Seriously!

People are CRAZY. What would YOU do if you woke up to someone rubbing spices on you? Sheesh. Weirdness.

Authorities: Burglar wakes men with spice rub

FRESNO, Calif. (AP) — Authorities say they’ve arrested a man who broke into the home of two California farmworkers, stole money, rubbed one with spices and whacked the other with a sausage before fleeing.
Fresno County sheriff’s Lt. Ian Burrimond says 22-year-old Antonio Vasquez was found hiding in a field wearing only a T-shirt, boxers and socks after the Saturday morning attack.
He says deputies arrested Vasquez after finding a wallet containing his ID in the ransacked house.
The farmworkers told deputies the suspect woke them Saturday morning by rubbing spices on one of them and smacking the other with an 8-inch sausage.
Burrimond says money allegedly stolen was recovered.
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Information from: The Fresno Bee, http://www.fresnobee.com

A "wow" moment

Some of you know I also write a column/blog for the paper I work for. Awhile ago I wrote about parents who spend an insane amount of money on clothes for their kids and that I just don't see the point in it. Anyway...I received this last night in my work email:

Hi Jennifer,
I read an article of yours in the Belleville News Democrat re: designer clothes for kids. We’re doing a show on Tuesday about a child who has a personal stylists. We’re bringing on families who spend exorbitant amounts of money on parties, clothes, hair cuts, etc. We are looking for a family to come on and represent the other side- the ones who see it all around them and feel the pressure but don’t succumb. If you and your husband are interested, I would like to discuss the show with you. Please call me in the office at (redacted). Thanks!

Julie A. Ruggiero
The Tyra Banks Show
226 West 26th Street, 4th Floor
New York, NY 10001

Kind of cool, but at the same time, I know she probably sent out hundreds of emails looking for parents like us. I'll give her a call, but I know how those shows can be and I'm not ALL that willing to put my family on the chopping block.

Opinions?

Awww...nuts!

Oh. My. God. They are kidding, right? Someone actually patented fake testicles? For PETS? No. No. No. That's just not right!

Quoted directly from the Neuticles site:

Neuticles allow your pet to retain his natural look, self esteem and aids in the trauma associated with neutering.

So who is really "traumatized" by the process of neutering a dog or a cat? Not the dog. Not the cat.

I'm guessing it was the guy who patented the fake ones because none of my boy beasties have their balls, and none of them miss them. Not one of them has exhibited any kind of trauma or lack of self-esteem associated with being balls-free. Not one.

And they continue to engage in highly socially-unacceptable behavior and lick around down there as if they actually have something to lick, which they don't. Well, except for the horse. He has a hard time reaching where his used to be.

It boggles me that someone saw the need to PATENT FAKE PET TESTICLES. Even better....obviously someone is buying them! What is wrong with people?

I'll bet whomever patented those, probably patented the Bumper Nuts, too.

People. Stop it. You're. Not. Right.

It lives

Apparently I uttered "I hate you, you stupid ugly, worthless car," one too many times while driving. Because it hates me back.

Remember when it wouldn't start? Absolutely refused any hint of life. Not even giving me a "Rwar, rwar, rwar, rwar," but rather a pathetic little "click click click click" when I turned the key. Dead. Obviously dead, yes?

So I complained, and I whined and I stomped around and threw a fit.

And hubby got up this morning and went out to take a look at it. He slid into the seat, put in the key, turned it and that dumb little car started. right. up. Little jerk car.

So I made him turn it off. And start it again. And again. And again. I told him "Take it down the driveway" (it's almost a mile round trip down the driveway). And it stayed started. Freaky little bastard Cavalier. I think it's possessed. And it definitely hates me. Or I was in an alternate universe yesterday and didn't realize it. Yeah. That's the answer.

I had only one thing to say to Hubby: "So...ummm...I guess that means I'm not getting a truck?"

He laughed at me. Laughed! *sigh*

Who knew?

Fascinating, absolutely fascinating. Who would have thought researchers needed to find out why we have sex.

Although I personally think its silly research, some of the answers are absolutely hysterical.

I wonder how much "hands on" research was required? Hmmmm....

Oh my

I finally did it. I exhausted the Internet. I guess this is what I get for spending my work days reading blogs and looking up useless crap instead of actually working.

I'm kind of sad about it.

The End of the Internet

The stuff in hotdogs

We have decided to make a few changes in the way we eat at home. Slowly we've been working our way through the food in the pantry and the fridge and as soon as the "bad" foods are all gone, I'll be replacing them with nothing but fresh fruits and veggies and whole grains. We are going to pretty strictly limit the meat, eliminate the white flour and try to eliminate the refined sugars and preservatives.

Why? Well, research I've done has indicated that quite a few behavioral issues in young children MAY be caused by the fake, processed foods they are eating. It makes sense to me. You are what you eat, right? If you eat empty, worthless foods, then won't your head be pretty empty and worthless, too? Unruly's behavior isn't getting better, in fact, it may even be getting worse. The defiance is at an all time high, she does what she wants when she wants with complete disregard towards any rules, both at school and at home.

We are nearly out of options and ready to try ANYTHING.

Enough is enough. Before we resort to any kind of pharmaceutical intervention, we are going to try the diet changes first and hope we see a difference.

I can pretty much predict what's going to happen at first, though. See, Unruly, she has this thing. It's a weird thing.

She eats animal food. Dog food, cat food, horse feed, chicken feed. She doesn't care what it is, she doesn't care how many times I've told her what's in it. I busted her coming upstairs two days ago with her mouth crammed full of grain. She'd been digging around in the horse feed tub and decide to partake in a light snack. Last night I caught her shoving my poor old cat out of the way so she could settle in front of HIS dinner to grab handfuls of his food and stuff it in her face. Poor guy had NO idea how to respond. He just sat there watching helplessly as the human child gobbled up his dinner.

So, I ask her. "Unruly, why do you eat the pet food? Do I not feed you enough?"

She looked at me for a moment, worked her jaws a bit and swallowed the cat food before answering. "Well, mom, if you'd make me stuff I LIKE for dinner, I wouldn't be hungry. So, if I'm hungry, I'll just eat the other food. They eat it."

Ahhh....logic from the six year old. How can you argue with that?

"So, do you know what they put in that food?" I inquire.

"Yup. The same stuff they put in hotdogs!" she answers, grinning.

Ugh. Well, at least she listens when I tell her things. Even when I tell her the stuff in hotdogs is the leftover stuff they scrape up off the slaughterhouse floor. Like eyeballs and feet and lips and tongues and ummm...buttholes.

"I told you that to gross you out. So you wouldn't eat the cat food or dog food any more."

"I like hotdogs.

So much for six-year-old logic.

I have a feeling this new diet is going to be an uphill battle, pitting the fresh peas and whole wheat pasta against the Friskies Indoor Formula.

Tearing apart the house

When we bought our home we had no idea the work it would take before I would be comfortable even moving one piece of furniture into it. I went through at least six gallons of bleach sanitizing every surface and steamed/shampooed every inch of carpet at least three times. The carpeting was probably eight shades lighter by the time I got done, if that gives you any idea of the level of filth we were battling. We scrubbed and painted the walls, scrubbed the bathrooms and disinfected them. I took apart the kitchen cabinets and drawers and scrubbed and sanitized them. Every cabinet and every drawer got a new layer of shelving paper. I found dirt and gunk in places I never thought would gather grunginess. Everything was brand-spanking clean and sparkling with germ-free ness before my furniture arrived.

It took nearly six days to clean and paint the place to my fairly exacting specifications. I WILL NOT live in someone else's filth, I will not live in filth, period.

This weekend I thought I was going to have to do it all over again. I ripped out the carpet on the basement stairs, having no clue what I'd find underneath. Halfway down the stairs I found a smashed, mashed, dried up pile of dog shit BENEATH the carpeting and stuck firmly to the wood. Who the hell installs carpet OVER dog shit? I can't even begin to imagine the level of laziness associated with not being able to be bothered with picking up a pile of crap before putting the carpeting down. How does this happen? I don't get it. So now, as I walk through the house, I wonder what else lurks beneath the carpeting. What will I find when we start tearing out the rest to put down the hardwood floors? More dog crap? What's under the linoleum in the kitchen? I guess I'll find out when we pull that up to put down the Italian stone I've picked out. What will I find in MY bathroom when we pull the carpet up to put down tile? I get the heebie-jeebies just imagining what's under there. I am compelled to rip all the carpeting out NOW, just so I can get under there and clean clean clean.

The renovations have begun in earnest though, so I guess I'll find out soon enough.

Hopefully by this time tomorrow the girls will be able to use their bathroom again. Sunday we spent part of the day ripping out the carpet and leveling the subflooring in preparation for the tiling of their bathroom. Who the heck thought installing carpeting in the bathroom was a good idea in the first place? Ranks right up there with putting carpet in the dining room or kitchen. Dumb dumb dumb. I'm guessing the decision makers who thought wall-to-wall carpet in every room was fancy never had children spilling grape juice in the kitchen or smashing Play-doh into the dining room carpet. Or splashing water out of the tub to soak into the carpet and rot the flooring. Fun, yes? Once their bathroom is finished, we will start on the master bath, although I think that one will take a bit more work and probably require replacing some of the sub-flooring before we can lay new tile. And I want to get that room painted before I have nice new flooring in there. The walls have been scrubbed, they just await new paint.

So much to do...and once the weather stays consistently nice, we'll be working on the deck and the pool and the yard and the gardens and the pastures. Woo hoo!

Grinding Away

I have a problem and it's getting worse.

I'm an incessant habitual tooth grinder. I grind, grind, grind, mostly during my sleep, and I've worn away the enamel of my teeth. I'm now working on grinding away the one filling I have and this morning, on my biannual trip to the dentist, was informed if I don't do something about it I will have to have a root canal in the filled tooth. This is the second filling in the same tooth because I ground away the first one a few years ago.

Ummm...no thank you, I'll pass on the root canal.

Many years ago I tried one of those nighttime mouth guards available at any decent drug store. It sucked. I stuck the enormous plastic gadget in my mouth and immediately felt like I had stuffed my mouth full of ping pong balls. I tasted terrible and I woke up in a puddle of drool. The next morning, as I squeegeed the drool from my face and tossed my pillow into the washer, I decided I'd rather grind the night away than drool like a rabid dog.

So, Ms. Dentist tells me they can fit me for a custom mouth guard, one that fits neatly between the front teeth and keeps my molars from doing the tango all night long. She didn't promise there would be no drooling, though, so I'm not quite sold. However, this handy dandy little grinder preventer will cost $250, and insurance doesn't cover a single damn cent. Spend the money and keep my teeth from becoming painful little nubs, or just wait and invest in dentures a few years down the line? Decisions, decisions! Of course, hubby had to make an off-color wise crack about having a wife without teeth and the obvious benefits that comes with toothlessness...the pervert.

I don't know why I grind. Most of the time I'm not even aware of the grinding unless I wake up with a killer headache and a sore jaw. Stress? Comfort? Habit? Who knows.

Maybe I should just smear Vaseline all over my teeth before I go to bed and provide a little slippery lube to the little buggers. That will teach 'em!