Wabbit Hunting With Anonymous Base

Yesterday was a usual Saturday. Papa Bear and I took the three little monkeys to a friends house for supper and to hang out. After the boys were back home and in their beds I left for Chesty McBreasty's house to be the third member of a three woman rock band (Rockband for the Wii that is) with Chesty and "The Absent Minded Photographer"(AMP).

When I pulled up to Chesty's and dropped The Magic Pumpkin (caravan) in the same stupid sewer hole that I drive into almost every time I go there, next to my van sitting on the sidewalk twitching a bit and hopping in a circle was a little bunny. He let me walk very close to him and didn't even bolt when the van beeped when I locked it. If it weren't for the odd twitching I would have thought the little guy was kind of cute but the twitching just made him creepy so I picked up my pace up to and into Chesty's house to begin our jam session.

We call ourselves "Anonymous Base". Anonymous because AMP can't (mis)pronounce it without Chesty and I breaking out in a fit of laughter and BASE because if you spell it BASS as in treble or bass AMP pronounces it bass..like the fish. Chesty plays the drums because...well...because both AMP and I suck really, really bad. I switch with AMP between guitar and vocals. We are interchangeable because we suck equally as bad.

We were jamming out to some AC/DC tonight and having a good ole time daring the neighbours to make a noise complaint when a smoke break was required (not for me though. Smoking is bad). So after some confusion over who's shoes were who's since all three of us apparently took advantage of the fact that Walmart had some cute $4 flip flops this year and we all have the same pair, we stepped outside and there sat the twitchy bunny.

When Chesty approached him this time he took off and hopped in a big circle and then disappeared under my van. Chesty was concerned that the little guy would get run over by a car since he was hopping all over it. So, she decided she should catch it...with a laundry basket.

I don't know that I can actually paint an accurate picture of Chesty wabbit hunting. It was quite a site to see. First she chased him around in circles in the front yard for a while. Then after retrieving the basket she tried to sneak up on him just narrowly missing him as he proceeded to hop down the street. I have never seen Chesty jump around like that. She did all this wearing a white "wife beater" style tank top (remember we don't call her Chesty for nothing), a pair of leopard printed pajama pants and her $4 flip flops. When asked by AMP what she was going to do with the wascally wabbit when he was capturedvshe replied "well, I hadn't really thought that far ahead". Probably something she should think about before you try to trap a wild rabbit under a laundry basket in your front yard. Just a thought.

I can't think of any better way to spend a Saturday night than Wabbit Hunting with Anonymous Base and laughing so hard I almost wet myself. It was probably a whole lot funnier to us. I guess you had to be there.

Home Sweet Freaking Home

Good Lord it is good to be home. I am in dire need of a vacation to recover from our vacation. We continued on with our family "fun" at Storybook Gardens this morning. More walking on my already sore feet and my burning calves. More sun and heat. More screaming from my kids plus about a million others like they were in stereo.

The kids had fun but were starting to show signs of family fun overload and were forgetting how to behave, how to listen and how to not completely drive me up the wall. Don't get me wrong, I love my children but there is definitely such a thing as too much of a good thing.

Before our vacation I was itching to get the heck out of dodge and as far away from our house as possible. Now, after 3 nights in single room accommodations with three kids, sleeping on rock hard mattresses with an occasional bed wetter, dealing with either a freezing cold room or a sweaty hot room, eating nothing but take out, and walking for hours on end this little house is heaven on a cloud.

I have never been so happy to see my overgrown weed beds or the pile of shoes that Wee One pulled out before we left that greeted us just inside the door. I missed my house. I missed my big fluffy soft bed (that I only have to share with Papa Bear) with my big, non itchy blankets on it. I missed my central air that has never let me down. I missed my own shower and my own shampoo. I missed...home.

I'm sure this feeling will end soon enough. Probably while I'm doing the hundreds of loads of laundry tomorrow or when I'm trying to wash my kitchen floor around three kids or while I'm cooking dinner (one of my least favourite chores). For now I will enjoy this feeling and try to remember it the next time I think it's time for a vacation. It's good to be home again. Home sweet freaking home.

Everyone Loves Marineland

Everyone Loves Marineland...unless of course they are on a budget. Yesterday Papa Bear and I took our three little monkeys to Marineland. It was our first visit as a family to any kind of theme or amusement park. We arrived shortly after 10. We slathered everyone up with sunscreen and headed for the entrance.

Little Bear was eager to start riding rides and the big roller coaster and the Sky Screamer (I'll get to this later). If you have a six year old or have ever been a six year old you know what I mean by eager. I mean he was being a freak. We decided to start out on the family rides to get rid of some of his pent up excitement and to warm up before we ventured on the big rides. I asked Fuzzy if he wanted to go on the first ride..."Uh uh" he replied while he stared wide eyed at the ride whirling around in front of him. OK then, Little Bear and I were on our own. The first ride sent Little Bear and I 60 feet up into the air, twirled us around in a gentle kind of way and brought us back down. If this was going to be the excitement for the day it was going to be a long day.

Fuzzy decided that he would indeed like to ride the next ride which was a miniature ladybug roller coaster. He looked pretty worried as he watched the ride go by with other riders a couple of times but didn't change his mind. When the ride took off I couldn't help but laugh at the terrified expression on his face that gradually changed to excitement and pure joy as the ride continued. We went on this ride a few times.

Next we went into the underground aquarium to see the Belugas and Killer Whale. All three boys were in complete awe watching the giant fish (or frishies as Fuzzy calls them) swim around. After the whales we checked out the bears which where equally enjoyed and then it was time to give in to Little Bears request for the big roller coaster, Dragon Mountain. This was kind of sentimental in that this was going to be Little Bear's first real roller coaster ride and Dragon Mountain was also my first real roller coaster years ago. Made me feel kind of old too. All the way up the path to the mouth of the mountain I kept asking him if he was sure he wanted to do this. He assured me he did so in we went. There was only one set of riders ahead of us so we didn't have long to wait..or change our minds. Just as the ride began Little Bear says to me, "Mom? What if I throw up?".

Having survived and throughly enjoyed the whole Dragon Mountain experience (without puke) we had worked up an appetite and it was time to stop for lunch. I am still in shock that five slices of crappy flat pepperoni pizza, two watered down sodas, two bottles of "juice" and a bottle of water cost me just under $40! Holy Crap! For that price you would think that it should at least taste better than the paper plate it was served on.

From lunch we went to one of the dolphin/sea lion shows. Fuzzy really enjoyed that and I caught Little Bear digging it a couple of times too. Fuzzy just seemed to have problems staying on the seat and fell and added to the collection of bruises already covering his knees. After the show we went on a few more "little kid" rides to amuse Fuzzy and then headed to the ride Little Bear had been talking about all week...

Sky Screamer is a free fall tower type ride that sits on top of a large hill which you must climb in order to ride. Since there was a restaurant also at the top of the hill, Papa Bear decided to climb the hill with us and take Fuzzy and Wee One for ice cream since they were growing quite tired of being spectators. I told Little Bear that this ride had better be worth the climb since it was quite a climb. He was pumped and so excited to ride this thing even though I was not so sure myself. Up, up, up we climbed until my calves started to burn and we finally reached the top. We got in line and Little Bear started to hiccup. "I hiccup when I get nervous" he informed me.
"Are you sure you want to ride?"
"Yes"
After 5 minutes of waiting in line he said "I don't think I wanna go on it"
"Are you sure? You don't have to"
"Yeah, OK I'm going to ride it"
Now we were next in line.."Mom, I'm too scared. I want ice cream instead"
Good Lord child I did not just climb this damn hill for nothing. If he wasn't going to ride it I was riding it without him.

I got on the ride beside two young girls. The one little girl turned to me and asked "have you ever rode this before?"
"No"
"It's really cool. I rode it five times today. I cried the first time"
OK, so now I have to be tough because there is a preteen beside me that has rode this scary monster of a ride five times. Then the beast began to breathe and bounced us up and down a little taunting us about what was coming next. What came next was being shot 320 feet into the freaking air at lightning speed. I'm pretty sure I peed a little. Then it left us hanging up there to see everything. I could see the falls and the whales swimming in their pools and the rest of the park and MY HOTEL! It just leaves you up there admiring the view so that you forget what comes next...I deathly drop back towards the earth. HOLY CRAP!....It was freaking awesome!

Afterwards Little Bear told me he didn't want me to go on the ride by myself because he was pretty sure it was going to shoot me to the moon. Not quite to the moon son but I think I came close and touched a cloud.

Now that Sky Screamer had been conquered even if just by me it was time to trek back down the hill and check out some deer. My kids are afraid of deer. You know because deer are suck scary dangerous animals and all. I did get some pictures of Little Bear looking rather terrified while petting a deer and Fuzzy was cool as long as the deer didn't move..at all. He also thought their poop was fascinating.

After the deer it was time to head for the exit. After a fight with Fuzzy about wanting to buy three stuffed whales instead of the one I was willing to buy we said goodbye to Marineland. With three completely tired out boys we loaded ourselves into the Magic Pumpkin and back to the hotel. Goodbye King Waldorf and all your fishy friends. Enjoy our money you damn thieves.

Bear Family Vacation

Today is day one of our family vacation. This is our first family vacation since Papa Bear and I have been together and both Fuzzy and Wee One's first vacation ever. Little Bear has been on a few family vacations with X and I but just to a relatives cottage and he is WAY out of practice. I have never taken three kids overnight anywhere but I willing to try just about anything once. Lord help me.

We started our trip to Niagara Falls, Ontario on a positive note and managed by the grace of god to actually get on the road at 10 o'clock sharp as planned. This NEVER happens. We are chronically late for everything. This is in no way thanks to Papa Bear who was in his usual slow mode. I wasn't in any hurry to get out of bed this morning either but once I was up it was full steam ahead. I even lugged the suitcases (I'm not sure how we managed to have so much luggage for only a 3 night stay but but we do) and packed the Magic Pumpkin (my orange Grand Caravan) myself.

Even though Papa Bear knows his way to and around Niagara Falls pretty well he decided to let "Mrs. Garmin" (GPS that is) lead the way and discovered a tiny little shortcut to cut some time off his next trip. We had to unplug the satellite radio in order to plug in "Mrs. Garmin" so for the rest of the trip we had to listen to a lot of easy rock stations or stations that only came in for a couple of kilometers before static took over. Not that anyone else in the van could hear the static since I am such a nice person that I sing along with the radio so that they don't lose any of the words in the static.

We were about an hour into our three and a half hour drive when we heard Little Bear's first "Are we there yet?" followed by "We SHOULD be there by now" and then "Papa Bear you drive too slow" as we were passed by a flying VW Beetle with a personalized license plate reading "TURBOBUG". I don't think that was too bad considering I thought it would start by the time we hit the highway.
At this point Wee One was peacefully sleeping and Fuzzy was close.

Shortly before we reached our destination I realized I had forgot to pack either my baby carrier or our second stroller since there is no way that Fuzzy would be able to do that much walking. A trip to Walmart was in order...if we could find Walmart. Mrs. Garmin was not of much help and sent us on some sort of loopdee loop business that never did bring us any closer to a Walmart. After several "turn right and then right"s we did find a Zellers and I purchased a sad excuse for a stroller that I fully intend to sell on Facebook when I get home.

Next we checked into our home for the next couple of days. The only rooms they had available for us when we booked was a very basic room with two DOUBLE beds. I have not slept in a bed smaller than a Queen in about 10 years. Let alone share it with someone else but I'm up for the challenge. Papa Bear flipped on the TV while we decided what to do first. Apparently he turned it onto a French channel because the next words out of Little Bear's mouth where "Papa Bear do you speak English?? This show IS NOT English, it's Omish or something".
Oh my.

Wee One was in desperate need of a nap by this time so I left him and Papa Bear to their "Omish" shows and crap Internet connection and took the two oldest boys to ride the Sky Wheel. It is like a giant Ferris wheel but with enclosed gondolas with air conditioning and elevator music. It takes you really high in the air so that you can see all of Clifton Hill and the falls. Fuzzy was in awe and a little bit braver than Little Bear but they both loved it and it was fun to do something with my two biggest boys since Wee One usually hogs my attention.

We returned to the hotel to find that Wee One did not have a nap but it was time to get some dinner. We went and got a pizza from Boston Pizza and Papa Bear decided to get salad...usually this would be great except that we are living in a hotel room and we don't have any dishes or cutlery so we needed to hunt some up. This hunt took us on a trek up and down the strip in search of a variety store to get some paper plates and plastic forks. We finally completed our mission and returned to our hotel room to fill our bellies.

Next was the part we were dreading in this tiny little room that had the potential to become our cell...bedtime. I figured the best way to tackle bedtime was to try to follow the same routine as we normally do at home and to split the kids so that I share a bed with Little Bear (and I PRAY that he doesn't have an accident tonight) and Papa Bear share with Fuzzy. We brought Wee One's mutilated playpen (another story for another day) for him to sleep in. Over all not nearly as bad as I had expected and all three were asleep by 9:15. Whoo hoo!

On the agenda for tomorrow: The Bear Family attempts Marineland. Wish us luck.

Freaky Mamas

Last night the Crazy Mamas attended a Fantasia party. For anyone that might be living without electricity or still driving a horse and buggy, Fantasia is company that does home parties to sell products such as massage creams and lubricants, adult toys, lingerie and other interesting R rated things.

The "Germaphob" hosted....who would have thought? Nine mamas in total attended the event including a VERY pregnant "Sweet and Innocent" who is about to pop any day now. The lady that would serve as our consultant for the evening was more than eager to begin her presentation and jumped right into her spiel as soon as we arrived. She talked super fast and I think she said something about something while she held up several different frilly crotchless panties and lacy pieces of lingerie and a few costumes. Mostly I just saw a flurry of lace and spandex as she whipped them out and put them away.

Next was the boring crap. "Try this", rub it, sniff it, lick it (great words of wisdom for so many situations) for a collection of different creams and lotions. A couple of smelly candles and some powder, whoopee...

Then came out the scary stuff. Disco lighted, rotating, bright coloured...umm...toys with either faces or animals on them. Yeah that's right, apparently you can't buy too many adult toys that don't stare at you, because that's really hot. Nothing says orgasm like a bunny rabbit or a kangaroo or a creepy looking "goddess" who looks like Aunt Jemimah's mother. Some of the Mamas were horrified by the kinds of machines that were being displayed while others were mesmerized by their flashing lights and buzzing sounds.

For all the stand offish looks and scared expressions you wouldn't have thought that they would have purchased nearly as many of the items being featured as they did but our host was granted a significant amount in free goodies due to the high volume of sales. One of the Mamas even given a list of....toys to buy for her sister. Better your sister than your mother I guess. Another Mama was told by her husband to purchase "Benoit Beads", she has no idea what they are or what exactly they are for but she aims to please her man. Looks like most of the Mamas aren't nearly as prudish as they pretended to be. It seems to me there are more freaks in the group than you would think at first glance.

Another Milestone

There have been 3000 hits on this blog since June 8th, 2009. Thank you to all my readers. :)

*Don't foget to vote for Random Blogness on the Canadian Blogosphere site. There is a link button wwwwwaaaayyyyy down at the bottom of this page beside the statcounter. I'm currently sitting at #14 of 68 in Canada.*

Ask And You Shall Receive

People always ask me for advice. Some of these advice seekers are friends and some are just random strangers that I have crossed paths with at some point. Either way I am not qualified to give out many types of advice.

Today I was serving two gentleman at the counter at the Donut Shack when Guy #1 confided in Guy #2 that he had a wedgie and was having trouble keeping his underwear out of his butt. After a few more exchanges between the two, Guy #2 turned to me and said "Do you have any tips?".
I asked "For what? Preventing wedgies?"
"Yeah"
My answer: "ummm...duct tape? Serves two purposes, butt waxing and wedgie prevention or he could just switch to thongs, they're supposed to be stuck up there anyways".
Hey, he asked my thoughts...do I look like a specialist in Undergarment Support?

I have been asked for relationship advice quite a bit. I have been engaged, married, divorced, engaged (to Papa Bear) and I'm not even 30. I'm pretty sure I am not the one to ask for this kind of advice. I'm going to go out on a limb and claim I am CLEARLY not an expert in relationships. I will still give advice but really I'm just learning from my mistakes and pulling the rest out of...well you know where.

A few times I have been asked for advice on what someone should do about their career. Seriously people you are asking a Coffee Goddess (aka deliverer of donuts) for career advice? If I am still working at the Shack after 11 years I obviously still don't know what I want to be when I grow up and you should probably look for someone WITH a career to ask.

Now don't get me wrong, I love that people ask me for advice but I'm warning you that if you ask be prepared to receive either an unqualified answer or something straight out of the B.S. Book. There you have been warned. I'm sure even though I have handed out such a warning someone will still ask me for advice on something tomorrow that I will make up an answer to.

Oh Boy(s)

Oh boy, I am raising three boys. This has presented a few challenges. The biggest problem with bringing up three little men is that, well, I'm a girl!

I have no experience being a boy. I don't understand how they think. I grew up with only brothers but that doesn't even really seem to be helpful.

Boys are gross. They just are. Fuzzy regularly brings his boogers to me on his finger and wants me to take care of it. EWWW, Fuzzy boogers are gross, put it in a kleenex and throw it in the trash. We do not need a show and tell. Fuzzy is also my bug collector and has even tasted a few. Little Bear insists on eating his lunch in three bites or less. I have never seen a little girl chow down like a little boy. Breathe boy, breathe. Wee One is still in the early stages of grossness and it is not as obvious as it is with his brothers.

Boys are weird. Yesterday I was changing Fuzzy's diaper and he had himself a little baby ummm..."tall friend" and was asking about it when Little Bear walked by and informed me that his penis does that sometimes too - when it gets tired of just hanging down all the time and if he plays with it a little bit it does that.....ummm...OK.

Boys are crazy. I have seen plenty of little girls with lots of energy but I'm sorry little ladies you can not compare to the non stop rhythm of a young boy. All day long they go, go, go. I'm down to only one that actually has a nap in the day so there isn't much down time around here. I am completely exhausted with chasing them all day long.

Boys play different than girls too. I have never turned my sandwich crust into any kind of vehicle and drove it around the table making motor noises. It amazes me at how many different items I have seen turned in to cars, trucks, tractors, and airplanes. Geez, it's a sippy cup kid, not a city bus.

Having all boys has some advantages. It is easier to pick out my pink and purple clothes out of the basket of folded laundry. Nobody will be borrowing my clothes or shoes as they get older (well, I guess this isn't really a guarantee but less likely than if I had daughters). We use less toilet paper (no need to wipe when you can shake). Nobody in my household will ever come home and tell me they are pregnant. I don't have to worry about vacuuming up Barbie shoes. There are no crying, peeing, pooping dolls kicking around (just actual kids that do those things).

Raising boys has posed it's share of challenges but it has certainly been entertaining so far as I'm sure it will continue to be. Lord give me the strength to endure. I'm raising three boys, oh boy.

Act Like A Child

What is the best thing about having kids beside tiny hugs and slobbery kisses? Having an excuse to play like a kid. Having a kid gives you a free pass to act and play like a child. You get to play with their cool toys and act silly and nobody cares because it's for your kids, right?

Tuesday afternoon was hot, hot, hot. Little Bear had a Slip and Slide that was still in the box and desperately in need of some use. You know, you run, you dive, you hit the bump and take a dive. Since our winter skating rink build brought to light that we do not own a hose without a huge hole in it we decided to trek across the road to my in laws to use theirs. (The are also out of town so I'm sure they won't mind :)).

I set up the long yellow plastic sheet and hooked up the hose. Maybe it's just me but I'm pretty sure Slip and Slides seemed a lot cooler when I was a kid. Mind you my mother only let us pull ours out a few times (she obviously had no idea how much fun it was) but I remember being far more impressed then.

After finishing the very simple assembly I stood back to admire the bright yellow plastic glistening in the sun with my two oldest grinning like crazy but they just stood there. Duh, they don't know what the heck this thing is or what the heck they are supposed to do with it. So I gave Little Bear the verbal breakdown of what he was supposed to do. "Huh?" "Show me mom".

Well shoot. I didn't really plan on having to actually do this. I am 28 years old. We were in the front yard where people driving by might see us. I'm 28 years old. I'm over the height recommendation. I'm 28 years old. I haven't done this in probably close to 20 years. I'm 28 years old. I'm not even sure I can do this. Oh, what the hell and I went for it.

I gave myself a bit of a running start. As I approached the plastic I went for the dive. OUCH! Slip and Sliding with boobs is NOT a good idea. Holy crap that hurt and holy crap that water was cold! I also realized that the 5 foot tall height recommendation is in place because the taller you are the quicker you run out of plastic to slide on and the faster you meet the grass face first.

It took a minute to convince myself that I could recover and get up from the position I now found myself. Then as I brushed the grass clipping from my soaking wet legs and off my face I looked up to see three tiny men laughing their faces off at what they had just witnessed. All worth my pain (and oh there was some pain).

After my demonstration Little Bear was inspired to try it out himself over and over and over and over again. Fuzzy was not as brave. He would run from as far back as he possibly could without standing in the middle of the empty wheat field and give his all but then as he approached the edge of the plastic where you are supposed to take off he would either stop or run around it. Finally after several attempts at this I grabbed him and "helped" him to slide down the strip. He freaking loved it.

I didn't really think Wee One was really going to be too interested in this activity because he usually shies away from cold water especially in his face and he is still really little but he proved me wrong. He enjoyed walking down the plastic and playing in the sprinkler part of the Slip and Slide. He would fall down, laugh and get back up, giggling the whole time. We had so much fun. "It's mommy's turn". Fuzzy would yell and I would take my turn and they would laugh. It was great. I'm smiling just thinking about it.

Wednesday morning however was not even close to as much fun. I had to go to work at the Donut Shack bright and early with sore gluts, abs, arms, legs, shoulders, back, etc. Just about anything that could hurt, did. I am getting too old but man it was sooooooooooo worth the look on their faces and the sound of their laughter that I'm sure Tuesday was not the end of my Slip and Sliding adventures. Now to get Papa Bear to give it a go.

Sports, Sports, Sports...

Papa Bear loves his sports. He watches them on TV. He watches them in person. He plays a few. He reads about them. Heck, he probably even dreams about them. I, on the other hand would rather chew on a rock.

His favourite sport to watch on TV is hockey. I can stand to watch a bit of this sport, usually in the last period when all the important stuff happens. He watches Football, Baseball, Bowling, Tennis (yawn) and Golf (double yawn). He also watches Curling on TV. I can not stand to watch this "sport" for more than about 30 seconds. I usually spend that 30 seconds wondering what kind of whacked out "sport" calls each round an "end" when in fact they are no where near the actual "end" of the game.

I may not really consider Curling a real sport but I did try it twice and it isn't as easy as it looks. I ended up with a pulled groin muscle and a giant bruise on my knee. Curling is Papa Bear's "winter sport". He loves it and devotes one to two nights a week to this "sport".

Papa Bear's "summer sport" is baseball. Technically he is a member of a baseball team but I haven't really seen him actually play in a game for more than a few innings. Usually he just stands by a base and makes hand gestures at the batters. He's either telling them to bunt or to eat s@*# and die. Either way he's not going to hit any home runs standing out there. I sometimes go to the ballpark to support the team but rarely to see Papa Bear play. I used play baseball until I took a ball to the head resulting in a concussion and bruised brain. The doctor said if I was going to continue to play I had to wear a batting helmet in the outfield...forget that, I quit!

I used to Figure Skate for years. I skated from about age six up until I found out I was pregnant with Little Bear. Oh how I miss it but I still enjoy lacing up to skate on our homemade ice rink in the yard in the winter even with the bumpy, uneven ice and occasional deep crack. Figure Skating is one of the few sports Papa Bear does not watch or take part in.

The only sport Papa Bear and I participate in together is Bowling. Though I don't like to watch Bowling on TV I do enjoy playing the game. Bowling is also where Papa Bear and I met each other for the first time many, many moons ago. After about a ten year rest from the sport for me and about fifteen for Papa Bear, we joined an adult league with some friends. Papa Bear is a little bit better than me - but don't tell him I said that.

Soccer is the only sport that nobody in our household plays, watches or even really talks about. Apparently if you are a baseball player Soccer is the devil. I don't really know too much about this but I do have a Soccer ball hanging from the rear view mirror of my van but that is kind of a inside joke.

Living with four males, I should probably get used to the channel being set to some sort of sport whether I like it or not. All I can say is thank goodness we have more than one TV in this house. I'm sure it won't be long before Papa Bear has three more "men" to help him chant, "sports, sports, sports, sports, sports, sports, sports, sports...SPORTS!"

Real Women Have Curves

Today I was having a conversation with a friend of mine. We were talking about women and weight. We talked about a couple specific people that we both know and where they fall on Sketch's scale. I came to a conclusion...my friend, Sketch is either a horrible, horrible little man OR measures on a completely different scale than most.

Sketch's idea of "thick" or "bigger" girls is pretty much anyone that ate today. Though he didn't call me "thick" or "bigger" he did say it about girls that I compare to in size. Perhaps he thinks I just fell off the turnip truck and didn't catch this. I kind of wanted to punch Sketch right square in his little nose which sits upon his little head a top his skinny little body but then I realized it just didn't matter.

Before you think that I spent my night with my face buried in a tub of ice cream or standing in front of the mirror dissecting my bulges think again. I know I am NOT "thick" or "bigger" but even if I was I wouldn't let this skinny little man's measurement make me think less of myself. Do I have my share of body image issues? Sure I do but those are my own, not ideas put in my head by any other person.

With people who measure like Sketch it is no wonder that I know a very slender six year old girl who is already concerned about her weight or rather the worry that she will some day get "fat". It is sad that she is thinking about someone else's idea of what she should look like already at such a young age.

Poor Sketch he just doesn't even have a clue. "Thick" by his measurement is more like average. If he adjusted his scale of measurement to reflect truth he may open himself up to see that an average women is not stick thin with no existence of an ass and only skin covering her protruding bones. Real women have curves buddy and I am a real women.

Wednesday Drive

Today my two oldest sons were with their dad and it was just Wee One and I. I decided that we should go for a ride through Hicksville to the tractor dealership in a town about 45 minutes or so away (at least I think it is a town, maybe just a village, I don't know) to pick up a birthday present for my nephew who has a birthday at the end of the month. It was a beautiful day and Wee One was in desperate need of nap that could very well be ride induced.

With a sippy cup of ice water for Wee One and a soda for me we headed out on our drive. Wee One wasn't so keen on my nap idea but rather squealed with delight most of the way while I got down to Crazy Possessive by Kaci Battaglia (Wee One is much too little to repeat the words so this is about the only time I can sing it on the top of my lungs and not have to worry about the two oldest boys singing it to grandma later).

When I'm on any drive that lasts for more than a couple of minutes I like to look around at the things around me. Not so much that I can't keep my caravan on my side of the road or anything of course. Mostly I just saw a lot of trees and farms, one in particular with a cross on the barn, a little odd but whatever. I saw some horses, goats and cows.

In one front yard I saw a broken down tractor, like it had just stopped in the middle of the yard on it's way through. Instead of towing it out of their lawn though the people that lived there just planted flowers around it like they were trying to disguise the ugly, decrepit piece of farm equipment as, I don't know, some sort of clever artistry....FAIL. It really just looks like a piece of crap tractor surrounded by flowers. That's it. That's all. Not at all pleasant to look at. It's this kind of crap that helps to make my weed infested flower beds look better so thank you.

I saw a house all jacked up on some shady looking beams with kids ride-on toys all underneath it. Who the heck lets their children play under a jacked up house. Haven't they ever seen The Wizard of Oz? Didn't you see what that house did to that poor witch when it fell on her? Good grief people. I really don't think when you live in the country where there is plenty of room on all sides of you that you need to let your children play under your house. Safety first.

Farther down the road I saw a trailer or motor home (I'm not really sure what the proper name for them is) with two more trailers as additions. I guess it was like a trailer condominium or something. Or a trailer mansion (for those better off trailer trash kind of folk). Whatever it was it was one of the ugliest things I have ever seen. Instead of buying three trailers to try to stick together why not just buy or build a nice little house?

Another house had a second story balcony. The balcony was enclosed with chain-link fencing. Now, is it just me or does chain-link fencing not have an awful lot of give to be what is supposed to hold me in from free falling from the balcony and landing smack dab in the drive way next to a car with no wheels up on blocks? Just wondering is all.

Shortly before I arrived at my destination I had to pass by the large grassy hill that is really a dump in hiding. They almost had me fooled too - except for the dozens of seagulls flying overhead and the rotten stench wafting in my open windows (I forget about this every time and never remember to put the windows up until I am directly in front of the dump).

The ride back was equally as exciting as I looked for each of the landmarks I had discovered on my way there just to make sure I had really seen what I thought I had seen on the way there. Such a lovely day for a drive through Hicksville on this Wednesday afternoon.

Pass Gas With Class

I don't claim to be extremely lady like at all times by any means but when did it become acceptable for woman to burp and fart in public like a caveman? Is that not still a rude thing to do?

I know we all have to burp or let one rip from time to time but am I alone in thinking that it should be done discreetly or blamed on my kids when in public? Too often lately I have found myself surrounded by burpers and farters who think it is their duty to let the world know that they had chili for lunch. They let 'em rip loud and proud without an ounce of concern.

I'm embarrassed if a belch or fart escapes my body when there are other people around-other than Papa Bear - I can appreciate a well executed "dutch oven" as well as anyone else but these burpers and farters just don't seem to care where or when they let go.

It's bad enough when men do it(I think it part of how they communicate to each other) but come on ladies we should conduct ourselves with a little more class. I doubt men really find burping and farting in front of their family and friends a sexy quality in the women of their dreams. I don't ever remember hearing any guy say "did you hear that giant stinky fart that came out of that blonde? I'm going to take her home with me if she didn't crap her pants!"

Old ladies are an exception. They likely think they are being discreet because they are too deaf to hear the kinds of sounds that come out of their bodies and I've never heard my grandmother go "ahhhh, that feels better, I bet you can't do better". Young children can also get away with such rudeness because their cuteness is more powerful therefore it trumps the rudeness.

I think a woman burping and farting in public is something I would most likely see in a trailer park by a bleach blonde tramp, wearing sleazy clothes that show off too much of her crackhead body with missing teeth (other than the teeth thing I think I just described my ex husbands ex girlfriend) but unfortunately they are everywhere laughing at the disgusting sounds (and smells) they are producing from their bodies and forcing the rest of us to hold our tongues (and our noses) from telling them just how rude they are.