What the "deuce"?!

So, I'm bound by these crazy things called "ethics" and "FOIP" and junk like that, so I can't tell you all the totally cool things I'm doing in my clinical for school. Rest assured, I am loving it. Sure, we aren't technically DOING anything yet; I've seriously spent a month of school learning how to properly wash hands, and, just today, how to properly make a bed.

Washing hands seems soooo easy, but I honestly have a midterm exam on doing it properly! I know, right?! My poor 'bingers' (Mimi's word for fingers) are cracking and dry from the antiseptic hand soaps and junk, but I tell ya, they're clean enough to eat off of! ;P
har har

You know, you'd think I'd be all nonchalant about germs and junk when I'm so obviously clean from washing my hands so often, but it's getting super wierd how paranoid I am getting about everything. I sit at a desk and instantly wonder what nasty pathogenic cuplrits sat there before me. The whole idea of going to clinical and touching a freaking PEN scares the ship out of me! What is ON that pen!?!?!?! ew.

And making a bed?! DONT GET ME STARTED. Now I'm all grossed out that I probably haven't washed my sheets in a week or two (whatever, judgy Mc Judgersons, I've been a bit busy lately and the last thing I think of when I fall INTO that germy bed is NOT about the germs.).... besides, even if I DID clean the sheets... Will and I...well...you know.... do I honestly have to finish this sentence?! And don't even-- I know LOTS of couples that are like that. For reals, peeps, what is the dealio with the need to be dirty in a clean bed?! Good times.

Yep. I'm officially beyucked (new word. Patent) by what could possibly be residing on this keyboard. Or the lightswitches. Or...

OH.

EM.

GEE.

the toilets at the college.

It is a sad moment when I realize that I have to use it. I leave my house by 7am most mornings (earlier some others) and don't get back home until after 4:30 or so. I am NOT the "poop-once-a-day" girl. I am happy to report to ya'll that I am a proud pooper. Apparently, Paul Plakas thinks poopin' a few times a day is healthier anyways, so, Paul, this poop's for you. I can NOT wait until I am home. I know a few 'paranoid poopers' who seriously would rather injure themselves than use a public pooh-pot, but me? Nope. When there's a turtle, I let it hit the fan. (okay, so there's no fans in the bathroom.. and I am NOT the only public pooper at the college, so some days, there really SHOULD be a fan. Seriously. light a match.)

Only in the nursing program will you be studying for a test with your girlfriends and the topic of pooping will come up. I mean, defecation.

that us.

jealous, aren't cha?!

Music that makes me smile

Most people know I'm a music-girl. I like all sorts of music, I know a million songs about a million things that are usually totally random and rediculous, but still. In fact, just the other day, Em made up something on Facebook like, "writing my own story", and, believe it or not, I broke into a song in front of her with those exact words. She sat at the table dumbfounded, probably thinking I was making it up as I went or something. I also like to think that her laugh was of sheer joy at my amazing skillz, and nothing whatsoever to do with the dance I broke out into. Whatever that dumbfounded look was for, it didn't go unnoticed. Which in itself entertains me, as I used to think the same thing of my father when he'd sing ridiculous lyrics that I didn't believe were real. And no, I was never laughing at anything he did-- it only encouraged him! ;) (love ya pop-sicle)



I mean, who knows a song about chewing gum that loses its flavour? Well... I do!!! *YOUTUBE VIDEO HERE*



Or, without my father, would I have known a song about playing with a chainsaw? Like this one: *YOUTUBE VIDEO HERE*



Country songs are classic for funny words. Like this one!



Yah. I know songs about blue kleenexes, camels named Clyde, and even 'historical' songs about Colonel Custer! ;)



Some silly songs I relate to times in my life. Some I relate to people. Some songs just bring a smile to my face...

A new song I relish:



*YOUTUBE HERE*

So, when you hear a funky song with recockulous lyrics, just sit back and smile. Think of me. Imagine the dance. You HAVE to imagine the dance.

Brackets are the new Elipses

Oh Mylanta.

It has been only, like, THE busiest week EVA!!!!

Not ONLY has our awesome, ridiculously NEW desktop computer received a frikken VIRUS again.... (Note to Will: that is enough of the nudey downloads) (*haha TOTALLY kidding- it's usually from the kids' game site (which I hate).) (You know what else I hate?? Too many brackets.) And because of this, uploading photos of our fantastical week has been, well, uh, challenging.

Of course, we could totally do the whole "first day of school" blog, which everyone and their dogs do. (And dogs go to school, so that sentence actually makes more sense than you first realized, hey?! I am so smart. SMRT.) But our first day went like this:

yah. Too cute. Mimi started kindergarten this year. Can we tell she's a bit excited!?
Or, I could blog about the fact that this is only THE BEST EFFIN' WEEK IN THE WHOLE ENTIRE YEAR!! (and by Effin, I totally mean F.... For FAMILY!!) That's right, folks, it's freakin' FAMILY WEEK! A.K.A- little bro "Uncle Kannie" is getting married tomorrow to Auntie Bree, and all the sibs are in town for the wedding partay. Oh, and Auntie Kiki is 9 months prego, so we celebrated "Baby Boy Gaseous's" impending arrival. And lemme just say, that baby can pass gas like it's NO ONE'S business!! He seriously made our eyes water! Good thing Auntie Kiki is so cute-bellied! (She wants to make it known that she, of course, is a lady, and that lady-farts smell like roses, so it's OBVIOUSLY the male-species growing and flatulating inside of her that makes whatever come out with such a potent aroma NOT her fault!) riaaaaghtt.
Yep.

And in the midst of all the celebrations, shopping, singing (Video to accompany next week's follow-up blog) and eating, there were pickles. And peaches. And kittens. Oh my.
WAY cute kittens, no? Want one? Or five?

And yes, as mentioned above... when last weekend I spent watching my sister's 7 kids, I tried to jar pickles for our food storage. 100 jars later- I am SO ready for pickle-eating season. (don't ask WHEN that is... it's sometime between Hallowe'en and Easter, I'm pretty sure.) Well, when you spend that much time pickling cucumbers and bottling peaches, you end up with a food storage room that is phenomenally AWESOME. Other than the resident Mighties. (And, for those who aren't all Debbi-vocabed, Mighties is my name for mice.)

Yah. (haha I just typed yag. Which, is obviously a mixture of yah and gag. TOTALLY how I feel about the whole Mighty sichee-ation) this mouse was no different-- we have two types of traps in the storage room -- the As-IF-you-have-a-hope traps like this:

And the who-are-you-kidding traps. Like this failure:
And guess which one caught a mouse first? Yah. The failure trap. What? Why call it a failure trap if it caught a mouse, oh Debbi, the wise one? Well, young grasshoppers, because Mr. Failure-trap decided that once it caught said mouse, it would then let it go. I KNOW, RIGHT?! I went to the storage room, and saw the mouse in the trap. (first off-- moment of sheer PANIC as you reread that sentence and realize that *I* saw a live mouse in my house!!!!! Do you not remember how I use a shovel to pick up the dead ones?!) I see the mouse, but there's no chance in Haiti that I'm gonna do anything about it! We're all getting ready to leave for church, so I tell Will to take care of the mouse. He leaves to church with us, putting ridiculous amounts of faith in that trap.

We get home from church, and I (ahem) kindly remind him about the mouse. He takes the boys into the storage room to take care of it. (whack it.) (take it out)(exterminate it)(annihilate it)(assassinate it)(liquidate it... although, that makes me conjure really nasty images of ew-ness of liquid mice) Then Taylor comes out to the car, (where I'm still trying to get far enough away from the mouse issue) and tells me, with a giggle, that the mouse got away. NATURALLY, I think he's just trying to play with my tender emotions. It IS Taylor, after all. Twelve-year old boys think making their mothers scream is funny.

Nope.

It really got away. Will apologized. *smiling*

And I really freaked lost it kept my cool and didn't step into that storage room for another month. (okay, a day, tops, but still)

So, alas. I have another Mighty Mouse to seek and destroy. It's on, sucka!!

But, I have a freaking awesome food storage that mice can't get into. And I have family around all week. And I get an entire morning to myself everyday while all the kids are at school. And..
if you didn't remember... it's Will's and my first anniversary in 4 days. :D *bliss*

So, I gots things ta do, homeboys. Laters.

(As a post script-- I'm pretty sure that some sort of top-secret government official is gonna knock down my front door any second because I googled "other words for killing" and sent off some sort of alarm. If I don't show up tomorrow...you know why...

I AM AT THE WEDDING, hosers! Sheesh. you don't listen, do ya?! ;) )

See ya tomorrow!

Letters say it Betters

Dear Dave.
Firstly, I curse you with a thousand curses of hot grill pans and burning vegetable oil. I am VERY unimpressed with you for STEALING the recipe for a McDonald's Big Mac, and selling it here, in this tiny town of Mo. You may have called it something else, sure, but you're not fooling this fat-prone chick-- I KNOW it's a Big Mac! Which is why I curse you-- I moved somewhere to get AWAY from my horrible obsession with Big Macs, and then, the love of my life introduces me to your yummy 'Biggy D'.
Curses,
Mrs. Likely-to-gain-400lbs-this-week.



Dear Toilet Paper,
I am so glad that you, my favourite Purex brand, are on sale at the local store. Do you know how happy that makes me and my bum? (and making my bum happy is no easy feat!) Honestly, TP, I only let YOU that close to my behind, and you've got to know that's saying a lot!!! I love you so much, that I bought THREE TIMES the 'limit' amount yesterday, coercing my hubby to go through the lane behind me, JUST FOR YOU!!! I can't get enough of you! To all your friends on the shelves still, you can reassure them that I will be there shortly to ensure a hearty year's supply of softness.
forever thankful,
soft bummed me.


Dear Kitchen,
it has been my joy and my bane to watch you progress. I am loving having cupboards again, having running water, having a countertop that isn't made out of wood. Someday, I will enjoy floors I can clean, and electricity!
-Your OWNER

Dear Lovely Daughters of Mine,
To the two of you who share a room here at this house. I really truly appreciate when I can use the "if you're room isn't clean, you can't go see Chris Daddy" bribe (although, only me and your fathers know that threat isn't ever going to be followed through). But, what I don't appreciate is when I go to pack your "Chris Daddy" bags, you, my lovelies, have shoved ALL THE CLEAN LAUNDRY that was on the floor, into the dirty clothes hamper! This, in spite of it seriously irritating me and Daddy Will who knows how much work it was to clean them in the first place, wouldn't be so bad if I could just gather them out of the hamper and put them away. But what REALLY gets under my sunburnt skin, is that you've USUALLY put some dirty, wet towel or swimsuit ON TOP of these clothes. Making them stink. And wet. And NOT clean, yet still freaking folded! I am NOT sorry for this last time making me SO irate that I then threw the clothes all over the room.
No. I am not 4 years old.



Dear Laundry,
GO *4-letter F word* YOURSELF!
(fold, obviously!)


Dear Tropical Island.
You've been a penpal long enough, and it's apparently NEEDED(from the letters above) that we meet in person. SOON. If it isn't too much of a hassle, can I please request a few things? First of all, I would really like it if you found some extra room at your place for Will, too. And NOT ENOUGH ROOM for anyone else. If you decided that children aren't allowed on your island, that would be okay with me. Because, I don't want to bring mine since they annoy me so easily, but I SURE AS HECK don't want other people to bring theirs!!!! Secondly, I want to ensure that there is FULL room service (including laundry!). Third of all, I do NOT want to see any renovations going on in the ENTIRE island. It must be perfect, finished, and functional. And I want to ensure that there are NO McDonald's nearby. Thanks.
Sincerely,
A Deteriorated Woman!
PS- You needn't stock the bathrooms with toilet paper- I'm bringing my own!

Being THE BEST at something, also means someone else is the worst! Which means, you're ALSO the best at hurting the loser's feelings!

I love awards.

I should totally be the recipient for so many awards, it's not even funny.

I married the HOTTEST dude. Yep. I win the award for "Best Catch!" although, people who frequent my trophy-case have made comment that my trophy of a fish could mean SO many other things. I assure you, it does not. Sickos. THAT award has already been given out to someone else, so I've been told by Will.

I have received this award because I live in the "Most Comfortable Home"! As everyone knows- a clean house is unlivable. Therefore, my home is VERY "lived-in". To the point that I even have a blanket as a doorway. My hardwood floors are IMPORTED from across the sea. Stamped with the word "Plywood", which, obviously, means they came from Plymouth, UK, or "PLY", as the locals call it. :)

I have already shown myself as many things, yes, but one that is permanently ENGRAVEN on the television, is my "Best Wife" award. X-Weighted was very kind to have awarded me this one, as they so eloquently INSISTED I use the phrase "trophy wife" in every sentence for the 6 months of filming! Charmed, I'm sure.

And finally, I am THE BEST at being charitable (and humble, although I can't seem to understand why every time I look for that award, it's missing!). I don't want to leave you guys without ANY awards. I have two here and I leave this award to a few of you.

And this to a few others. You can title it as you like. ;)

Because I'm seriously THE BEST at so many things, I thought I'd give you guys a little help in achieving such accomplishments as above.

First: Buy this book. It's definitely worth every American penny you own. And then some. Read it, cover to cover, and then look at yourself in the mirror and say this mantra: "I just wasted a lot of time, and I was the BEST at it!" Repeat it three times.

Second: Buy this book. It's definitely worth every Canadian penny you own. Before you give it to your man, rip out all the pages. Insert a page with the inscription "the woman is always right". This will ENSURE that when you SAY you're the best at something, people in the household with all agree.

Lastly, start practicing now for the day you receive THIS award. It's fairly easy to acquire-- most husbands are quick at both acquiring it AND giving it out to their wives and mothers. I assure you, you've probably already been given this award by your man, he may just have forgotten to give you the certificate.

In all seriousness, though,

I *DID* receive a cool award from M at The Woodchips. She said it was because I brought her sunshine! YAY! I like knowing that my ramblings are filled with skin-cancer-inducing love! ;) Thanks for the award, M!

Like all great awards, I want to share it with 5 of MY favourite bloggers of late.. people who bring ME sunshine.

1. Jae at No More Mom Jeans. I found Jae on facebook and then again on a friend's blog, and funny enough, Jae and I actually KNOW each other. We were in the same church congregation for years, and her brother and I were great friends. She's very funny, and today her blog was about wedgies and wedges. I mean, bums and shoes??? Clearly, what's not to love?


2. Pooba at Grand Pooba. I have loved 'poobs' for a while now, and I'm grateful for "Internet BFFS." She's a great blogger. Go find some sunshine over there!


3. Andy at Finding Fairy Tales. Sure, she's got a mouth of a drunken sailor, but Oh Em Gee she makes me laugh every day. The ONE person I didn't "know" whom I invited to my wedding. She's super. Probably because she doesn't care that you think she's crazy. And, those of us who know her best (you know... all 8 of us "Internet BFFS") will adamantly declare that she IS. What other friend do you have who'll hand out Ativans at Hallowe'en. I can't make that stuff up! It's crap like that what makes her great. :)


4. Alison at Inner Thoughts Of A Woman. She writes it as it is. And, I see me in her, just a year or two ago. Although it's a sad tone- she does bring me sunshine, though, as I love honesty and emotion-- both of which are exuded in abundance on her blog.


5. Marci and Andrew at As Newlyweds See It. Sure, we're related-- easy award to give out. But no matter what goes on in our lives or how far apart we are, having a hot sister like her is sunshine to my soul. Andrew is awesome too. I'd cry at his funeral. ;)

So, there you have it. The First Annual Pretty Peas Award blog. Stay tuned next time for the latest one-of-a-kind awards, and the nominee for it. :)

I Just Freaking Love My Awesomeness

I was laying in bed last night with Will, and I had an AMAZING moment. No, my perved friends, I'm totally not oversharing.

No, I mean a moment where I actually said something SO not Mom-ish and wifey...something, kinda, sorta, ridiculously awesome. To the point that I actually said out loud, "wow. I'm sooo gonna blog that!"

Will laughed. Probably AT me...no....SURELY *AT* me, since I wasn't laughing and was dead serious. I'm gonna say it was because I had toothpaste on my face and NOT because I sounded like the biggest nerd ever. And the toothpaste on my face-- TOTALLY a blog for another day on "Stupid things you remember from childhood: how to get rid of fat, ugly zits on your face" that your BFF, MC, taught you in highschool. And how, as a nearly 30-year-old Mom of 7, you keep trying it...only to remember that the last time you tried it, it didn't work either. And then you remember it was for hickeys. 'nuff said. And then you remember it worked on hickeys.

TOTALLY ANOTHER BLOG, clearly.

And, as I laid there in my self-inflicted euphoria, I vowed to remember that totally awesome, WONDERFULLY intelligent thing that I said so I could post it. And wouldn'tyaknowit, here I am, with *gasp* time to blog, and frig, trying to remember what it was is like Justin Bieber trying to grow pubic hair..

just sayin....

And, for the record, my brainwave had NOTHING to do with my super-awesome attempt at turning myself into a delicious pastry.. like, for example, um, a muffin or something. Psht, muffin-tops are the best part of the muffins, so I'm going with "I'm the super awesome part of a muffin and if you can't handle it, you can bite me."
No. I would never put a picture of myself in that condition on the web. If you know me, I'm all about making OTHER people the source of my humour. ;)

But, I sit here, afraid to death to sneeze, as I have another bestest friend whom I hate to pieces I love so much! Yep, my OTHER BFF, Becka, decided to show up in town the other day with her sister (whom I also adore) and take some friends out for a quick run and a workout. Which was totally up my alley of "I enjoy being a lazy bum lately". I had gone for an 8k walk the night before, and that morning was the Motown Marathon. (No, it's not ACTUALLY called that, although, it totally works. Although---I think I'm gonna patent that and inflict it on all southern-Alberta towns *who are all MoTowns too* and be really cool like that!) And during the marathon, my little 4-year old Mimi decided she wanted to run the.whole.way. Um, yah, SO not prepared for that.

Sure, I've been running lately. Once or twice a blue moon. And I can run a mile-- seriously. But I just wasn't really that ready.

So, here's Becka. Taking me through the worst workout of "what the fetch happened to my upper arms?!" and then yesterday I spent the day walking and biking with Will.

I.
AM.
SO.
FRIGGEN.
SORE!!

And it's just not right that my woman bits are hurting from biking. What the Kiew???? Will loves biking- wants me to join him more. I'm a walking/running/rollerblading/ripsticking kind of wife. See? Bikes are meant for ages 4-14. After that, it's just not 'cool' anymore. That's why we have cars!!!!
And so what if rollerblades might be sooooo 1990, I don't care. I'm giving them the same comeback that Justin Timberlake gave to sexy. Unfortunately, I think Will's bum on a bike is toooo superb and easy to follow, so I shall don my super-sexy helmet again and follow him. ;)

Pardon the french, but this pussy is driving us nuts!

So, you know how we have the most awesome cat?


......

Actually, seriously, WHO STARTS A CONVERSATION LIKE THAT?! Unless you're 40 years old and never been married, wearing a flowered moomoo and feeding 10 cats pre-chewed food from your mouth,who honestly is THAT much of a cat person?!

Anywhoozle, we have this cat, Mitzy, who pretty much adopted US. When we moved here, we had no pets. And, would have LIKELY gotten a dog. But this one cat decided that it was going to live with us, even if is would have to die on the front porch to prove it. After a WEEK of ignoring this cat-- not feeding it, not playing with it, not letting it in-- I caved and let her come in. She walked right over to the couch, and took a nap! From then, I figured the kids would drive her away-- Mimi is NOT a 'small lover' to cats. She embodies the whole, "I wanna Love You! And SQUEEZE YOU!! And call you George. "

Since then, Mitzy's been a GREAT cat. We didn't know anything about her, where she came from or why such a nice, gentle cat was homeless. And soon enough, we figured out that she REALLLLLY likes boy cats.

Now we have two little ADORABLE kittens. One that looks just like her, and one that looks just like Dad-- black with a white nose and paws. Thankfully, they also have two little ADORABLE homes to go to!

However...

Our prized cat?

Well, love her to pieces, but the little tramp is trying yet again to find herself some playmates. I come home daily to find two big black cats fighting on my front step, trying to be the lucky babydaddy of the next litter. And we all KNOW she goes for the black dudes. I mean, once you go black....

just sayin'.

AND so, we've kept her and her hormonal self inside.

UNTIL YESTERDAY!!!! Will, love him to pieces too, but he unknowingly left a door open, and the cranky pussy walked right outside with her cranky...self.

To her waiting 'friend'. Stupid little thing with her butt up in the air, whining incessantly for him to "oooooh, look at my bum". He and she managed to find a piece of DIRT in my yard to do the DIRTY.

I walk outside, looking for her. All I see his his big black eyes, and her tiny head underneath him. And a piece of him wagging his tail, while he gets a piece of HER... um...backside.

SO unimpressed!!!

We don't mind having kittens, truth be told. But FREAK-- these ones are still at home, Mitzy! Stop being so Ghetto and get back to the babies you already HAVE in the house.

ug. Teenagers.

Don't throw your junk in my backyard.

I have a HUGE backyard. LIKE, huge. Those who have been to my home here in Motown know what I'm talking about.

Sure, it's not as big as some other people's backyards. Motown has a LOT of huge backyards. I've gone for walks with Will and we would walk past other people and their yards and our eyes would bug out in shock. And, sure enough, there are also a few small backyards. But mine? It's fairly large. Just sayin'. :)

In Cowtown I spent a LOT of time on my backyard. My girlfriends and I would gather round in my yard, laughing and spending some quality time together. I'd keep the lawn tidy. I'd cover it in flowers and occasionally you'd find fertilizer on it. :) It wasn't always a GREAT backyard, but, funny enough, once Chris and I split, I spent a LOT of time working on that yard. Amazingly enough, I learned to love my backyard. It was gorgeous. :)

I moved here and now own a backyard that, according to the neighbours, was REALLY lovely at one point in time, but has since gone to pot. So, I'm working on getting it back in shape-- mowing the lawn, decorating it again with flowers, and spending time with Will planting seeds.

Hopefully by the end of the summer, my backyard will be in a much better shape than it is currently, and I will, once again, have a backyard to be proud of. A backyard my friends won't be afraid to be around!

What kind of backyard did you THINK I was talking about?! ;)

Word Verification, and no, I do NOT need to lose weight! ;)

Okay, so, first off, it's Word Verification Wednesday, where the lovely Jillybean encourages us all to take the little box below your comment and make a word out of it.

*if you're confused, see this post*

Play along as many times as you want. It gets funnier as you go on.


And, I was looking for funny weightloss things on the computer yesterday, and found this. I thought you'd all enjoy watching it-- it made me laugh.

*clickey here*

The weightloss is good-- I'm down a bunch of pounds in the past week, which only reminds me how important diet is. Now that I'm more conscious again of my caloric intake, I can literally FEEL myself losing the extra flabby pounds of junk food. The running still isn't up to par, but one thing at a time. In the past 4 days, I've had 3 different people in this household throw up, so it's been a bit hectic.

But, today is my middle-boy's 12th birthday. The 12th birthday for a boy is pretty significant in the LDS church, because, if they are worthy, they receive the priesthood. My little Taylor will be receiving it this weekend at church, and I thought I'd take a second to better aquiaint you with him.. Besides, a proud mamma ALWAYS has the right to let everyone know what a fantastic kid I've inherited!!

Taylor is the infamous 'cuddle bug'. He will give you hugs and hugs, and never tire. He's super sweet and affectionate, and is honestly the biggest helper in the household! He will be the FIRST person to get up and assist Will or I at whatever we're doing, and he does it with joy and excitement. He wants to be just like his big brother, but has a unique identity that makes me smile. A super football player, Taylor can pretty much do ANYTHING you ask of him and do it with perfection.. He's a SUPER athlete, and will try just about anything once or twice! He likes to fish like his Daddy and Grampa, and he likes to do just about ANYTHING outside.

Happy birthday, Taylor. I love ya! You're an incredible young man and the world could use about a million more of you!

Some Guys Have All The Luck

So, it's that time of year again.

You know, the time where you get all excited. Where you make a special trip to visit the jolly old man, take off all your clothes, and prepare for the ultimate in feeling exposed?!

You know. My yearly visit to the doctor. The routine 'maintenance and oil check, complete with dipsticks?!' I mean, although Santa may ALSO see me when I'm sleeping and awake (and showering?), I don't recall him donning latex gloves (fur covered or not) and going THAT far south.

I had my first physical/girl check-up with my new doctor. Funny, my new doctor is also my Stake President. And funnier yet, he also lives a block away. Funniest of all, I'd still prefer that doctor over my doctor from Calgary, whom I didn't particularly like AT. ALL.

So, wanna know the BEST part of this whole story? *evil laugh* hee hee hee

I also booked Will in for his first physical in years. MUAHAHAHA. WITHOUT HIS KNOWLEDGE! tee hee.

So, you'll have to find the humour when he tells me "I'm not looking forward to this, you know, some old dude putting things up my butt". HA!!!

"NO one looks FORWARD to it!", I reply, a bit of a dirty smile on my face. My heart bled for him. I've had some old dude sticking things up inside me for years. Boo hoo.

So, at the office, I did my thing. I'm laying there, in all my birthing glory, when the special light breaks. Um. awkward. While the doctor tries to fix it, I just... well.. lay there, stare at the ceiling, and, well, wait. Not like I can go anywhere. Make small talk? Somehow, "pretty cold out, eh" just seemed like a wrong thing to say at that moment. I giggle, thinking, maybe Will thought the same thing over in HIS appointment.

Now, although this whole POST is TMI, here's added info you didn't ask for: I have a difficult-to-locate cervix. Lucky me, right? So, use your imagination when I tell you that EVERY SINGLE YEAR I am not only duck-billed, but I'm VIOLATED as they poke and scoop and twist around that speculum trying to locate my inners. And, although I warned him that it was hard to find, I have to take their word for it when they tell me what it looks like; I didn't recall ASKING, but thanks for the late-breaking news flash.

So, finally, once I'm done for the year, and things that need to be tested will be tested, etc, I met up with Will, who's done his appointment right about when I am.

I, admittedly excitingly, ask him how it went 'in there'. he he he

"Was it everything you'd hoped for?" *sly smile*

He tells me that he didn't have to be man-violated.
WHAT?!





Lucky bum.

My Decorating Style

So, one of the biggest excitement for me comes in decorating. Alright, I may not be GOOD at it, but I sure enjoy it. I like simple things like rearranging furniture, or buying a new piece of art for a wall, or simply making my bed like in the magazines. Yes, I'm that pathetic cool.

So, with the last three months left in oh-nine, there are so many ways to decorate the house!! :)

But, I live in Motown now, and there are SOME decorating styles that just won't be acceptable round these parts!

Like, these turkeys Em showed me. With the tagline "For ANY time of the month" Yes, these cuddly, super-absorbant turkeys are made with none other than my friends, O and B. *that's Tampons, for you who are wondering*

I thought, okay, so I can't make these turkeys. But cummon-- these ghosts are CUTE!! Still, I don't think people would be too impressed with me. Instead, I think Hallowe'en needs pumpkins and scarecrows.



No? Nobody else things that MAYBE Will won't approve? Hrm. Alright, let's try something else.

It's Christmas time soon-- let's just skip to the love and peace of Christmas decorating.

NO, not these. The tampon-deco is sooooo last paragraph!

Last year, if you remember, my house looked like this. *you can view the whole post HERE on the Daisyhalos blog*

I think this year, with the blue carpets and shag, I may have to resort to THIS!!


Ugggggg.

Instead, I'm just going to apply for the Home Depot Ugliest Kitchen in Canada contest. Maybe they'll take pity on us! RIGHT?!