The Pirate House

A mile down the country road that our neighborhood sits off of, there is a house that we refer to as "The Pirate House."  We call it this because they fly the Jolly Roger flag on the tall flag pole in their front yard.

Let me just start by saying that this house is not exactly what I'd call the lap of luxury.  As a matter of fact, I'd call it a crap hole.  It sits on a very large lot, which is also a crap hole.  I seriously have the urge to sneak over there with the dumpster in the middle of the night, just to get rid of the garbage.

The fun part of The Pirate House, though, is the literal menagerie of animals that live there.  I kid you not when I say it changes on a daily basis!  I wish that the house didn't sit on a dangerous S curve in the road, because I want more than a quick glance into the backyard each time I pass by.

When we first moved here 2 1/2 years ago, there were the goats.  One brown and one white.  For funsies, we like to name the animals.  I'm sure by we, you'd assume me and my children, but you'd be wrong here.  J, my sister Laura and I are the masterminds behind the names.  We call the goats Rhonda and Wyatt.  We loved to see them standing on top of whatever crap was laying around the yard.

Then Junior arrived.  Junior is a mini horse.  Next came Dale, a pot-bellied pig.

When winter came, the we never saw the animals anymore.  Laura joked that they were probably in the house for the season.  Absurd, right??  Except come Spring, they were all back.

Junior, by some sort of luck, moved to the cow pasture at a neighboring farm.  I guess he didn't fit inside the house.  He's living the good life in the green fields now, with all of his cow friends.  Every once in awhile, I see him standing at the fence right up at the road, seemingly having a lovely conversation with a horse standing at his fence at the horse farm on the other side of the street.

The chickens arrived that Spring.  I have no idea how many.  They escape the fence frequently.  A few have met untimely deaths from passing vehicles.

Another winter passed.  The animals disappeared, then returned come Spring.

We can't keep up with the names of all of our animal neighbors anymore.  A couple of months ago, my mom told me that she saw a big pink pig at The Pirate House.  Weeks went by and I never saw such a pig.  But with all the crap laying around that yard, it's easy to miss things.  Yes, even giant pigs.  I finally saw the giant pink pig we named Gert walking around with Dale.  Only since then, I discovered that it wasn't Dale, but another big black pig.  As yet unnamed.

The kicker came last week, guys.  As I was coming around that S curve, glancing as I always do into the crap hole, I couldn't believe my eyes, and I seriously couldn't wait to get home to share the news.

"J!  You're NEVER going to believe what I saw at The Pirate House today.  They got a YAK.  I don't think I'm going crazy.  I don't know what else that thing could be.  I swear, it's a YAK!"

A few days later, I drove by again, and realized that they hadn't gotten a yak.  They'd gotten TWO yaks!

(I have since done some googling, and I realize that yaks aren't exactly domesticated animals.  I believe they are actually highland cattle.  But I'm going to keep calling them yaks and come up with some good yak names for them.  Laura- put your thinking cap on.)

Please believe me when I say that although it is a large lot of land I'm talking about, it is in no way a farm.  It's a big ass yard, littered with God only knows what.  Garbage, toys, broken down household appliances, old furniture, and what must certainly be a huge amount of feces.  Guys, I don't know why the pirates down the street need all these animals, but they are an endless source of amusement for me. 

My guess is that they don't want to cut their grass or clean up after themselves.  The yaks will probably take care of the lawn maintenance, and the goats and pigs will probably eat all kinds of junk from the yard.  The chickens just might be dinner.

Yo ho ho, mateys.

Help Me Understand

Can we please talk about Lululemon?

In my search for the perfect post-surgery compression wear, I've been researching leggings.  They seem like the most sensible option for me- and let's be honest, I wear leggings almost every day, anyway.

I came across a review that mentioned how extra snug the Lululemon leggings are.  This sounded dreamy to me, because right now, extra tight feels extra good.

I decided to hop over to the Lululemon website to check out my options.

Tight Stuff Tight from lululemon.com

HOLY. SHIT.

Guys, I've reached the point in my life, financially, where I'm willing to pay a little bit more for a higher quality product.  And by this, I mean I buy Bounty paper towels instead of the Target brand.  I do not mean that I'm willing to spend $148 on a pair of leggings!

What type of voodoo magic do these leggings contain?  Are there diamonds sewn into the fancy pocket somewhere?  Are they hemmed with the golden thread that Rumplestiltskin spun from straw?  I can't fathom paying that much for a pair of pants otherwise.

Who out there owns these pants, and what makes them so superior to my Old Navy leggings that are about a quarter of the cost?  I NEED TO KNOW!    

Weirdo Update

Just when you think it can't get any more bizarre...

I was wrong about the car in the garage.  It's not a Camry, because that would be ridiculous, right?

It's a KIA.

Read about my weirdo neighbor here.

Weirdo

I won't miss him. 

You guys, he's seriously so bizarre. He has a 2-car garage and a nice driveway. The driveway remains empty almost always, as he chooses to park his car on the street. 

That car, until very recently, has been a beater. I mean, an OLD, rusty, Toyota. Maybe a Tercel?  I always assumed he parked it on the street because it leaked oil, and he didn't want to stain his driveway. 

Once a month or so, weirdo would open his garage and back his showpiece out of the garage.  He'd take the cover off to wash her, and then once she was clean, he'd pull her right back into the garage.  I'd seen him drive her maybe 3 times, ever. She's that special to him. 

Guys- it's a Saturn. 

I couldn't make this up if I tried. 

But times next door, they are a-changin'. The beater must have finally bit the dust, because this is the new street view next door. 

That's right, the Saturn has moved up in the world!  That is now his daily driver. Why the half-assed cover, you ask?  No idea. And yes, the cover is always half-assed. Why doesn't he park it in the driveway, since his special vehicle most certainly doesn't leak? It's a mystery. 

Oh, and I almost forgot. He has a new baby hidden in the garage. He brought her out for a bath last weekend. It's a shiny new Camry. 

This guy's fascination with mediocrity is beyond me. 

Here's to more normal neighbors in the new 'hood. 

People Overload

I love me some People magazine.  I like to think of it as the intellectual's gossip magazine.  After all, it includes a few scant pieces on world events, and it includes a weekly crossword puzzle.  Gotta work the mind, yo.

For my 2012 29th birthday, J bought be a subscription.  Oh, how I loved getting that new issue every Friday.  Joy!  But as my 2013 29th birthday approached, along with Margot's due date, I suggested that he shouldn't bother to renew this year.  Because with two little ones, I had no idea when I would find the time to sit and read gossip magazines on a weekly basis.

Turns out, I was right.  I really don't have time to keep up with my mags.  How do I know this?  Because the folks over at People love me, and want me to be happy.  So they keep sending me magazines.

Here's my current must-get-through pile.

That's right.  These date back to April 1.  There were actually two or three older issues that made their way to the recycling bin before I had a chance to read them, thanks to a certain nugget spilling a certain Mommy's coffee all over them.

The funniest part is that at least once every few weeks we get a letter from People, begging us to resubscribe at a low low rate!

I think someone over at People needs to be fired.  This is just poor business.  But since I'm on the lucky end of this bad deal, I'll take it.

How Is It possible?

...that almost every single morning, I wake up with some crazy song from Yo Gabba Gabba in my head?  It may even be from an episode that we haven't watched in weeks. 

Folks, I promise you, the nugget DOES NOT watch a lot of TV.  He watches one episode of "his show" to settle down and cuddle in my lap before nap.  That's it.

But THIS SHOW.  It sticks with me.  All the live long day and night.  And apparently, it's so deeply rooted in my subconscious that it's the first thing my brain conjures up as I stumble out of bed, sleepy eyed, each morning.

Some of my favorite gems:

"There's a party in my tummy!  SO YUMMY!  SO YUMMY!" ~ to teach us the importance of trying new foods and eating healthy snacks

"All My Friends Are Bugs" ~performed by none other than Weezer, to teach us not to be afraid of insects

"Jumpy jump jump jump jump.  Jumpy jump jump JUMP JUMP!" ~ to teach us that jumping is fun?

And then, there's the ever popular (and completely weird) segment Biz's Beat of the Day.  The "Biz" we're referring to is- you guessed it- Biz Markie.  To teach kids how to beatbox poorly?  My favorite is the beat in the "Sick" episode.  Hold on to your hats, peeps, because this one will blow you away-  "Give-a-give-a-GET.  Wicka-wicka-WELL."  What a genius.  Truly inspired.

Oi.

If you are a mommy friend, maybe you feel my pain?  Or am I the only one who is cursed with the constant barrage of stoner*/kiddie tunes streaming on repeat through my mind?

*The kiddies are not stoners, no.  But the people behind this show most certainly are.  For reals.

James Bond, You're Dead To Me

James Bond...perhaps the coolest badass of them all.  He is suave and debonair, and yet he will punch you right in the throat if you look at him sideways.  And you won't even have seen it coming.  After all, he does have a license to kill. 

His character is one of the most iconic of all time.

What is he known for?  Well, romancing the ladies, of course.  Everybody knows that James gets all the ladies.  Catching bad guys (and their hottie assistants, whom he will surely get busy with before they are killed by said bad guys).  Solving mysteries.  All the while, wearing a stylish suit and crisp shirt.  Much more smooth businessman than secret spy.  And that 007- after he introduces himself to the hottie at the bar- "My name is Bond...James Bond"- he orders himself a martini.  Shaken, not stirred.

That is, until now.

The sellouts over in 007ville have made a deal with the devil.  Heineken being the devil in this particular case. 

According to this article, James will no longer be ordering martinis in the upcoming Bond installment "Skyfall."  Instead, he will belly up to the bar and order a Heineken.

Ugh.

Not only does this ruin the classic James Bond image for me, but HEINEKEN?  It's not even good!  At least they could have chosen a pricey craft beer over this mediocre import. 

For the record, the article was found and forwarded to me by J.  As a 007 fan, he may have cried a little inside upon reading this atrocious news.  And who could blame him?

For shame, James.  For shame.

Unbelievable

Yesterday, I was stuck in a line of traffic.  There was a Jeep trying to turn right out of his driveway and into the crazy morning traffic jam, so I let him in front of me.  I was so shocked at what I then saw that I had to take a picture.  (We were in a line of unmoving traffic- it was safe, I swear.)

Do you see what I see?

Close-up, with an unfortunate glare from my windshield.

I showed J last night, and he said, "Oh, yeah.  Truck nuts." 

What??  Is this a real thing?  A quick and disturbing Google search assured me that yes, it is indeed a real thing.

What was this owner thinking?  "Hmm...what can I do to convince fellow motorists of my manliness?  I drive a dirty Jeep, up on extra large tires with a light bar on top, but I feel like something is missing.  I know!  I think I'll hang some balls from the back!  That oughta do it!"

Why, men?  Why?  Some things I'll just never understand.

Busy

I like to make lists.  I like to write down things that I need to get done.  It helps me to stay organized and on top of my game.   

And the very best thing about making lists?  I get to cross items off once they've been completed.

There are not many feelings better than that in this wide world.  Of course, all the mushy gushy feelings are wonderful, but crossing items off of my "To Do" list gives me a sense of accomplishment.  I like feeling accomplished.

Folks, I'm working on a mega list these next few days.  There are many things to be done leading up to Turkey Day.  (Have I told you all yet that the crazy everynookandcrannyofhousemustbeclean thing that came over me during pregnancy never went away?  I dusted the vacuum cleaner last week, people.)

There is much cleaning to be done.  There is much food to be prepared.  There is decorating to do, playlists to be created, linens to be laundered, errands to be run, dogs to be trained not to go ape shit crazy when guests arrive (a girl can dream, right?). 

Point?  I'll be one busy lady these next few days.  So forgive me if the blog is lacking.

I love the ole' blog, but alas, it did not make the 'To Do" list for the remainder of the week.

Sheer and Utter Madness

The Duggars?  They so crazy.  Michelle, push the guy off of you once in awhile.  And on a side note, ditch the hairdo from 1986.

If her uterus doesn't just fall right out after this one, I'll be shocked.

Horrifying

I stumbled across this news story this morning, and I am utterly horrified. 

Let me sum it up for you.  A pregnant mother eats a sandwich as she grocery shops, saves the wrapper to pay for said sandwich when she checks out, but leaves the store, forgetting to pay for her snack.  She and her husband are then arrested, and their two year old daughter taken into custody by Child Protective Services.

RIDICULOUS.

The couple made an honest mistake, and upon realization of what had happened, immediately offered to pay the less than $5 for the sandwiches.  The store wouldn't allow it.  They were arrested for shoplifting, separated from their daughter overnight for the first time ever, and humiliated beyond belief.

I cannot believe that something like this was ever allowed to happen.  Let me be the first to say that this could easily have been me.  There was more than one occasion where my pregnant self openly snacked on items at the grocery store before paying for them.  Hey, when you're pregnant, sometimes eating is a necessity rightthisverysecond.  It's either that, or hurl all over the floor.

I sincerely hope that this couple sues Safeway and makes a bundle. 

My Guilty Pleasure Gone Wrong

'Tis true.  I am obsessed with all things Kardashian.  (And I may occasionally watch The Real Housewives of insert city here.) 

Just two weeks ago, I was after J nonstop to download the fairy tale wedding extravaganza of Kim and Kris.  I couldn't wait to see the over-the-top glamour that this wedding would most certainly be.  And I was not disappointed.

**Well, okay, maybe I was a titch disappointed.  I was not a fan of Kim's (3!) dresses, or the crazy diamond headpiece she wore during the ceremony.**

I was uber excited to watch this two part E! special.  And now, a mere 72 days after this fabulous wedding took place, Kimmie has filed for divorce.

SHOCKING.

Only not really.  It seemed on the show that the two didn't know each other that well.  They may have moved too fast.  (And this, coming from someone who got engaged a mere five months after meeting the guy.)  They spent much of their courtship, if you will, on opposite coasts.

And now that they're married, word on the street is that Kris isn't dealing well with the constant presence of camera crews, and Kim thought he knew what he was signing on for.  Kris wants to retire to the midwest and raise a family, while Kim wants to be in the constant limelight of celebrity.

Warning: A tiny rant to follow.

Why on earth would someone give up the marriage instead of the reality show?!?!  This only shows that the sacredness of marriage means nothing to my dearest Kardashian.  The vows that she took clearly meant nothing to her compared to her beloved "brand."  Marriage means "'til death do us part," not "'til this rough patch cramps my style."

End rant.

Word on the street also has it that poor Kris was blindsided by the divorce filing, saying that he loves Kim and would do anything to save their union.  Apparently, he learned about the divorce from Ryan Seacrest, just like the rest of us.

WOW.

I suppose now I have no choice but to continue to watch the saga unfold on reality TV. 

For shame. 

Wal-Mart, You So Crazy

On a recent trip to Wal-Mart, I saw this machine and just had to take a picture.

Notice the tag line..."The smart place to manage your money."

Is it really?  I mean, do people fall for this?  Do they think, "Hmm, I have come into a large sum of money.  However shall I manage it?  I know!  I'll go to Wal-Mart!  They'll know what to do!"

Is Wal-Mart a smart place to manage anything, for that matter?  I think not.  Target?  Maybe.  But Wal-Mart?  NO.

**By the way, I realize that it's shocking that I was even in Wal-Mart in the first place, but fear not.  I have not embraced Wally World after all these years.  I merely had to visit to exchange some gifts.  My opinion remains the same- and that is, I feel dirty and full of shame upon leaving the store, every time.

What Not To Do

For those of you who didn't know, this past Monday was the first day of the new school year at my year-round school.  Each and every year, the week of the fourth of July is the one week where all of the students are off, and us teachers get to work on staff development and getting our classrooms together for a new group of students.

Part of our yearly staff development includes "refresher" trainings on Bloodborne Pathogens, Sexual Harassment, Seclusion and Restraint, and Students with Diabetes.  For good measure, this year they threw in one on Students with Allergies.  These "trainings" are online, in the form of videos and/or Powerpoint presentations.

Keep in mind that this one week without students is a busy, busy week!  So the last thing anyone wants to do is sit in front of their computer for two hours and listen to stuff they hear again and again, year after year.  I've listened to this stuff so many times now that I tend to drown it out, or busy myself with other tasks while the videos are playing.

But this year, as I was ignoring listening to the Seclusion and Restraint video, one segment caught my attention.  This, my friends, is a list of ways that I am not permitted to punish my students.

THANK GOD they told me that!  I had the electric shock station all set up and ready to go.

Snow Day!

 

Yes, friends, this is what a snow day looks like in North Carolina.  Yep, this is all it takes.  For reals.  Crazy southerners!

Please enlighten me.

As we were driving home from Maryland this past weekend, I noticed a few "special" cars.

The first caught my eye due to its personalized license plate.  The plate read CIVIC.  I then looked at the car, which was indeed a Honda Civic.  With one of those stupid extra-loud mufflers.  And a HUGE spoiler.  Now you might think that the rest of the car was fancified.  But alas, no.  I counted five different colors on the car, and not due to a custom paint job.  More like parts and pieces had been replaced over the years with junkyard remnants.  Oh, yeah, and one of the five colors was straight rust.

This is not the actual car I saw, as I could not get my phone out fast enough, but you get the idea.  Not a hot car.

So this had me wondering...is the intent of this license plate to brag about owning a Civic?  Because, it's a Civic.  Now don't get me wrong, I LOVE a Civic.  I drove one for almost ten years, and it served me well.  And it is currently still serving my little sister well.  But is it something I want to brag about to all my friends?  Not so much.  Especially when this particular Civic was in R.O.U.G.H shape.

Maybe he thought that by dressing it up with a ginormous spoiler and an obnoxious fancy muffler he was enhancing its awesomeness?  Turns out, I was unimpressed.  Actually, I laughed at him and his sad little car.

Later on down the road, I saw another gem.  It had, in huge, fancy, street-racer style font, a decal reading "XS POWER" plastered across a tinted rear windshield.  J noticed this one first, and commented on how that car is not only powerful, but it possesses XS power.  Wow.  Impressive, no?  That is, until you realize that this car cannot possibly possess XS power, as it is a Hyundai.  Extra powerful Hyundai?  No such thing.  

Why do some insist on extolling the amazing virtues of their POS vehicles?  Anyone care to let me in on the secret?  Because I just don't get it.

Ah, well.  If nothing else, these cars were good for a couple of laughs.

Thank God there's only one in there.

Visit msnbc.com for breaking news, world news, and news about the economy

Thanks, TwoPretzels, for finding this video!

Why, firewalls? Why?

Dear School System Web Police,

Here at work, I am faced with many firewalls.

 I get it.  Of course, we don't want students to happen upon some terrible, pornographic site and be scarred for life.  This can happen to even the most tech-savvy of us.  (For everyone's reference, if you want to check in on your favorite Miami oldsters, DO NOT visit www.goldengirls.com.  Seriously.  Don't do it.)

But please tell me, dear web police, why I cannot visit the sites of Old Navy, Gap, or Banana Republic?

I have the occasional downtime here in my little office, and sometimes I just want to do a little online shopping or browse for new fashion inspiration.  As Old navy is one of my faves (both chic and affordable!), this site would be a stop of choice.  Especially for maternity clothes, as their shirts do not all tie in the back and scream FRUMPMEISTER.

What is so terrible about the Gap family?  I can see naked ladies on NatGeo, I can search for lingerie at Macy's, I can read foul language here, there, and everywhere!  I just do not understand this clearly ill-informed choice.

Please, school system web police...reconsider.  I find your exclusion of these sites to be morally reprehensible.

Sincerely,
A Disgruntled Employee Who is Forced to Limit Her Online Shopping Experience While at Work

What do you think of this?

I'd like to know, really.

So basically this is an insect repellent that clips on- hence the name.  Yes, that's right, you clip it on.  To your pants.  Like a huge, blue pager from hell.  And you walk around with it.

Now, I'm all for scaring away those pesky mosquitoes.  ESPECIALLY since my blood is evidently SO delicious to them that within minutes of the dusk hour I am suddenly covered with trillions (yes, that's right, TRILLIONS- no melodrama here) of huge, welt-like, itchy, scratchy bites.  However, I am not about to sport a giant blue device on my clothing to keep them away.  That thing will NOT pass for an accessory.

J thinks it looks like a great invention (of course he does).

I think I'll take the smelly spray.

This one's for my MIL.

Yesterday, I somehow got sucked into watching "Toddlers and Tiaras" on TLC.  (I think it came on after What Not to Wear...so I didn't turn it on purposefully!)  Here is my professional review:

One word.

Crazy.

These parents are so nutty!  I watched a four year old little girl be pampered to a day at the spa, complete with facial, manicure, pedicure, and massage.  Now for myself, that sounds delightful!  But to think of spending that kind of money on a four year old kid, who would probably rather be playing in the mud?  No, thank you!

I heard about the money that "Pageant Moms" spend on those glittery, sparkly, tutu-type dresses.  They START at $650, and go up to $1500!  That's more than we spent on my wedding gown!

Those little girls are spray-tanned, made-up, hair-extensioned, fake-toothed, and dressed up like dolls.  Then they are berated by their parents for not "shimmying" enough on stage.

She doesn't want to shimmy...she just wants her blankie!

Whoa.

There was even a baby category, and there was a THREE DAY OLD contestant.  Don't you have anything better to do with your baby's first THREE days of life??  Like, I dunno, bond with your child?

All that being said...that show is literally like a train wreck.  I couldn't look away.

Luckily J shook me back to reality and turned off the television.

Doesn't look like there will be any pageants for the Anderson babies of the future.