Friday, March 31, 2006

Hey, my body let me sleep in this morning, 6:20, an extra 35 minutes, Woooo! Hoooo! I just had to share my joy.

Had quite the laugh this morning, thanks to AOL. There was great ad. The first just says, "Inspirational Newsletter," the the next slide said, "Have Better Sex," after that, "Get Promoted," the last one said, "Improve Your Career."

Anyone find the humor in this, especially since all the writers are women?

Tuesday, March 28, 2006

More SpongeBob Questions...

Check out the comment left after my SpongeBob post:

NickLiason said...

Hey Krystal,
I've worked at Nick for a few years as a "developmental liason" to help parents out with different issues of concern they my have; ie: are SpongeBob and Patrick gay (most asked question). I have a coworker who actually monitors blog activity and can identify which blogs have any of the shows characters as a subject (technology is great huh!). This is how we found your entry. To the point though. The writers for SpongeBob try to enforce safety concerns parents may have. Thus when "swimming" SpongeBob is responsible by wearing floaties. This helps its viewers, both children and parents alike to remember an important safety feature while at the beach or poolside.Hope this helps. By the way, SpongeBob and Patrick are "non-sexual", they couldn't care less about it.

P.S. Really enjoyed reading other entries of your blog. Keep up the great job.


3:15 PM

Sorta cool. I sure wish that I knew how to contact this guy though because I have several other Sponge Bob questions to ask. For example:

Sponge Bob agreed to pay Mr. Crabs for allowing him to work at the Krusty Krab. That's how he got hired. So what I wanna know is: Where does Bob get his money from?

And how do they keep the Krabby Patty buns from getting all soggy?

And you know that time when Sponge Bob and Patrick ran away because of the balloon they didn't know was free and they lit a fire to stay warm? Where did they find dry wood AND how did they get the flame to burn under the water? The science behind that mystifies me!

And when Sponge Bob drains his tub, where does the water go?

And why does Squidward use a towel? Does he really get dry?

I'd also like to know what Patrick's on because ... WOW!

And where could I get some because ... WOW!

Sunday, March 26, 2006

So it's flooding and I'm in a canoe and I'm paddling by hand. I'm lost. I'm scared. There's a flood and it's rising and I'm tossed about with no control of where I'm heading. I see this man and he says he's gonna help. He starts walking and pulling my canoe and he starts pulling the canoe down, but he's above water. He must be 10 feet tall. The canoe starts to fill and my head goes under. I open my eyes and I can see under the water: plants, weeds, the water is somewhat murky. I'm afraid of what else may be in there. Somehow I break the man's grasp on my canoe and it starts to float again.

Then I'm in this room with glass walls, glass windows, a glass door. There is a short hallway and at the end I see another glass wall and door. The flood waters are coming, the water is quickly higher than the door at the end of the hallway. It begins to shake. There is water leaking into the hallway and into the room I'm in. There's another person in the room with me. It's a man, but I don't know who it is or why he's there. We've put everything up high and out of the inch or so of water on the floor. We shove towels up against the crack at the bottom of the door to slow down the water that is seeping in. There is only one way out. We're trapped.

In the hallway I see a wooden bookshelf. My Daddy's trumpet is on the bottom shelf. There's nothing else on the bookshelf. The water hasn't reached Daddy's trumpet yet. I tell the man in the room with me that I need to save Daddy's trumpet. It's all I have left of him. He tells me not to go because the door could fly open any minute and the flood waters will rush in and rush me away with them. It isn't worth my life he says. I can't stop myself. I open our door and rush out into the hallway anyway to retrieve the trumpet.

I rescue it and run back to safety, what little safety there is, and just as I close the door behind me the hall door bursts opens and the water gushes. The man in the room with me blocks our door to help prevent it from opening to the flood waters.

It works.

The flood freely flows into the hallway and down the corridor out the other end. It lasts for only a few seconds. Then the water is all gone. The flood is gone. And I'm in the glass room alone.

Then I wake up.

And just now as I've finished typing this out and read it through I realize that the man in the room with me was my Daddy, and I didn't recognize him. Oh God, what's wrong with me? It's all too metaphorical and it hurts.

Saturday, March 25, 2006

Why is it that I've watched Spongebob for YEARS and only just now do I question why the heck does Spongebob need arm floaties for at the beach?! He lives in a pineapple...UNDER the sea....He's a SPONGE. He can float on his own and swim. He's a sea creature. I've seen him swim with the jelly fish once. So what's up with the arm floaties?

And why go to the BEACH?! They all live on a beach. The floors of their homes is freaking beach. THEY LIVE UNDER THE SEA!

And the purpose for the lifeguards would be...? They all swim, they're FISH.
* Homemade bread is the best. Yes, I make bread.

* My eight-year-old informed me this morning that once his air bending skills are strong (it's an Avitar thing), he'll be able to fight tornados. I told him to not even THINK about it.

* I saw this today. It made me cry.

Family Buries Remains of Frozen WWII Airman

BRAINERD, Minn. (March 24) - Leo Mustonen's closest surviving relatives grew up knowing little about their uncle, other than that he died in a military plane crash. That changed only with the improbable discovery of the World War II airman's body, frozen in a California glacier for more than six decades.

People in this town who remember the handsome blond man shared their memories with Mary Ruth Mustonen and Leane Ross before his funeral Friday. They learned he was an ace student who excelled in science, who played in the school band and in sports, and who dreamed of working in aviation even as a boy.

"It's been pretty incredible," Ross said. "He's become really a person. He really feels like he is ours now, and we've grown to love him."

Mustonen's nieces were among about 100 people who gathered in their uncle's hometown to bury him. A full military funeral followed at a cemetery overlooking the Mississippi River.

You can read the full article. Rest in peace, Airmen Mustonen. You've earned it.

Friday, March 24, 2006

Another Oprah Dream...

She lived up the street from me. She invited me to one of her shows. Madonna was there and Oprah had all of these stylist people there telling Madonna how the last time she bleached her hair she stripped it really bad. I wanted to ask Oprah to get me Madonna's autograph just for the heck of it, but I decided that I shouldn't because I'd look like one of those people who are totally enamored by Hollywood, which I'm not. In fact, I find the Hollywood glitz and glamour to be quite obnoxious. Just one more reason why I don't understand why I keep having dreams about Oprah.

The Madonna thing I understand. When Fred and I were discussing my odd dreams, he mentioned Madonna. Thanks, Fred. Fred's theory is that my not being able to get laid because of Bear being so far away is somehow forcing these little boxes inside my head to open up. We'll run with that one for now because NO ONE ELSE has given me any insight.

So I ask, what good are you people if you won't help a woman in need???!!!

Tuesday, March 21, 2006

I've been having crazy dreams. Insight would be appreciated.

First I had these two dreams about Oprah. I don't watch Oprah so I don't know why I had a dream about the Diva, Big Jay (whom I've seen ONCE since high school), and me at a birthday party with her. It was just the four of us and we had to climb this really steep staircase that was more like a ladder than stairs. There were no railings and no sides. We were all fairly certain we would fall. Pretty freaky.

Two or three nights later I had another dream where I was hanging with Oprah. I don't remember exactly what happened, but it seems that it was just her and I doing something or other. Again, I thought this was odd because I don't watch Oprah.

Then last night I had this really strange dream that defies any and all explanation. I went over it several times in my head because it was so bizzarre.

The kids and I were staying with my mother (shoot me now) while Bear was trying to sell the house. We left the kids at her house and went to some park for something. I ran into Sabu and Moanique there. They were waiting to hear this awesome band that they've gone to see several times. My mother had taken off and said she'd be back in fifteen, so I said I'd listen to a song or two since it was right there by where the car was parked. Plus I had my cell phone so she could call me. So we're sitting around waiting for this band to play, but instead they start showing these pictures of the band on a screen showing how to make brownies. Sabu and Moanique were sitting there going "What the fuck?" We thought this was like a funky intro or something. But then the band members actually came out to give a cooking session on brownies. The entire audience really got into this. Whatever.

So I go back to find my mother. Only about five minutes had passed. I can't find her. The car is gone. Where the hell did she go??? I go for my cell and it's missing. There are cell phones charging all over this crowded park (which in my dream had morphed into some type of bar/restaurant). I can't find mine, so I stole someone else's after about an hour of searching. I call my mom and she says that she just has to deal with Daddy's death in her own way and she taken off with some random guy she ran into at the park before it morphed. They were going off for a weekend trip. So how the hell was I suppose to get home and what the hell is her problem leaving all the kids there alone for so long. Again, she tells me that she has to go off and deal with Daddy's death her own way. Alrighty then.

Then all of a sudden I'm at her house (which was nothing like her house) and I walk out early in the morning to see my insurance agent coming out of her bedroom in satin pajamas. They're all hugging and kissing and being very sexual towards each other in front of me. I'm freaking out because they had just met and she let him spend the night with her while my kids and I are there. PLUS one of my kids could have walked out at any time and seen them acting like this towards each other. They were practically screwing on the kitchen counter top (thankfully I didn't actually see this in my dream or I might have woken up blind, I just saw myself yelling at her thoroughly disgusted). She tells me it's her house and she'll do whatever she damn well feels like. The next night it was a different man (I don't know who this one was). I started getting sick to my stomach and I'm telling Bear that the kids and I have to get the hell out of this place.

Then this giant hole appears in one of the walls and I woke up.


In case one of your eyeballs should ever fall out of its socket...

My Eyeball Just Fell Out of Its Socket: What should I do?

Not all popped eyeballs come from head trauma. A few people can luxate their globes on purpose, and certain others get "spontaneous globe luxation" when their eyelids are pushed in the right way. Someone with shallow eye sockets or floppy eyelid syndrome, for example, might pop his eyeballs during a regular eye exam. You can also trigger luxation while putting in your contact lenses, or with a particularly violent sneeze. You might even pop your eyeballs by trying to exhale while keeping your nose and mouth closed (i.e., performing the Valsalva maneuver).

If your eyeballs fall out of their sockets repeatedly, you might be a candidate for a lateral tarsorrhaphy—in which doctors sew up your eyelids part of the way to keep them from opening too wide. You could also learn the following technique for popping your eye back in yourself: First direct your gaze downward. Now pinch and pull your upper eyelid with the thumb and index finger of one hand. Lay a finger from your other hand on the top part of your luxated eyeball, taking care to press only on the insensitive white part. While you continue to hold your eyelid up, push your eyeball gently down and back at the same time until it's part of the way in. Then try to look upwards; if everything goes right your eyeball will rotate under the upper lid and back into its socket.

Just thought that might come in handy for one of you folks someday...

Friday, March 17, 2006

Two posts in one day, yeah I know...


I'm an AMAZING mom, let me tell you WHY...

So first we had dessert at DQ. Then we came home for a dinner of corn beef, cabbage, and Irish Brown Bread because I'm IRISH and I love St. Patty's Day!!!

Then we were listening to Trace Adkins when THAT song came on. My 4-year-old daughter and I jumped up on the kitchen table and started dancin' and shakin' our bedonky-donks (that girl can shake her be-hind prety damned well) when my six-year-old son wanted to know why only GIRLS could dance on table tops. The teenage son replies, "Because it's HOT!"

Yeah, BABY! I'm doing my job and I'm doing it well!!

I think my son may be scarred for life though. I made him take these pictures. He said that he made sure to get "lots of skin for Dad".

Well, my job here is finish. Now it's time for something to drink...Bailey's IRISH Cream. I wish I had some beer too. Catch you la-tar...
Now that my mother has figured out that I'm not taking her phone calls, she's started sending packages to me and the kids.

I'm returning them all to sender.

I don't want anything from her except for her to leave me alone. I can't give anything to the kids because they'll want to call her. Plus, it'll start up the constant questioning about when are we going to go see grandma. We AREN'T going to go see grandma because she truly needs to be institutionalized.

I considered telling you all the dirt, but I've reconsidered. Suffice it to say that I have four siblings. NONE of us talk to her. She has adult grandchildren who won't have anything to do with her. She lived in the same place for 20 years, but has not ONE friend there.

I don't think I'm the one with the problem.

Thursday, March 16, 2006

I'm sending out a serious plea.

I've lost 60 pounds. I've gone from an 18W/20 to a 7/8. I'm very happy with my weight loss, but here is a truth that goes along with that weight loss.

I was looking at myself in the mirror two days ago wishing and wondering why my rear and thighs weren't diminishing with all the work I've been doing. They are a great deal smaller, but not where I thought they should be by now. Then I noticed the wrinkles in my skin on my thighs and where my bum meets my upper leg. Not rolls, mind you, but wrinkles. I've seen enough plastic surgery shows to know what they signify: extra loose skin.

I pulled the skin up and I have amazing legs! You just can't see them because of all the loose skin hanging over them.

Look, I wish that when I was a kid and my eating habits were being formed that the general public knew that fast food was full of fats. Honestly, the unhealthy affects of fast food have come out since I've started having children. I mean, when I was fifteen who knew that a Big Mac was really that bad for you? We knew it wasn't healthy, but heart attack on a bun? I guess there were some people who knew, but the information wasn't out there like it is now. I wish I hadn't been allowed to eat entire bags of cookies or extra large fries or tons of dip and chips. I wish I hadn't been allowed all the soda and ramen noodles I could ingest.

I wish that as a younger adult I had taken the time to really learn these things. I wish I had taken it more seriously when I hit 180. I wish I had done the research then. If I had, I wouldn't have what I have now, which is probably several pounds of loose and sagging skin.

Don't get me wrong, I look great. I can hold all that skin in with panty hose. Plus, in a dress or skirt, no one sees my thighs. I'm really happy with my weight loss because it wasn't just about my weight, it was about my health and I'm much healthier now and can keep up with my kids.

But this skin will be there forever (unless I win the lotto and they come up with a plastic surgery that doesn't leave scars). This isn't about skin left over from baby stretching. It's about skin left over from eating too much pizza with extra cheese and washing that down with ice cream.

I generally stray away from getting too serious on this blog, but I am making a heart-felt plea to all of you right now. Don't let yourself gain another ten pounds. Stop it now. Don't let your kids end up like me. Take the time to learn to eat healthy and then teach them. I don't care if your kid is rail thin, NOBODY needs to be eating a double cheeseburger from anywhere. I've seen bone thin children have their metabolisms suddenly slow down and end up moderately to severely overweight. I know one little girl who was wearing a size 18 at 14-years-old.

The word "no" isn't evil, especially if you explain to your children that it isn't just about weight, but their health in general (lots of skinny people wind up with clogged arteries having a heart attack and by-pass surgery). My six-year-old understands metabolism, so can yours. All of my children understand metabolism, clogged arteries, good fats, bad fats, simple carbs, complex carbs, the importance of fresh, raw fruits and vegetables. They're learning to eat foods they don't necessarily like because it's good for them. The amazing thing is, after they eat them a few times and understand how good it is for their bodies, they start ENJOYING them. We don't make this a weight issue because that's just a small side effect of the real issue. It's about being healthy. ***For the record, if your kids are eating school lunch, I can pretty much guarantee you that they are NOT getting a healthy lunch. Most school lunches are full of bad carbs, bad fats, and LOADED with calories.. Brown bagging it is a much healthier choice.***

For me, I'll live with the results of my unhealthy choices for the rest of my life. When I ate wrong as a kid, I just didn't know. But the wrong choices I made as an adult are my own personal responsibility. When I hit 170 and didn't stop, the blame falls only on me. I have no one to blame but myself for reaching 208. I will always have a reminder of where I came from and the results of my own personal choices. I guess I'm just asking those of you who read this blog to learn from my mistakes.

And for the love of your own children, don't sit back and allow them to do the same thing.

Tuesday, March 14, 2006

Pay attention here, now. I know that some of you out there are the brainy types. You develope all sorts of super cool stuff out there an' shit. I need something developed. I need you to develope a strain of Mary Jane that doesn't produce the munchies.

You see, munchies weren't too much of an issue when I was only stoning once a week and had a microwave for bag after bag of popcorn and a Bear with me. But now I have neither and I've added Bailey's Hot Cocoa to the mix because it's really damned good. So anyway, I'm getting these cravings for something enjoyable so I head for the fridge. Truth is, what I'm really wanting is to get laid. It's like my all time favorite pass time (right, Bear?). He's a lucky man. Seriously. I need to get laid. I haven't been laid since one month ago today. And he isn't gonna be here for a few more weeks.

So I'm getting really happy and eating out the fridge instead of getting laid. And I'm really not one of those do-it-yourselfer's.

***By the way, I want to give a big shout out to my man FRED who kindly made a donation towards my future indeavers of becoming a do-it-yourself type of gal.***

So you gotta develope a Mary Jane that supresses appetite for those like me.


QUICK!!! Everyone go watch "Kavorkian Scarf" and "Eye Stigmata" by Foamy. They're my favorite. Go watch them!!!

Monday, March 13, 2006

Okay, now THIS is just too funny. Fred, in particular, should like it. It reminded me of our good ol' egg running days...

HEY!!! It just occurred to me that MAYBE the reason I want chickens is linked to our egg run days. Every time I collect eggs I'm sure I'll be looking for someone to throw them at. Yeah...and I have five moving targets to take aim at...yeah...

Did I ever mention that a few months ago I smashed a raw egg on top of my six-year-old's head just for fun? I had this overwhelming urge to smash and egg, and there he was, all trusting with those brown eyes of his when I called him over. He looked up at me adoringly. Then I smashed the egg on his head and laugh hysterically.

I think I might have been stoned.

Sunday, March 12, 2006

Let's see...

I made strawberry jam.
I made apple butter.

I'm working on a quilt.

Yeah, I'm enjoying the country life!

Friday, March 10, 2006

The most important order of business today is to wish my Daddy a Happy Birthday. He would have been 73.

Happy Birthday, Daddy!

We love you and miss you a lot!

This afternoon I will be making him a carrot cake with cream cheese frosting. It was his favorite. The kids and I will all sing happy birthday to him after dinner. He will always hold a special place in my heart. Maybe I'll take the kids to the local chinese restaurant. Chinese was his favorite too.

Last night was fun. We had just finished dessert and the kids and I were cleaning the kitchen were I heard this sound I hadn't heard in ages. I tell all the kids to hush. I run and open the side door. SHIT! I run to the TV. SHIT! SHIT!! Time to run our asses down to the basement. We lost the lights before making it to the stairs. I lit candles and down we go. I had to run upstairs to grab another candle. Two of the boys were so scared they had to pee. And pee they did, into an empty flower pot. Of course they didn't know that the flower pot had those little holes in the bottom. I now have a carpet downstairs with human child pee on it. Oh well. The tornado hit about thirty miles from here, but we had winds that were upwards of 60 mph and the storm, with the tornado, was heading our way. I could HEAR the damned thing.

Since we are moving into tornado season, I am putting together a tornado kit: two flashlights, extra batteries, some candles and a lighter. I'm going to put these things into a bucket...for pissing in.

Remember that crazy thing Feminoz noticed about how the security letters for posting frequently had something to do with the comment being posted? Well, it just happened to me again! I was replying to a comment about a "Crazy-off" between mothers and my security letters were "heaqz". Notice how incredibly close that comes to spelling "heads" when we're discussing crazy people? Huuuuuuhhhhh? Frightening.

Did I mention that in my little piece of BFE there are two men really fighting it out to win COUNTY CORONOR? Seriously. I see "Elect so-n-so for Corornor" signs all over the place. I saw one sign for something else, but I don't remember what it was. Evidently, the county cororonor position is in high demand. Eeeewwwww.

Wednesday, March 08, 2006

So I was sitting here reading comments when a post reminded me that I'd forgotten to update you all on my drug addicted, alcoholic, egocentric mother who can't seem to live her life without creating some type of drama. Thank-you, B.J. for mentioning that "millions still believe that [Pat Robertson is] sane." That reminded me of my own insane mother who adores Robertson.

Starting on my birthday, she sent me four emails in three days (still not speaking with her). First she was BEGGING me to speak to her. Could tell in the way it was written that she was wasted. Before I even have a chance to consider this plea (yeah...right) she emails me again. Evidently she has, ONCE AGAIN, turned her life over got it...Christ. She has replaced her "nightly beverage to Root Beer, or Sprite." Anyone here believe that one? I sure as hell don't.

Then she "set me free" as she came to realize the I was not born for her "fulfillment"("hallelujah for this revelation" she says). Several "Praise the Lord"'s later and she set me free from her. My favorite part in all of this though was when she forwarded the "You are free" email to Bear asking him to join her in prayer as she prays "to bind the powers of Satan" who is apparently putting "evil feelings and thoughts" in my mind that are keeping me from wanting to speak to her.

I don't need satan for that one. Thirty-five years of knowing her did the trick.

Of course after all of the above, she tried calling my cell phone to sing "Happy Birthday" to my son. Yeah, right.

My poor husband. If I were him, I'd be worrying about what kind of stock I bred with. Of course, my Daddy was a total gem, so I guess that makes up for it.

Monday, March 06, 2006

I have been awake since 4:30 this morning. Why? Because Kaitlyn the beer-can-chewing dog pissed and shit in her cage. After cleaning it up I laid in bed for an hour waiting for sleep to return.

It didn't.

I'd also like to take this moment to bitch about those fucking award ceremonies that pre-empt my weekly shows. I don't watch many of them: CSI, Desperate Housewives, and Grey's Anatomy. Of course last night I didn't get to watch Desperate Housewives or Grey's Anatomy because of yet another fucking awards show.

WTF???!!! Who really fricking cares to listen to a bunch of Hollywood blow hards go on and on about how they couldn't have done it without ass kissing every fucking person on the planet. They're getting an award for what? Acting? Listen, these people get paid $8-10-20 million dollars to act in a damn movie. I think that's enough already. I want to see my shows.

I know people watch them. Well, what the hell else is there to watch? They always pre-empt the most popular shows and then all the other channels play shit you couldn't PAY people to watch.

Really wanna know how badly people wanna watch the Grammy's, the Golden Globe's, the Emmy's? try putting them on Pay Per View at $10 a pop. See who watches them then.

Remember Dallas and Falcon's Crest? There were like nine straight months of new episodes, minus two weeks for Christmas and New Year and maybe a pre-empting for Miss America. Now you're lucky if you get six new episodes an entire season of your favorite show. Hollywood sucks donkey shit.

And for those people who really DO live for these shows, might I suggest a life of some kind? Listening to speech after speech, name dropping after name dropping, you must have some sorry sucking life to purposely choose to watch that type of drivel go on for FOUR HOURS. Try watching some Senate hearings. At least the drivel there is actually of some importance.

Child #3 came up with a great one a couple days ago. The Eldest asked where his headset was. Child #3 says, "It wasn't my turn to watch YOUR headset," that's the standard line around here. Then he added, "My turn's NEXT Friday." Spoken like a true smart ass. I was so very proud.

And just one more little thing...
someone please shoot this stupid bitch. Her son must be rolling over in his grave. He died a hero and instead of leaving him a hero, she's turned him into a victim. She should be standing tall and proud that her son wasn't a cowardly piece of shit. No, instead she's gotta ruin his memory.

Dumb ass.

Saturday, March 04, 2006

My eldest turned 13 today. I am now the mother of a teenager...Goddess help me!
There he is, people, on the day he was born. All 8lbs 8oz of him. I'd put up a sweet baby picture, but the fact is, this is the only one I have scanned. All of my other pictures are still in boxes in another state.

Friday, March 03, 2006

It's about time, isn't it???!!!

Robertson Loses Seat on Religious Broadcasters' Board

VIRGINIA BEACH, Va. (March 2) - Christian broadcaster Pat Robertson, criticized by some evangelicals for comments about Venezuela's president and Israel's prime minister, lost a bid for re-election to the National Religious Broadcasters' board of directors.

You can read the rest on your own. Personally, I think the man has a few screws loose. Of course, I've thought that for a long time.

Wednesday, March 01, 2006

My Dog May Have a Serious Problem

...I love beer...yum...BEER...
Please don't take my BEER! Those kids are making me crazy. They won't stop chasing me. They won't leave me alone!

...I need beer...yum...BEER...
...yup...I love beer...yum...BEER...