I spy a booty in the sky

I feel so guilty about neglecting the blog lately. Weird, I know. I do have a lot to write about but it's 11, and I'm planning on getting up to spin at 5:15 so now is not the time. Until I get my act together, here's a fun "I spy" activity for you. I was in NYC Friday night and there was this strange, amazing sky at around 8 o'clock. The clouds were the most unusual shape, many in the form of body parts. 

See if you can spot J-Lo's ass:

Grateful

I have been feeling very angry lately. I'm trying to get to the bottom of it. I'll write more on that later, but first I have to share this video that a friend posted on facebook. I had just had another conversation with a different friend about the power of gratitude. And then this video popped up on my screen. I'm still wiping the snot off my face.

The skunk whisperer cures the funk

I've been in a horrible, rain induced funk all day (oh fine all week).  But the skunk whisperer pulled me out of it with his ridiculously simple love for small furry things.

Young Raccoons Saved from Pepsi Machine @ Yahoo! Video

I'm now craving Diet Pepsi.

p.s. I want one of those t-shirts.

Something for the ladies

My 9 year old son's writing has really blossomed this year.  He has a great sense of the fact that he's writing to an audience.  In this excerpt, he gives his female readers a little something to sink their teeth into:

"...(Arnold) Supersleuth was rather handsome for a detective.  He was tall, he had a long, flowing mustache, big strong arms, hard muscular legs and a perfect face with shiny white teeth and eyes that don't need glasses..."

He had me at flowing mustache.

My legacy

We all have our roles, our purposes on this big blue marble.  Mine (aside from roasting meat) is to pull my friends' minds into the gutter with me.  I have so many friends say things like, "oh my god, I had crazy PMS and I thought of you!"  Or, "I ate a Fiber One bar and had horrible gas, guess who I had to tell about it?"  And of course, "my fruit bowl arranged itself in a totally phallic manner and I tried to call you."  First of all, I am honored.  Second of all, keep it coming.  Boys shouldn't hold all license to the plethora of sophomoric humor out there.

In this vein, I LOVE the fact that my friend and oft mamalikes commenter Susie took the time to send me this gem of a photo she took while in NYC's Korea Town over the weekend.  Her e-mail title to me was, "Oh no they didn't."  Perfection.  Cause oh yes they did.

A mob boss is born

As per the usual weekend routine around here, my boys spent too much time in the same room and started having fights.  This one was a new one.

Apparently the 9 year old was trying to "sell" the 5 year old "fort insurance" and became frustrated when he wouldn't shell out.  Why does one need "fort insurance" I inquired.  I was informed that you need it for when your fort falls down due to shoddy construction and you have to move into your older brother's fort while it's being repaired (by the older brother's fort construction firm).

  

Who does he buy it from?  The older brother in question of course.  Who also gave him the "puny" pillows to start with.

Tony Soprano would be so freakin' proud.

Equilibrium

Since I posted my ugly nubbin today I thought I should balance that out with something beautiful.  My girlfriend sent me this video via facebook.  Look at these faces.  Absolutely beautiful.

The nubbin

For those of you who read my blog and think surely she must be exaggerating about things like my zits this post is for you.  A few days ago I looked in the mirror and was horrified by a huge goose egg forming on my head.  With all the supplements I've been taking, we all knew there was a possibility I might grow a third nipple.  I just didn't realize it would be visible to the world. 

Exhibit A:  The nubbin

A second view of the nubbin to give it some perspective: 

Do you see how far this thing is sticking out?  My older son who normally would just make fun of me was very sympathetic.  "Wow mom, that looks bad.  I'm really sorry."

My husband who usually says "you can't see it" suggested ice. 

It only got worse from here.  The goose egg morphed into a big squishy Frankenstein square that took up half of my forehead.  I wore a baseball cap for two days.

The saddest part is the boob on my forehead was so much perkier than than the real ones!  Waaah!

Tri-ing my patience

For those interested, I'm doing my second guest blogging installment on Fitness For Mommies today.

Check it out and tell me how to deal with my damn foot!  Please?

Raising Don Rickles

My five year old is a piece of work lately.  Just had this conversation:

(Me on the back porch, him in the back yard)

Me:  "What do you want for lunch?"

Him:  "Nothing yet!" (This is the third time I've gotten this answer)

Me:  "It's almost 2 o'clock, you need to eat something."

Him:  (Pointing a stick at me) "Don't rush me lady!"

Jersey & The formative years

To be fair, I don't know if I have Nickelodeon or Jersey to thank for this exchange with my five year old this morning before school.  He has lived here since he was 18 months old however....

Me:  "It's raining out, you're going to need your coat with a hood."

Him: "Then find my coat.  Capiche?"

I sware da gad that's exactly what he said.

Would you rather...

Sleep in the driveway for 24 hours

OR

Be a worm for two days

I answered "worm" because I thought it would be interesting to see the world through the perception of a different species.  The response?  "But then you wouldn't see US!"  Then why, oh why do you ask me these questions little man?

These eyes

These eyes are cryin’
These eyes have seen a lot of loves
But they’re never gonna see another one like I had with you.

p.s.  because I'm old and blind now.

Sometime in the last year or so I started having intense, searing headaches every night.  Of course this meant only one thing.  Brain tumor.  The fact that I was squinting at my 52 inch flat screen TV should have been a little bit of a hint that it could have something to do with my peepers.  So I went to the eye doctor and had my first eye exam in years.  The verdict:  I'm screwed.  I needed two different prescriptions, one for distance and one for reading.  This meant two pairs of very expensive glasses.  When I came home in them my older son had this to say, "mom, no offense, but you look ugly in those glasses."  (I've tried to explain to him that just saying "no offense" prior to saying something does not mean that the person will actually not take offense, especially if you say something really awful to them, but that seems to be sinking in about as much as don't pee on the seat).

Cut to present day.  Or a few months ago when I started hitting parked cars.  The first one was in a Trader Joe's parking lot.  I left a note and a very grateful woman called my house before I even got home to inform my husband of the day's events.  Then I did it again about a month ago (yes, I left ANOTHER note).  I mentioned this to my eye doctor and she was concerned so today I did a "field of vision" test.  Basically, you put a patch on one eye, look into a white box, follow a red light with your eye and then hit a buzzer every time you see a green light on the screen in your peripheral vision.  Each eye takes 8 minutes.  My score was PERFECT.  Bottom line, apparently I've just become a horribly shitty driver.  In fact, I'm such a bad driver that today my kids and I were going to a picnic and I was parking the van on the street and heard a terrible scraping/crunching noise.  I just assumed it was me.  After I stopped swearing, I realized it was the woman in the Mercedes across the street from me - PHEW!

Now I'm trying contacts, which is a whole post in itself.  But I'll save that for another day.

p.s. I have no idea what's going on with the font on this post, but I can't even drive, how am I supposed to figure this out?

Got a dime bag?

Remember a few posts ago when I was waxing on about how much my skin had improved?  I take it back.  I have the complexion of a crack whore today.

And the only fix I'm looking for is made out of dark chocolate.  

p.s. DEA - that title is a joke.