Grab your secret decoder rings and try to follow along.

Today was and still is (since it’s only 3:32pm) an odd sort of days. It’s Mother’s Day (Holla! to all the mother’s!) today, May 11th, in the year of the rat, 2008.

So, how was your Mother’s Day? Good I hope. Hopefully all of the mother’s were showered with gifts, free time, ALONE TIME, pedicures, manicures, any-cures, chocolate, big breakfasts and lots of gift cards for clothing or massages.

Now that my pleasantries are out of the way, let’s begin with my own Mother’s Day events…

Sometime in the middle of the night, or the very wee hours of Mother’s Day, it began to rain. It rained, and rained, and rained some more. The rain did not stop until this afternoon. It was also incredibly windy. However, this was actually great news to us because we spent all day yesterday landscaping the retaining wall that follows the length of our house. We planted 9 shrubs, well actually, 2 lilac shrubs, 2 Alberta Spruce’s, 2 butterfly bushes and 3 burning bushes. They desperately needed rain, and lots of it since they were freshly dug out of the ground at a nursery and then planted in our yard. Needless to say, we welcomed the 12 hour downpour. The wind, not so much.

This is where it gets interesting. This is where you begin to get serious insight, as if you haven’t had enough already, into the mind of me.

Earlier in the week, hubs asked me what I wanted for breakfast on Mother’s Day. I didn’t ask for blueberry crepes or Belgian waffles. I didn’t ask for scrambled eggs and bacon to be served to me on a silver platter in bed. Rather, I chose my favorite, on-the-go, weekend breakfast that I like to enjoy once in a while… A Dunkin Donuts breakfast sandwich - sausage and egg, NO CHEESE, on a toasted bagel. Sadly, such as my life, I was looking forward to my breakfast of choice all week long. I love those damn DD breakfast sandwiches.

We awoke this morning and I begrudgingly told hubs that he didn’t have to go out in this weather to get my silly breakfast while secretly thinking to myself, ‘you better damn well say you are still going or I will shove pencils in your ears and then jam into your brain!’.

He said he would still go so tragedy was avoided.

He returns with my treasured breakfast in hand along with a yummy French vanilla coffee for me and 25 munchkins for my two evil munchkins to whom I gave birth to thus bestowing me my Mother’s Day rite of passage.

Then, I hear the words that no mother should ever, EVER have to hear on Mother’s Day when it involves the breakfast she has been looking forward to all week long…

“Oh no honey! They gave you a croissant instead of a bagel sandwich!” he yells from the other room.

For a second or two I really thought he was kidding, knowing how serious I am about food and it being exactly like I want it (think, Sally in When Harry Met Sally, only Sally would shoot the person who messed up her order). But, he was not kidding.

I was deflated. I was sad. My breakfast was ruined. He tried to offer up suggestions like…

“Take mine! You can take off the cheese!” he offered sweetly.

“No thanks, the cheese won’t come off, and you didn’t get sausage.” I rebutted like a 3-year old who was just told that his birthday cake didn’t turn out and that they would have brownies instead.

“Well, is the croissant that bad?” he asks.

“Yes, it really is. The toasted bagel makes the whole sandwich pleasurable. I don’t want the croissant.” I said back. “It’s ok, just nevermind. I know it’s not your fault.”

Then, I stood in the kitchen lost, confused and debating my next step.

I throw my shoes on and tell hubs emphatically, “They are NOT ruining my Mother’s Day breakfast! I am taking it back so they can fix my order dammit!”

“Are you serious?” he asked, completely baffled.

“Hell yes! I have been looking forward to this all week long, I am not settling!” I yelled back.

“Your a nut. Oh I went to the DD in the Heights.” he told me.

“Ok, be back soon.”

I decided to go to a different and much closer DD and exchange it because, really, are they going to know the difference? Probably not. So, I get around the corner from my house and I am stopped by a train, a really really slow train. This is not unusual. At that point I figured that this is merely a sign that I should go to the actual DD that hubs went to, for some reason. I flip a u-turn and head off to the other DD, 5 or 6 miles away, the one hubs said he went to.

I get there, finally, exchange my sandwich for the proper one and I’m on my way, without issue.

As I head back home, once again I come the tracks by my house, only I’m on the other side of them than I was before, and guess what, that train was STILL there, after 20+ minutes! Now, I can’t get home that way, and I’m only a block from my house. To make matters worse, I can’t take the other shortest route because when it rains heavily the road floods and they close it. So, now I have to take a long, LONG way home. All because of a seemingly retarded and forever long train. The words, “so close and yet so far” come to mind.

Are you following me or have I lost you yet? This is why I told you to grab your secret decoder rings. Duh.

Finally, I arrive home. Hubs had been freaking out because I was gone so long and he thought I had been in  an accident. And, as luck would have it, I was wearing his rain coat and his cell phone was in the pocket, too. So, he had no way to reach me, or me to reach him. So, he said he plugged in our land line (we never use it anymore) just in case. I apologize and then went into my story of why I was gone so long.

He had a look of confusion on his face while I was telling him my saga but I forged on. He finally spoke up and asked me why I was taking those roads and how did I get stuck by the train because I should have been going another direction.

“Well, you told me that you went to the one in the Heights, so I had to go that way goober!” I said, with a severe “duh” tone to my voice.

“The one by Jewel you freak not South Heights!!!” he said condescendingly.

“OH!!!!!  I was wondering why you would go all way to that other one when there are two DD’s right near us! But, that one you went to is NOT in the Heights ass!! It’s in Olympia Fields!” I yelled back, vindicated, sort of. “Don’t say ‘the one in the Heights’ bro, the one you went to is not in the Heights!”

I realize none of you know where I’m talking about. All you need to know is there are 2 DD’s very close to us. One is a good one and one is a bad one. The one hubs went to is on the border of Olympia Fields and Chicago Heights, but it is in Olympia Fields and that is the “good” one. So, when hubs said he went to the one in “the Heights” I immediately thought of the one my SIL loves, which is about 6 miles from our house. The other 2 are a mile or less from us.

The moral of the story is that my breakfast was almost ruined and I acted rashly to the situation and drove 12 miles out of my way to fix the situation when in reality, all I needed to do was drive a mile up the road, and back. I still, of course, blame DD for this entire mess because had the fucks in the drive through actually paid attention then all of this confusion and needless driving could have been avoided. Fuck you very much Dunkin Donuts.

In the end, it was worth all of the trouble because dayum I enjoyed that sandwich, more or less for the effort it took to get more than the actual taste. But, it was still very yummy.

Flash forward a few hours and my neighbor calls me and asks to borrow one of our cars. Um, okay??? She lost her key to her van and her husband was already at church with the kids and in 10 minutes the kids were going to put on their Mother’s Day concert so she had to get there. So, she ran over and grabbed my keys and headed off. How could I say no to a mother, on Mother’s Day when it would have meant missing a special concert in which her children were singing. Luckily, she also happens to be a very dear friend, too. It was just a request that I was not expecting.

Well, the day was already incredibly odd, so why not add another piece to the puzzle.

Flash forward a little while later and I’m doing laundry. I had just poured myself a nice, cold Dr. Pepper into my favorite cup and put the lid on and began to sip my carbonated pleasure. I drink my DP with 4 ice cubes in a plastic, thermal coffee mug because, yes, it really does taste better to me. And, the lid keeps it colder, carbonated longer and just that much sweeter as I sip it through the small little hole. My DP is just not worth it if I cannot fully enjoy it. Again, think Sally in WHMS. My quote in my sidebar is from that movie… very fitting.

Anyway, I set the mug on the dryer and began taking clothes out to fold them. Once that was done I began to throw the clean, wet clothes into the dryer. Just then, one of my tanks got wrapped around my mug and toppled it over and a lot of DP spilled onto the floor onto some clean, wet clothes that I had dropped in my fury to try and save the DP. Because, after all, the DP is the only thing that matters.

Now I had a small pile of clean clothes that I must rewash. But, the sad, sad and completely truthful part to this story is that I was way, way more pissed about the loss of about 1/2 of my DP than I was about having to rewash a few articles of clothing. Clothes can always be rewashed but once DP is lost, it’s lost. Gone. Forever.

Okay, in retrospect, after writing this out, I guess the day wasn’t that odd. I guess it just felt that way to me. So, this is actually an incredibly boring post, but, nonetheless, you still get a frightening glimpse inside of my high-maintenance head.

Your welcome.

Violation Nation

Look what I received in my email today.

View Larger Map

That would be me, taking groceries from my car, in front of my house. Picture courtesy of some satellite floating way out in space, thousands of miles above the earth. No, I don’t feel violated at all <heavy sarcastic overtone here>.

Since today is Friday and we are entering the weekend, and since this is my first post in well over a week, I won’t bother with a big post today. Everyone is preparing for Mother’s Day weekend anyway so no one is going to be reading blogs.

So, enjoy your weekend and love your mother’s!!! Happy Mother’s Day to all of you mom’s!

The blogger study - Part Deux

… or is it duex. I don’t deux/duex French.

I digress…

I wanted to thank all of you for responding. You were honest and insightful and I enjoyed reading everyone’s reply! I found something surprising in the responses, too. Most of you don’t worry about “reciprocal blogging” as dubbed by Verybadcat in her comment. This means most of you will still read blogs even if they don’t comment on yours. To be honest, I sort of knew that already because of the people that still come back here, even though I don’t leave comments on their blog… I read a lot of the time, but don’t comment much. Again, I am trying to comment more.

Ms Diva was the exception to this “reciprocal blogging” rule though. But it is quite alright. I still love her.

Anyway, many many thanks. Your comments were are all great and interesting and I totally heart ALL OF YOU!!! Thank you for coming to see me each day. Or every other day. Or once a week… whatever the case is.

All of you new commenters whom I had not seen before have been added to my blogroll as well. Not that this means you have reached star status or anything because this blog is still quite lame… so don’t get to excited.

It’s Friday, which means we are rolling into the weekend and that means people would rather be spending time with family and relaxing that reading blogs. Whatever. So, since no one is really reading anyway, there is really nothing else to say.

Soon, I will putting up another post that asks more questions completely unrelated to blogging. So I will need your input again.

Happy weekend!

A preliminary study of bloggers in their natural habitats.

I have some questions for everyone today regarding comments, readers and feeds, how you find me, etc.

I am an avid stat checker. I know a lot of bloggers are. It’s fun to see where people come from and who’s reading your blog. I find a lot of good blogs by checking my stats. Along with good blogs I also find plenty of disgusting and lame Google searches that somehow bring people to my blog.

Lately I have seen a lot of new people/bloggers that have found me. I can only assume that some of them don’t like what they see, don’t agree with things they have read or just find that I’m not a good match for them so it’s a one time visit. We all do that; we find blogs, read a post and move on. That’s fine. Everyone doesn’t have to love me and I don’t have to love everyone.

Bloggers can also be very cliquey. Such as life. We usually try to find people like us, don’t we? We do this so we can relate and share common ground. I suppose there really isn’t anything wrong with that, but to me, there is so much more to discover out there. Blogging has become such a great way to reach far corners of this world that we normally would not have had a chance discover without the internet and blogging. So, it’s nice to open your mind and find people that are NOT like you.

Now, for the questions:

How did you find this blog?

Do you read blogs of others that are different from you on various levels?

When you leave comments, do you subscribe to updates so you can see what others are saying or do you just leave a comment and move on?

Do you expect the blogger to respond to you via the comments or email?

Do you only read bloggers who read your blog? Do you stop coming back if they don’t leave comments on your blog?

Why do you read what you read?

Consider these questions as something like a study of bloggers. Of course, the ulterior motive is to improve my blog and my connections with bloggers, but I truly am curious about how others operate.

Even if you have never commented before, this would be a good time to speak up. I don’t really care about the number of comments I get because I do see that a lot more people read than comment so, no, this is not a ploy to get comments. I have pretty much given up on getting 30+ comments a post. The way I see it is if my posts were that interesting or thought provoking then I would probably get those 30 or more comments. Obviously, what I write isn’t that great and that is ok! I’m happy regardless and the comments I do get are just that much more special to me. I read every single one (when they are actually delivered to my email box) and truly enjoy that other people take the time to say something to me. I just need to return that favor more, and I am trying.

So, please, tell me your thoughts. What makes you comment or not comment? What keeps you returning to the blogs you read? How do you want the author to respond to your comments?

If you don’t take the time to answer this post with comments about your thoughts on blogging then I will be forced to put a post up tomorrow that deals with children and poop, and I know ya’ll don’t want that.

I just need to know, ok? Humor me.

“…she said she feels very safe…”

Yesterday my sister and I were talking on the phone and at some point we began talking about our cars. I excitedly mentioned that my car will be paid off next month and how this will be the first time I have ever paid off a car. Then our conversation migrated into talking about how she wants a Camry Hybrid and will begin shopping for one soon. Of course, the mention of gas prices came up and how the cost of fuel and fuel mileage was a large reason for going with a hybrid. She then mentioned that her next car, no matter what it was, had to have a 5-star crash rating because her current car, a Kia Sorento, has a 5-star rating. She said she feels very safe in her car and wants to make sure her next car keeps her and her family safe too.

A few hours later I received this picture from my sister on my phone, with no explanation….

…it was self explanatory.

Needless to say, I sort of freaked out even though I knew that if she was well enough to take this picture with her phone and then send it to me, she had to be fine. Still, I immediately called her because I was incredibly worried.

She was still at the scene of the accident and couldn’t really talk. She assured me she was fine and would call me soon, then we both started crying.

Neither one of us could have ever known how foretelling our conversation earlier that day was.

She is fine, just very, very sore of course. Her kids were not with her, thank goodness, because she was just leaving work. I’m sure she tied up traffic on the busy I-10 freeway in Phoenix for a while. I guess she was sandwiched when she was hit; she was hit from behind and then forced into the car in front of her, so she took the brunt of the crash.

This is obviously the back of her car where she was hit, and you can see the remnents of the bumper from the van who hit her.

The guy who hit her (I would love to pummel him for hurting my sister, but, accidents do happen. Now, if he was talking on his phone or screwing around and not paying attention, then I will still gladly pummel the fuck).

She is ok and that is all that truly matters but I’m just upset because I wasn’t there for her, and how, ironically, we had a conversation on the same day about she feels safe in her Kia. While I don’t know exactly what a 5-star crash rating encompasses, it’s obvious that this car protected my sister, but would other cars have protected her too? Would other cars similar to hers have been in this same crash and NOT been totaled? What really gave Kia this 5-star rating? I mean, her airbag didn’t deploy and there is extensive damage to her dashboard INSIDE the car? In the end, because she is ok, this stuff seems pretty trivial, but it still makes me wonder.

A week ago, my dear friend was hurt in a car accident. Now, my sister. Things happen in threes so who is next? Thankfully my friend and my sister were both fine considering the extents of their crashes.

Coulda woulda shoulda

I could spend this post bitching about the weather that has gone horribly wrong, considering last week I was wearing capris and t-shirts. Fucking spring in Chicago.

I could write about the antics of my children and how much Mondays suck. Little shits.

I could tell you all about the neck pain I have had for 3 months. Son of a bitch.

I could bitch about the mysterious charge to my bank account that I found this morning which I researched and used the internet to find that I was duped into it by ordering flowers from a company and inadvertently signed up for some membership savings program. Fuckers.

I could express my intense fear of the state of the world right now. Armageddon much?

I could tell you how incredibly bad at math I am and how taking math at an online college is NOT the way to go if you suck at math. I can’t even complete the assignments anymore. Stoopid math.

I could apologize for being an incredibly lame ass blogger as of late. I’m a tard.

But then I thought, why? Why on earth would I want to contribute more misery to the blogosphere on a crappy Monday in which other bloggers might be feeling down? Maybe I should swim against the current and post pictures of kittens and spring flowers and fluffy teddy bears? Except I don’t really have any pictures of those things and the batteries in my camera are dead.

So where does that leave this post?

I. Have. No. Idea.

I guess I will leave you with a knock knock joke. An original knock knock joke straight from hubs…

Hubs - “Knock knock!”

You - “Who’s there?”

Hubs - “Orange.”

You - “Orange who?”

Hubs - <farts loudly as you ask “orange who?”>

Hubs and the punchline - “Orange you glad you don’t have to smell that?!”

Yes, folks, my husband can practically fart on cue. His timing is impeccable and his made up jokes are sometimes even hilarious.

Happy crappy Monday.

P.S. I enjoy changing my header picture because it’s fun. It’s not me being indecisive, as usual. And the tag line is courtesy of me, but inspired from my new UK BFF MrsFancypants. She made me what I am today, in the UK. Which is actually a little more than nothing, but it’s bloody fun to say. I LOVE THE ENGLISH! They gave us words like “tossers” and “bloody” and “wanker”. I will forever be greatful for that.

It doesn’t take a rocket scientist to read this

Well, I never did claim to be a genius.

Your Blog is at an Elementary School Reading Level

I guess this proves it. So, have no fear people, you don’t need to be a genius either, to read this crap.

Also, I finally updated my blogroll and created a separate page for it. So, that is where you’ll find much better reading. If you want to be added, tell me. Saying things like, “add me to the list beeyotch” are perfectly acceptable. I also accept cash and gifts.

Happy Friday.

I guess the sign just wasn’t clear enough

This was taken with my phone so forgive the poor quality.

I drive by this every day when I take DramaBoy to school. This is an empty lot where a house once stood. The house was demolished a couple of years ago. In case you don’t understand yet, that little sign in the picture, right/center, well, it says NO DUMPING.

NO DUMPING. Is that too hard to understand? Should it be more clear like, “Hey, you fucknut! Don’t be driving by this empty lot thinking that just because no one lives here you can dump your shit off so it’s out of your hair and now someone else’s problem. It’s fucking littering and you are messin’ up the place! I bet you are the same fucknut who throws trash out of their car window too. Yeah, I saw you. I fucking see you do it every day. Fuckstick”

Is that more clear?

I would also take a picture of the stoopid fucking lawn deer that are in the front yard of a house nearby this empty lot, but I don’t want the residents thinking that I’m going to completely make fun of their poor taste and then put a picture of their house and stoopid lawn deer on my blog for all the world to see. I would wait till their on vacation to do that. But, besides, we have all seen stoopid-ass plastic lawn deer before. Which, by the way, I might add seems to be the biggest search engine term that brings people to this blog! I see “plastic yard ornaments” or the like come up in my stats all the time.

If I seem a bit random and out there today, it’s ok. I’m just in one of those moods, and it doesn’t involve crying, screaming, hiding or over analyzing the fact that I feel like I’m being made fun of on another blog because the blogger linked me in their sidebar but it goes to my “Behind the Drama” page and my blog is kind of like “which blog doesn’t belong on this page” kind of thing.

I digress.

DraMa out.

(heh, kickin’ it old school… I haven’t signed off with that hip closer in ages…I’m so wit’ it.)

Generic peanut butter sucks.

That is really the only thing I have to say at the moment. This is a good thing!

For some reason hubs went with a generic brand recently, instead of getting our usual Jif™. Now, I’m stuck with a huge jar of fully hydrogenated peanut butter that barely has any taste, let alone real peanuts.

Dammit. I’m a choosy mom who would have chosen Jif™.

Oh, and the dog is soooooo grounded, til he is like, 18. Bastard.

Shimmy-Shimmy Coco-Pop!

I was awoken out of a dead sleep around 4:40am to the sounds of my roof and house creaking louder than normal and my bed was shaking. This isn’t really that abnormal because we are very close to two major railways. When the freight trains go by you can feel them if you are upstairs in our bed. The floor will bounce a tiny bit and it feels similar to standing on a bridge as cars drive over. This makes our bed shake a tad as well so we feel it mostly when we are laying in bed. We can’t feel the trains when we are downstairs for some reason though. Our house will also creak if the wind is strong. It is actually a very comforting and homey sound when we lay in bed upstairs and listen to the house pop and creak as the wind gusts by. It always makes me wonder how our house has stood through 114 years of wind, storms, rain, snow and so much more.

Are you wondering, “why the hell do I care about the antics of your house and what you do when you lay in bed?!” yet? Well, I do have a point. I’ll get to it soon.

Last night, as my house was creaking and my bed was shaking I quickly noticed the absence of a train, and wind. My house was apparently shaking for no reason. Weird. Hub’s was sleeping downstairs because Monster had literally kicked him out of bed. I just laid there next to a snoring Monster whose feet were firmly planted in my side and I just continued thinking, “Hm, my bed is shaking, a lot. Dammit, I was sound  asleep and having a great dream! I cannot believe we are having a stupid earthquake. I live outside of Chicago and a stupid-ass earthquake is disturbing my sleep! This is pretty cool.”

“Ssssnnnnnzzzzzzzzzz….”

Sunrise came and I was yet again woken out of a dead sleep only this time it was by DramaBoy staring at me from the side of my bed. I get up and follow him downstairs and run straight to pee (a 114-year old house equipped with one tiny bathroom downstairs… I do not get up in the middle of the night unless I’m about to explode and can’t sleep). As I walk back into the livingroom I am startled by the fact that my husband is still in his pajamas sitting in the chair. It is Friday, not Saturday.

Sidebar: Apparently I was up all night throwing up because I had food poisoning so he had to stay home from work to help me today. Cool. What a guy. Thankfully I woke up feeling a lot better.

Anyway, I asked, “Um, babes? Can I ask you a really stoopid question?”

“Sure.”

“Um, did we have an earthquake last night?”

“Yes! We really did!” he said straight-faced and matter of factly.

“SHUT UP! I knew it!” I screeched and immediately turned on the t.v.

“….. the Midwest experienced a 5.2 magnitude earthquake in the early morning hours….”

“Babe! You just had your earthquake cherry popped! You are now ready to live in Phoenix.” I said proudly.

This wasn’t my first. I have been through a fairly good quake that was centered pretty close to where I lived when I was a kid. Then I just felt the small shocks from another major quake centered in the California desert in the middle of the night while I was at work. I was on the fourth floor of my building in Tempe and felt things bounce around for a few seconds.

Since I did a science project in 7th grade on earthquakes, tectonic plates and fault zones I feel that I am incredibly well versed in the seismic geology. I also happen to be a complete seismic geek with a sick obsession with earthquakes. Because of my incredibly profound background knowledge I knew that a quake in the Midwest was not unusual. I also knew that one of the largest quakes to hit the continental United States was in Missouri in the 1800’s. Blah blah blah… I told you, I’m a geek.

So we had an earthquake. Cool. I say that as calm and cool as I can but I’m secretly doing back flips and screeching like a school-girl because we totally had an earthquake! WHOO!

At least I am not writing about yet another personal meltdown or something funny my kids did or about poop. My lame earthquake story should be a blessing today.