Monthly Archives: July 2008

Tori, Tori, What’s your sTori?

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Tori_spelling
Am I the only one who gets sucked into that dumb show about Tori Spelling on Oxygen?

I mean, it isn’t dumb, but it is in a way, for me, a regular ole’ mom, to be watching a show about a celebrity mom.

The thing is, watching this "reality show" (hate these things, but they suck me in. Darn them!) has given me a whole new outlook on a woman I thought was simply a "stuck up rich girl."

I know. I know. Here I am defending a celebrity. I’m no fan of celebrities, mainly because they seem to think they are owed something in life and that we should all bow to them because they are famous.

I thought Tori was like this, but after watching her on this show, I’m not so sure. To me, she actually seems like a real mom, a real daughter, with some real struggles. I mean, not that other celebrities aren’t "real" people, but their lives are just so "unreal."

Her life is pretty normal actually. If you leave out the part about her being the daughter of a rich producer and a psychopath rich mom, who starred on a show her daddy produced, got married, got divorced and got married again to a man who left his wife for her and then started her own reality show with this new man, and that reality show showcased the launch of a book she authored on her life (called something like Tori’s sTori), the birth of her son, her pregnancy with her second child, and her attempt to reconcile with her crazy mother who took all over father’s millions and millions for herself.

She. She’s normal. Man. Back off.

Despite her not being "normal" in the "normal" use of the word, I have seen a new depth to her in the show and I’ve kind of enjoyed it.

And what is not "normal" are some of her fans. Yikes. Some of them border on stalkers and well, quite frankly — FREAKS. Others just fly right by that "border" and land right into Freakland.

Shh! Don’t tell anyone. I would be so embarrassed if people knew I’ve become a fan of a reality show about a celebrity.

One reality show I won’t becoming a fan of anytime soon "Brooke Knows Best." Slut_3Ya’ know. That show about Brooke Hogan. Whoever she is.

I’m sorry? Who wants to watch a show about a wanna-be sex symbol whose brother paralyzed a guy, but would rather beg for sympathy for himself than express any concern about the guy who is now drinking his meals through a straw.

I prefer not to watch her journey to posing naked for magazines and becoming the next "great" porn star who eventually ends up at the bottom of a well somewhere all dried up and coked up.

*putting soapbox away* (as my cuz, would say).

And, yes, my New Year’s resolution was to be less judgmental. Why do you ask?

So, are there any reality shows that you’ve gotten hooked on, despite your better judgement?

Mommy! Your shirt! It has a staaaain!

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Jonathan is now in the habit of pointing at stains on my shirt and screaming like a girl — as if I have a knife sticking out of my chest.

Or as if he has just seen me naked.

He’s so much like his father, it’s not even funny.

No. Really.

It’s not funny. Earlier today I went in to the bathroom and like usual I forgot to close the door. The bathroom is in the back of the house and I’m used to going when it is just me and Jonathan, so I left the door open — again. Hubby is always telling me to "shut the door!" Today, Jonathan walked in to the bathroom with me and "shut the door!"

Hubby also points at stains on my clothes and screams like a girl, something he has been doing at least since we have been married, if not before. Hubby’s a Commando Neat Freak. The littlest stains freak him right out.

Truthfully I’m glad Hubby tells me when I have a stain on me, otherwise I’d never know. I’m oblivious to those things, mainly because ninety-nine percent of the time my head is in the clouds.

I should have the title of Jeff’s blog over at View from the Clouds because that is where my head always is.

I’ll go through a whole day of  work and not notice until an hour before I’m about to leave that I’ve dripped soda  (or that chocolate I was trying to hide from Hubby so he won’t remind me, like I asked him to, that I am trying to limit my sweets) down the front of my shirt.

Lately, Jonathan’s been incurring a lot of scrapes and bruises thanks to his total lack of fear and dare-devil attitude.

Every day I seem to notice a new bruise or scrap.

I picked him up from the sitter’s one day this week and before I even hit the front porch one of the little girls blurted out a confession that she had accidentally whacked Jonathan in the head with the swing.

He had a small, light red mark on his cheekbone from the impact, but otherwise he was fine.

I thought about pointing at his cheek and screaming like a little girl, but not only did I not want to scar my child for life (any more than I already have), I decided I would leave the pointing and screaming like a girl to the men in the family.

The Beast seems hostile

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I swear, ever since I posted about The Beast, she has seemed much more hostile toward me than usual.

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Several times these past couple of weeks I’ve looked over my shoulder only to see her leering at me.

Hubby wasn’t too happy with me either. He didn’t like me making fun of “his cat” he told me.

“She’s really a beautiful cat,”he said after the post was put up.

A co-worker, looking at the photograph, trying to find The Beast’s head like everyone else had, said “She is?”

Truthfully – and I can’t believe I’m about to write this – but The Beast is a beautiful cat. I’ve taken a few photos of her that have shown this, one of my favorites being of her and Hubby with Hubby faded out in the background. I took it with the work camera — a digital SLR that I lust after each time I use it.

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The Beast isn’t our only pet, as I’ve mentioned before.

There is also The Brain Dead Cat.

Then there is the Matriarch, who has tried to kill me more than once. I’ll write more about her another day. If she hasn’t killed me yet.

And last, but not least, there is Dog on Crack.

He’s one of the most hyper dogs I’ve ever seen. I love him, but wow. He exhausts me.

And there has been more than once I thought he might have killed himself because of his hyperactivity.

When we adopted Copper Hubby told me: “If we don’t kill him in a year then we can think of having children.”

I thought we might never have children. In the first week Copper, a tiny little thing then, leaped right out of my hands and hit nose first on the pavement about two feet below. I was sure he was dead.

He wasn’t, but every since he’s had a strange little cough going on. The cough that makes me wake up at night and check him to be sure he isn’t dying. I’m amazed this dog is still alive.

He eats anything and everything. I’ve caught him eating aluminum foil, toilet paper and even ear plugs. Hubby caught the ear plugs first – or shall we say spotted the ear plugs.”

You know where he spotted them. Think about it. In the back yard…after the dog visited there…

Yeah, I think you can figure it out now.

Reading Happy Meals and Happy Hour the other day, when she wrote about her dog’s excitement over a squirrel on the deck, made me think of our crazy mutt. I say mutt because he is a Chihuahua, Jack Russell mix.

Our dog acts the same as Sue’s. Only with Copper he freaks out over squirrels across the street, dogs or people (including children) walking in front of our house, birds on the electrical wire outside the front window, moths that somehow got in the house, The Beast every time she walks by – You get the idea. The dog is crazy, with a capital “c”. Which means I should have written Crazy! Or C.R.A.Z.Y.

OK. Whatever. You get my drift. The dog is nuts. Of course there are also times he is a total sweet heart. (see below, taken three years ago with Hubby). 544633401205_0_alb

So, there it is. I live in a house with a Farting Kitty, a cat who is convinced the world revolves around her, another cat who is damaged in the head, and a dog who is on some kind of illicit drug, as well as a wild 20-month old and a stubborn, sometimes grumpy 30-year old.

Find other crazy people at Humor-Blogs.com  If the link works. It hasn’t been for some reason. Then just type in the URL, which will mean you can’t vote for me, but ah, well. Life goes on.

A note from the Toddler

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I have no idea what was wrong the other night with that lady I live with.

Man, first she freaks out because I took this huge Ziploc bag of Crayons we have and slammed her in the back with it. The bag is there because I have this habit of ripping apart the boxes Crayons are supposed to go in and spreading the Crayons all over the floor.

I mean, come on. I’m an artist, ya’ know? Whatever. Just because the old lady can’t see that she snatches up all the Crayons and chucks them in this baggie. Like they are a sandwich or something. Hello?

Anyhow, back to earlier in the night.

After the Crayon-bag incident, which I did just to see what kind of reaction I’d get, and trust me, it wasn’t good,  I found myself some nail clippers.

I was clipping them on all kinds of things, just having some 20-month old fun, ya’ know? She starts screaming something about “ow! You hit me in the head. Give me those,” and then she snatches them away from me. I mean, what is with that?

Yeah, so I smacked her in the head with the nail clippers while swinging them around and checking them out. I guess I could have cut her forehead open, but did that require her to take them away from me and demand I go to bed?

It was like 10 at night. Going to bed at 10 is for babies and I’m not a baby. I’m a toddler, ‘K?

Chill, lady.

I mean, I bet you other mom’s out there wouldn’t have freaked out like she did. Am I right?

Yeah, I think I am.

Until next time the Old Lady aggravates me and I’m forced to take over her blog

– Jonny G.

P.S. Go over to Humor Blogs and vote for mommy so I don’t have to listen to her whine anymore about how "no one loves me at  Humor Blogs" and "I’m not cool like my brother." Wait. Uncle Bryan is cool? When did that happen?

The new “I will not sit in my seat” rule

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Buckling my son in his car seat has become a race against time lately.

The moment I set him in the seat he stands up, turns around and looks out the back window, unwilling to be sat back down and safely secured.

I think I now know why my parents used to simply let me roll around in the back seat like a loose soda bottle when we went on trips.

OK. So usually they made me put my seatbelt on, but I do remember sitting on the edge of the back seat, leaning on the front seats, and chatting away to my parents while we cruised down the road. Mom would turn around and say: “What do you think you are doing? Get your seatbelt on.”

But, I still did it, until the car sickness which always hit me when I was in a car took over and then I put my seatbelt on like I was told, put my head back and tried to hold the vomit down.

When I was fairly young my parents used to travel about an hour to church, with me half asleep in the back seat. Those poor people at that church probably thought I was the most miserable child because every time we’d arrive down there I’d glare at them through half-opened eyes. I’m sure few of them knew that I was dealing with the hangover-like side effects of motion sickness and not simply expressing some kind of disgust toward their church, which I didn’t have.

Getting Jonathan to sit in his seat now is like a negotiation session.

“If you sit down I’ll let you hold this little toy car you loved so much when we bought it for you.”

Car flies across the car. That would be a ‘no.’

“If you sit down I’ll let you hold on to this rubber ball I picked up for you at the Dollar Store.”

Ball flies out the open door. That would be another ‘no.’

“You can have your sip…”

Sippy cup bounces off the front windshield. I’m taking that as the last ‘no.’

Finally negotiations are over and war is declared.

“You will sit. down. We have. to. go. home, get dinner and get. a bath. before. bed.”

Physically picking the child up now, turning him around and forcing him to sit while he flails and screams like a cat being thrown into a tub full of water.

After ten minutes of him trying to stand, me putting him back down in the seat and wrestling his seatbelt on, we are able to leave the sitters, pull out and head toward home to see what new battle awaits us there. And when I ask him what “the attitude was all about,” he lifts his hands, shrugs and proceeds to inform me of my errors in annoyed sounding baby language.

I am so in for it when he can articulate full sentences.

Welcome to the new Boondock Ramblings

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It is a site under construction, but welcome to the new Boondock Ramblings. I think.

I still have some things to work out, but hopefully this site will look acceptable soon. For now, bare with me, as I undergo some changes.

I had to change fast because I changed some things with my domain manager, etc., I probably could have waited. But I don’t know because I am just clueless on all of this. This change has been coming up for awhile but I had to jump through like 3,000 hoops to get my domain host changed, my domain redirected and blah, blah, blah.

I had to provide the domain host more than I had to provide to get a marriage certificate.

I would enter in one piece of information and they would demand another tidbit of my personal life.

I gave them my blood type, my social security number, my mother’s maiden name, my son’s birthday, my father’s birth place, my family’s place of origin from the time they first settled on American soil, my waist size, my shoe size, the color of my eyes…

I mean the list goes on and on and on.

Dang.

Finally I gave them all they wanted and then I had to wade through terms like “CNAME” and “MX Records,” and “Domain forwarding” and yadda, yadda.

I think I have it figured out, but who knows. Many of you may not even be reading this right now. Maybe none of you are. I don’t know what is out there on cyberspace right now having to do with this blog.

All I do know is that my little, slightly educated, brain is swimming.

Anyhooo… things are going to be a little mixed up here for a couple of days.

Have to keep life exciting, right?

Hang on and enjoy the ride with me!

And in the meantime…check out a few funny blogs here.

Yes, only a few.

I think I can … Not afford Thomas the Train

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When I’m a millionaire I will buy my little Jonathan a Thomas the Train set – the whole set.

Because only a millionaire would be able to afford the whole set of Thomas the Train toys.

I know what you’re thinking. I could just save up and buy him a few pieces at a time.

Do you think he’ll still like trains when he’s 50? Because that is probably how long it will take me to save up enough money to purchase any of those blasted trains.

We were in the local hardware store the other day where the owner has an amazing assortment of toys for sale – including Thomas the Train and John Deere toys, both of which are Mega Bucks for lil’ ole’ me.

All I needed at the store was an extension cord for our air conditioner. The outlet next to that air conditioner has been broken since we bought the house five years ago. We have never used the air conditioner, except once when we use the wrong type of extension cord and blew a breaker.

But I digress – as usual.

So I went in to the store to buy an extension cord.

After finding my needed extension cord, and some light bulbs for the night light, I walked toward the front of the store, only to have Jonathan caught by the glow of the Thomas the Train Engine tracks set up at the end of one of the toy aisle like cheese on the end of a mouse trap.

Oh thank you so much, Store Owner, for that little set up — trying to make money off poor unsuspecting parents by trapping their children with the toy train track.

It almost worked. But I foiled you! Ha! Ha! I did not buy the expensive Thomas the Train Engine gift you wanted me to!

No, instead I purchased the expensive John Deere toy.

Darn you, Store Owner!

But every redneck has to have their own John Deere “First John Deere” toy tractor set, don’t they?

Sure they do!

Once I was roped into that purchase, it was time to pry from my son’s tiny hands the “Hector” train. Sleek and black this little train fit nicely into my son’s palm. Into the palm of my son’s little –- yet amazingly strong — hand.

A hand that suddenly developed a death grip and refused to let go of the toy no matter how hard I tried to pull it from the vice-like fingers.

Oh crap. There was going to be a scene. A very nasty scene indeed.

I cast my eyes to the Heavens from Whence my help comes from. Or at least I hoped it would come from there as it has before because I didn’t have the strength to bare an embarrassing scene on this sweltering summer day.

Then it hit me. I had just purchased a John Deere toy tractor set for my son – sacrificing our next week’s groceries for my son’s delight and wheel baring enjoyment. I would simply pull one of those suckers out of the box and trade Jonathan for the train.

Ah ha!

Ah..no. Not when the tractor is wired into the package as if it is a confidential file from the CIA.

Just ten minutes of twisting the twisty things and ten minutes of watching my son run from homemade rocking chair to homemade rocking chair, dragging the train all over the wood, making rivets in the expensive surface and me wince with worry that the Store Owner might make me shell out even more money than I’d spent on the bloody John Deere toy tractor set — and the toy was free. And eventually so was Hector, safe in the hands of a store clerk, who was genuinely amused by it all. The clerk. Not Hector. Hector’s not real. He’s a toy.

Then we were free to leave as well, John Deere toy tractor set in tow, along with my pride that I had not cracked and spent $16.95 on one toy train.

Not yet anyhow.

(By the way, I’m hoping that by mentioning John Deere so many times they might find it in their heart to either 1) send me a free little tractor for my son to ride on because those things are sooo expensive or 2) send me a John Deere tractor for my dad so he can play around his property like the big kid he is).

(Here is Jonathan happily holding on to a dollar bill that he hopes to stash away for his very own Thomas the Train engine, which he’ll have enough money for say…30 to 40 years from now?).

Log on to Humor-blogs.com for some good hearty laughs.

The Dark Knight: A dark movie indeed. But Bale’s hot, so it works.

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As a super comic book geek, Hubby has of course been counting down the days to The Dark Knight – the latest installment in the Batman movie series. Turns out my friend’s husband and my husband are of the same mind.

Yeah. You got it. We were the lucky girl’s sitting between two comic book geeks, one of them already wearing his “Dark Knight” shirt and leaning over every few minutes to announce to us that “only five more minutes.” or “only three more minutes.” were left before the movie started. Thanks for the updates, Robin. Much appreciated. Now climb out of your tights and remember who you really are.

Unfortunately the countdown was delayed for a bit because while the theater planned to start the movie at 1:30 p.m., the newspaper had said it started at 2 p.m. (No it was not our newspaper’s fault, thank you very much).

Mass panic ensued in our row when the start was delayed. The wives calmed down the husbands with gentle humming of the Superman theme song and all was well again.

Hey, we married these “nerds,” so we had to put up with them and besides, here we were, looking like we were supporting our spouses in their love of comic/Superhero movies, when really we just wanted to stare at Christian Bale.

Hello, can you blame us? He’s hawt!

Truthfully, since I loved the first of this particular series of movies, starring Christian Bale, I was also looking forward to this latest installment. When I heard the buzz over Heath Ledger’s performance, months before his untimely demise, I was even more interested.

When I first heard that Heath Ledger was going to play the Joker, I couldn’t picture it, much like I couldn’t picture Christian Bale as Batman. But Christian Bale changed my mind within the first few moments of Batman Begins and Ledger did the same for me in this movie.

Let’s be blunt here: Ledger freaked me out in this movie. The fact he’s dead and was having nightmares related to his portrayal of this character made watching his performance in the movie even more spine tingling.

Hubby has read a lot of Batman comics and graphic novels. He knows a lot about the history of the Batman and the various villains who try to bring him down, including the Joker. So, when the Joker starts telling a couple different versions of how his face was scarred, Hubby leans over to me and says: “That’s because there is no origin of the Joker. He’s simply broken. Cracked.”

In other words, The Joker isn’t out to “get” anyone for a particular reason, like gaining money or fame – he’s simply a mad man, which is why he is the scariest comic book villain out there. Ledger’s portrayal of him made it more clear, more than any other performance of The Joker (even by Jack Nicholson) of what a psychopath and complete mental case The Joker is.

Like Michael Cain tells Bale at one point: “Some people just like to watch the world burn.”

At one point I found myself crying as I watched Ledger’s portrayal. Yes, I’m a sappy loser, I know.

But I started thinking about how he had become so entranced in the character of The Joker and how I heard he was really tortured by the role. I thought about how sad the last few months of his life must have been as he tried to help himself sleep and get that character out of his head and soul.

And I thought about his daughter and how she’d never have a chance to get to know her father – a guy who was so young he probably didn’t yet know how to even be a father and would have learned along the way. Now he doesn’t even get the chance to learn.

I know, this post is turning into a downer. Sorry.

The bottom line is that the movie was great. It was dark and disturbing and it was sad to see Ledger, knowing he is now gone. But, the amazing acting made the darkness worthy of pushing through. So, I recommend it, but I don’t recommend it for children or the faint of heart– of course.

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In blogging news: I apparently offended some of my readers, without knowing it, because the days after I wrote my Curious George post my stats plummeted like George W.’s approval rating. Coincidence? Or is everyone just out enjoying the nice summer weather? Listen, people, I love smokers OK? Smoke away. And stop being so offended. Pull that cigarette out of your butt, ‘K? :-)

Also, read some actually funny blog posts at Humor-Blogs.com where you can try to boost my score because I’ve apparently been booted down the list due to a snafu of some kind. Thanks Diesel, you big jerk. :-)

Totally kidding. I lurve me some Diesel (shh! Don’t tell the husband).

But for those who don’t know how to vote — you have to click the smiley face next to the post you liked. Have fun with it. I do!