Enumerate leads to Point Lost - Trivial LIST

I illuminate lest I enumerate..MAKING Sans Serif appear IRATE, in hopes size CAN enunciate.  BOLD, ALL CAPS I shake my Sans Serif fist. Just for gist, yes I’m pissed, ‘list’ with an IT twist.  With no probate (claims this magistrate).. I DAMN using the word enumeration.Explanation? …desecration.. Lack of congregation ... sputtering flames of instigation..  Lists me on the PC. 

Helevetically! 

{Sadly Sans Serif wouldn't publish here you see.}

Yes this is a rant about computers and the enormity of my everyday mind, which on reflection, has no problem with four letter words.

LIST: FUCK THAT.

SIGH. Not really. Just on PCs scrolling the word endlessly .. almost nefarious. After listing some file name like:  {AOEMEopkeafmkpwoemepvrmpwoeficloewpmpoLiewontieont} in a folder inside a folder inside a folder.  AH HA!  Kind of Like Yzma's brilliant plan in Disney's The Emperor's New Groove. 

Please note this content belongs to Walt Disney and is not my property.

Thank you.

For all you still reading:  I had to look up Helevetica, and I believe my trivia filter blew a gasket.  A sans serif typeface that has a 2007 film documenting its 50th anniversary.  It's funny, but I'm snarky about the linguistics and logic of so many everyday forces in my life.

https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Helvetica

Dollar Shave Club Inspires Memories of How It Should Have Been

Wow.  I identify with both parties in this commercial.  The guy wanting to know what he is refused access from the local pharmacy shaving ATM makes me empathize the most, but I have been buying razors long enough to not wait hopelessly at the box and stare at it. Nor do I get mad at the employee without clearance to the sacred keys...  BUT what the commercial reminded me of the painful days of toddler activities.....but I confess my days of gymnastics with toddlers and supermoms brought forth thoughts of socks and duct tape for certain moms... and a dart gun.

OK, OK before people shout out 'You hypocritical hater!' (I know, without details its very scandalous).  Let me fill in the blanks.  The duct tape is to be applied to any self proclaimed SuperMom multitasker (that can't park an Escalade.. it's creepy... Monster trucks seem to be the common mode of mammal movement these days); where was I... DUCT TAPING Mentally the Super's hand, to that God-awful screaming, drooling/oozing from every orifice CHILD I saw at least ten other women strangle with their eyes.  Meanwhile I'm wanting to simply lay hands upon their kid for neglect..it's VILE ...because LIKE a cartwheel into the vending area is so cool ten damned times (OH hell no sweetie, sit the fuck down DUCT TAPE).  The socks are for ... for .. that SuperMom I knew could swallow a pair of socks and STILL be heard bitching on the phone in the corner (acoustics people)... the dart gun... one for the teacher that made my daughter hate dance... a special WAKE up for the shit head supposedly teaching..  in my dream I have an arsenal of darts that I keep in my Batmobile.. or my Buick.. Betty.  I like to call them my 'sentials.  These tools are ESSENTIAL to me, the sentinel (I'm Batman)*

Seriously, I signed up for this.  Being a Mother and the Shave Club... bata bing. What a great company and super idea.  One for me and One for Him.  Delivered.  Razorblades delivered to my door.  Cool. Check it out.

https://www.dollarshaveclub.com/

*Please please visit the Channel HISHE on YouTube
https://www.youtube.com/channel/UCHCph-_jLba_9atyCZJPLQQ




Or their website:  http://www.howitshouldhaveended.com

AM I HUMAN: YES

I can't read the __________________ cussword, swear, adjective, insult to mothers, _________, ____________ boxes websites put at the bottom of everything except when making a purchase.. (oops, I forgot, THAT one is in MY &^%&^(*&^ purse)

AND

I get pissed off wondering if I need to clean the monitor for sneeze marks.

In frustration I've tried listening.

THANKS DOUCHE-BAGS.

NOT

only can I NOT SEE.

I can't hear EITHER.

So I must NOT be human.

*CRUDE FINGER MOTIONS*

(and every one of George Carlin's words from his realization that you can't say things on TV..with explosive adjectives)

[FORM BLAZING SWORD]

while holding up fingers.

Putting Out: Still Uncool

Who knew that promoting a blog boiled down to simply:  Putting Out

Man do I feel as if I should have protection.

Trojans ARE so out.

Ha.

What does the rest of the hookers peddling their sites do?

Hahahahahahahha!

Parenting Picky: A Nose Story

One of my Google Plus Friends, Bobo Uzala, have been laughingly talking about a picky subject.  I have a couple of photos of my daughter and I with our fingers in our nose... and he commented on them.  Which led to some laughing and sharing one of my house rules/parenting strategies.  I decided to include this entry in my blog because its just good fun and the stories that lead up to why I parent this way might make a person just laugh.

So thanks Bobo!  You picked this one for me~

Parenting gives me complexes.  Watching other children absolutely makes this paramount.  Have you ever been in public and watched a kid really gross you out?  I see kids do some gross things.  That's what kids do.  They horrify us into action.  Bad habits are so easily looked over as a phase.  However, one can say that when its somebody else's gross kid.  One thing that I find incredibly gross happens to be booger picking.  Nothing disgusts me more than seeing a kid knuckle deep in their nose and then eating a plucked out prize.  *shudder*  Then there's the multi-taskers... kids with a thumb in their mouth and a finger in their nostril.  *ooh how disgusting*  The thing is, you just can't avoid boogers.  Everybody has them.  We've all had that epic thing inside our nose that must come out.  My grievance with boogers is not the existence, but the disposal.  I've never told my child not to get rid of a booger, I've merely helped her avoid a terrible habit that other people tease kids mercilessly about.  A habit parents get bent out of shape over.  PDBP.  Public displays of Booger picking.  Take that to the bathroom!  Get a tissue!  Blow!  Anything, but do that in front of me!!

This was a picking lesson gone funny!

So when I first saw my daughter start with the booger thing, I came up with this house rule:  You cannot pick your own nose, however, you can pick someone else's.  WHAT?  By doing this, I pounced on my daughter with my finger whenever I caught her trying to pick her nose and offered my deluxe help.  Then I would offer up my nose for her to 'help' excavate since I couldn't pick mine.  All this horrified my daughter and she would run away into the bathroom or somewhere else privately to get rid of whatever what tickling her nose.  It was a way to point out I could see what she was doing and to remind her how yucky it was.  This plan worked and the result is much laughter and I don't catch my kid digging her nose in public.  She is a staunch believer in tissue.

That does not mean I haven't had to be there for nosebleeds and other fun things we encounter as parents, but it has definitely made my daughter more aware of what she's doing.

She loves my retelling of C's comet.  An unforgettable booger that should go down in history.  It all happened when when C spent the night with her Mom.  It's one of those things you find and think to yourself:  Wow!  That's something I'd show off, but not really.  I found my niece's booger the next day and it was like a bloody comet.  The huge bloody thing was crusted on a blanket and was so big I still laugh.  The trail was at least a good foot.  However, the story is better.

So anyway, I hear pacing in the night and it's my cousin with her daughter.  She's freaking out in the middle of the night because her child had a nosebleed and she had no idea of how to handle it and her daughter was freaking out because she was.  I come up my basement stairs to find the panic and blood everywhere.  I simply take C away from her Mom and open my bedroom door and tell John to get up.  Wow!  In the bright lights of my bathroom I have C, my niece in my arms.  Her face is coated in blood and she has white blond hair with bloody streaks in it.  To get her to stop crying, I just ask:  C?  Did you bite your Mommy's head off?  C looks at me and grins with the biggest bloodiest smile ever and croaks:  YEAH!  I laugh and John hands me the boo-boo bunny.  The boo-boo bunny is an icepack with rabbit ears and I start hopping the bunny around her nose and it stops bleeding.  The whole time her Mom is just in the hallway helplessly watching the old pros handle her child and laugh it all away.  I told C:  Well look, that Mommy's head grew right back!  Be careful next time!

My cousin simply was grateful we were there to calm C down and let her calm down too.  It doesn't sound as funny as being there, but WOW! it was hilarious.  Then there was finding that booger the next day.  It made me understand how hard that kid worked to get so bloody.  And I'll never forget that smile she had with all her bloody teeth.  She looked pleased that it wasn't serious, only Mommy's head.  *FULL BELLY LAUGH*

Picking Those Moments

Juicy and full of Pulp

I am minutes away from going to the dentist and I think I should go pick over my teeth one more time for pieces of the pulp fiction that flew around last night.  I'm soggy to say ... I never got that stiff drink.  It's a shame too.  I need to hunker down and not turn into a lush I think.  I witnessed the consequences of what happens when it goes to your head.

And yeah, GOD.  I want a sip.  Ok, maybe two fingers.  Not too much.  I don't want people to talk.

Bright Shiny Day of Ministering to the People

Yesterday was pretty amazing.  Snazzy, Jazzy, Voo-doolicious even.  Yah.  I went to see the VooDoo Lady.  I have to say I had a tough time following the matron in black complete with awful snow boots into her den without laughing, but I managed.  Man, you had to be there to understand.  But anyway, I think she is beginning to understand my sense of humor, because I gladly told her I was thrilled Vybrid didn't cause me to want to knit a sweater!  This realization is kinda scary and on the other hand, a compliment of such.  In other words, she hasn't locked me in the loony bin because she hates my sarcasm.  *whew*  I say that in advance because we were discussing the only side effect I disliked and I had to really grasp for language at this point as not to be vulgar and say the word Fart.  So deadpan I told her that it occasionally makes me afraid of Flatulation.  Her eyebrows went up and we both shared a three second stare and moved right along with my happiness that sex is still on the menu. *snicker*

After that I decided to go grocery shopping.  My mom decided to call me and I had to answer the phone because she had threatened me in voicemail form that translated to:  You are a douche if you don't call your mother.  Nobody wants that, so I answered.

People my mother decided to discuss God and the Gospel.  I pulled my buggy over and sat down on a recliner deciding on how to get her to stop talking about the whole subject.  She advised me to read the gospel if I had any questions about life.  Really?  OK, Who is this woman and where is my mom?  So I told her I didn't think God brought up nosehairs in the Bible.  Behind me I hear a pink panther like *hhehheheheh* and the guilty party laughed openly at my obvious discomfort of being in the middle of Big Lots thinking blasphemy.  My mom picked up on this finally and asked me to call her later.  I sagged in the lazy-boy, stuffed my phone in my purse and continued on shopping .. all the while wondering how God decided to talk to me through Big Lots.

WOW.  I found personality at Big Lots.  This is highly unusual for me.  Sadly though, I needed candy.  Yeah, he was 18 and thinking I was hot stuff, and told me so.  I tried to be grown up.  I failed.

On to shop at the Dollar Tree.  Then stopped at the ABC store.  Tom Jones' What's New Pussycat was playing.  I just had to comment I had that on vinyl.  The lady behind the counter said Ummm HUmmmm I loved him and his tight assed pants growing up Ummmm  HUummmm.  Which prompted me to say I feel the same way about David Bowie and then we both smacked our gums and had it not been in the ABC store, we probably would have high fived each other and bumped hips.  It was a transcendental moment.

I got home and was a hero for thumping my chest and hunting and gathering much food and laughter.  Life was pretty shiny huh?

Another One of those Real Conversations - They Keep Rolling

This conversational gem actually occurred before the previous post... (incidentally, I racked that one up last night)...

I need to stop exclaiming nonchalontly how things in this world just suck.  Everything from the radio station to I need to go to the store...

Daughter:  THIS SUCKS BALLS!!!  Stomp*Loud*stomp

Me:  (incredulous because my kid said this in front of me) Mouth Agape... then thoughtfully....

            Sweetheart?  Has Mommy ever told you exactly what balls are?

Daughter:  Cautiously.   No?

Me:  Remember that great word Penis?

Daughter:  You mean there's more? (very much disgusted and very afraid I might elaborate)

Me:  Well.  *blah*blah*great parenting*blah**blah*apology for horrible vernacular and parent points subtracted**blah***(breath)

INTERRUPT....Daughter:  Do I have to know anymore?  Things can now suck in ... in... Lemons!  Lemons!  Mom, those suck, right?

Me:  Oh how I wished I had asked what her final thoughts were.

HA

Assimilation is Futile! You will be Resistant - huh?

Damn.  I am going through my CDs and now realize I have two separate time zones in my life in these little shiny disks.  College.  Wow.  I used to sleep more then.. and damn, I own way too many Kenny G albums than doctors recommend. (*SNORT* LAUGH* GUFFAW*)  AND sounds of Nature?  Enya?  Oh Faye.  (*GIGGLE*) tranquility was musically induced.  I have envy of the me before the other me.  Making sense?  I hope not.

 

Then with much work, HOLY CRAP.  AK 1200... Madame Mercury...I vibrated my house and added two more days of music to my disk drive.  Oh yeah, I hate Apple and iTunes.  Useless program that powers my iPod.  Oh well, I engaged the machine.  (PLLTTTT!)

 

I even managed to pull one special CDR back from the dead.  Hemisphere.  Then sat and dug through my records to label the tracks.  What a time in my life. 

 

(Still alive!)

 

I turned on the amp and spun the first six tracks of Madame Mercury and sit here basking in the glow of HELL YEAH, I OWN these records.

 

*Bangarang*

 

Going to go see Cyndi Lauper next week.  I happen to have that Barbie.

 

IT's FANTASTIC!

 

What happened for My Birthday: The Inside Scoop

So I had to go back and read what I wrote about the whole forty business.  The blog entry was entirely true.  I did downplay how freaked out I was about my husband inviting family to my house.  I about had a clutch of chickens, but didn't due to hyperventilation.

 

What I'm getting at was the whole nefarious sentence followed by the Ah-cha-cha.  Well, there were no dollar bills involved.  I found out Blue October was playing in Charlotte and decided that was where I was going.  Alone.  My husband heaved a sigh of relief for a couple of reasons.  One, he didn't have to go to a topless bar with me.  Two, he has no idea who Blue October is and the one song he knows makes him gag.

 

So he programs the Garmin.  I print maps.  He draws maps.  I freak out that people might know I am forty.  I actually wondered:  'hummm be married?'  What?  Of course you are. 

 

First incident:  I stopped to pee at a rest area.  In club clothes.  *sigh*  I did some glaring.  Then called my husband and he said I didn't use his map.  I began to curse and said I listened to the #*)(#%&#*()) GARMIN.  Anyway, the outdated Garmin didn't take me all the way to the Filmore.  Praise God I pulled in to ask for directions right next to the place.  SHUT UP.  I did it.

 

Parked the car.  Walked inside.  While adjusting to lights, got a lecture on which side of the blue tape to stand on.  WTF?  OK.  Dude.  I just got here.  *sob*

 

It used to be that people with tattoos and piercings were going to hell.  Nope.  Now its people that smoke.  I had to go find that place and called husband and I freaked out about being so damned short and afraid of being stepped on.  He told me maybe I should go try and upgrade my ticket.  I practically hung up on him to find someone in a staff shirt my age.  Guess what VIP means?  It means one can sit the hell down.  It also means the floor in the bathroom is matte and you don't have to think you are standing in human fluids.  The toilets are still black, but I didn't have to hike my outfit two directions.  And with a one piece outfit that nothing but you fits inside of, that part was a relief.

 

WOW.  BLUE OCTOBER was amazing.  They came out and blew the crowd away with Sway.  I was in heaven.  Self satisfied, I did it, fuck you forty heaven.

 

After a few drinks I wandered because damn the people these days suck.  Talk to them and they act like you have some disease.  Except this awesome guy named Adam.  I told him I loved his Doc Martins and he spun on his heel and said I was cool people because I knew what they were.  When I told him emphatically they were Bangarang, he said he loved me.  A chick that knows Skillerex.  At that moment, I loved him too.  He was hot stuff.  We sat in my car and dried out together after the concert.

 

The funniest part of the Adam incident was telling him I have to pee.  We pulled over to the weeds and I threatened his life if he looked.  He didn't.  I had the best time with this guy.  I drove him to his car, which was a million miles away and drove home.

 

So I stopped at the other rest stop.  Dear God.  Some weenie asked to see my tattoo.  I said no with a world peace smile and locked my doors.  This is where I envy men.  They can piss in a bottle.

 

So following the Garmin again, I ended up at a friend's house to finish drying up and come to the sad part of I really am 40.

Count Down to Forty

In few short days, I will turn forty.  It's hard to realize I'm that age.  I don't look it, don't feel it, but nevertheless, here it comes.

 

I've decided a few things about forty.  First off, any person that begins with 'Lordy-Lordy' shall be cut off in mid-sentence with verbally or physically.  It raises my hackles.  Come up with something new people.  My inner self says the people that will try will be those who learned the hard way that I don't like 'Marsha-Marsha' either.

 

There's a lot of take about cougars.  What?  I think I'll be a puma instead.

 

My husband says maturity began for him at forty.  That means I have a few short days to grow up?  I think he's full of crap.  I refuse to lose my sense of wonder that being a mature adult seems to suck out of a person.

 

I have deemed forty to be a good year.  And so it shall be.  Mature or not.

Alright, this is not mature.  Do I want to go to a comedy club for my birthday?

No.  I want to go to a topless bar with a goody bag.  Because I'm growing up afterwards.  Anybody suggest such a nefarious birthday?  No.

YES.  Now I shall bitch and moan and tear out my hair, beat my chest and wonder if the people around me actually paid attention to the whole lifestyle change talk.

I'm doing it for myself, yes.  But encouragement and going out in style would be nice.

I just Wish for a Moment Laundry Fairies Existed

In my world I have to cram school shopping and getting my daughter's closet ready for school.  I so do not want to go into her bedroom.  It depresses me.

 

I wish laundry fairies were real.  I would pay to have laundry whisked into cleanliness.  I would accept one of those dudes from Harry Potter and treat them like gold.  Please please someone clean my daughter's room and fold all the laundry.

Banjos, Strange Calls and Wait There's More!

So today I went with my daughter and picked up her new Deering Goodtime 2 Banjo.  We are going to be starting banjo lessons and are fully committed.  The banjo was incredible and sounded amazing.  My daughter's face was priceless.

 

Before we get to the music store my OnStar car phone rings.  I only give this number out to few people so I answered it.  Wow, I talked to a person I had pretty much figured I sucked since I didn't answer several calls.  It was nice to be honest and tell her I didn't call her because I simply couldn't handle that kind of drama sequence psychologically, and she was OK with that.

Something about that Voodoo and the Toilet Paper

I have realized I'm hungry.  Hungry to know why things are.  Why people are what they are.  How all those things work together for the human condition.  Mostly I'm hungry to navigate in a world that appears to overflow with knowledge, but in truth, the fundamentals are lost.

 

I lovingly call my psychiatrist the Voodoo lady.  You would have to see her to understand.  That and you would have to be at the lowest point in your life and need to talk to someone and the secretary tell you all they give is medicine.  Wow.  But the short video I added is kinda fun.

Sailor Suit: Pirate Gone HA

Pirate Stripes.

I miss my husband.  I'm still sick.

Somehow, though, dress up still works.

No matter how old you may be.

Or may not be.

The big question huh?

 

Busted by Mom

My husband and I tried for romance this evening on the deck.  I just walked outside freshly primped for romance on our hammock...

*robe- drop*

*voice*

John- that sounds like your mother.

It was.  She opened her window and yelled out 'Did you know the shop lights were on?'

John pulls PJ pants back over .. stuff and things..

And since I was Maverick and Drinking Grey Goose... I said.

'John' Why didn't you have your dick out?

This would have been perfect!?

Do you think we went inside?  Nope. 

We giggled like insane teenagers .. that got old .. and we went back to doing ... our thing .. (um.)

Afterwards we both decided it was a good thing for her to look over our privacy fence and see that not only are we the parents of the coolest kid on the planet.

We love each other, and Romance one another.. and oh yeah...

We fuck too.

And well, you had to look.

HAHAHAHHAHAHA

My Adobe Plumbing

Holy crap.

Adobe used to be a color.

It used to be a type of siding one can cover their home in.

I also believed in older times these homes were found in hot places.

Now it has become a monster that I need classes to pixelate pictures and fix them.

And I'm not into construction...(Old Distinguished Ken does that)

Or so I thought...(sh*t)

I should stop on the thinking part.

It gives me ideas.

I want to tear out Old Adobe 6 and load 10 and I can't unclog with un-installation.

Ankle deep in the new cosmopolitan color form.

See ya, off to find the plunger or a grenade launcher.

Never Assume Upgrading Nintendo Should be Like Getting A New Phone

The title to this post has been in the draft folder since Wednesday of last week.  I have passionately wished for the time to voice (quite loudly) a few shortcomings in the digital world.  I consider myself to quite conservative when it comes to purchasing new technology.  I tend to say oooh and ahh like the rest of the world when some new tech-toy greets the world market.  I do not camp outside of stores to be the first person to own something white with an '' i' in the front of it.  I am also not chomping at the bit to go and purchase a new television so I can don dorky glasses and have things jump out at me.  Nevertheless, I do know way too much about the plugs on the back of my televisions.  I also realize that not being able to navigate some of these toys will be detrimental to my child.  We live in an age where everything is on the Internet, and to NOT be savvy, leads our peers to rating our intelligence on our pocketbooks, not on actual brains.  Where this philosophy of one must own or one is ignorant mystifies me, and I can only fight the machine so much.  So, here I am, mother of one.  Owner of Nintendo, two short years ago.  Yes, I grew up without any video game in my life.  Did I want one?  Of course.  When opportunity arose, eating was more important.  I digress.

My daughter has faced the computer age stoically, and only school has made her branch out to want to play with anything other than the TV itself.  That said, this year, she went from zero to wanting the whole enchilada.  I've had to take my phone away and remind her we have a land line.  She went from hitting buttons on the Nintendo DS XL to really playing with it, and using some of the features I had no use for like the recorder.  I feel I have to put in this background before I launch my reasoning that lies behind the title of this entry.

I was at a loss to find my child another gift for her birthday other than the record player, and the answer came to me via email from Gamestop.  Oh happy day!  Finally Nintendo decided to make the screen on the 3DS the size of the DS XL!  What this means:  A handheld game larger than my Smart phone, and easy to see.  I knew I just had to wait.  I liked Nintendo for this simple fact:  There are not a bunch of buttons.  I know there are lots of systems out there, but when you have a kid playing with it, the more buttons there are, the harder it is to explain.  You also have to factor in parents that did not grow up with video games.  I will also insert here that we own a Nintendo wii and to my frustration and disappointment, my child has not been enthralled.  Moving on.

Gamestop is nifty in that one can buy and trade their games.  So being a member, I boxed up both my own 3DS and the DSXL, a bunch of accessories and games my daughter has outgrown.  I managed to use member benefits and current sales to purchase two new 3DS XL systems.  I was so excited to have two handheld systems that she could play with me and her friends.  I assumed when I reminded the Gamestop employee that I needed the SD cards from the old systems that putting my DSiware purchased from the eShop in gaming system I would be able to redownload my software.  I assumed it would be like buying a new phone and moving my information from one to the other would be no problem.  I was so wrong.

A little voice inside me said, open the new system and set it up, so my daughter could just hug me and go in her room and play.  I am so glad I listen to the little voice.  Here is where the drama begins. I will continue this in another post.

Exactly WHY do cupcakes come with an inch of Frosting? The Sugared Answer

I am certain many of you out there have pondered the frosting of bakery items.  No, this little question does not keep you awake at night, but I am positive it comes up more than once a year for those of us with children.  I find myself questioning the great mystery every time I force myself to take a bite of a grocery store cupcake with frosting I am sure has a Geiger counter reading.  Usually there is more frosting than actual cake.  Furthermore, most kids eat about half the icing then peel it off to find the pitiful cupcake underneath.  Ring any bells?  Why do people buy these things?  Why do they frost them so much?  I have the answer!!

My husband and I had lunch with our daughter at school and provided cupcakes for the children to celebrate her birthday.  Since I have a deep seated disgust for grocery store cupcakes, I set out to find a bakery.  I had to find one that would provide a ingredient and nutrition label for the school.  Wow, this was difficult, but I did it.

Anyway, we handed out the mini cupcakes.  They had an inch of frosting and an inch of cake.  Every single cupcake disappeared entirely.  These cupcakes TASTED GOOD from from top to bottom.

The kids held the cakes like a huge lollipop and licked the frosting off.  How ingenious.  The frosting tasted like fudge and was downright delicious.

So the theory is that grocery stores think we like the taste of radioactive sugar.  NO way.  You're supposed to slowly savor the frosting like an ice cream.  My husband and I were dumbfounded.  This was an expensive cupcake bakery, but it was principle for me, and learning this truth has been a bonus.

Why won't anyone tell them the frosting in grocery stores tastes horrible?  Because they still sell.  Anyway, mystery solved.

I have so much more to blog about, but I'm still in birthday weekend and will get to it soon.

I Fell Asleep with Beats and Dr. Dre

How many lucky people get to say that?  Yeah, I fell asleep with my headphones on.. and it was a good night.  I should have them locked in my basement .. ahhhh... so the truth is out Eminem had first dibs ...

I digress.  So far, nothing disturbs the harmonious groove I have laid out for today.  I intend to keep the headphones on until housework magically disappears.  Then I plan on staking out the local Gamestop because I opened my email ... oh darn.  Birthdays and Christmas are my favorite holidays.

I am about to bust because I just want to play with everything with my child.

The PowerPoint presentation keeps me in check.