my dad or anyone else. Because that was how I was raised, you just kept things to yourself. SO glad to find out I don't have breast cancer, what a relief!

So when the time came to get a bra or to have a visit from Aunt Flo, I don't know about how you guys dealt with it, but I dealt ALONE. When I finally wanted a bra, all my friends had bras, I still didn't have breasts but I wanted a bra...do you think I asked my mom for one? HECK NO! I snuck in my older sister's room and stole one of hers. And that is how you did things in my family.

I'm realizing that this is sounding quite pathetic and maybe making my parents look bad, which wasn't my intention. Look at it this way guys, if the worst thing my parents did was not talk to me about the birds and the bees* and didn't buy me a bra, I had it pretty good. Its funny to think about now, and every things turned out just fine. I'm just going to make sure my kids won't be afraid to ask me about their spit's habits!

I was going to share with you my first period story, but I think this is sad enough, so I'll spare you. But please feel free to share the weird quirks of your parents, so I feel a tad bit better! :)


*No, we didn't have a sit down, this is what its about talk. We of course had talks about being chaste, how they expected us to act with the boys we dated, etc. But no talk specifically about you know what. In fact, on my wedding night before we went to our hotel, my mom told me: AND I QUOTE, "Don't worry honey, you don't have to do anything." Um thanks mom, but YES I DO and that doesn't help.

Trippy Maaaan

I MISSED YOU! I MISSED YOU AND I DON'T CARE WHO KNOWS IT!!! (sung like off of Elf)

So, I'm back from my mini-trip and trying to catch up and get back to normal. (Normal, yeah. Like it's ever normal around here...) Do you know how much blog reading I have to do to get caught up?! 75.9823444 HOURS of reading. Its a lot. But the trip was totally worth it even with all the extra catch up. Heh, I wanted to say ketchup...

I'm not going to brief you on my trip, but I will tell you one of the highlights! Husband talked in his sleep again!!! HEHEHEHEHHehehehehehe AND my sister and her husband got to hear it, so they can confirm everything I tell you!

Here's the story:

Sunday night, Husband and Brother-In-Law (let's call him ummmm, Brother-In-Law...) went upstairs to watch a movie whilst my sister and I talked for hours downstairs. After the movie was over, Brother-In-Law came down to say that Husband slept through most of the movie and he didn't want him sleeping on his nice new couch but he couldn't wake him up enough to move him (as in, Husband was going Grrrrrr every time Brother-In-Law tried to get him to go to bed). So I head up there to see what I can do. This is where the fun begins! hehehehehe

I shake Husband, tell him to get up and go get in bed. He squints out of one eye and gives me the total stink eye. And just grrrrrrrr's at me until I can get him to get in bed. Then he starts kicking his leg and saying he wants some milk. This is how it goes:

Husband: GIMME SOME MILK!!
Me: Why, does your TUMMY hurt?!
Husband: Noooooo, GIMME SOME MILK!
Me: Why do you want milk?
Husband: I'm not telling you everything!
Me: BAAahahAHAha!
Husband: IT'S NOT FUNNY!
Me: What's not funny?
Husband: GIMME SOME MILK!
Me: Tell me why you want some milk!
Husband: Errrrrrrrrrrrrrmmmmm, go make oldest daughter get it!
Me: She's asleep!
Husband: WAKE HER UP!
Me: NO. Ask Sister.
Husband: SISTER?! Gimme some milk?!
Me: She can't hear you.
Husband: GIMME SOME MILK!!
Me & Sister: HAHAHAHAHAHAHHAHA
Husband: I WANT SOME MILK!! GIMME SOME MILK!!

Then we went in my sister's room to tell Brother-In-Law what was happening and Husband came stomping down the hall (I was a little scared), and went downstairs in the complete dark and got some milk. After I woke him up and told him what he'd done, he said he had heart burn and wanted some milk, but didn't remember any of the conversation. Oh, seriously guys, if your husband talks in his sleep, you gotta have some fun with it, its just priceless.

So now I'm back, and I promise never to leave you again! Maybe. Unless I go on another vacation. Sorry.

p.s. Tell me you missed me so I feel better about all the catching up I'm doing. Or because it makes me feel good. Or because you did something bad and you need goody points to make up for it. Or just because. :)

My Husband, the Six Year Old

Every once in awhile my husband talks in his sleep.

This started right after we first were married. The first time I remember him talking in his sleep, he rolled over and said ever so sweetly, "The perfect snowflake..."

I was shocked! I looked over at him, saw that he was completely asleep and proceeded to bust up laughing. Its hysterical when he talks in his sleep!

Over the years, I've come to realize that when my husband's asleep, I think in his mind he is somewhere from six to twelve years old. I know this because he talks like a little kid, in this soft, high pitch, sort of whiney voice. Its cute and hilarious all at the same time!

Some nights I can tell he's going to talk, usually he's gone to bed early and I've stayed up late to um....I don't know, blog or something. (duh) I've also tried really hard to have conversations with him, and I could really do that if I could just stop laughing long enough to actually talk to him...

This is my favorite "conversation" we've had of all time:

Husband rolling around on the bed, moaning.

Me: Whats wrong?!

Husband: (remember, this is in a little kid whiney voice) My tummy hurts!

Me: *cracking up* You're tummy hurts?! (Oh and keep in mind, I talk to him like a mom talks to a baby, very cooey) :)

Husband: Yeah, my tummy hurts bad!

Me: *snickering* WHY?!

Husband: I ate rocks!

Me: *shaking with laughter* You ate rocks?!

Husband: Yeah, BIG ONES! Eeerrrrrrmmmm... (rolling around again)

Me: *trying not to pee my pants* Big ones huh? Are you okay?

Husband: Yeah, I want my mommy!

Me: *peeling laughter all over again* Really. Who's your mommy?

Husband: Grrrrrrrrrr (rolls over)

Me: *hehehehehehe* Husband?! Husband?! Who do you love?

Husband: I love my mommy.

Me: *immediately stops laughing, eyes narrowing* Who ELSE do you love?

Husband: I love Melinda...

Me: *Grinning again--that's right sucka* Do you love oldest daughter?

Husband: Mmmm hmmmmm, we play toys!

Me:*BAAAA HAHAHAHA* OH yeah? What kind of toys?

Husband: I like baseball.

Me: *Duh, he loves baseball. Rolling eyes.* Where are your toys?

Husband: At home, in my toy box.

Me: *deep breaths in and out.* Oh, you have a toy box?!

Husband: Mmmmmm hmmmmmm, a BIG one!

Me: *AAHHHHHH HAHAHAHA* HUSBAND!! HUSBAND!!! WAKE UP WAKE UP!!! DO YOU KNOW WHAT YOU'VE BEEN SAYING?!?!

I can only last so long people. Then I have to wake him up and tell him how hilarious he is. He usually looks at me with sleep in his eyes, nods and rolls over. A little annoyed. But I love it. I totally love it.

I used to talk in my sleep, but now I'm not even sure I know what real sleep is anymore. To talk in my sleep would require actually going into REM mode or whatever, and since I barely close my eyes before some child is awake and crying, I wouldn't know what REM even is. But you know, its all worth it if I get to talk to Husband while he's asleep...

Some other time I'll tell you other reasons where my Husband acts like a six year old. :)

Hideous on the Outside AND the Inside

I just got off the phone with my older sister. She's only a year and a half older than me, and we get along like peanut butter and jelly. She is the mack mammy, and totally on the hizzle. yo dizzle.

So, I was thinking of some of the fun times my sister and I have had together and I came upon such a memory that probably shouldn't be shared, but I will anyway because I feel like it.

My sister and I used to go into the bathroom, shut the door, stand next to one another and turn to the mirror. When we were ready, we would start making the most hideous faces we could think of. HID-E-OUS. We would laugh hysterically at ourselves and make another face. Sometimes a face would be so bad we'd tell each other: "You should never make that face again. That one was really bad." Because we looked out for each other like that.

Good times we had. Good times...Like when my cousin moved in with my grandparents next door, we were just kids at the time. We would tell her that we were professional tap dancers and would tap dance everywhere we went. We played lots of fun little jokes on this cousin (she's about a year younger than me). Oh, like when body glitter was all the rage, we would mark our arms up and say that fairies bit us. Or my sister would talk in different accents and say it was her real voice, and the cousin would say "Stop that, talk in your REAL voice!" and my sister would change to a different accent and say that that really WAS her REAL voice!! hahahaha

Aaaaaahhhhhh, good times.

Although I feel like I should tell you something. Something about that cousin. I would hate to not be honest with you. Well... that cousin is.....well, um.... slightly handicapped...(hanging head in shame). Before you light the torches and bring out the pitchforks, let me explain. I said slightly, as in she isn't declared by the state as handicapped, but she isn't completely "normal" like you and me. She's very smart and intelligent and a great girl. The thing is, that this cousin LOVES attention, LOVES it. So we knew when we were teasing her like that, that she knew we were teasing and that she loved the game of it all. So really, we were good kids. GOOD. I promise.

Either that or we're totally going to hell.

Now go in the bathroom and smoosh up your face in awful poses and get a good laugh okay? Then come back and tell me about some of your sibling memories. :)

(Hey sis, sorry to sort of throw you under the bus there. You know I think you're awesome. Although, maybe I sort of blame you if I go to hell.... hee hee. Kidding.)

You can't MAKE me GO, I only do it so my internal organs don't burst.

I have a fear of using the bathroom. And by fear, I mean I'm too lazy to get up and use the bathroom when my body tells me the first time.

It's been a long running problem. Since I was a little kid. And I just can't get past it. There are three things I absolutely hate that I have no control over.
1. Sleeping: I HATE sleeping! Think of all those hours wasted! All the time I could've gotten things done (i.e. reading blogs), cleaned my house, read books--WASTED! Just laying there, not even feeling rested when I get up. I hate it.
2. Eating: it's not that I don't enjoy food, because heaven knows I likey the foody. But I don't like HAVING to eat when I don't want to. I'm busy doing other things (i.e reading blogs), and I don't want to have to take time out because my stomach is screaming at me to EAT ALREADY!
3. Bathrooming: it never seems to fail when I'm right in the middle of doing something important (i.e. READING BLOGS) that I have to go to the bathroom. The baby's crying, my toddler's spilt milk all over and I'm trying to fix the CHAOS, but no--let's put that all on hold to pee. It always comes up at the worst times.

When I was in elementary school (and middle school and high school...) I would wake up in the morning, relieve my bladder, go to school, HOLD IT ALL DAY, take the bus home, RUN down our dead end road (to our second to the last house) in a dead sprint before I peed all over myself. Ask my sister. After awhile I would just start skipping and sing "Skip, skip, SKip to my Lou" all the way home trying not to pee my pants. It was my pee pee song. ALL THROUGH HIGH SCHOOL. When I was like ten or maybe even eleven, I had an accident. I walked home with our neighbor boy, and when we got to his house I knew I could not hold it in one more second. I couldn't. He started walking through his yard to his house. I stood there and stared after him. Legs tight together like a tin soldier. He kept checking back to why I was just standing there, staring at him. The look on my face must have shown that something was not right, because he never said anything, he never came back toward me, he just looked at me eyes wide. And I just let it go. It was too painful to hold anymore. I turned a couple inches at a time, following his movement toward his house, so he couldn't see the evidence. After he went inside (he probably had nightmares about me that night "Was she possessed?! Was she frozen in place?! What was she DOING?!"), I turned and ran the rest of the way home. (Did you know that pee on your legs is kind of stingy/itchy? Too much information? Oh, sorry.) Don't worry I got everything changed and in the laundry before anyone knew. Although I'm sure my mom isn't that stupid, I bet she figured out what was going on.

So you see, its a problem I've struggled with for years. I just hate peeing. I hate the monotony of it. I hate the time it takes away from me (i.e. okay, you get it! By the by, I do do other things occasionally...hehe I said do do!).

If you have a secret you want to share, you can head over here. And even better, its ANONYMOUS, so you don't have to disgust people like I just did. Yay!

UPDATE: Maybe someday they'll make one of these for women and all my problems would be solved. Atleast my bathroom problems.

David Sedaris on Letterman - watch more funny videos

Bermuda, Bahama, Come On Pretty Mama!

It is SO COLD out right now! I mean DUH, its winter--but I'm so cold!! My feet just can't warm up and I'm about to just start walking around in full on long johns people (yes, only long johns, because that is dang sexy!). For the most part I don't mind change in weather, there's usually something pretty awesome about every season. I like the winter just fine, I just don't like being cold! I like playing in the snow, but I don't like being cold! I adore the way the snow sparkles, but I HATE getting stuck in our freakin' driveway! (Bet you thought I was going to say I don't like being cold! Neener neener HA ha! I'm so tricky...) So every night I crawl into bed in my footed pajamas, curled in a tight ball trying to keep as much warmth near me as possible. And I dream. I dream about summer and the heat and the beautiful sunshine (and how I won't appreciate it when its here, and I'll post about how freakin' hot it is...). And I started dreaming about summer's when I was a kid.

One wonderful summer, when I was in my pre-teen years, the neighbor's and I were really into building things. First off, I need to explain that my parents own just about three acres of property. We lived on a dead end street with a total of five neighbors (all old people except for two of them). The people right at the end of the street were rich and had a huge house, they didn't play with us. But the people right next to us had three kids, all around the same age as my older siblings and me. The neighbors we played with had like three or four huge chicken coops, huge, more like long barns. Long barns filled with CRAP! Old stuff and hay and farm stuff and just a bunch of junk--filled to the brim! So we would take stuff out of there and build other useless stuff with it.

We built this fort, that had TWO rooms, oh yeah we were awesome. We even put a lock on it and kept a key for it so no one would get in! We also had blackberry bushes EVERYWHERE. So we would crawl through the bushes, making tunnels until we would find a spot where the branches weren't so close and it would open up into a "room." It was magical! Like our own private world where no one bugged us and we could do whatever we wanted! We'd bring food and toys and whatnot and play out there in the bushes for hours.

One day I decided I REALLY needed a swing. My parents have a bunch of apple trees and some cherry trees, but on one of those trees not a swing to be found. So I went out to one of the crap holders--I mean chicken coops, and found some old rope and a piece of wood. I threw that rope up over a high branch and tied it in a knot. Then threw another piece over and tied another knot. Then I stuck the board into the loops and sat down.

SMACK!

I fell right on my tookus! The rope had come untied and dropped me like Oprah on a diet! I would *like* to say I gave up my endeavors, I would like to, but I can't. I tried over and over and over to build a stinkin swing! Falling on my butt so hard I swear I broke my coccyx, but I WOULD NOT give up!!



Okay after awhile I gave up.

I could never get that stupid swing to work for me (and now you know I'm sort of like a fly trying to go out a shut window--over and over and over again...)! So NEXT time I EVER make a swing again, it will look something like this:



Also something I'll be dreaming about...