Here's what a really creative person does with a tortilla

She specifically asked to have a tortilla for this reason. The Boy said she looked like a clown. "Not the actual clown kind. The 'you look dumb' kind."

And that's dinner at our house. 

A conversation before bed, shouted between neighboring rooms

Husband [After letting the dogs out and before brushing his teeth and getting into bed]: Hey, you better look at these shoes you set out for The Boy to wear to school tomorrow.

Me: [While shutting down computer before letting the dogs in, putting them in their crates, giving the rabbits a snack, putting straggling dishes in the dishwasher and starting it, taking allergy meds, turning off lights, taking contacts out, washing my face, putting PJs on, brushing my teeth, and getting into bed]: What, did I put out two different shoes?

Husband: Yep.

Me: Well $%@*ing fix it for @#!$’s sake! Don’t leave it for me do to! #@%%!

Husband:

Husband:

Husband: Wow. Do you kiss your mother with that mouth?

Me: [Laughing] It took you forever to answer to that. I must have shocked you into silence with my colorful use of words.

Husband: Nah. I was eating a Pringle.

Me: Fix the shoes.

You can feel the love, right?

Here’s what sometimes happens in my head

While I was getting in the shower the other day, my thoughts went something like this:

I would hate to be President of the United States. What an awful job. Although I guess if someone came up to me and was like, “Please, Brenna, we really need you to do this,” and then I would be like, “Well, if there is no one else….” But then I’d be in trouble because I know nothing about politics or anything so I’d just have to use common sense and tell people what I think. I’m sure that would work.

Why the hell am I thinking about this? I’m so crazy.

Better blog about it.

Recent posts:

I love that I...

The boy disses our friends

Need a Kleenex?

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I love that I...

...keep saying, "Almost done.  Allllmosttt donnneeeee," to my rabbits during an unpleasant grooming procedure as if 1.) they have any concept of time and 2.) can understand English.

And the worst part is, most of the time that's a lie. I'm nowhere near "almost done."

I'm horrible.

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A conversation with The Boy, who tells it like it is

Me: OK, kids, we need to get dressed to go to the mall.

Boy: ERRGGG! The mall???

Me: Well, you need sneakers.

Boy: AW! Yeah.

Me: Plus we’re going to meet our friends there for lunch.

Boy: What? We just saw them yesterday!

Me: Yeah, but we like them.

Boy: I know, but not EVERY DAY.

Me: [giggle]

Me: Well, we’re going to the mall.



Check out yesterday's post for a look at some fun on the internet!


Click here for a recent post about The Girl.


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The advantage of having an exceptionally messy car...

...is that you always have a tissue handy. Even though it might say "Dunkin Donuts" on it.



Search Amazon.com for donuts or anything else you need. PLEASE! :)

Great stuff on the Internet

Over the past week, the internet has offered many horrifying images. But it still brings the funny as well. If you need a laugh, click the links below:

Funniest pictures of Basset Hounds running ever


Everything The Bloggess writes is funny but this one is classic


There may not be anything cuter than this. Can I have one?


Damnyouautocorrect.com is just all kinds of funny.


This is the best use of post-it notes ever!

Enjoy! And let me know which ones you liked best.

If you missed it, read yesterday's post about The Girl's new hit song by CLICKING HERE.

The naked song

The Girl unleashed a new song on us tonight while undressing for bath time.

I’m naked.

I’m naked.

I’m naked, naked, naked!

Shake my booty here.

Shake my booty over here.

Shake my booty all around!

As you might imagine, there was choreography that went along with this lovely tune. I figure I might as well send this one off to Britney Spears so that she can make it her next hit. It would fit right in with today’s pop music scene if we auto-tuned it and put in a slammin’ breakdown. And the video designs itself, along with the accompanying dance craze. Plus it’ll be a versatile hit: great for dance floors or strip clubs.

There’s no downside, right?

This book is titled The Truth: I'm a Girl, I'm Smart and I Know Everything. Perfect!

Brenna’s Bitchin’ Beauty Bits

I'm no fashion guru, but recently I've stumbled upon a few beauty tips I'd like to share:

• If your lips are excessively asymmetrical, you should avoid wearing sparkly purple lipstick. It accentuates the flaw, making you look like a freaky piece of art or someone who has had a catastrophic illness. (If you did survive a catastrophic illness, wear whatever color lipstick you damn well please. I’m totally behind that.)

See?

• Certain clothing is not appropriate in particular situations. For example, when picking up your child from school, your belly should not be exposed for any reason. This is the case for clothing that intentionally bares your midriff as well as shirts that simply don’t contain your gut. Your children will thank you for covering up, as will the rest of the parents in the pick-up line. This rule applies even if you look smokin’ hot in your half-shirt. Both of you make the rest of us feel bad. 

• Using a blow dryer and a curling iron does not guarantee that your hair will look good. "Windshield" is not a good look. Check the results in a mirror before you leave your home. It’ll cut down on the “what the hell happened to her head” looks you get during the day.

• More isn't always better.

• If there is a noticeable difference between the color of your face and that of your neck, you’re doing it wrong. The “my head has been photoshopped onto someone else’s body” look is not what you are going for. Unless it is; if so, then carry on. 

Have a Bitchin' Beauty Bit to share? Add it in the comments, please! Think of it as a community service announcement. Everyone benefits!


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Someone's lacking class in this picture

In every class picture, there’s one kid, somewhere in the frame, messing it up. Sometimes that kid is crying, or has his eyes shut, or is actively screwing up the photo by making a face or baring a usually-clothed body part. Every year, the parents of all the other children sigh in relief that their kid is not the goofball who wrecked the photo for everybody else. 

With today's technology, a photographer has the ability to immediately know if someone has been an ass when a picture is snapped. That same photographer also has the technology to digitally replace parts of one photo with parts of another. Surely Junior wouldn't blink in all 10 shots that could be fired from a digital camera in the span of a minute. Why we still have to pay in advance for a photo that includes 18 kids but only 17 pairs of open eyes, I just don't know.*

When I got my son’s first grade class picture, I eagerly scanned the photo for his smiling face. When I found it, this is the conversation that followed:

Me: DUDE!

Boy: What?

Me: Your class picture!

Boy: I know.

Me: What were you doing????

Boy: I blinked.

Me: !

Me: With your mouth open? Really?

Boy: I’M TELLING YOU, I BLINKED!

Me: Right.

*I know there's not enough money involved to be worth the time it would take to get the absolute best picture possible with all kinds of photoshopping and whatnot. But surely there could be some attempt made to make sure that each kid looks like an actual child and not an alien. Is that too much to ask?


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Read another post about my kids here.

The saddest face you ever saw peering out of a window

My four-year-old daughter's face looked like this when I arrived to pick her up from school as she was first in line to walk out the door for recess:

Yes, I left her there, paying for another hour of child care to let her play with her friends for no reason other than the fact that she had the saddest eyes anyone ever saw. No one can ever tell her how cute she really is or we will all be screwed forever.

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I'm sorry, person who has a vomited-on pillow pet.

Someone typed "how to get vomit off a pillow pet" into a search engine and got this post on my blog. He or she* must have been pissed after clicking the link and getting my disgusting vomit story instead of helpful information. So now I'll answer his or her question in case future searches return him/her here:

Wash it in the washing machine.

That's pretty much my answer for getting vomit off of everything that fits in my clothes washer and/or dishwasher. Or bathtub, actually. Bathtubs are handy places to clean vomit off of things, unless it's chunky vomit. Then you have to get the lumps of gunk out of the strainer. No fun.

One time I had to make my dog vomit and I did so in the tub thinking it would be easier to clean up if I could just wash the stolen-brownie vomit down the drain, but I didn't account for the fact that dogs don't chew stolen food AT ALL. The clean-up was ridiculous.

Wait.

Did this informative post just turn into another disgusting vomit story?

Oops.

*SHEESH, when are we getting a gender neutral singular pronoun other than "it," which totally doesn't work for people? What a pain.


Search Amazon.com for vomit  (<--------Ha! I actually can't believe what comes up first when you do that.) 

Awesome and Awful

The little bites have a lot more frosting per bite than the regular ones do. And the frosting is the best part. Frrroooossstttiinnnngggggggg. AWESOME!

Our Baby Alive has a short or is running out of batteries or has become possessed by Satan or something. She spouted random phrases last night until I buried her in some laundry in my TV room. Well, she probably continued talking but I couldn't hear it.  If a Baby Alive talks in the laundry and no one is there to hear it, does she really make a sound? I don't give a crap. But if she talks tonight, she goes in the trash. Outside. AWFUL!

Our Azaleas are blooming! They spend 50 weeks of the year looking like boring bushes and two weeks looking like this. AWESOME!

I love Patricia Cornwell's Kay Scarpetta books. Dr. Scarpetta is such an terrific character, the mysteries are great, the scientific details are believable enough, and the plots are fun. I had hoped that this non-Scarpetta book by Cornwell would be good.  It was not. In fact, it was ridiculously horrible. Between the recurring attempts at toilet humor and the animals that grew more unbelievable as the story went on (at one point, the dog typed something; for real), this was just flat-out awful.  There were so many things wrong with this book that I can't begin to describe them here. I wish I could have back the time I spent reading it. AWFUL!

This is my sister-in-law's birthday cake. It's a vanilla cake with fudge icing. We have left overs. AWESOME!

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Hippo crocs and polka dots - a conversation from the back seat

Yesterday, while driving with my four-year-old daughter, I heard some chatter from the back seat. Then, the giggles started.

The Girl: Ahh!

Me: What's going on?

The Girl: Hippo crocs are eating my pants!

Me: What??

The Girl: (laughing) Oh, no they're not. They're just eating my polka dots.

Me: Oh. That's good.

If I could tap into that creativity, think of all the money I'd make awesome things I could do!

P.S. "Hippo crocs" is really fun to say. I recommend it.

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(These crocs are cool, but they still don't bring the awesome like hippo crocs.
Buy them anyway. ----------------------------------------------------->)

I don't understand people who park on sidewalks

Near my son's school, every day a few special people think it's perfectly acceptable to park directly on the sidewalk, forcing the girl child and I to trudge through 20 feet of... well, not sidewalk. It's not the worst thing that ever happened, but it's annoying, particularly because it's really never OK to park on a sidewalk. I suppose if you came wheeling up to an emergency room with someone who was spewing blood or baby and there was nowhere else to park, then, maybe it would be acceptable. MAYBE.

Here's a graphic to help you sort it all out.

If the sidewalk is the only place available for you to park your car, then there is no place to park your car. Park elsewhere.

P.S. If you knew how long it took me to come up with that graphic, you'd feel sorry for me. 


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Microwave popcorn for the healthy, lazy person

Recently, I've been making popcorn the old-fashioned way (that's on the stove, kiddies) in order to avoid daily intake of what I've read is a ridiculous amount of chemicals that will surely give me cancer or rabies or cancerous rabies. Something like that. Anyway, then I read on the internet that you can take regular popcorn kernels and pop them in the microwave in a paper bag. You don't even need to use oil (which doesn't give you cancerous rabies, but does give you fat, which I already have more than enough of). Because I'm lazy and allergic to cleaning pots, I put paper bags on the grocery list. And now you are ready for this conversation:

Husband: Are you coming to bed now?

Me: No. I'm going to try to make popcorn in a paper bag in the microwave.

Husband: WHY?

Me: Because I'm hungry.

Husband: Just come to bed. Then you can wake up really hungry for breakfast.

Me: ?

Me: No, I want to try this popcorn.

Husband: In a paper bag? In the microwave? Really?

Me: Yes!

Husband: You're going to burn the house down.

Me: No I'm not.

Husband: Yes you are. Why would you wait until I got home from work to try this?

Me: Because then you can help me save the children when the house goes up in flames.

Husband: Nah, I'm not saving those kids.

Me: I'm making the popcorn.

Husband: Goodnight.

The popcorn came out wonderful, and there wasn't even a spark. Want to do it too? Here's how:

1/4 cup popcorn kernels
1 paper bag

Put popcorn in the bag. Fold the bag down maybe twice. Put it in the microwave. Set it to two minutes or something like that. Listen. When you get two seconds between pops, stop your microwave. Unfold. Eat. YUM!

(You can put oil in the bag too, or salt it and stuff pre-popping if you want. Let me know if you try it and what modifications you have included in the recipe!)


Disclaimer: If you screw this up and somehow burn your house down, I am not responsible. You, however, are a moron. Because this is not hard.

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Here's another post in which I attempt to make a food item. Sort of. 

Five Observations

1. You can tell a lot about a person’s character by how she looks in the skintight halter top she’s wearing in a hospital lobby.

2. It’s amazing how tiring it can be when your child never stops talking. This is especially true when she’s talking about imaginary things.

3. Knowing that your kid probably has a real reason for his attitude problems makes you have a different outlook on his maddening behavior; instead of being pissed off at him for acting like a jerk, you can be pissed off in general when he acts like a jerk.

4. It’s upsetting for everyone if you don’t wear clothing long enough to contain your entire gut. If some of it falls out of the bottom of your shirt, you need to make other arrangements.

5. If you use the word “hip,” you aren’t.

Click here for another post involving numbers....

(She's hip right now. So hip. ----------------------------->)

The magic word

Polite cookie dough

I can't say that the "please" got me to obey, but I appreciate the effort.

Here's another post about me making stuff.

(Dark chocolate chunk cookies? Yes, please. ----------->)

What happened here?

This bathroom was perfectly clean. Then, two small people went in for their consecutive baths and the room looked like this:

The Girl's clothes are in the purple pile in front of the tub. The Boy's clothes and towel are by the toilet.

After seeing this scene, I can only imagine what might have happened. Perhaps the two children spontaneously combusted, leaving only their clothes behind. Probably not, since the smoke detector didn't go off and nothing was singed. Still, it's a possibility. I'll have to do some research.

The most likely scenario, I think, must be an alien invasion. The mother ship flew over my house and transported the children aboard, sans clothes. Because certainly no one would thread his or her way through this clothes-mine to exit a bathroom without picking up the clothes, right? Right???

Right. Damn kids.

(The Girl loves Laurie Berkner. You should buy some Laurie Berkner stuff. 
Really.----------------------------------------------------------------------------------->)

This video leaves me with a lot of questions

I just saw this video and clearly the reporting leaves something to be desired. I can't be the only person with a lot of questions after watching it. Click the link below and see what you think.

Watch me now

Here's my biggest question:

HOW THE HELL CAN THIS MAN NOT KNOW WHEN THIS HAPPENED? I mean, what kind of life are you leading when you don't know something of this magnitude?

Read my other post from today here: http://laughingattherain.blogspot.com/2011/02/warm-weather-horror.html

Warm weather horror

Today it's going to be in the upper 70s, which is glorious. But apparently bugs also have access to weather.com because this horrid creature is hanging out on my garage door, ready to enjoy this spring-like day.

I've lived in Florida my entire life but I still don't know what these bugs are. They don't appear to do anything but hang around and eventually fly (!!!) away. And yet, really, they look like the stuff horror films are made of.  The good news is, unlike most other Floridian bugs, these don't seem to have a burning desire to get in the house. Thankfully.

Anyone know what kind of creature this is?


UPDATE: An entomologist (for reals) said this is "leaf footed or big legged bug in the family of Coridea." The internet is an amazing thing.


Read my other post from today here: http://laughingattherain.blogspot.com/2011/02/this-video-leaves-me-with-lot-of.html

Things that didn’t happen while I was in New York City

I spent approximately 48 hours in Manhattan for a Dog Writers Association of America writing competition awards banquet and had a great time. But, since I’m me, there were a lot of unpleasant things that I thought had a strong possibility of happening while I was in New York City. Thankfully, these things did not occur during my stay in the Big Apple:

I did not drop my  late-grandfather-in-law’s very large coat into a toilet.

I have to pee approximately 4,576 times a day and in New York City, many of the bathrooms are ridiculously small (and really dirty). Every time I juggled jacket, scarf, gloves, pantyhose, and so on in these smelly shoeboxes I was certain that I had/was going to dip the bottom of my coat in a bacteria-filled john. Each time I walked out sans filth, I felt like I dodged a bullet. Bonus: I avoided getting anything questionable on the rest of me too.

I did not fall on chunks of ice.

Here’s what I didn’t know about snow: it might start out fluffy and beautiful, but it turns into ice, which is sometimes also beautiful, and sometimes gray and full of paper cups, cigarette butts, and other things I don’t want to know about. It lurks just below curbs to snag unsuspecting tourists. I guess I was suspicious enough, though, because I remained upright. What an accomplishment.

I was not mugged.

In fact, no one looked at me crosswise. This might mean that I’m unobservant (that’s actually a true fact), or that I clearly looked like someone who had nothing worth taking (see the part about me wearing a borrowed men’s coat). But there’s a chance that NYC is not filled with criminals out to take advantage of tourists. A chance.

I did not fall down (or up) the Statue of Liberty stairs.

My big coat, scarf, gloves, audio tour doohickey, sunglasses, and so on trekked up the 300+ steps inside the Statue of Liberty podium. I wasn’t the best balanced person on the planet, but I wasn’t worried too much about going up. Going down, however, was tricky. I was pretty sure that I would slip, fall, and bash something important and sensitive on the metal-edged steps. I could also pretty easily visualize myself in a brown-coated heap on one of the landings, oozing a sexy trickle of blood out of my ear (sexy?). Therefore, I clutched the railings like nobody’s business and made it down intact. Win!

I did not get blown off of any high object.

It was damned windy in New York this weekend. Not just “Oh, my hair got mussed” windy. We’re talking, “I really need to lean to counterbalance or I’m going to fall,” wind. And where was it the windiest? At the top of the Statue of Liberty podium. I am never interested in being a human kite, so I was super happy to remain on the ground and upright.

I did not lose anything.

I tried really hard to lose stuff during this trip.  I dropped my Statue of Liberty ticket out of my pocket (I’m clumsy in gloves) after arriving on Liberty Island but before entering the Statue security area. I retraced my steps and found it on the ground. I’m not sure why any of those criminals NYC is teaming with didn’t make off with it, but I’m grateful. 

Speaking of gloves, I also dropped single gloves at least three times. I can’t actually blame that on being clumsy while wearing gloves, though, since they were (of course) off at the time of the dropping. Each time I managed to notice/locate/retrieve the runaway glove with no problems.

I also lost hotel keys, boarding passes, credit cards, and other items several times, but they were always actually in one of my bazillion pockets. I’m not sure that this counts as “losing” something. I think it’s more “misplacing.” Or “idiocy” maybe. 

Probably idiocy.

I did not eat too much crappy food.

I like to eat, and I like to make the most out of my eating opportunities by treating myself to my favorite (fat-filled) dishes when I get the chance to dine out. But I was a really good girl, ordering appetizers instead of gigantor proportions, and eating lots of veggies. Don’t get me wrong, I probably didn’t lose any weight on my excursion. But it could have been worse. Much worse.  (I did have a half an order of fajitas at the Hard Rock Café, but I could have easily eaten the whole thing, so I still get an A- at least, right?)

I did not drop my cell phone from great heights or into a large body of water.

My phone is still relatively new, is expensive (to me), and acts as my camera (amongst other things). Therefore I was sure that while snapping pics of Lady Liberty, my phone would be blown from my frosty hands, fly hundreds of feet, and land in the icy water. I have bought the insurance but I’m not sure it pays out for “acts of ridiculousness.” Fortunately, I kept my phone firmly in hand all weekend.

I did not attract the attention of any security personnel at any checkpoints.

In addition to the normal airport security clearance points, I had to do full-out airport security checks twice on the way to the Statue of Liberty. They are not kidding when it comes to making sure no terrorists mess with that statue. So that means during 48 hours, I removed both coats and my scarf, emptied my pockets, took off my sunglasses, and so on, four times. I had to remove my shoes twice at airports but not at Liberty Island. I had to remove my belt both times when visiting Lady Liberty, but not at the airports. I’m not sure why my shoes are sometimes safer than others, but whatever. Regardless of the finer points, under no circumstances did I set off alarms or get patted down. I didn’t even get a hairy eyeball. I’m not disappointed.

I did not have a wardrobe malfunction at a banquet.

I should have bought a nice new top to wear to this banquet. I didn’t. The night before I left, I rummaged through a bunch of borrowed shirts and sweaters and then decided to wear a tank top shell thingo and one of two over-shirts (all of which were my own). I brought them both on the trip, and decided to wear the dressier one. After putting it on, I realized that for some reason, an excessive amount of underclothing was visible (I’m pretty sure excessive is in the eye of the beholder, but in the case of an awards banquet, I’m thinking no bra is good bra, if you follow me). Modesty and good taste dictated the more coverage of shirt number two. Still, without safety pins, I was somewhat concerned that I’d be flashing a little too much everything if I wasn’t careful. So I was careful. And to my knowledge, no one was scarred for life by seeing too much of me.

I did not not win my award.

Surprise! My newsletter won the award it was up for! Don’t tell anyone, but I was pretty sure we would lose. Pessimism and all that. But the announcer called my name and I got my picture taken in my underdressed outfit and super-fluffy hair. Big win!

Thanks, New York City, for continuing to bring the awesome and for keeping your alleged crappy side to yourself during my short stay. Now if you could just do something about how tired you made me….

UPDATE! Here's a link to an article about the award my newsletter won:

USDAA website

Because shoes should not equal torture devices

Shoe shopping for me is on par with plucking nose hairs: embarrassing and painful. I’m pretty sure my feet are abnormal in and of themselves, and then I have to wear custom orthotics which ups the crap factor by about a zillion. If I could go barefoot everywhere and not have life-altering muscle spasms, I’d do it. Screw shoes and their toe-impeding ways. But since I need shoes along with my shirt to get service, I’m stuck buying them on occasion.

A few days ago, I decided that I needed some black shoes to wear to an upcoming banquet. I’ll be tromping around frozen New York City, so I can’t get away with “dressy” flip flops or Dr. Scholl’s Slipper shoes. After trying on approximately eleventy million pairs of black shoes at this shoe warehouse (it was a big place), I found some Easy Spirit lace up deals that were passable. I went up to pay for them.

Cashier: Did you find everything all right?

Me: Yes, thanks.

Cashier: Going for comfort today, huh?

Me: ?

Me: What?

Cashier: Easy Spirit. They’re supposed to be really comfortable. So you were looking for comfort, right?

Me: (in my head) Well, I usually like my shoes filled with tiny, salted daggers…

Me: (aloud) Everyday.

Cashier: Uh… OK, have a nice day.

Clearly there’s something about shoes that I don’t get….

(I can't wear these because orthotics won't stay in mules. I'm crying on the inside.) 
------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------>

Can you find the Whippet in this picture?

I'm not sure if this picture shows that my Whippet really likes soft places or that we tend to procrastinate on folding laundry. Probably both.

Definitely both.

The funniest thing on the internet (besides this blog, of course)

My daughter thinks this is the funniest video ever. She has made it her mission in life to memorize it word-for-word, which is particularly interesting because it's British and, well, we're not. Let me know if you feel compelled to shout, "Allen! Allen! Allen! Al!" at odd times forever after seeing this.

http://www.wimp.com/animalvoiceovers