Oink Oink

So, what's up with this swine flu? Oh, I'm sorry, excuse me...we're supposed to call it H1N1. Apparently, a lot of people are thinking that because it's swine flu, we can get it from eating pork products and the butchers across the world are getting all in a tizzy about it. Basically, it's the love child of the avian flu, the swine flu, and the human flu. All mixed together and then mutated. It's the perfect storm. When I think of a mutated virus strain, I picture teeny tiny microscopic zombies walking around and infecting people. Thank goodness we don't all walk around with microscopes, because HEEBIE JEEBIES! That'd be a terrifying site to behold.

You can prevent infection, however. Mostly common sense stuff. Wash your hands frequently. Use some of that alcohol-based hand sanitizer. Cover your sneezes and coughs. Don't breathe in when someone around you sneezes or coughs. Just don't breathe at all, if you can help it. Don't make out with strangers. And for heaven's sake, don't make out with pigs. Or birds.

Take two a day and call me in the morning,
Dr. Ruth

In the News

Normally, there's nothing in the news that's worthy enough to warrant me giving it attention, but occasionally, stories are just thrown in my face as I'm scouring the Webs. Yes, I know I should be informed and I am, through my grandfather (who is basically a walking talking magnet for political/historical/economical chatter), but I feel that most news stations have their own agenda and sway stories one way or another. And most of them are meant to instill fear in people so those people will keep checking with them for updates on this "frightful situation." And the news only gives the bad news...what about the good/ridiculous news? Why not show more of these stories? (I hate Yahoo News, btw. AT&T decided to pair up with Yahoo for email and so now I have to check my email through Yahoo...lame...so, their news junk is all over the place and I can't help but read.)


Don't Make Me Stop This Car!

The girls were fighting. The mom told them to get out and "walk home." She drove one block and swung back around to pick them up and they were gone. They were later found safe and sound. Was the mom a bad mom and should she be punished? YES! I would have driven two blocks.


Goodbye, Doggie

Small dog gets blown away by wind. Found by pet psychic. Several questions here...is it normally that windy in Michigan? What is a pet psychic? How do you grow dogs that small? But the real question here is, why did you name your dog Tinker Bell?

While Rome burned...

It was February 14, 1986. I was 3 years old...my sister, Sara, was 5. Sara was in a deep, meaningful relationship with her 6-year old boyfriend, Ainsley Taylor. They were going to be 2getha4eva. They were the most popular couple in kindergarten. She was the tallest kid (freak) in school and he had the curliest hair and bluest eyes. They had been "going together" for 2 weeks. Sigh. They were meant to be. So, of course, when Valentine's Day rolled around that school year, what choice did Ainsley have other than to present Sara, his beloved, with a gift befitting a queen...a 6-pack box of chocolates. When she arrived home from school that day, she paraded her chocolate treasure around the house for everyone, including me, to see. Ostentatious little brat. 

It was February and cold outside. Dad had set out the ashes from the fire earlier that morning to cool. Since they had been sitting out all day, Mom assumed they were fine to be thrown out in the bone dry grass that covered the back pasture. Dad arrived home not too long after Sara and as we were all catching up on each other's day–Sara rambling on and on and on about her stupid chocolate–Mom looked out of the kitchen window and noticed some smoke trailing up into the sky. She and Dad rushed outside onto the back porch to see the pasture ablaze. Mom did her normal "the whole world is gonna burn down!" routine and her and Dad scurried, blankets in hand, towards the danger. Mom yelled back at me and Sara, watching wide-eyed through the screen porch, "You girls stay there!" 

Well, Sara, being the pyro-expert that she was, decided, "Hmm, I should probably help, too, seeing as how I recently learned to stop, drop and roll in Mrs. Lassiter's homeroom." So, off she goes to "help." I, being perfect, decided to stay on the porch. But, watching two adults and a know-it-all kid put out a field fire gets kind of yawn-worthy after a bit, so I decided to rummage through my sister's belongings...I was never allowed in her room. Apparently, all things pure and good cannot enter the lair of darkness. 

I sifted through her model horses (just to verify that I did, indeed, have a way better collection)...perused through her Nancy Drew books...tried on some shoes...but there, on her bed, gleaming with the light of a thousand suns...the box of chocolates from Ainsley Taylor. (cue angels singing) Surely if this was left on the bed out in the open, she meant it for me to find. Why else would such a prize be left unguarded. After a few moments, I reasoned that Sara had truly left the box for me and I snatched it up and ran back to the porch. When I got to the porch, I looked down to see that two of the pieces were gone. Huh. That's weird. I looked at my hands...chocolate smudges on my fingertips. I must have eaten some on the way over. I don't even remember that. I must have blacked out. I pressed my nose to the screen...cheering on my family...encouraging them in their brave endeavor, "Put it out! Wave the blankets harder! Good job!" I looked down...three more pieces of the delectable nuggets of happy were gone...one piece left. I should probably save this one for Sara...to let her know I appreciate her sharing with me. Through the screen, I see three soot-covered silhouettes walking back towards the house. "Well done, family." They had succeeded in quenching the fire's thirst for dry land. As I turn to make my way back into the house to prepare a pitcher of lemonade for my, no doubt, parched parents and sibling, I glanced at the now empty container that once held six beautiful and decadent bites of joy. My face and the front of my shirt must have eaten the majority of the chocolate, for both were smeared with the goodness. Unashamed, I hastily retreated to Sara's room and placed the closed box on her bed just as it had been when I first discovered it. They would never know. 

I trotted gleefully back to the porch, to find my family dusting themselves off...like weary travelers...Mom looked at me briefly and smiled as she averted her focus to shaking her socks clean. She paused, and slowly turned her head towards me again...no smile this time. 

"Ruth, what have you been eating?" 

"Eating? What? Woman, you must have smoke inhalation poisoning or something. I've been here, on the porch, the whole time."

"There is chocolate all over your face." 

At this point, Sara had loped to her bedroom, not caring about the trail of ashes she left behind. When she reached her bedroom, her cries of woe bellowed from her heart of hearts...those sounds now infamous as the Mourning of 1986. She ran back to the porch, empty box in hand. 

"MOOOOOOOOOOM! She ate ALL of my chocolate!" 

"Yeah, that wasn't me."

"Ruuuuth Leslie! I can't believe you! That was Sara's chocolate!" 

"And it was delicious." 

Moral of the story, don't leave a 3-year old chocolate addict unattended. And if you parade around in front of your little sister like the Queen of England, she will bring you down a few levels. 

The Many Faces of McNugget

Our dear friends, Billy and Elizabeth, were recently joined by a new member of the family, Mr. Carter. Yes, his first name is Carter, not Mister. But, I call him McNugget...because, well, he looked like a McNugget when he was cooking (growing) in the oven (womb). I had to clarify because some human rights folks would say something about me cooking babies. Anyways. He's stinking adorable...complete with two dimples and chubby cheeks. We finally got to visit them this weekend...a month after McNugs was born. He makes so many faces...I counted about 17 when I was holding him. He has a whole comedy routine. Feeling down? No problem. Go hold McNugget. I tried to get a few of them to show you guys. Billy and Beth, I'll send y'all these on a disc. :) 

"Oh...did I...who...what...huh?

"Hey, listen...it's all good. S'cool...chillax...yeaaahh......."

"Uh thank you...uh thank you very much."

"Acupuncture! Wrong nerve!" 

"I have an idea. Yep...yes, that's definitely an idea. Oh wait. Nope. That's just my diaper talking." 

"Meat loaf...sweet cream corn...arugula salad...sweet tea...blackberry cobbler...that's the stuff. Man, I need some teeth."

"Huh? Did you call me? Oh, yeah yeah...I know what a Shar Pei is. Why do you ask? My forehead? What?"

"Gloooory, glooory, Halleluuuuujah...."

"Uh, yeah, grab me a Sierra Mist while you're up." 

The fam.

Who Visits My Blog?

I have a counter on my blog that lets me know how many people visit a day, where they're visiting from, and the steps it took them to get to my blog if they didn't go to the page directly. It's a fun little gadget. It comes with a map and shows me where the people are located...at least where it's pulling their ISP from. Whitney, sometimes you come from Tennessee and California. Eric, sometimes you come from Virginia and New Hampshire. It also gives me your SSN and credit card info. Ha, just kidding. Or am I..........

I have three readers up in Canada. Hello, Canada. G'day! No, wait, that's Australia. Eh? Yes...eh, it is. 

If my blog gets hit by a Google search, it shows me what the person typed in to key in a hit. A common one is "King Bogue of the Netherlands." That one's easy. I don't know who King Bogue is, but I'm pretty sure he's got rights to the name. Sometimes, it'll find words in a single post and bring my blog up on Google. Recently, someone hit the post that I wrote this past Christmas about going to the kids' Christmas play at our church and the baby in front of us kept staring at me. This is what someone typed in on Google that eventually brought up my blog...

I've been laughing for about 3 days straight now because of this. I'm also a little worried about this person's well-being. So, if you are, in fact, worried about babies staring at you to the point that you have to research it...maybe...well, maybe you should...just, stop worrying. Cuz...it's a baby...it won't hurt you. There are more important things to Google. 

Earth Day

It's Earth Day today. I like flowers. 

Just because you're in shape, or think you're in shape, don't do the Intermediate level of Super Hula Hoop on the Wii Fit. Ever. Because, you won't laugh...or sit up...or move, for a week. Don't ask me how I know this...I just do. 

I'm on hold right now with PetSmart and the grooming salon. For the dog, not me. Who would have thunk they'd be so busy that they'd have to put someone on hold. 

Oh my gosh, Star Trek comes out 16 days!!!! 

How bored were these guys? "Whatcha wanna do today?" "Hmm...let's try to break a world record." "Okay, cool. What do you want to do?" "Let's keep it interesting and text each other." "Okay." 

Thank goodness! I was starting to fret over the spelling of this lake. Whew. Load off my mind. 

Anyways. Happy Earth Day! Go hug a tree. 

Today, my hero is...

Carrie Prejean. 

I'm sure you've all heard or read about the controversial Miss USA pageant question asked by Perez Hilton. Which, really quick, how in the world does he have any business judging a beauty pageant? He's a celebrity gossip blogger. But, whatever. Carrie answered honestly and remained true to her faith. She didn't stumble in her answer like a lot of Hollywood gossip shows said she did. Go youtube it. This wasn't a "Like, uhm, the map...of the Iraqi nations...cuz, you know...maps" moment. She spoke clearly and directly. Perez didn't like it and later went on to rant in his blog that the reason she didn't win (but instead was 1st runner up) was because she was a stupid b****. Yeah, that's a very grown-up and reasonable answer, I would say. Definitely shows me what kind of person he is. I mean, I knew anyway. But, I'm thinking, that's really all you have to say? That she's stupid and then call her a filthy name? Yeah, very mature and logical. And later when Carrie was interviewed, she didn't start slamming Perez for what he called her, but took the higher road. 

I'm not a very political person...wait...ha...let me start that again...I am a VERY political person. But, I usually stay pretty quiet unless you get up in my face, just because I get really fired up. But this is another reason I don't like getting into political debates. I know this isn't political so much, but close enough. People don't have any common sense. They just yell and say dumb things. Apparently, the louder you are and the more language you use, the more "right" you are and you "win." It's just a cycle that I think is a waste of my time, so why bother. You want to argue with me, then come on, but be prepared to walk away crying. See, I'm already getting worked up and we aren't even talking about anything.

Anyways. I just think it's cool she stood firm in what she believed even when she was asked an irrelevant question that had nothing to do with beauty pageant stuff or how she'll be a role model for young girls across America, etc. I'm sure we'll be seeing a lot more of Miss Prejean. 

In other news, I am so excited about this weekend because I FINALLY get to go see my precious buddies' (Billy and Beth) sweet little darling, Carter. It's been like 3 years since he was born (really just a month, but it feels like 3 years) and I finally get to see him! Yay! 

We have softball practice tonight...but I'm going to the batting cages before, because, well, I need the practice. Don't you hate it when you just know you're going to shatter the bat and you put all of your strength behind the swing and it's a perfect pitch and then CLINK...roll roll roll stop. And the ball is actually behind you. You were so bad that the ball jumped through a wormhole and ended up behind you. Sad. Hence, batting cages. 

I'm eating an orange and it's kind of tart and hurts my face, but I love it. I want more! 

Beachin' It with the Girls

So, this past Friday, Sara and I took off work and headed south to meet up with the ladies' group from our home church for a weekend at the beach in sunny Florida. We've been doing this every year for, how long now, Mom? I can't remember. But, it's fabulous. I look forward to it every year. It's just girls sitting around at the beach, doing nothing. It's a perfect weekend. We went shell scavenging, shopping, walking, sunning, eating, napping, chattering, the things girls do. We even had a scavenger hunt that included finding a girdle, a 1966 quarter, a real buffalo nickel, a $2 bill, a zit, a 1957 ("wheatie") penny, dentures and other random stuff. Guess who won? That's right, my team won...me, Sara, Mom, Mamaw and Ms. Di. You be on my team, you'll always win. The only item we lacked was the 1966 quarter. Don't ask how we got the girdle. 

Unfortunately, I didn't take a ton of pictures. I was too busy being l-a-z-y. But while Sara and I were shell searching one morning...

...I scared up a few seagulls. 

...jumped off some dunes. 

...took some pictures of the unsuspecting sistah.

The water wasn't as clear and blue as it normally is, (that usually doesn't come until May) but I won't complain. If you haven't been to a Florida (gulf) beach before, the sand is very fine and white...hence the titles "world's whitest beaches" and "sugar sands." To me, it's perfect.

Adventures with Seumas and Other Important Things

I read somewhere that in order to have a "good blog," you're not supposed to write about your children, your pets or random topics. Today I will write about all three of those. My pets are my furry, adopted children and all I ever write about is random stuff. So, I laugh in your face, stupid article. 

Since I'm at home all day every day by myself (well, not anymore cuz tax season is O-V-E-R!), it's a good thing I have two creatures to keep me company...Blue and Seumas. Seumas and I go for a walk every day after I get done with work. I scoot away from my desk and say, "Ready for a walk?" His ears perk up and he darts to the front door, tail a-waggin'. 

He always stops by to pay his beagle friend a visit through the fence. 

If he's not walking, he's sleeping. 

Sometimes he collapses right in the middle of playing. Like a fuzzy lump. 

Sometimes he watches reruns of America's Next Top Model with me. 

"Them models be CRAAAAZY!" 

But usually his days are spent "playing" with Blue. I think Blue sees it as more of a babysitting job, but we pay her pretty well.

On a completely unrelated note, did you know that you can now buy electronic cigarettes? Eight new flavors! Jeepers, Batman! That's the best news I've had all week! You can kill yourself even quicker now. Yay!

Wednesday, oh beautiful Wednesday...

Well, it's here. Tax season has finally ended. It's over. April 15, I love you. How often do you hear people say that? Well, being the wife of an accountant, it's one of my favorite days of the year. From January 15, I count the hours until it arrives...oh, that blessed day. Even though we both still have to work, it's like the beginning of summer vacation. I get to see my Davey again! I see the mailman more than I see my husband. (Maybe not THAT bad, but close enough.) Tomorrow for lunch, his boss is taking their firm to eat at the nicest steak house restaurant in the city. Claims to have the best steaks in the Southeast. I say that the spouses of the employees should get to come along, too, because we've had to put up with tax season just as much as them. But, I'll settle for David coming home at 5:00 pm again. Yay! Okay, I'll stop with the mushy stuff now. 

We filed our taxes yesterday. Yes, seeing as how he's busy with other people's taxes, he does ours last. 

I have a mug of hot chocolate and a warm bowl of peaches & cream oatmeal beside me. (It's kind of chilly this morning.)

It's going to be a beautiful day today. No rain at all. Just sun. 

We have softball practice tonight with our fabulous team. 

I'm going to the beach this weekend. 

Could it get any better than this? 

God is good. 

In your face, tax season!

So, Sue Me

Well, apparently, you can only write about the weather, something stupid that you did or the weather on your blog. Because now, people are suing other bloggers because they believed what the blogger wrote about on their blog. Blog is a funny word. Did you know it's a smushed word made from "web log"? True story. 

Yeah, so, if you review a product, movie, food, whatever or even just talk about it and how you liked/didn't like it...some crazy person out there is going to sue you because they took your word for it. It's on the news somewhere...David called and told me to "be careful what I write about because people are dumb." 

So, people of Earth...

- the Five Fingers shoes are not for everyone. 

- white girls can't dance as good as me, so don't sign your daughters up for lessons. 

- the cookies at the hotel in Virginia are definitely delicious but they may or may not be the "best cookies in the world," so don't kill yourself trying to get some. I haven't tasted every cookie in the world, so what do I know. 

- the products from Sky Mall magazine may or may not be cool. I dunno. They just look silly to me. I'm going by a picture and short description here, people. 

- the Wii Fit is not mean or Canadian. It's just motivational in a harsh way and it says "eh" a lot. 

If there's anything else, just don't believe me and I don't know what I'm talking about. Swanyways.

Girl, I'm So Sorry

For Erin...because she believed in the Ellen letter the hardest. 

Girl, I'm sorry.

 

Five Fingers

Best. Shoes. Ever. 

You should get some. 

My dear friends Eric and Tris had their baby yesterday morning! It's a boy!! And his name is Reid. And he's perfect. I can't wait to meet him tonight! 

I refuse to get caught up in all this Twitter nonsense. (I'll probably have an account next week.)

I'm really hoping that Sara and Mom will want to go outlet shopping with me next weekend while we're at the beach...please, pretty please? I'm your favorite (and only) sistah, Sara. And Mom, who's given you countless french manicures?

I just don't know if I'm digging my new background. The white was boring, but this pattern hurts my brain. Must think of something else......

Erin, can I call Holland "Moon Child" after she's born?

Night before last, I was boiling David some eggs like he asked me to. Six, to be exact. Set them in the pot...filled it with water...turned it on high. About an hour later, I'm sitting here and I smell something unusual. I've never smelled that before. Thought, "Am I cooking something?" THE EGGS! I ran in there and yep...all of the water had boiled out and the eggs were sitting on the bare bottom of the pot. Poor eggs, looking up at me saying "Why....why?" There was no salvaging them. I've never done that before. 

On the same note, went for a walk the other afternoon. I usually walk against oncoming traffic so I can see the cars coming. Could. not. for. the. life. of. me. remember which side you're supposed to drive on. I actually had to stop and think for a second. I can remember the entire poem of "The Midnight Ride of Paul Revere" from 7th grade, but I can't remember what side of the road to drive on. 

Today is Good Friday...I'm very thankful for it. Because a little less than 2,000 years ago, it was a pretty bad Friday for Someone Else. Someone who took my place...I am undeserving and I am eternally grateful. 

Happy Easter, kids! 

Faves

I have a few websites I frequent frequently. I'd like to share them with you. If you're having a bad day or just love a good, jolly laugh...these sites are for you. 

www.pictureisunrelated.com

www.icanhascheezburger.com

www.ihasahotdog.com

www.failblog.org

Yes, they sound ridiculous and they are, but that's the point.

Peruse. Laugh. Enjoy.

Why? (part deux)

Why do balding men insist on growing their hair out longer in an attempt to prove to society that they do, in fact, have hair? It's not like it's going to grow up and OVER your head. Same with graying men. You realize we can tell that you've dyed it, right? I say, embrace it! The ladies think it's hot. Trust me. Think Bruce Willis in Die Hard 4. Or Vin Diesel. Or Richard Gere in Pretty Woman. Nice....

Why do I get a zit(s) the DAY before I'm meeting someone or attending an event or being interviewed by E! for my True Hollywood Story. Pores, how rude. 

Why does tax season have to be sooooo looooong? I'm so over it. One more week, sweetie pie. 

Why am I so avidly drawn to the sun's harmful radiation of delight? I think I might be a plant. 

Why does the GV brand of Cocoa Puffs have an acidic aftertaste? 

Why did I buy the GV brand of Cocoa Puffs? 

Why am I so cheap? 

Why do I want to punch the neighbor's dog in the face every single day? It might be because he looks like a troll. Or it might be because his pitiful excuse for a bark sends a subliminal message to anyone within range, "Please punch me. Please punch me. I'm a troll dog." 

Why did you decide to take your leisurely drive through the town, going 10 under the speed limit, RIGHT as I'm rushing to make it before the bank closes because I, unlike you, have other things going on during the day. 

Why, neighborhood alliance, does it matter that my water hose is yellow and not green? And why, neighborhood alliance, does it matter that it's visible from the road? It's in a yard. It happens. Chill. And why don't you go pull the multitude of wild onions out of your yard before you complain about the solitary dandelion in mine. 

Why do I love Netflix so much? Oh, because it's awesome. That's why. 

Why am I okay with paying $9.50 to see a new movie when I can wait a month and see the same movie for $1. Oh, because people are murdered at the $1 theater. And because gremlins live in the seats. That's why. 

Why does my cat have a blog? Because she likes to express herself through word-thoughts and haikus. Don't judge. 

Why am I spending my lunch break blogging when it's beautiful and perfect outside? That is a good qwesshun. I'm outsies! 

Your Face is Funny

So, in my family, it's tough to catch a serious picture of someone. We always make silly faces. Don't know why...just do. It's not that we don't take things seriously, it's just that we don't take things seriously. I always feel so cheesy when I smile for a picture, so I'd rather it be an on-purpose cheesy picture. Here's a collection of us (friends, family, pets [yes, even our pets make funny faces]) just being ourselves. If I used your picture without your permission...oh well. Too bad for you. I'm not going to caption every single picture cuz, well, that'd be boring for y'all and I've got other things to do. Enjoy!

I do have a separate gallery for my dad. Bless his heart. He's got such a sweet smile, but it's like the Loch Ness Monster...it's considered a myth and it's rarely seen in pictures. I'm sure it doesn't help that we make fun of him for it. Here are a few of my dad's many camera faces. 

It DOES exist!