In which the mini me discovers something I've avoided for six years

My seven year old daughter has discovered the syrupy, catchy but somehow still nasaly, wholesomeness that is High School Musical. It's true. Right now I am witnessing Zefron learning how to juggle his passion for basketball, secret like for singing, and Vanessa Hudgens' millawatt boobs eyes for what seems like the millionth time.

I admit I have found myself humming along with the songs, and it
 leaves a nasty shameful yet sweet taste in my mouth. Like after I eat 3 Cinnabons.

I remember the summer of 2007, and the second in the series of this phenomenon (I use the term loosely) had come out on Disney Channel. Lucky for me, I was a Disney Cast Member and earning a paycheck at what was then the last remaining Disney Stores in Oregon, and I got to hear songs from it every 30 minutes like clockwork. I'll be honest...it felt like every 5 seconds. Grating on my ears like a cat in heat being dragged across a sizzling blacktop in the middle of August. I swore to myself then and there after only the second time I heard it that I would shield my kids from this "thing." Honestly, I avoided the whole Barney phase, so I figured I could do anything. We went five whole blissful years before my darling little ginger found it on Netflix and hit "play." 

The only way I am keeping some form of sanity is because I know that Zac Efron will eventually look like this:

no caption needed

and will eventually star in Hairspray and Charlie St Cloud a few years later. I forgive him.

If you come begging for candy at my house this October 31st...

So, I've always really loved Halloween. I remember being very excited about going out to get candy when I was little and I enjoy seeing the small children dressed up in cute costumes. I'm a female in my twenties- it wasn't even that long ago! Since Halloween is in only 11 days, I'd like to set up some ground rules for this year (and I direct this primarily at the older trick-or-treaters). Bring it on. I'll be waiting. 

No "trick or treat" when I open the door? No candy. This is a very important part of trick or treating. It seems that the older the trick-or-treater, the slimmer the chance of being greeted with this. You see, the "trick or treat!" is just a polite way of saying, "Give me some freakin candy!" If getting dolled up in a costume at your age is still cool, then why don't you just go that extra yard and say it? I doubt it'll damage your rep any more than being 16 and standing on my doorstep in a "dead cowboy" costume. 

No "thank you"? I'm reaching in your bag of treats and retrieving my candy, in addition to anything else I can grab. 

No costume? Kiss my butt and get off my property or I will shoot you with a potato gun. 

Dressed like a "gangster?" How stupid do you think I am? I KNOW you're in your street clothes. Shouldn't you be knocking over a candy store? 

To the group of late-teenage(how old were you? 16, 17?) Paris Hilton wannabes that have pounded violently on my door AND rang the doorbell simultaneously: Did you ever see the movie "Problem Child II?" There's a scene where the doorbell is rigged to "pleasantly surprise" whoever rings it. I won't electrocute you, of course, but I promise that you won't be able to touch your STD infested boyfriends for a month without giving them an electric shock. 

Ask me if you can have more than one piece? No. BUT- you can have zero. 

Over 13 years of age? No candy. How about some condoms so I don't have to hand out candy to your own children over the next couple of years? I thought so. Yes, you can take more than one. 


:::Sigh::: ahhh. Feels good to get that off my chest. Damn you and your idiocy, all of you trick-or-treaters from last year. I'm feeling jaded and disillusioned right now remembering last year's Halloween. I hope the Christmas carolers are serving up something good this year. 

Disclaimer: To all of the small children and those rare few that were polite and in keeping with the spirit of Halloween- You can come back this year. I promise you won't be harmed, taunted, or emotionally scarred in any way.


(This is a post I wrote several years ago on my former blog, but it still applies. Consider yourselves warned.)

I put myself in a timeout this morning

Good morning!

Finally my skin can go back to it's normal color of off white white white white white.

I woke up this morning to the gloomy, gray, rainy skies that Portland is known for this morning, and I might have squealed with glee that it was a perfect excuse to wear my new plaid rainboots. I think I did. I'm most positive I quietly screeched like an ecstatic 8 month old. Lucky for me, Jimmy Boy slept through the noises that were exiting my mouth hole or I would have been faced with a very cranky boyfriend.

Things were going okay. I got up, put on my warm clothes, got my mini me out of her bed while instructing her to put her rainboots on as we needed to run to Safeway and the gas station before Jimmy had to leave for work. All was going according to plan. 

Caity and I ran our errand, and got home just in time for me to get the coffee started before Jimmy came downstairs. Perfect! I filled the coffee maker with water, took out yesterday's grounds, asked Caity if she wanted waffles or cereal...and that's where it all went to hell. 

I reached for the garbage can lid so I could dispose of the used coffee grounds and splat! My kitchen floor was covered in refuse. ARRRRRRHGHHHHGGGGGGH!

Coffee grounds.

Applesauce container.

Empty Coffee-Mate bottle.

More coffee grounds.

All. Over. My. Kitchen. Floor.

First of all, I'm not a morning person. At all. Normally I don't encourage people to interact with me before 10am for their own safety. The only exception is when I'm camping because by the time I get up, the birds have been squawking for at least 3 hours and the time of danger for all I am with has passed. However, even then I make no promises.

After I finally get the majority of the coffee off the floor and in a fresh garbage bag, my darling son has decided that it would be a good idea to bring ALL his Lego's into the living room. Dude, seriously? Come on. 

"Buddy, where do we play with Legos?"
"My bedroom. But Jimmy said I could play with my new Lego set in the Living Room!"

"Oh, really? When was that?"

"...the day I got it." (which was a week ago)

"Did you get another set in the last 10 minutes I'm not aware of?"

"................no."

Followed by some whining, very bad haggling, and sulking, mommy prevailed. I am Mom! Hear me tell you what to do! Roar!

I decided after the events that I just described, I needed to do what all moms do at least once a day... I put myself in timeout. So here I am. Hiding. In the bathroom. With the door locked. 

I'm thinking five more minutes and then I will go back downstairs and attempt to get my house into a somewhat clean living environment.  Maybe six....

it goes without say....

Is it Raining in Portland is not a necessity to us in the City of Roses. Maybe it's intended for those who are just oblivious to the obvious. It isn't August, so the answer would theoretically be yes.

old habits like blogging die hard

I used to blog. In fact, my previous blog is still up, but I can't access it and continue it because some "delta bravo" decided that hacking into the email that it was associated with was a good idea, then changed the password and security questions so it was impossible to salvage it. The damage was done. Almost 6 months of hilariousness and randomness....finished.

I told my blog that I'd never let go. However, just like Rose did to Jack, I dropped it. I'd occasionally go back to relive some of my most clever and amusing moments. Chuckle at some witty anecdote I had once made. Ha ha! I'm so charming like that. 

Here we are, over a year and a half later, and I wanted to write again. Of course this has nothing to do with the fact that I'm unemployed and school doesn't start until January, so I'm finding a way to stay off the streets and out of trouble when I'm not busy putting away laundry (ha!) or keeping the house clutter free (Hoarders has shown me that my house really isn't that bad). Not. At. All. Nope. 

Fortunately for you, dear reader, this is but the "pilot" entry. I am off to bed because I know my darling angels will be awake at approximately 6:45am (ish), and I will need at least 2 cups of coffee before doing that fabulous mommy thing I do.