Draw Something Drawback

So, last night, as I was checking Draw Something (yes, I've gotten a bit addicted), one person left a comment after not getting my drawing of "checkers" (In which, I MIGHT ADD, even though it was NOT that well done, I DID write "King me!" ... which is a dead giveaway. Which s/he didn't even wait to see before passing.) ...

Their comment got me down a little ...

The comment?

"Learn to dram wtf or write it out."

So, yeah, there I am feeling rather miffed at a complete stranger being that ... well, b-word-y about a GAME.
It's not like you WIN ANYTHING AT ALL for getting more words right.

And, if you are playing random people, you're taking your chances.

How did I make myself feel better?

By visualizing how I COULD have responded.
(Instead of resigning/ending our match. If s/he doesn't like my attempts at drawing, s/he doesn't have to play, do does s/he?)

I did think about leaving what I had done before learning how to delete a partner (Yay for Google!) ... which was: 1) Pick the hardest word given. 2) Start drawing something. 3) Erase it. 4)Just turn empty pages and then select that I'm done and send it to the other person.
What I DIDN'T do was 5) Comment "Then try THIS, B****."
Or, really, what I ALMOST wrote was "[Be more constructive/don't be so negative] with your criticism."

I mean, really. Would it have KILLED you to use a smiley?

There's a difference (especially to a sensitive/hormonal person like me between
Learn to dram wtf or write it out :) AND Learn to dram wtf or write it out.

Then I realized that I was getting upset/offended by someone who can't even spell DRAW.

That's just pitiful.

Though, really ... since I don't like to use profanities that much (Don't get me wrong. I say "crap" and "damn" and "hell" much more than I probably NEED to. Oh well.), but instead of calling that person a b-word (Though the statement WAS rather b****y. There are MANY other ways to express oneself than just being like that. How about, "That was too tough. Maybe you could write out the answer next time." or something.)

(However, I still wouldn't really. Because 1) In Draw Something, you just have to fill in the letters. They GIVE you the answer. If I can't get it right? It's because I'm NOT THINKING HARD ENOUGH. The onus is on ME, guessing. Some of the drawings aren't as helpful as they should be. So what? I'm using the free version of the app. I'm not losing anything by getting it wrong. And 2) Since Michael's family plays a lot of Pictionary, I try not to write down words. Because that's cheating.)

SO, if you can't guess my (less-than-stellar, I'll admit) drawing, when the answer is practically GIVEN (you know how many letters ... and they give you the letters. Sometimes more than what you need, but still! The answer is there!! Just jumbled!), dude ... just suck it up that YOU are not that clever/creative at that moment in time. Let it go.

No need to insult your partner.

Especially because, if it EVER happens again, I'm probably going to answer "Sod off, tosser."

Since, I obvs don't mind being crass in British slang.
I'm not sure why ...


And, REALLY!! If you're going to insult me, at least spell it correctly. And make it make SENSE.

I mean, someone has to have standards, right?

-----------------------------------------------------
In all honesty, my checkerboard was NOT drawn well. But it WAS red and black. And I did write "King me!"
If that random person was at all patient, s/he'd most likely HAVE gotten it.

Also, if you write out something in Draw Something, I'm not going to lambaste you.
But I usually won't write it out.
I have to keep in practice for the C Family Pictionary rounds.
We're kind of brutal.

Like the one time that Sister-in-law-squared (our husbands are brothers), A and I were drawing against each other.
Michael got it. C didn't.
She looked at my paper and cried, "We drew the same thing!! How come your fiance got it and mine didn't??"
I, caught up in the heat of the game, crowed, "Because MY fiance is smarter than yours!"

Now, due the the nature of our competitions with Pictionary, that would normally be rude and shocking.
Not so with the cutthroat rounds of Pictionary that I've grown accustomed to.

Seriously, they all just laughed. Even C.
They're good sports.

... "learn to dram" ... Learn to dram, indeed.

--------------------------------------------------------

With that all said, if you do play Draw Something and you want to play ... let me know.
If you don't have me on Facebook, my username on Draw Something is, predictably, LlannaLee. ^_^

Funny things we say ...

The kiddos always like to think ahead to what they want to dress up as for Halloween.
Bucket's thinking (at present) of going as a goldfish.
She's also throwing around the ideas of:

• a platypus
• Ginny Weasley
• Merida (from "Brave" ... coming to a theater near you June 22.)
  (Can you tell we're looking forward to seeing it?)

Bruise wants to go as Harry Potter. Or Indiana Jones.

Every so often, they try to get us all on board for a theme Halloween (which would be fun).
Then we'd have to figure out who'd go as whom.

Here's what we've figured out ...
Bruise and Bucket could go as twins, Luke and Leia
Bubbles could be Chewbacca or Yoda or an Ewok.
Or R2 or a Stormtrooper (Though she's a little short for a Stormtrooper. Ha ha ha.)

If we go that route, Michael'd be Darth Vader.
And, since the kids are BORN ... and this is a part of Star Wars that I DO know, here's my contribution to the conversation:

"Ooooh! Does that mean I get to be ZOMBIE PADME????"


Yes'm. I'm special.
And, really. If I had to be Padme, that'd be the way to go.

Besides, it's not like (any time that I put effort and thought into a costume) anyone knows who I am.
(e.g., the times that I dressed as Jem! or cross-played Jayne Cobb. So depressing.)

I was listening to the kids tell me about riding in the car.

They were telling me that once Bruise rode in the front seat of the truck.
And, since he's still small, he knew that he'd have to duck if they saw a police car.

Bucket: BRUISE! You could sit on a REALLY BIG BOX! Then you wouldn't have to duck! Because they'd think you were TWENTY!

I'm sorry ... but NO ONE would think that my slim little man was even twelve, let alone TWENTY.

We still don't have our grill.
Seriously, the rain check was made out on the 19th ... NINE DAYS AGO.
They didn't call us by the 26th like they said they would.
Michael went into the store on the 25th to check.
They said the shipment hadn't come in ... yet, strangely enough, there was a SECOND floor model (too big to fit into even the truck, since the canopy is on it).
I called yesterday and they didn't have the rain check in the regular file. I was told the rain check must be with the seasonal files. And that THAT manager who has the keys had already gone home.

Yeah, we're a little annoyed.

Oh well.

But it WOULD have been nice to have been able to grill today.
And maybe last Friday ... but those have both already come and gone.

Still, it's really crazy.
Especially since this Fred Meyer? ... Well, the employee wrote the wrong phone number for the store on the raincheck.
And the number on Google? Disconnected.
Which happened to be the number on the official Fred Meyer website.
I was able to FINALLY find the correct number (wrong prefix from the employee. How odd is that?).
At least, when I did get the right number, the employees were professional and nice.

Still, wouldn't you think that if you, as a business, changed your number, you'd WANT it to be listed correctly on the INTERNET?

Whatever.
Not my business. But if it WERE, you know that I'd be over that like white on rice, y'all.

Okay, gotta feed Bubbles.
(Did I mention that she slept ALL NIGHT (and then some! 11 hours!) ... and that when I set her down to sleep, she did wake up ... and soothed herself back to sleep. Yeah ... I'm shocked, too. GRATEFUL, but shocked.)

In which I bemoan Call Waiting

SO ... I was helping the kids work on homework yesterday when my uncle called.
And, when he calls, it's for computer stuff.
He doesn't have a computer. He's blind, in fact ... but it's to have me look up stuff on the internet for him -- phone numbers, websites (if they exist), addresses, books -- and it's NEVER a quick little call, bless his heart.

BUT, Bruise was in the middle of reading a book aloud. I was NOT going to interrupt that. I'm not stupid.

And my uncle called back today. Which is fine.

EXCEPT that he's the one who called ME and, not one but TWICE, "Oh, my call-waiting is going off. I'll call you back later."
And I waited around for at least a half-hour for him to finish his conversation with another friend before he called back.

Um ... not to be really a stickler for etiquette, BUT (I'm just going to point out) if YOU call someone for favors ... heck if YOU call a person, wouldn't it be more polite to just ignore that call-waiting and have your conversation? If you think it's important, then BY ALL MEANS, wrap up your call in a speedy manner.

Now, I'll admit that if _I_ was the one who had called HIM, I wouldn't be so peeved about him hanging up and calling me back.
(That's one reason I kinda hate the telephone at times ... I have a niggling worry deep in my heart that I'm always calling at a bad time/that I'm annoying people by calling/etc.)
BUT, if _I_'m the one calling, then SURE, if you need to get the other line, call me back later.

BUT, if YOU call ME ... and then you take call-waiting ... I'm sorry. Unless it's an emergency, you've totally made me feel like maybe you don't really care. Because obviously my time is totally expendable and maybe getting my help isn't any big issue at all.

Just sayin'.

Oh ... by the way, I don't have call-waiting on the regular phone. We're cheap.
It's on my cell phone ... and I don't always use it. I mean, isn't that what voicemail is for?
Besides, I think I can count the times that I've gotten a call-waiting beep on my cell on one hand (if you don't count when I've been leaving a voicemail and then the person calls me back mid-message).

The only real reason that I've noticed for getting call-waiting ... if you have teenagers in your house. Then it's kinda vital. Or if you run a home business or something. And, even then, I might just opt for voicemail and Caller ID.

Okay ... I'll get over this in, like, about 45 minutes. But right now?
It RANKLES.

Dear Diary, WITHER THE FRIES

Okay, so it's established that I am with child.
I have morning sickness (which, THIS PREGNANCY, is NOT relegated solely to the mornings. Pity).

BUT ... this is what's just weird:

Sometimes (and especially when I'm nauseated/just-did-something-involving-a-sink-or-a-commode-due-to-the-nausea-if-you-know-what-I-mean-and-I-think-you-do)

WATER (OR ICE) TASTES SWEET.

Like nasty overly-sweet cheapo-vanilla-flavored candy-type sweet.

It's so gross.

I just took my anti-nausea pill (which I probably needed because I haven't felt hungry, so I haven't eaten much, today) ... because I NEEDED to take that pill.

(Stomach acid? Not very yummy.)
(EVER.)

And, now I'm drinking a glass of milk (getting the calcium -- 3 servings/daily -- for the bean!) ... and it tastes like someone's dumped sugar.
In my glass of milk.

Normally, my darling, I am ALL ABOUT THE SWEETS.

Not so much (at all) this pregnancy.
As in, I'll eat something sweet if someone gives it to me ... but I have NO cravings for sweets.

I'm all about the savory. (Like Broccoli Cheese soup ... Taco Bell's nacho cheese ... THOSE are my real cravings thus far this pregnancy. ... And then my stupid body pulls a "return to sender," ifkwim. Aityd. Gross.)

So, for most of the time, I'll PUSH myself to eat SOMETHING. Just so I won't throw up.

Seriously, little fetus ... WHAT'S WRONG WITH FOOD???? DO YOU NOT LIKE IT????
I used to LOVE food. As in, I harbored a near-unhealthy adoration of it.
Now ... it's like I've given it up for Lent (although it's totally the wrong time of year for that. ... I don't think I'll even BE pregnant when Lent rolls around. Oh, well, maybe the beginning of Lent. Where's a calendar? HA! It starts the 22 of February. Right around my due date. So, I'll make it to a bit of Lent. Not that I celebrate it ... but still, good to know.)

Also, I don't know if my anti-nausea pill tastes like candy (since you let it dissolve in your mouth) or if it's just my body being all funky.
And not the GOOD kind of funk. (The good kind? See below:)



(THAT, my darlings, is the good kind of funk. ... Truth be told, I'm still a little jealous that one of my friends got that CD. Good times. I still rather long for it. Though, I think I have most of the tracks now. ^_^)

But, yeah. This pregnancy is different.
More exhausted. More nausea. ... and it's only 9 weeks in. Almost 10.
I'll enjoy eating again someday, right?
More than two meals a day, right?
I'll be able to THINK about eating chocolate and other decadent treats someday, right?
RIGHT???

Until then, I'll just watch that commercial for Pure Funk and be amused. Oh, how I love that commercial.
(I also wanted the Pure Disco CDs, too. But this had the more entertaining commercial. ^_^)

Some People's Children ... (SCAM WARNING)

So, I got a call a few minutes ago ... telling me that I won a $5,000 grant from the U.S. Government.
Because I'm such an upstanding citizen (i.e., I pay my taxes and haven't declared bankruptcy).

A grant that I never applied for.

And, really? My father-in-law works for the IRS. They're not giving out money willy-nilly.
(They want what they are owed. If you pay more, let them know. They'll give it back. If YOU didn't catch the error in their favor, they probably won't look for it either.)

So, yeah ... if you're contacted to call 202-621-0644, be aware it's probably a scam.

I looked online (as I went through the proper channels of reporting this to the FTC [Federal Trade Commission ... we ARE on the Do Not Call list. And have been since it came out.] and our state Attorney General) and I'm not the only one they've called.

The people who HAVE called back to give Elzina Jones ("my accountant" was what I was told by the man on the phone) their grant approval code? They've been asked for their bank routing number. Or have been told to make a donation ... anywhere from $300-575 ... before they can get "their" grant money.

When someone asked how they could be sure this wasn't a grant, they were told to call 202-621-0600, which didn't work.

So, yeah. Just wanted to let you know.

(Yeah, I'm feeling kinda cantankerous and punchy today. So I was TOTALLY READY to be doing some legal-type paperwork. Bring it, scammers. I'm smart enough to RECOGNIZE a scam when I hear one ... AND I'm internet-savvy enough to know how to search for what to DO about it. Bring it. I will bring you down. And THEN I'll blog about it. )

(Though, honestly? I'd rather have the $5,000. ... But, *sigh* since that's not even REAL, I'll settle for a little internet-vigilante justice. Along with completely-through-legal-channels justice.)

Yeah. Just call me SuperLlanna -- slayer of spammy scams.

If you need me, I'll be working out my costuming ideas.
Until I get in total shape, I'm eschewing spandex.

Do you think that sweats and a ponytail would be too stereotypical?
... If I can get my hair to stay in a ponytail. It is a little short at present ... Hmmmm.

Wow ... Just ... I mean, did she even think??

Every so often, while perusing the internet, I come across something that just BLOWS. MY. BRAIN.

Today's winner - Judith Griggs.

Because ... well, it takes some serious balls to steal another person's work (PLAGIARISM!), profit from it, and then, when called upon it act like you DID THEM A FAVOR.

Really?

Yes, really. Because I cannot make this crap up.

So, yeah. If you want to read more about Griggs' egregious error in judgment and humility, please do.

Here (via Nick Mamatas)

Here (via SmartB*tches -- profanity involved. Just to warn you.)

Here (more Smart B ... with more story.)

And, straight from the victim, here.

Moral of the story: Just because something might be considered "Public Domain," does NOT give you the right to copy it word for word.

(Because, if that were not the case, I could just copy "Pride and Prejudice" or "Jane Eyre" word-for-word ... or sections thereof, and be completely done with NaNoWriMo ... which I am not. And, at this point, I won't ever be. And I'm okay with that.)

(Because it's better to be a quitter than a plagiarizing Cheaty McCheaterpants. ... Just saying.)

Still, Ms. Judith Griggs (it's so nice, I link it twice!) believes that she is in the right, that she has done nothing wrong, and that she's even done Monica Gaudio a favor by cleaning up the spelling (of words written in [correctly-spelled] medieval English.

Yes, she's done a favor by doing something that would get any college student expelled.

*sings* One of these things is not like the other ...


So, yes. Please remember that when you use someone else's words, you should either rewrite it, ask for permission, always cite your sources, ... and, if the person or his/her estate is still living and you DIDN'T ask for permission (ESPECIALLY for a paid publication), be aware that financial restitution and/or a formal apology may be required.

Update - 4:29 PM - There's quite a few articles out there about this scandal. HERE is one that shows that Cooks Source has plagiarized at least SIX other authors/publications. Not all of them were online. And a few of the online ones DID have copyright notices on their sites.


----
In case you're wondering, I am just peeved that anyone (especially someone proclaiming that they have three decades in journalism) would flagrantly copy another person's work. Writing is not easy. Nor is finding a publisher. Plagiarism is intellectual theft. It just makes me upset. And very disappointed in people who do it.

(So don't do it. I don't want to be disappointed in you.)

Here's a video to help explain it. (Use captions. It's in Norwegian. But it's totally well done and worth it.)

In which I talk about shopping ...

For the last couple of days, I've gotten some emails from Bath and Body Works about this GREAT BAG/deal ... that if you spend $30, you get the bag (fulla STUFF!!) for $20. Pretty awesome ...

(Here's the write-up from the site of what it has in it: Our exclusive VIP Bag features a few very impressive products. It makes the perfect gift, but once you see what's inside, you won't want to give it away! This see-through tote comes with a full-size Shower Gel (10 oz.), Body Lotion (8 oz.) and Fragrance Mist (8 oz.) in Forever Sunshine, Anti-Bacterial Hand Gel in Nectarine Mint (8 oz.), a Blue Scentbug and eight extra refill pads, Home Fragrance Oil in Pineapple Orchid (0.33 fl oz), C.O. Bigelow Mentha Sheer Lip Tint in Vanilla Mint (0.5 oz.), a PocketBac in Fresh Market Apple (1 oz.) with a pink swirl holder, our striped resusable tote, a white gauze sponge and a preview of our newest fragrance, Dark Kiss in a 2 oz. Body Lotion. )

After my crazy-sleepless night (I FINALLY fell asleep around 4 or 4:30 ... and got up around 8:30), I was REALLY looking forward to scoring an awesome bag of wonderful stuff. I was thinking about how nice it'd be to have a cool lippie and the neat Pineapple Orchid fragrance (maybe in the bathroom?) ...

And I got to the mall not too long after it opened. I knew that the bags had sold out online. But, really, my town isn't HUGE-HUGE ... so I went to Bath and Body Works. I took a glance around and didn't SEE any ... so I asked.

They were sold out. And had been for DAYS.

Between the fact that I had so little sleep and I am still under Mother Nature's tidal wave of hormones, I should have an award for not collapsing on the ground and bursting into piteous tears.
Which was what I so almost did upon receiving the news.

You should be SO, SO, SO proud of me for putting on a stiff upper lip and getting the things that Mom had requested (With the awesome deals going on, she requested a few products and she gave me money. So I also got to get things for myself. Which is fun).

Unfortunately, they didn't have the pocket-bac sanitizers or the anti-bacterial soap in Velvet Tuberose (which smells SO AMAZING on my mom. Really. She uses it while she's up here. And I tell her about twenty times or so HOW GOOD she smells.), but I think that I got her a couple that she'll like. I also picked up a couple little pocket-bac plastic holder (to attach it to a purse or bag), one for her and one for me. And I did get a couple body wash scents for my shower. And a smelly-good for my van.

And, even though I was SORELY DISAPPOINTED to not be able to buy one of the bags of wonderment and joy, I did get a book of coupons ... and I got a tube of Look Ma, New Hands for free. (LOVE True Blue Spa products. I'm sad, though, that they no longer make the Soak It Up Monoi Oil Milk Bath. *wipes away a tear* It smelled SO GOOD. At least they still do the bath gel and body cream ... but it's not quite the same.)

Then I went to Sally Beauty and picked up some more bleach. (imho, I really like Manic Panic's Lightning Bleach. I almost picked up a jar of color ... I was really temped to get the Virgin Snow toner ... But I resisted. For now.)

Then I headed over to Walgreen's to buy Nailtiques, formula 2 (for weak nails).
And they were out. They had Formula 1 or 2 PLUS ... but not what I wanted. And it was on sale.
I asked the gal stocking shelves (I say gal ... she was probably 30 or 40. I am terrible with gauging ages, really.) and she was really wonderful. She arranged it so that the Walgreen's from the neighboring town will bring it over next week. AND I have a rain check that I can use in the future. She was really, really wonderful.

I got back home to Michael and the kids (watching Star Wars, episode 1) and I went through Facebook and some blogs. Then we had naptime ... and I FINALLY took some ibuprofen to get rid of the gnarly neck-head-ache-THING that was plaguing me.
(I was THISCLOSE to just ripping my head, neck, and shoulder off and figuring out a way to reassemble them PROPERLY. ... Well, I would have done that if it wouldn't have killed me and made a terrible mess. Stupid bodies. Ugh.)

Thankfully, the ibuprofen kicked in and I'm feeling better. I think that I will take a Unisom and some melatonin tonight. I'm just glad that Michael doesn't have meetings before church. It's SO, SO, SO much easier to get to church on time and with everything ready when there are two adults.
(Yes, I do miss that brief period of time when Michael wasn't the executive secretary or EQ president. I miss it a lot, when I think about it. But it was only for a few months, so I barely remember it. But it was sure nice. ... Oh well, blessings in heaven, right? And the ward hasn't shunned me when I only get into our seats ten minutes before church starts, with only the barest effort of makeup on my face. Or no makeup whatsoever. ... Yeah, I usually am there around 15-20 minutes early. I'm crazy like that. Terminally early.)

The big excitement today was the domestic dispute that took place (OF COURSE) right after we sent the kids to nap.
A guy and his wife? girlfriend? babymama?  ... He was shouting at her. Mostly the f-bomb. About how mad he was that the cops had been called on him and how he wanted to see his kids.

She screamed back at him about how, if he ACTED like their father, he'd be able to see them.

Did I mention that their kids were out in the driveway, listening to this argument?

And that I could hear EVERY. SINGLE. WORD. through our walls and closed windows. TWO HOUSES DOWN?

Michael went out and talked to them. He's braver than I am.
I stood at the ready with the non-emergency number for the local police dialed into the phone, primed for me to connect the call.
The guy calmed down. Then reamed Michael for not IMMEDIATELY going back into the house. Said that Michael was "staring" at him.

Whatever. Michael was just making sure that the guy wasn't going to blow up again.

Yeah, the couple don't live here. The gal is the daughter of one of our neighbors.

Still, really???? Fighting in the middle of the neighborhood? Do they have no sense? And to do it in front of their kids?? Really??

Of course, about a year ago, I think it was her and another girl that had a full-out brawl in front of our place.

At this point, we (meaning MICHAEL) have talked to them twice. If this happens when Michael's not here, I'm just going to call the cops on them.

It's not appropriate at all.

(You're free to disagree with me. And, if you do, please do give me suggestions of what YOU would do if this were happening in front of your house.)

So, yeah ... that's most of what all has gone on. A few disappointments in shopping (Thank GOODNESS I didn't attempt to shop for clothes. I might have been tempted to just off myself then!) ... but there were some good things, too.

Oh, and did I mention that we got ourselves a membership to OMSI (which also gets us into quite a few other museums around the state? LOVELY. And it was with a great discount. ... If you want to nab one yourself, go check out the info about Fred Meyer Science Days (ends Aug 15)). That was great.

Okay. That's it for now.

Scammer Alert!

So, we were cold called (depsite being on the DoNotCall registry since, oh, WE BOUGHT OUR HOUSE THREE YEARS AGO, say) by a company.

I picked up the phone and got the opportunity to speak with a quite nice, albeit HEAVILY-ACCENTED (Seriously, I couldn't understand most things he said, bless his heart) man ... who was VERY, VERY interested in making my computer run faster.

I talked with him as he had me open my computer's EventViewer (eventvwr.exe ... who knew? ... Not me, obviously.) and scroll through and start COUNTING the errors and warnings. For an EXACT COUNT.
(Since I practically LIVE online, there were TONS of things to scroll through.)

Michael was suspicious (as was I ... calling across the room, "Hey, honey? Does this sound suspicious? No, I DON'T KNOW who's calling. Should I hang up? Oh, OKAY!!! *click!*) ...

And, after I hung up, they called back. We let it go to the answering machine.

And they called back AGAIN!

So, I let Michael deal with it.

Best part of it? Michael made the dude give him his contact information ... and the best quote from Michael, "That's what I'm TRYING to do. Now, are you going to tell me your number??"

Love that man of mine.

SO, if you get a call from Online PC Care, don't trust them. We checked out their website (easy to find, really) and it doesn't look very ... trustworthy.

However, the best part of that search was finding this story:
 http://timtrent.blogspot.com/2010/04/online-pc-care-just-spam-cold-called-me.html
Quite entertaining. ^_^

Now, the question really is ... where did they get our number?

And WHY IN THE BLOODY FINGERS OF THE ZOMBIE BALLERINA NATRILLA did they think that calling people with an iota of intelligence (or, merely, internet access) would result in anything good for them?

So, if you need some fake phone numbers for the creepers in bars or something, let me know. I have a couple you can use. Especially if you pretend to be from New York. *significant look*
(Since, if you're going to be giving out a fake number, you might as well have a good cover story. And a number that you really want to be used. Heh heh heh.)

But, yeah. Thought you should be aware.

(Though, I'm sure that poor Torrus is a very nice man who has found himself in a very bad situation -- telemarketing. ... Which, if you're bored and don't mind some ... worldly humor, there's a game on AdultSwim's website where you play a telemarketer. I'm not wild about it. I prefer the Amateur Surgeon. Although it's HAAAAAAARD and frustrates me to no end. *sigh*)

Oh ... about my dreams .... Here's another humdinger ...

So, the other night, I had some dreams that tell me that I don't want to move to Alaska.

Since that's where I was living in this dream.

But I still DO want to GO to Alaska ... I really, really, really want to see the Aurora Borealis.

If you're weak-hearted, you might not want to read these. I'm giving you warning.

Because, obviously, my subconscious is one evil piece of work.
Seriously, I don't want to meet my Id in a dark alley. ... Therefore, my ego is serisously a super-ego, battling that puppy 24/7 ... if you believe Freud. Which I don't know that I really do.

Some of his theories are WACK.

Not wiggedy-wack. Just the regular kind.

--------------------------------------------

But, in the first dream, I was in this house. But it wasn't MY house. But I was there ... and ended up being chased around by some woman (who DIDN'T live in that house) with a big, sharp, pointy knife.

(I had better endurance in my dream than I do in real life. Just sayin'. I should probably work on that, huh?)

In the SECOND dream (or crazy dream, part 2), I was in a house in Alaska that WAS my house. And ... there was a guy ... like a mix of Michael and my dad. But neither, really. And we had a Canadian friend. Who reminded my much of my friend, Priss (not her RL name, but her blog name. She knows who she is. ... And I think that a few of you do, too). -- Mostly because of her looks (dark-haired, slim lines, pretty). But still ...

SO ... in this part of my dream, Not-Michael, Canadian Friend, and I were in my Alaska House. And this man breaks in. And I think that he tied both Not-Michael and Canadian up. And then he's grabbed me and thrown me to the floor and demands that I take off my jeans.

And I REALLY don't want to. Because I know what that means he plans to do.

And Not-Michael can't/won't do anything. Just kinda shakes his head and won't meet my eyes. Or Break-in-guy's, either.

Canadian can't help me, being tied up ... and Break-In-Guy has a weapon ... a gun? ... but she just looks at me with such compassion and sorrow. Just about breaks my heart since it seems like maybe she dealt with that before.

And then, right before I woke up, Break-In-Guy doesn't really DO anything. It's, like, just a lesson for Not-Michael ... who might be in politics or a judge or something and made the wrong verdict or whatever in a case regarding Break-In-Guy's family or something.

And so, I wake up being all .... WITHER THE FRIES?!?!?

But I'm glad that I didn't have to take off my jeans.

Welcome Troll! Goodbye Troll!

Okay, I'm glad that I moderate the comments on my blog ... since I got a little bit of a doozie.

And, wow. It was submitted as a comment on my previous post (about favorite sports), so it really makes NO sense in its context.

I won't publish the commenter's webpage (since I don't care to give him or her any hits for this kind of behavior -- and also to protect him or her from any irate readers on my behalf ... since I know that you love me so. ^_^)

I'm disappointed by your book list. I expected an open mind. Instead you seek out books to confirm your own bias. You might as well let the Church correlation department rate your reads. It's a pity that your mind is limited to the absurdity of your own religion. So sad.

Wow ... just wow.

At first, I was just a little ... flabbergasted that someone would make that kind of comment. I TRY not to be offensive. And, gosh, but I DO love my religion.

And then I was all, "Dude, really? Of all the things you could nitpick about me, you pick my book list first? Really?" And then I started snickering into my fist.

It'd be like someone telling Mother Teresa that she'd be SO much more effective if she just put on a coat of lipstick ... Really, it's kind of absurd.

Now, here's where I might get a little high and mighty ... The liberal side is all about preaching tolerance for others ... AS LONG AS YOU ARE PRACTICING WHAT THEY SUPPORT.
Yes, we must respect everyone's differences -- UNLESS you are white, Mormon, straight, or a native of the United States.
Really, that's how it comes across a lot.

It kind of makes me laugh in a way.

And, yes, I know that I'm being so hypocritical ... I'm less than tolerant of some others of God's children. As I'm talking about tolerance. And I'm completely aware of this as I talk about it. I acknowledge my failings in regards to this.

Still, instead of being offended and hurt (probably what this troll's goal is), I'm mostly amused.

Because telling me that my list of things that I READ is biased. ... Well, it strikes me more as FUNNY than as offensive.

(I'm not going to argue this fact. It probably is. Because life is short and I really don't have the time, what with motherhood, being a homemaker, a volunteer, and an active member of my church, to WASTE time on books that I don't want to read. There are MANY books out there that just do not make my TBR pile. And anti-religion ones are on there. And, yes, I do like to read books that support my faith. Are all the religious books that I read written only by LDS authors? Ha! No! I LOVE C.S. Lewis, Madeline L'Engle ... and I review books for Thomas Nelson ... which is NOT LDS-specific. Yes, I DO like to buy and read books from Deseret Book. I plodded my way through Pullman's Golden Compass trilogy. Even though the final book was SO anti-religion, especially anti-Catholicism. ... I could argue that I've read a wide selection of books. Including some VERY secular types. But I won't.)

You can tell me that my religion (or ANY religion) is absurd. And I'll probably just raise an eyebrow and try to hide a smile. I won't try and cram the validity of faith down your throat. That isn't respectful to you or me. I really hate to Bible-bash. I respect your right to your own opinion and only ask for the same respect in return. I don't expect that EVERYONE will agree with my every opinion. That's not at all reasonable.

However, as much as you try and bash my religion, my faith, and my confidence ... well, you won't win. I have my testimony. I may not exercise it as much as I should. But I KNOW that The Church of Jesus Christ of Latter-Day Saints is true. I KNOW that Jesus Christ came to earth to teach us how to return to our Heavenly Father. I KNOW that He suffered for the sins of all mankind -- everyone who ever has lived or will live -- to enable us to repent and return to our Heavenly Father's presence. I KNOW that Joseph Smith was a true prophet, a man called of God. I KNOW that we have a living prophet on the earth today, Thomas S. Monson. I KNOW that he is inspired by God as he leads this church. I KNOW that these things are true.

You can mock me all you want. You can mock my faith. You can mock the Church, the prophets, our beliefs. That does not change what I know.

And, troll, I still love you. I may shake my head in amusement and a little pity at this situation (even though to say it that way makes me sound oh-so high and mighty -- and you and I both know that I am just a person. I'm falliable. I have issues). Still, regardless, you are a daughter or a son of God. And He loves you. As I should ... and I will work to do as best as I can. ^_^

But, truly, we can just agree to disagree on my book list and the topic of my religion and my faith.

Because it'd be much nicer to be your friend. And I'm willing to do so. But friendship is based on mutual respect ... So ... *shrugs* ... yeah. I'm just not feeling it right yet.

(I could close this with echoing "So sad." But that just seems a little vengeful and juvenile. So I won't. But, in all honesty, the thought DID cross my mind. Thought I'd be honest about that. *embarrassed grin* ... See? Told you I still have LOTS of progress before I'm really saintly.)

----------------------

Yeah, this comment didn't get published on the post that it was submitted. Since this is MY blog and I have that right. ... But I figured that it did warrant some discussion.
(And I figured that you might be interested in knowing EXACTLY how I reacted to this. Since I try to do nothing but keep it real. ^_^)

Good-bye, 2009. Hello, hello 2010.

I can totally admit to the fact that I tend to live in the past. I can AGONIZE over choices that I could have (maybe SHOULD HAVE) made at various points in my life. ... I still get VERY peeved when I see all the changes that have occurred in my hometown. I know, I know. The world does NOT revolve around me and my inflated sense of nostalgia ... I'm trying to come to terms with this fact.

I also cannot believe that it's been a year since I was flitting around town, scrambling to find edible glitter and the correct food colorings for Bruise and Bucket's birthday cake and cupcakes for their third birthday.

I also can't believe that it's only been a matter of months since the recession started. THAT, my dears, feels like it's gone on FOREVER. The bad kind of forever (as opposed to my feeling like Michael and I have been married for forever. That forever makes me happy. And almost wipes out how I agonize over what COULD have happened if I HAD kissed K in that play during the Ren Faire when we were sophomores. Could I have had a date for Prom my Junior year ... and then P and I wouldn't have had our friendship go all weird there for a while. But then he (P, not K) and Rox wouldn't have gotten engaged ... and he wouldn't have cheated on her ... Yeah, I don't know. Would things have been better? Or just different. And I probably wouldn't have liked myself all that much, since I WAS dating F right then. Not that he had a problem with my stage-kissing boys. Which was good, since I was in theatre ... But he and I really didn't suit. We didn't (and still don't) have all that much in common. (Truly, we have even less in common now. And I still think about the fact that I owe him a form punch in the nose for taking advantage of a friend of mine ... But that's neither here nor there, now is it?)

We should take down the Christmas tree soon. I need to get a picture of it. I feel bad that we really didn't get presents for the kids this year. Stupid recession hitting us hard. But, hey, they really didn't notice that at all. They got their yearly ornament (or, in this year's case, a set of ornaments each) and they received more than plenty from their family who loves them very, very much. (Costumes, dolls, Transformers, pajamas, lightsabers, cars, Lincoln logs ... good stuff. Yes, my babies are SPOILED.)

We bought their birthday presents today. Nothing really huge. I'll post what they got on their birthday.

Michael's getting a new calling. Glad that it's not me. I freaking LOVE my calling. I'll be so absolutely depressed and dejected when I have to give it up. So, yeah, we'll have a few changes happening around here ... even in our family schedule. Nothing really, really huge ... just different.

Bruise and Bucket start Primary this Sunday. What's nice is that one of their Nursery leaders is now their teacher. And I get the other in YW with me. I love them both ... and I'm so excited to have one with the YW. She totally makes me laugh so hard. (Seriously, you have not LIVED if you haven't played Scattergories with her. HILARIOUS!!)

In my YW Presidency meeting yesterday, it was brought to my attention that I had accidentally moved my birthday to be the same day as our president's. She and I have a couple days in between our birthdays. I played it off, citing that (1) I'm quite fallible and (2) that I wanted to be her TWINSIE!!! We had a good laugh about that. ^_^

I should use the pasta maker that I got for Christmas. It'll be a good thing. Get me off the computer more. And fresh, homemade noodles will be yummy and healthy and (most importantly) CHEAP.

I've been reading (Dexter in the Dark, Sister Bernadette's Barking Dog, Shakespeare's Landlord ...) and proofreading paper for a friend of mine. (LOVE the "Track Changes" in MS Word. Makes it easy to proof papers online.)

Michael and I went to the temple. And saw Sherlock Holmes (GOOD. Liked it a lot. I'm ready to own in on DVD.) Boxing day, we went with Michael's family and the kids to see "The Princess and the Frog." First time taking Bruise and Bucket to the movie theater. They did really well. Phew! Maybe we can make more of a habit of this. ... When we have money to do so. ^_^

BUMMER THING: My daughter, who takes after her mother in the area of childhood tact ... well ... My mom emailed me last night, letting me know that Bucket was talking about my mom's rear. And using the words "really, really big." Which had really hurt my mom's feelings.
If Bucket hadn't been asleep, I think I would have dragged her out of bed and raked her over the coals, vented my spleen, read her the riot act, and really have let her have it. Since she was asleep, we waited until we were all up and awake and had a DISCUSSION. And touched on this DISCUSSION repeatedly. We DISCUSSED using KIND WORDS and what is and is not appropriate to discuss.
(I can say that she takes after me because, as a child, I kinda offended/hurt my Pop-pop by getting after him and his smoking habit. ... I'm sorry that I hurt his feelings. But, deep inside, I really was right. Because he died of lung cancer. ... I really would give near anything to have been wrong. Sucks, huh?)
But, hopefully, Bucket will stop "trying to be funny/silly" and treat my mom with more respect. (And my mom felt like maybe SHE was being too sensitive. No. My daughter just needs to learn tact and how to filter. STAT. She's not allowed to hurt my mommy's feelings. That's that. Or else I'll be SORELY TEMPTED to handle it how my mom handled it back in the day when _I_ questioned why her posterior was the size it was. ... She slapped me across the face. I learned REAL FAST not to ask THAT question again. ... I don't want to do that, though. It's kind of my last resort. Let's pray that I don't have to resort to it.)

That's mostly the whole catch-up ...

I should, like, I don't know, write down goals or crap for this year. (Hope for more goals and less crap. ^_^

• Really, for real, make a steady habit of personal prayer and scripture study.
  This shouldn't be such a struggle. But, for me it is.
• Make a steady habit of exercise. Because _I_ am tired of being out of shape.
  And, really, how am I supposed to be a good example to my kids if I'm not making exercise a priority? ... Yeah, that's what I thought. Thanks.
• Back up all my stuff to the external HD once a month.
• Review the guidebooks and stuff for YW (Our YW Pres recommended this)
• Attend the temple at least 1x/month.
• Maybe start doing FLYlady again ... it'd be nice to have a consistently cleaner house.
• Plan meals out at the beginning of every week (or, even better, every MONTH) -- so that I will have an idea of when to start dinner and what to shop for and all that.
• Get my computer up and running again. *sigh*
• Maybe do that 365 picture thing ... Just maybe.
• Be prepared for NaNoWriMo this year. ... Since I lost all my previous work, do you think that I should restart the plot that I had going this year? Since I'll have some time and all, I could easily revamp and make an outline and, I don't know, have NAMES PICKED OUT FOR CHARACTERS and stuff?
• Finish Bruce and Bucket's baby books. BECAUSE THEY'RE GOING TO BE FOUR. THEREFORE IT'S DEFINITELY TIME FOR ME TO GET THAT STUFF DONE.
• Finish the two books I have from Thomas Nelson publishing and review them. So I can get another free book to review, and so on and so on and so on, worlds without end, Amen. (Was that sacrilegious? Or blasphemy? I'm not TRYING to be so, just so you know.)
• Get my girly-bits examined and a general check-up. Since that'd be a good thing to do. Not enjoyable, per se. But good, preventative medicine.
• Make a little marker for Gingi-cat's grave.
• Update my address book in Gmail ... get everyone's physical addresses added into that, so that, should anything happen, heaven forbid, I will still have people's addresses.
• I want to get my visiting teaching done every month. Not just for the numbers ... but because I feel better when I know that I've done what has been assigned to me. I hate feeling like I've dropped the ball.

Well, I think that's enough for now. *sigh* We'll see how well I do. And, hey, since I've shared these goals with you, you get to help keep me accountable.
If I fail, don't rub my nose in it, TOO much. Just enough to keep me humble. Not so much that I'll be calling every doctor I know, trying to get a prescription for Valium or anything.

Happy New Year's, everyone! Let's hope and pray for a year of health, love, and some material wealth. ^_^

Or, at least, that things will be getting better and better ... as opposed to the contrary.

In which I step in a wet spot on the carpet ...

So, I woke up as Michael was getting ready (a time which I refer to as "the butt crack of dawn," which has a kind of poetry to it. ... Not really. The poetical-ness-essence. I DO refer to the crazy-early part of the day as what I said above.) and I couldn't fall back asleep.

So I went online and looked at ornaments to see if there are any that I really, really want to get for Bruise and Bucket. Since I try to make sure that we buy them an ornament every year. Relating to something that they like. Hallmark has NO Transformers ornaments. LAAAAAAAAME. Bucket likes enough things that I can find her an ornament just about anywhere. And Hallmark's a little out of the budget right now. So I may just scrounge at Target.

But, since I'm up before the kids are, Michael talked me into getting a shower before I have another chance to replay the fiasco that was yesterday afternoon. *rolls eyes* If the kids had just LISTENED and taken that nap, everything would have been fiiiiiiiiiiiiiiine.

But, yeah. I get my shower. The kids come in while I'm taking it and belting out Disney songs. I get dried off and dressed. We watch the Charlie Brown Christmas special (in which I almost fall asleep, since I've been awake since around 5 AM. TOLD YOU it's the butt-crack of dawn) ... which takes up to about 8 AM.

The kids get to eat burnt cookies for breakfast, since I really don't care. I go and start making the big bed and Bucket's bed in the kids' room (washed the sheets on the guest bed ... and Bucket had an accident a couple nights ago, which necessitated washing HER sheets again. *sigh*). And, as I went to put the fitted sheet on the big bed, I stepped in a spot of wet carpet.

I ask the kiddos what this is ... Is it pee? Is it water? And, of course, I get two different answers. Both blaming it on the other sibling. Joy. So, I turn off the show they're watching, make them lie in bed for a timeout, make the beds, and have a TALK about LYING.

Bucket eventually caves -- the wet is pee. From her. From last night. Because she was mad at Mommy and Daddy. Because we didn't read to them from The Silver Chair (which, coincidentally, was part of the punishment for the folderol that was yesterday afternoon).

Yup, this is my life, ladies and gentlemen. This is my life.

I have errands to run. Do I really feel like going out and getting gas, going into town to get my library book and a few presents, heading to Target to get ornaments, or even staying home and baking with little liars in tow?

Hells to the NO, my loves. Hells to the NO.

What I really would love, love, LOVE to do is just grab a bottomless mug of Irish Creme-flavored steamed milk, wrap myself up in a cocoon of my down comforter, and read and do crossword puzzles.

While my children leave for a prolonged trip on a space shuttle.

Although, truly, in real life, after about two hours without them, I'd start to miss them and regret sending them into deep space without a cell phone or long underwear.

So, I suppose that I really shouldn't partake in this fantasy.

Though a steamer made with Irish Creme-flavored syrup does sound utterly divine. Perhaps I can make that my reward after I clean the house and get my errands done.

I don't like being this mean, unhappy parent. It's not something I enjoy.

Why can't my children just LISTEN to me for a change? It wouldn't be half as irritating if I didn't love them and KNOW that they are really decent kids.

*sigh*

Yup, listen to me, everyone. Then call the WAAAAAAAAAAH-mbulance. Yes, I know that I'm being whiny. I'm totally aware of this. It doesn't make me any happier than it makes you.

Today would be a perfect day for a zombie uprising. Too bad that I'm too much of a wimp to use the shotgun well. (Hey, it HURTS. Especially when you don't hold it positioned properly and the kickback gets you right in the boob. OWWWWwwwWWWWwwwww. ... Not that I speak from experience or anything ... *shifty eyes*)

Okay. I better get to baking and doing the dishes and putting on a clean, dry pair of socks (to replace the pair I had to throw in the laundry. Ew.) and getting the kids ready to brave the wild outdoors. And make dinner. And get ready for the holiday. And get my Visiting Teaching done. And read my scriptures and say COPIOUS, MYRIAD PRAYERS that I'll get through this, that life will be all happy-fun-times-with-rainbows-and-unicorns ... and that I won't be tempted to throttle my dear. Little. Darling. Children.

(Ha. When I was typing "darling," I accidentally typed "darnling." Freudian slip on the keyboard, you think?)

Maybe I should be all crazy and go buy the soundtrack to Glee and sing along. It might help.

Sometimes my life is ... insane.

SOOOOOOO ... My mom-in-law's friend was going to drop a package by our house for us to take down to Michael's folks.

I FINALLY get around to getting a shower. The kids are not quite napping, so I am singing and not listening for the door.

Next thing I know, as I'm putting a robe on over my bathtowel is that someone's in the hall.

Turns out that MIL's friend is worried since my daughter (who doesn't want to take a nap) is crying in the window (next to her bubbly and happy brother) and calls my MIL, who lets her know how to get into the house since I'm not answering the door (being in the shower and all, of course).

Michael calls and is like "FINALLY, you've answered the phone. Mom's worried! Grandpa and Grandma are going to check on you."

So, I respond full of maturosity and poise (read: with cursings and threats to our strong-willed daughter) and assure him that I'm okay as I throw on any quick clothes that I can, since I've finished entertaining my mom-in-law's friend in two towels and a robe.

I call my MIL, to assure her that I'm okay and to give her the backstory. Then I proceed to give my girl-spawn a FIRM talking to, involving raised voices and ending in the too-calm, icy, hiss that you dread ever hearing from a parent.

My children are hunkered in their beds waiting for the other show to drop.

My tears of anger have not spilled over.

I'm wearing sweats and haven't combed my hair.

I may never take a shower again.

I may invest in an extra-large pet carrier for my children. And keep it in a deep dark basement.
(note to self: buy a basement. Preferably one that is deep and dark. And somewhat soundproof. ... Those baby monitor that we got when the kids were born will come in handy.)

As I told my MIL, "There go my chances for getting karaoke installed in the bathroom."

The kids, after my copious amounts of yelling/talking/hissing, are pretty quiet.

Yes, my life is awesome.

And if this scenario appears in any movies, I'm totally suing for that. This is MY life. If I'm dealing with this amount of crazy, I'd better be compensated for it. I'm just sayin'. It's not like I'm going to say, "No, you can't use it." But if you do, I'm not going to say no to receiving tens of thousands of dollars when you sell your manuscript. ... And that fee is per instance of my life. Just so you know.
(Swiper, no swiping!!)

Now, I would stick my head in the oven. But we have electric, so it'd just ruin my hair.
I think I'm going to take some drugs (read: a couple of Tylenol) ... since I have a wild headache.

(Seriously, people without children, kids are the BEST birth control. ... I do mostly love my hellacious devil-spawn *gritted teeth* little angels ... but sometimes I could envision myself gleefully dancing over their prone forms. A sailor's hornpipe, per se.)

(This is why the Lord, in His infinite wisdom, made kids so funny and cute and sweet. So that, on the occasions when they fail to be ANY of the above, we don't kill them. Like hamsters do.)

(This is also why God created the intertubes. And Tylenol. And chocolate. And books. ... As rewards for not killing our children. :P ... I really do love them. I just wish that I could have children AND what small semblances I had left of my sanity. At the same time. ... but you can't have everything. Where would you PUT it?)

*headdesk*
*headdesk*

*headdesk*

Epic World Suck

Reading Rainbow has been dropped from PBS. They made the decision to go with their early-literacy shows ... and so there MIGHT be reruns on your local PBS station (Not MINE, dammit. YES, I do believe that this is serious enough that I WILL use a curse word for it. You do NOT take away one of the last of my FAVORITE childhood shows without any warning ... or AT. FRIKKIN'. ALL).

I mean, really. They cancelled Square One. They took away Mr. Rogers' Neighborhood. NOW they've taken Reading Rainbow.

I mean, I know that my kids LIKE Word World and SuperWhy ... but neither of those have that je ne se quoi that LeVar Burton and his show possessed.

And I shall not even DEIGN to think of WHY THE BLOODY HELL that travesty of a purple dinosour or Teletubbies even EXIST when people who are SUPPOSED to CARE about the future of our nation and the BRAINS of its wee, little children are CANCELLING SOME OF THE BEST CHILDREN'S PROGRAMMING EVER TO EXIST!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!11!!!!!!1!!!!!!!!one!

Yes, I AM a tad bit upset. How could you tell?

(No, really. Was it the plethora of capital letters? Or, perhaps, the myriad exclamation points?)

Really ... I I were in charge of instilling knowledge in the heads of children, there are a few shows that I find are mandatory:

• Mr. Rogers' Neighborhood
• Sesame Street
• Reading Rainbow
• Schoolhouse Rock
• Square One

Those are the shows that I really recall totally influencing me as I was growing up.

Sesame Street taught basics (letters, shapes, numbers, counting, basic arithmetic, and some social skills). Mr. Rogers totally taught social skills and gave a glimpse into the world (LOVED the mini-field trips where we watched how things were made!!). Reading Rainbow helped to cement my love of reading.

(Michael often tells me that I obviously wanted to be one of the kids on there giving a little book review. And he's SO totally right.)

Square One (especially Mathnet, their parody of Dragnet) actually made me interested in Math. (I never have totally LOVED Math ... but this helped SO much.)

And, of course, Schoolhouse Rock was a great way of teaching concepts through songs. Very, very catchy songs.

(My Sophomore year of HS English felt like SUCH a waste of my time since I already KNEW what a noun, verb, pronoun, and adjective all were. I even knew what an adverb was and how to use one. ... And, because of Schoolhouse Rock, I'd known what all these things were since my mom brought home Grammar Rock and Multiplication Rock on VHS. -- I've since bought the DVD with the whole collection. And I LOVE it SO much.)

Last time something like this happened (i.e., when Mr. Rogers' Neighborhood was cancelled), I wrote to both PBS and OPB ... and nothing happened.

So I am not doing anything really this time. I'm just kvetching to you and going to curl up in a corner and cry.

Seriously ... if Reading Rainbow and Mr. Rogers' Neighborhood are cancelled while *shudders* Barney still stays on the air ... well, I'm not surprised that the world is in the state that it's in. Grrr.

At least I've raised my children right. Bucket will tell me, "We don't watch Barney."
And my kids know a good portion of the lyrics to "This is Halloween" from The Nightmare Before Christmas. And their numbers and letters. And they usually will remember to say "please" and "thank you" and not call people fat.

I mean, I can understand that maybe there's not the funding for full seasons of new episiodes of Reading Rainbow. I know that money's tight. I know that the government doesn't seem to want to spend money on educating people instead of lining their own pockets and their own medical insurance and pensions ... but why can't there be a promise that Reading Rainbow and Mr. Rogers' Neighborhood would ALWAYS be on ALL public broadcasting stations ... I mean, Fred Rogers was a HUGE reason there even WAS public broadcasting.

Yes. I'm sad and cynical today. *sigh*

It just sucks. Really, really, really, really sucks.

I mean, really. REALLY, really, really, really, really sucks.

Do you understand the magnitude of the suckage? Because it is VAST.

One of the examples of how sick in the head I am (Mental Health Number Alert!!)

I turn to Michael and HAVE to ask, "Gingi was really dead, wasn't she? I mean, what if I was wrong? What if I didn't look closely enough?"

Michael: "I SAW her. She was really dead."

Me: "Okay. I mean, I was just worried ... like what if we'd buried her and she wasn't really totally dead ..."

Michael: *shakes his head and gives me a hug* "You're cute."

Me: "No, I mean ... she was REALLY, really dead. Right?"

Michael: "Yes."

And people wonder why I'm so wracked with nostalgia.
It could be that I just overOVERover-analyze nearly everything when I get stressed.

...

But I'm glad that I didn't accidentally bury a still-living kitty.

Because then I'd REALLY be going to Hell, I think.

But, no. I really made sure. I mean, she was dead. She had no color in her lips (can you call it lips? ... It's MY kitty and I AM calling it lips, so no matter.) and tongue. There was no breathing or pulse. She was cold ... She went though all the things that the websites warned of - emptying the bladder, little convulsions ...

I really am sure. But I sure don't want to be.

Just the regular ... kinda ...

What IS it with me, especially yesterday?

Really, I just have no patience with my children ... which is REALLY RICH since I get to help teach about the nurturing role of mothers at church tomorrow.

(Why is it whenever I am asked to help teach or to give a talk, I am suddenly bombarded with the exact OPPOSITE of what I'm talking/teaching about ... making me feel like a complete and total hypocrite???)

Add that to a hearty serving of complete self-loathing ... yup, that was a good deal of yesterday.

(Really, is it too much to ask that I suddenly wake up the same size I was in high school? Or, at least, the same size I was when I got married?? ... Or that I just not have my muffin top and DO suddenly have slimmer thighs? Or that I just have SOME MUSCLE definition under all the flab I'm sporting?)

I think I'm skipping my 10-year reunion. I don't want to spend $15 on a BBQ where we're ALSO required to bring a side dish to share. And our own drinks.
... And ditch my mom, stepdad, and aunt at the coast for around 4+ hours when THEY were the smart ones who scheduled the date first.

(Seriously, the people in charge of the HS reunion? They've planned a $50/person dinner and dancing. And/or a BBQ, which if you haven't paid the $50/person costs you $15/family ... AND they only get the invites out in late June. ... Seriously, I was expecting the invitations to arrive around January. Not everyone lives close by anymore. Not everyone can AFFORD $50/person for a date ... PLUS a good deal of us would have to get a babysitter. ... Yes, I'm not thrilled at ALL how this was done. Oh well. I wasn't put in charge of this. Which is probably a good thing.)

Maybe one reason (besides the cost and general inconvenience, of course) is that I'm not as skinny as I was ... I mean, I always kind of hoped that I'd have the awesome "Romy and Michelle's High School Reunion"-type experience (yes, it is an R-rated movie. And I haven't watched it in years ... but I do love it so!) ... even though I'm really not like either of the title characters -- I'm married, have kids, don't sew or design clothes ... but ... I mean, wouldn't it be cool to dance with Alan Cumming or something?

(Or, frankly, look as good as Lisa Kudrow or Mira Sorvino in those cute dresses??)

And I'm still having crazy dreams. Crazy dreams that involve a movie that I haven't seen (because I can't find an edited version *SAD!!*)

Okay, so here's the trailer for a movie that sounds like it was totally MADE for me!

So, Repo is a musical horror film. AND it has Anthony Stewart Head (GILES!!! From Buffy the Vampire Slayer! GILES!! RUPERT GILES!!! Who was only my HUGE crush in that show!! ... Yes, most girls liked Angel [David Boreanz], or Spike, or Xander, or Oz [Seth Green, who I also adore] ... but I'm the odd duck whose little teenager heart beat for GILES, the stuffy librarian with arcane knowledge, a mysterious backstory, and that accent!!!!), and Giles alone. And Sarah Brightman sings in it ... I mean, really. It's like they wrote this dedicated soly to me! And it HAD to be rated-R. :(

Yes, I am aware that I have issues.

Like being a total accent-whore. And being totally tempted to watch movies with profanity and gore. And Paris Hilton.

BUT!! In my dream, I was supposed to be the female lead of Repo. And the reason that I do (in real life) know so much about this movie is that I read the synopsis on the wiki. (Have I mentioned that I love Wikipedia? I totally do.)

But, since I haven't seen the movie, I know that my dream was way off.

BUT, I'm in a motel room ... and I'm walking around. And I hear some strange noises coming from the bathroom. So, of course, I go investigate, since I'm not supposed to leave the motel room. What else is there for me to do?

Behind the clear shower curtain, I can make out two people in black clothes. I pull the curtain and it's Paris Hilton (who may be topless. And, of course, in my dream state, I say to myself, "Well, that could explain the rating. You can't just have topless people everywhere.") and Anthony Steward Head.

But then she calls him "Daddy." And I know from the wiki that he's not her dad. Her dad is the big corporate head. And then I figure that maybe it's because she's on a drug high (since her character IS strung out on drugs).

And I obviously am slightly delusional in my dream, since I got them confused with some other movie, obviously, as I ask them, "Why are you in the shower? I thought that zombies were afraid of water." ... And they correct me that no, it's people with RABIES that are scared of water. And, that makes sense, since it's it called, like, hydrophobia? (No, I just checked the wiki. People/animals with rabies lose the ability to SWALLOW water. But, hey, I knew that it had SOMETHING to do with water! That counts for ... something... right?)

But, at the end of my dream, the three of us are sitting in the bathtub, all fully clothed, with arms around each other, Giles in the middle.

If there's some hidden message, here's what I think it may be:

1) I really want to watch Repo! The Genetic Opera.

2) I really want a hug from Anthony Stewart Head.

3) I have innate knowledge that Paris Hilton without a shirt has absolutely no sexuality.

4) I should write a novel about zombies that are scared of water. ... Have people already written about zombie-ism as a form of rabies? If not, don't steal my idea, okay?

Now, I need to finish working on that Sunday School lesson. And not yelling at my children.
Not even when I ask them something nicely and they DON'T LISTEN AT ALL. *sigh*

Who knows? Maybe Anthony Stewart Head will come to class and give me a hug. Since, you know, he is my dream dad and all. *quirked eyebrow*

Crazy Dream Chronicles, Part ... um ... Eleventeen

Some of my dreams are memorible due JUST to how random and odd they are.

[E.g., the dream where I was making out with the older jerk of a brother on Weird Science (the TV series, not the movie. Same character, though. (circa 1996))]

[Or the one where I was ana assassin named Violet. But I had amnesia. And I was working at a kitchen goods store in Florida, hanging pans on a shelf/wall. And making out with a very nice boy ... as another assassin is approaching to kill me, not knowing that I haven't defected ... it's just that I don't REMEMBER who I am or my mission ... (circa 1994)]

[Or the one where my mom and I are driving to Sally's, my blog-friend, yet, remarkably the South is located just down the street from our house. And there are werewolves. Yes, WEREWOLVES, chasing us and trying to tear apart the car to eat us. And I'm trying to make sure that they're not going to hurt Sally's daughter, who's with us. (circa 2004)]

So, as you can see from the aformentioned dreams, my psyche is a rather ... unusual/singular/peculiar/scary place to be.

Last night?

I dreamt that I was student-teaching. But I wasn't anywhere that I recognized. I had a male teacher in the classroom. And ... um ... he tried to, well, overpower me. (Thankfully, not in front of the students. That'd be SO much more wrong-er-er on SO many different levels.) And, to protect myself and my virtue, I was grappling with this knife-weilding teacher ... with a metal can opener ... like the "church key"-type can openers. Like for opening bottles. Or cans of evaporated or condensed milk ... so it has that little triangular hole in the lid? You know the type, yes?

(RANDOM!?!?!)

And I escaped, rather unscathed ... but breathless and running away ... right into ANOTHER dude who's main objective is to get himself a (unwilling) piece of this. What. The . H????

And, yes'm, I fought him off, too. Must have been with that dang can opener.

So, if any of you out there are up for a challenge, what the bedevilment does this cah-ray-zee dream signify????

Perhaps I am feeling vunerable? Perhaps I need to buy more can openers? Perhaps I need to stay the H away from Education? (Not too hard ... since I'm not really headed back immediately. Especially if I'm having dreams like these.)

Little-known fact regarding myself: Yes, I'm squicked out by spiders and their inherent creep-factor. But, for as long as I've been aware what it was, I've been worried/scared that I'd be raped. I do not know why. Just one of those things.

Back onto a happier-ish note, I shall regale you with yet ANOTHER of my Crazy Dream Chronicles®:

Now, this dream occured around, oh, 2002? Somewhere around there.

In my dream, I was just chillaxin' with Jackie Chan (awesome!) and Jean Claude VanDamme (okay ... odd). And as we were hangin', what approaches us but an INVISIBLE NINJA LORD!

*cue dramatic music: Duh-duh-DUM!!!!!*

Now, VanDamme goes and starts fighting him. I'm watching through my fingers, huddled into a ball, as he loses against the INVISIBLE NINJA LORD!!!!

And Jackie Chan goes and fights ... he's whirling and kicking and doing all the amazing things that Jackie Chan can do ... and still, he fails against the INVISIBLE NINJA LORD!!!!

So, there I am ... I know that I can't just let the INVISIBLE NINJA LORD triumph. And I also know that, as I fight ... trying to anticipate where the heck he's at and what he's doing, since I can't SEE him, since he's an INVISIBLE NINJA LORD ... if JACKIE CHAN, who's only completely made of AWESOME, can't beat him, then I have NO chance of winning ...

And I am left bruised and bloody, panting for breath on the hard, cold surface on which we had fought ... and the *dum-dum-DUM!!* INVISIBLE NINJA LORD triumphs over us all.

*Holds up sign: Fin*

Yeah, that's pretty much my life motto. If Jackie Chan can't fight So-and-so and win, I have no business whatsoever trying to fight that person.

But, really, I never try and fight ANYBODY.

Mostly because I'm kind of a wimp. I don't like to get dirty. I don't like pain much, either.

(Also, about that strange, unexplained fear mentioned above, I like to consider that with the one song, "Everbody's Free (to Wear Suncreen)" ... the line "The real troubles in your life are apt to be things that never crossed your worried mind; the kind that blindside you at 4pm

on some idle Tuesday." ... And since I HAVE worried about this odd fear, well, then it should never happen. ... And thinking of it that way puts me a little more at ease. ... But maybe I should buy a few more can openers and secrete them in various places where I might have need of them. I'm just sayin'.)

However, there's one dream that I've had over and over that I wish I could find the place. In my dream, I'm with a bunch of children (like a class), but I'm a leader ... but, like, a teenager? ... And I've had this dream off and on since I was ... um ... maybe nine?
... BUT, in the dream, we're walking up (okay, DOWNSTREAM) Canyon Creek. And we come to this place where the current lessens a little and there's a bit of an island(?) in the middle. And it's covered in trees (Poplar, maybe?) and it's just SO nice.

Since I've had this dream over and over, I would (just about every summer) wade/walk/whatever down Canyon Creek and look for it. Never found it.

But I was able to catch and watch lots of newts on my way.
I like newts. They're just so cute.

So, yeah ... just another look into my brain.

Be afraid. Be very afraid.

How's YOUR day? *head tilt*

The kids climbed in bed with me around 6:15. Before Michael has even let for work. 
I WAS asleep.

I tried to doze.

Then my dear, sweet, demure daughter farted in my face. (Not on purpose, but STILL.)

A few minute later, I realized my back was wet. Why?

Then I came to the realization that my back was WARM and WET.

Bucket had wet through her Pull-Up.

In our bed.

All before 7 AM.

Now it's a quarter after 8. I need to exercise, shower, get the kids dressed, and take them to storytime.

And actually do the dishes and fold/put away the laundry today. I NEED to do it.

*sigh*

So, um, yeah ... How's your day going?

What would you suggest?

There I was, my dears, surfing my usual array of blogs ... and the phone rings.

So I answer it.

Now, usually I have a decent ear for voices ... I'll KNOW that I know who you are ... and I'll chat with you until I can make sure that I really can put your name with your voice.

And I'm a chatty-type of person.

So, I pick up the phone ... no one speaks, but I can hear stuff going on, so I stay on the line and say, "Helloooooooo? Hello??" and start singing the Jeopardy theme ... and I'm about to give it up, when a guy's voice says, "Allanna?"

"Hi! Yes, this is she."
"Hi"
"Um ..." I say, "What's up?"

And this guy is a soft talker ... so I can't quite figure out who he is. Almost sounds like my Ty-bro ... but not quite, because Ty would be making me nearly pee my pants with his jokes and conversation.

Also, Bruise comes over and is trying to get me to give him certain papers and things from my desk, which is NOT GONNA HAPPEN, so I ask soft-talker-dude-on-the-phone to speak up. MORE THAN ONCE.

"Your voice is sexy," he tells me. 

WHAaaa?? Seriously, what the H?!? WHERE in Hades or otherwhere does it seem like an appropriate or smart or whatever thing to do to tell some person (who's happily MARRIED and SURROUNDED BY HER CHILDREN) this??

Point: It's NOT.

FACT: I have a semi-healthy amount of self-esteem. However, there are not many people (especially guys) that I would feel comfortable with telling me that I am/sound/look/smell/whatever "sexy." ... I think that Michael's 90% of that list. I have some guy friends who are wonderfully platonic and decent that would not be ... WEIRD/PERVY/WHATEVER by telling me this. ... I can only think of ... well, maybe two. Three -- two that are practically my brothers (through our own adoption of each other) and one who is gay.

Yeah, completely weird-making. 

So I told this soft-talker that I thought he had the wrong phone number, GOODBYE. *click!*

I'm thinking that it was this magazine sales-guy who had called back (this was MONTHS ago) the next day, just to chat ... and it promptly got strange. And I told him that it wasn't appropriate and I thought it was a good idea if he didn't call back. Like, EVER. (Which, for me, is rather mean.)

It did sound like him. And he did seem to have this problem with me feeling weirded out. 
(The conversation went like this:
Me:Um, I really don't think that my husband would be comfortable with us having this conversation. [Meaning: Dude, you're weirding me out. I don't like it. And Michael wouldn't like it ... especially because it's weirding me out.]
Him: Do you have to tell him?
Me: [Thinking: Oh HELLS, YES, since you said THAT.] Yes, I tell him just about everything. I see no reason to hide anything from him. He's my husband.
[And, yes, I DO tell Michael just about everything. He's my bestest besty-friend])

So, yeah. I don't have Caller ID on the line that this soft-talker guy called on. I think he may have called again after I went to the shower. 

... Yes, I did what any normal woman would to after being phone-accosted:

I scrubbed out the shower stall and got dressed for my mother to come over.
Completely normal.

I also texted my husband and told him that I missed him. Because, dude, if he were here, he'd have told that soft-talker-stalker-dude what for.

Gosh, I wish Michael were here.

SO, my dears, what should I do? I'm hoping that soft-talker-dude NEVER calls again.
If he does, I'm going to tell him that this is entirely inappropriate and to never call here again.
I might try to get his name and information so that I can get the police involved if I have to ... but I worry that asking for that would only encourage him.
Maybe I could tell him that I died. And that this is her twin sister. The bounty hunter. Who's a double black belt in Judo and specializes in armed combat. Who served time for disembowling a dude, years ago, who called her sister a lightskirt. And who wouldn't have any issues taking out a hit on the guy who called her previously and propositioned her for phone sex. (Okay, it wasn't phone sex ... but it didn't feel like he was just making an innocent observation.)

INNOCENT OBSERVATIONS that wouldn't make me feel all yucky --

"Your voice sounds:"

• melifluous
• lilting
• husky
• raspy
• angellic
• fluting
• mild
• well-modulated

ANYTHING like that would be acceptable.

Anything sounding like flirting? Not quite so welcome.

Ew.

*shudders* 

I don't know WHY I get so freaked out by this. 
I'm just hoping that being firm about my version of "these are not the droids you're looking for," might have given him a little wake-up call that this is not any kind of attention that I'd welcome.

I think I'm going to curl up in a ball and pet my hair, okay?

Or, since my mom'll be here anytime, maybe I should do a load of laundry and finish up the dishes.

Or I could finish reading "Dearly Devoted Dexter" and imagine that Dexter would take this guy out if I needed him to. Yup, I do really like that sociopath. Something about how he TRIES to act like a normal person and how he LIKES and PROTECTS children ... and he tries to take care of his foster-sister and his girlfriend ... I just like it.

I don't watch the show, since we don't get that channel ... and we watched the premiere online (well-done, really ... but I don't care to hear that much cussing. Or else I'd probably watch Deadwood or something. Firefly is really about my speed, as far as language goes. ... However, for some reason, I can READ it and it doesn't seem to have such the impact. Why is this? ... Probably because I can edit it a little as I go. Whereas, when other people are SAYING it, it's a little jarring. Why is that?), but I do like the books better. Judging by the premiere, the television series stays pretty faithful to the books. Hard to judge from just one episode. You'll have to ask someone else, really.), but the books are good. I'm reading the second one right now. The first was EXCELLENT.

Talked to my mom. She says that I handled the soft-talker-dude well. *whew*

Hopefully this is the last time. I really hope so.

Any advice?