I'm really not that busy

Finding hilarity in the mundane since 2008

Monthly Archives: October 2009

Invaded in San W

Click here to see Jack being stalked by an alien in San Diego.


Extreme attachment parenting

This weekend Cooper decided to become a baby pervert. On Friday he was eating some chicken. It was too hot so he said. “Blow me, mama.” Then on Saturday he unzipped my sweatshirt, looked at the t-shirt under it and said, “Is that your shirt?” I confirmed that I was indeed wearing my own clothing, to which he replied, “Take it off.”

Clearly, Cooper needs to start daycare.

Or open a strip club.

The garage is clean

And now, an amateur video to thank my husband


Compare and contrast

I love Glee!  It’s the most entertaining TV I’ve seen in years.  Last night they did “Bust A Move” by Young MC.  I think I might have inadvertently squealed with delight.  But, as much as I love the show, it’s completely unrealistic.  Here’s a clip of the glee club’s first run through of “Bust a Move”

Of course it brought me right back to my high school days when I was in a band (sort of). Here’s a recording of real high school students performing “Bust a Move” after months of practice.

I’m not saying the second version is bad (because it’s awesome).  I’m just saying the first version is really good TV and nothing more.

A picture’s worth 1000 blogs

In this photo I am attempting to write a post.  Cooper is sitting on my back, sans clothing, asking to watch Pinky Dinky Doo, and putting turkey bacon in my hair.  This pretty much sums up my life.
Photo 21

I’ve learned my lesson. No more cooking dinner

I left my new MacBook Pro unattended to make dinner and this is what happened:

The End.

That would be a regrettable choice

On the way to school this morning I was listening to Jack sing along to a nice, uplifting kids song about making good choices.  Here’s what he sang:

We don’t want to be, be regretting, the choices we make, the horses we ate…

Regrettable indeed.

Dora the Annoyer

I like to make-up my own words to songs I find annoying.  I’ve twisted theme songs to most of the children’s programs my boys love.  I have a song for Calliou, Sponge-Bob, and Barney.  The Barney song is rated NC-17 for extreme violence.  I also have my own version of several Wiggles songs that walk the R/X line.  Dora is the latest to make the cut.  These lyrics are totally PG and Jack thinks they’re hysterical.

Dora, Dora, Dora the Annoyer.
Boots is super lame and Dora’s a horror.
Grab your earplugs!
Please go!
Too late!
I will run away…
From! Home!
Doo Doo Dora. You’re annoying.
Doo Doo Dora. You’re a horror.
Swiper is a klepto!
Swiper is a klepto!
Dora the Annoyer!


Lemons to lemonade

Tuesday has officially become CRAP UNDER THE BED DAY for the cat.  Today she didn’t wait until the cleaning ladies showed up to remind me how she feels about their presence.  She got a jump on things and pooped under my bed at 7:25 a.m.

7:25 was one-hundred and fifteen minutes after the alarm went off from somewhere under my bed, blaring at me at ever increasing decibels until I finally found it.  7:25 was ninety minutes after I lost both contacts in the shower due to an unfortunate shampoo in the eyes incident.  7:25 was seventy minutes after I painfully twisted my knee doing nothing more strenuous than moving from a seated to standing position.  7:25 was thirty minutes after I ingested six teaspoons of children’s liquid pain reliever because there was no adult medicine in the house.  7:25 was ten minutes after I cleaned out the cat box and filled it with all new litter in hopes of enticing her to use it for her Tuesday crap fest.  7:25 was five minutes after I hobbled out to the curb with the trash (including the old litter box contents) only to realize I had missed the garbage truck.  7:25 was one minute after Cooper began a screaming tantrum because I wouldn’t allow him to eat taffy at 7:24 a.m.

7:25 was the culmination of a seriously sucky morning.

Things picked up at 7:27.  The giant, smelly pile of cat shit was touching an old handbag that had somehow found its way under the bed.  As far as I’m concerned, a smear of cat shit on your purse makes it a goner.  I gingerly checked the contents of the bag before tossing it because I’ve been known to leave important things in old bags.  The only item I found was a small ziplock containing three ibuprofen and a xanax.  I swallowed the xanax right then and pocketed the ibuprofen for when the cherry flavored kiddy meds wear off.  It wasn’t exactly a lemons to lemonade moment as my title implied, but pills in the poo doesn’t strike me as a phrase that will catch on.

I get knocked down like an oven mitt

You’re never gonna keep me down.

Only one person in my life has any clue what this means.  Inside jokes are rude, so I’ll share…

Do you remember the song Tubthumping by Chumbawamba?  


Where were you in 1997?  Clearly you weren’t “pissing the night away.”  Neither was I actually, but that was back when I listened to the radio in my car.  No ipods, no satellite radio, hell a CD player in your car was an expensive add-on.  Because we were slaves to some radio programmer’s insanity, this song was inescapable.  Sadly, for as much as I heard the song, I still could never get the words right.  “I get knocked down like an oven mitt”, was as close as I could get.

Back in those days, I worked in a doctor’s office with a beautiful girl named Sarea.  She was smart, funny, strong in her beliefs, but open to anything you wanted to discuss.  Including your inability to understand the words to a popular song no matter how many times you heard it. We both moved on to better jobs in 1998, had kids, lost touch.  My life was so busy that I didn’t feel the loss of her right away, but she began to wonder through my thoughts often over the last few years.  Then we found each other through facebook.

What a gift!  We had a few little exchanges through facebook and our blogs.  She has one too, cool, huh?  But, we had trouble coordinating a face-to-face reunion.  Finally, she managed to come to my Mom’s Night Out on Friday.  She was a bit late, so her appearance was like a gold star on an already A+ paper.  I immediately jumped up and gave her a huge hug.  I am not a hugger, even after a few margaritas, so she and the other girls knew her presence was a big deal to me.

Okay, that’s enough gushing about Sarea.  Let’s switch to Mom’s Night Out.

Nice transition, not.

  • I made a joke about MILF dwarfs.  Before I started drinking.  It went downhill from there.
  • Sarea and I shocked a table full of kids with our colorful language.  Don’t take your kids to a Mexican restaurant at 9 p.m. on a Friday night, morons.
  • Melonie did her Miss Arkansas walk for us every time she went to the restroom.  She was a big hit with the waiters.
  • Kim ignored about ten phone calls from her husband.  Hell yeah!  Hope you’re allowed to come back.
  • I sat entirely too far from Nan to have anything on her, but I’ll get her next time.
  • Hallie is pregnant and adorable.  Can’t wait ’til she can pump and dump and join the party.
  • Heather was funny and totally ran with the Dwarf joke.  I’m gonna love her, hope she comes back!
  • Dana, spent the night laughing at the rest of us.  I’ll get her next time too.
  • Jana ended up driving my car home because she was less drunk than me.  Less drunk is a relative term if I ever heard one.  

I came home, made A LOT of noise, threw up, got it in my hair, took a shower, and went to bed with wet hair.  No hangover though, cause I get knocked down like an oven mitt, but you’re never gonna keep me down.


This morning I thought it was 16 degrees.  I could see from the window that it was clearly wet, but not freezing outside.  Also, it rarely gets that cold here, even in the dead of winter.  Plus, the heat was not on, yet the house was a comfortable 68 degrees.  These facts did not sway me.  I am ready for some cold weather and my iphone said it was 16 degrees.  Who the hell am I to doubt a device that can email, facebook, text, access the full internet, provide games, count each step I take, and play songs?  Oh yeah, I think it makes phone calls too.  I promptly dressed in a sweater and warm boots.  Finally I realized that my weather settings had been switched to Celsius.


Catching up

As you could probably guess from my last post, things have been a bit off in the Collins house.  Writing hasn’t been a priority for me.  It’s sort of settled down now and I am ready to dive back into the blog.

Now, just because I haven’t been writing, that doesn’t mean the general strangeness of life hasn’t been occurring.  So, in my usual catch-up fashion, I am giving you a lazy bullet point post of all the thoughts I want to share.  I wish I had been taking some notes over the last ten days.  I’ll do my best…

  • I completely stopped shaving my legs when Tony’s pain started.  He wasn’t interested in seeing them and it’s been cool enough for jeans, so what’s the point, right?  I finally shaved them last night because Jack called me man-legs.  For real.  He’s seven-years-old and called his mother MAN-LEGS.  I’m so proud.
  • I actually diagnosed Tony with shingles before he went to the doctor, and before he had the tell-tale blisters.  Too bad I’m so lazy squeamish, I would be a kick-ass diagnostician.
  • I have cleaned up twelve piles of poop since I last wrote.  Ten were of feline origin (nine located on top of the dryer, one under the bed).  Two were of human origin.  Cooper is proving difficult to potty train.
  • I took a picture of a pile of Cooper poop and emailed it to Tif.  She was at dinner with friends and showed it to them.  I am telling you this to demonstrate that I’m not the only freak in the family.
  • Jack scored his first (and possibly last) soccer goal.  He described it to me in great detail.  It sounded like a complete fluke.  I’m so proud.
  • Cooper has finally started saying please and thank you.
  • Jack lost a front upper tooth.  I thought he would look cute like this.  I was wrong.  He looks like trailer trash.  I want to dress him in nothing but knit polos and cardigans to counteract the hillbillyishness.
  • I made up a new word: hillbillyishness.
  • Cooper’s hair is so long it looks like he has the Dorothy Hamill cut.
  • I worked the book fair at Jack’s school and did a little subbing at his school.  I have decided I don’t like kids.
  • There is a weird phenomenon having to do with the earth’s electromagnetic fields where you can sometimes make a broom stand on it’s own.  It won’t work at my house, but it does work at Jack’s school.  I know it’s for real because I “accidentally” knocked one of the standing brooms down and stood it up again (Oh, like you wouldn’t have done the same thing). Check out these photos:

That’s all for now.  Thanks for sticking with me!

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