31 October 2007

Pumpkin Surgery

We visited the pumpkin patch on Saturday and carved our pumpkins on Sunday. Max age 8, was eagerly poised with his carving tool in hand. He cuts around the top and while lifting off the lid you could see seeds and pumpkin guts. He says cheerily to his faceless pumpkin,

"Get ready for your lobotomy!"

So today I'm being lame and not doing the Halloween thing. I'm not going to launch into all the reasons why and debate the history of Halloween over how it got started...blah blah blah ~glaze over~. In turn, I won't ask you why you are celebrating an evil, pagan, devil's holiday, ya sinners!

Halloween isn't cat sacrifice and goat worship. It also is not piping choir music to my porch and handing out gospel tracts. I just don't like this time of year.

Halloween to me means enjoying the cool weather and pulling out my sweaters. It means, crockpot chili, homemade cornbread, time with the family....and more blogging time. It doesn't get any better than that.

Oh, and scoring on clearance candy tomorrow at Walmart.

Speaking of Walmart, I am compelled to write this open letter.

Dear Mr. I Have No Gas Man,

I can appreciate your plight in holding your cardboard sign. I read it every weekend I've passed you in the last 7 months,

"Need help. Ran out of gas. Thank you. God Bless"

The price of gas is outrageous, I agree. Your freshly showered face is telling me you have transportation, as is the fact that your car runs out of gas every weekend in the same Walmart parking lot. Dude, that is just the most amazing luck. You should buy a lottery ticket. I think the only alternative to your gas dilemma is that your neighbor is unemployed and siphoning your tank every Friday. Otherwise you might be lying, and why would you ever do THAT?

Sincerely,
Bee (Not Stupid)

28 October 2007

This I Believe

I've taken quite a number of months to do this post. It's fitting with my 3rd bloggy anniversary just next week. JD, thank you for thinking of me and I've finally done it. This I believe.....


I'm a realist and I like to laugh, this I know.

I strive to post as transparent as I can be, just for my own satisfaction. When I first started blogging my blog was stale and boring even to re-read. I wrote what I thought people wanted to hear, afraid if people saw me, they wouldn't like me. I still struggle with that but I've become as honest as you'll find and as non-judgmental as they come.

It was three years ago I started blogging with this pseudo-profile. I had a myspace account but afraid...just afraid so I needed a place to vent. "Being myself without pretense or expectations" was my goal. I filled out the fields for my profile. I read it back and realized this was someone I wasn't but wanted to become. My blogging anonymously had peeled back the layers of pretense.

Anonymous blogging is therapy at best. This I believe.

I couldn't believe my posts. Out came the person that I wanted to be. Funny. Sarcastic. Cathartic. Interesting. Altruistic. Creative. More than a mom, more than the wishy washy friend, or bored and depressed housewife. I was only myself when I could be safe.

The truth is I lived most my life in this conformist way. As a child, I prayed that if I made others around me happy I'd be pulled from the foster homes I despised. I hoped in high school, that I wouldn't be branded the geeky home-schooled child because I could name all forty states in one breath. I would adjust so that the boyfriend of several years would marry me when my biggest motivator was only that I didn't want to live in sin. He'd say, as I would get home from my job modeling swimsuits, "I would love you more if you were thinner."

Later when I met Mr. Coffee, I would end up crying because Mr Coffee would show me unconditional love and support even with my inevitable flaws. It was not what I would ever expect.

I could, I would, make people like me. I purposed to be who they wanted me to be, if I could be the perfect girl. I ended up a depressed, passive dreamer who didn't know herself if she sat in front of a mirror labeled "self".

Today, I am exactly what you read. I wish more people in the world acted under no pretense, no underlying motives, no sit-in-judgment-secret formula to make the world more palatable. I am a realist, but a happy realist, comfortable in my own skin.

The glass isn't half full or half empty, it just depends on what is in the glass.

If I am sad, I cry. If I am happy, I smile. If I feel like making poetry or making absolutely no sense on a whim, I'll do it. This is me. I do not possess the ability to fart rainbows on command. I don't hide my head in the sand when bad things do inevitably happen.

Roses are red
Farts on command
I'm the happy realist
No head in the sand

Life will throw a curve ball and *if* in noticing this fact of life, a person can still laugh at the trials, learn from our mistakes, and allow life to be our teacher...we then, will know who we are and be better for it.

This is what blogging has taught me. This I believe.

I do have a tendency to notice the bad and make fun of it. I've had too much bad happen in my life to say it doesn't effect me. I, however, do not like to be blindsided. I like to see the bad coming down the pike, without sugar-coating it with a Pollyanna outlook. I go after it with straight up honesty. I will boldly look whatever in the face without fear, laugh in it's face and pointing that it's zipper is down while I confidently scissor-kick it in the head.

It's not how we fall, it's how we stand up after falling.

Diamonds are made under great pressure.

Expert sailors do not become this way by sailing calm seas.

Trees grow into the wind.

You cannot grow stronger muscles without resistance.

I feel love, hope, faith, compassion, mercy..all of which I cannot touch or place tangibly in your hand. Does it make any of these invalid? No. These are not corporeal but these are what make us human. Honesty in who we are just makes us easier to live with. Life can be our teacher, for this we should be pliable. To be ourself, comfortable in our own skin? This is invaluable. This I believe.

25 October 2007

Hair of The Blogger That Blogged You

I was at Temporary Insanity today. The blog and the mental state. I couldn't help it. The kids were home today (and will be tomorrow) for Parent/Teacher conferences which reminds me. I need to buy more duct tape. The blog however, had a good post today about hair but I'm getting a head of myself.

HAHA! Get it? A head. Do you get it? I don't get it.

This morning was Zus' conference. Zus is 7 and basically the boy devours books at school. He clocked in at 131 WPM with full, 3rd grade comprehension. He's in 2nd grade. They couldn't believe it so they did the test again. 148 WPM.

That's my boy.

This afternoon, I put away my carpooling lead foot stint and instead, I did some reading on my favorite blogs. (a head of myself, remember? hahaha! I kill myself) Kimberly's talking about hair.

I'm very conscious of hair. Clothes, not as much as I'd like, but hair? This I know. I've been asked about my hair avatar. Strangers stop me at the mall and ask about my hair. Yes, it's mine in the avatar. It's not naturally red but that's something only my hairdresser knows.

Here is my anal retentive point of view. If you look at the physical aspect of hair you might find it easier to have the Pantene look you are going for. But for the love of supercuts, people. Asymmetrical hair, like bobbed hair in the front and tapered to very short toward the back of the neck? Like Posh Spice. This looks terrible unless you have a great jaw line. I've noticed it's the new PTA mom haircut but one that will never grace this head. Joe Dirt had a more appealing mullet.

If you have this haircut. I am sorry. I hope you can find the person who said this is a cute haircut and scissor-kick them in the head. (I'm on a roll now! Get it? Scissor kick?! hahaha!)

Here are some interesting facts about hair.

Hair under a magnifier has layer-like scales called cuticles which open with heat. You could also see under microscope that perfectly straight hair is round in circumference. Wavy is oblong and curly hair is flat. This is why curly hair has difficulty keeping in moisture with a lack of thickness.
If you take vitamins, this will help you to grow great hair (soda is VERY bad for leaching your vitamins from you) .

If you rinse your hair with hot water right before conditioning, it opens the cuticle to allow conditioner to go deeper into your hair. Rinse with cold to flatten the cuticle, sealing in conditioner and making the hair less frizzy. Same with the blow dryer. If you must dry it completely, do a once over with the cool air. Don't get me started on product. Just walk into Sally's Beauty Supply and buy what they recommend. I haven't gone wrong yet.

Grey hair turns that color because air gets into the hair shaft making it look grey. This is very cool. Why this happens? Beats me. What I do know is I don't have much experience with grey hair. Just one grey chin hair that will NOT go away.

You have now passed Hair 101. Please make a note of it.

Hairy Not Scary

This afternoon, I put away my carpooling lead foot stint and instead, I did some reading on my favorite blogs. Kimberly is now talking about hair.

I'm very conscious of hair. Clothes, not as much, but hair? This I know. I've been asked about my hair avatar. Strangers stop me at the mall and ask about my hair. Yes, it's mine in the avatar. It's not naturally red but that's something only my hairdresser knows.

Here is my anal retentive point of view. If you look at the physical aspect of hair you might find it easier to have the Pantene look you are going for. But for the love of supercuts, people. Asymmetrical hair, like bobbed hair in the front and tapered to very short toward the back of the neck like Posh Spice. This looks terrible with a round face. Just don't do it. I've noticed it's the new PTA mom haircut but not for me. I only go with the crowd when it is going my direction.

Here are some interesting facts about hair:

Hair under a magnifier has layer-like scales called cuticles which open with heat. You could also see under microscope that perfectly straight hair is round in circumference. Wavy is oblong and curly hair is flat. This is why curly hair has difficulty keeping in moisture with a lack of thickness. Vitamins will help you to grow great hair, too.

Chlorine also does a number to your hair and since tap water is chlorinated, the best remedy is to buy a shower head where you can insert a filter. Most of the larger shower heads just unscrew to pop a filter in. I've seen them at Home Depot or home improvement stores. Your hair will thank you.

If you rinse your hair with hot water right before conditioning, it opens the cuticle to allow conditioner to go deeper into your hair. Rinse with cold to flatten the cuticle, sealing in conditioner and making the hair less frizzy. Same with the blow dryer. If you must dry it completely, do a once over with the cool air. Don't get me started on product. Just walk into Sally's Beauty Supply and buy what they recommend. I haven't gone wrong yet.

Grey hair turns that color because air gets into the hair shaft making it look grey. This is very cool. Why this happens? I don't know but I'm tired of plucking my beard and finding grey.

~Bee wishes you happy hair

24 October 2007

Quitcherskimmin

I appreciate my bloggy peops but I have to clarify on my last few posts, because I do not want you to think ill of me. How many people skim my posts? Raise your hand, you know you do it. Okay, important points for me to make because I have my pride.

1) I am not looking to replace my husband. No one else could handle me. (pipe down in the peanut gallery)

2) I will not be broiling his head. It's a joke. It's satire. It's funny. Just like ramming people in the carpool lane.

Road Rage Ramming=Funny.
Head Broiling=Funny.
Ranting Posts=Not So Funny.
Running Out Of Coffee=Pure Evil.

3) I do not hate men because I have said it's work to communicate with Mr. Coffee. If you believe me to be stating otherwise, I suggest you quitcherskimming and read the post.

4) We have one measly credit card for emergencies and one savings account. Savings is not touched, and neither is the credit card unless it's...well, an emergency. (I've been informed that cute shoes on mega sale is NOT an emergency)

5) I am always open about money probably because everyone is so weird and shush shush about it. Being open about money does not mean I want yours. You can't take it with you and it doesn't keep you warm at night unless you have a whole bunch piled around you.

6) I am not going to be living on blocks of government cheese and living in a van down by the river. I am a stubborn woman, and by Grabthar's Hammer, I can and will make it just fine as I have for the last 14 years, thankyouverymuch.

7) If I had credit card debit then I would be living in a van down by the river and eating bricks of government cheese.

8) I do have utilities, rent, and a ginormous food bill. This is life when you have four growing kids and one income. Groceries happen, and since I know my biology and digestive system, so does the other thing.

9) I did not pay Mr. BOB Jiffy Lube $80 for just oil. I paid $80 for fuel filter, oil filter, synthetic oil (two head gaskets replaced on a v6 that is 11 years old will make you do this, too). Then there is this state's sodding sales tax. This is not a lot of money for what I had done. It's just a lot of money when you could instead spend it on things like red bull and duct tape.

10) I am in no way slamming divorced peops. It does take two to tango. It only takes one falling down to make it NOT dancing anymore. It also only takes one blockhead to end up going through the big "D" and I don't mean Dallas.

11) I am so glad you are still with me, despite my inherent need to number everything and explain myself into your good graces.

In other news....

Today in Target, my 4 year old daughter decided to full-on run our cart down the overly busy main isle. Seriously, she pulled her own private Ben Hur Chariot Race, clearing people like Moses parting the waters, and her completely unable to see where she was going. I was there yelling behind her, "RED LIGHT!! RED LIGHT!!" as I do when I want her to stop. It was completely in vain as she barreled blindly toward the cash registers, her little arms barely able to reach the cart handle. Most people laughed and some people gave me the evil eye. I wanted the floor to swallow me whole.

Too much fun...

Clarity

I appreciate my bloggy peops but I have to clarify on my last few posts, because I'm getting so much hate mail I'm going to impale myself on a kitchen spatula.

How many people skim my posts? Raise your hand, you know you do it. Okay, important points for me to make because I have my pride.

1) I am not looking to replace my husband. I don't flirt online because it's disrespectful to Mr Coffee. I would broil Mr Coffee's head if he was flirting online.

2) I will not be broiling Mr Coffee's head.
It's a joke. It's satire. It's funny. Just like ramming people in the carpool lane.

Road Rage Ramming=Funny.
Head Broiling=Funny.
Ranting Posts=Not So Funny.
Running Out Of Coffee=Pure Evil.

3) I do not hate men because I have said it's work to communicate with Mr. Coffee. Marriage is work. Anyone who disagrees is single or divorced.

4) I talk about money openly. It's a weird thing for people to hear it because it's such a taboo subject. Our family pays taxes, has bills, and wants a good financial future. I know it's a hard concept to grasp since I know I'm alone in this.

Meh. Don't you wish? But you can't take it with you and it doesn't keep you warm at night unless you have a whole bunch piled around you and it's on fire.

5) I am not going to be living on blocks of government cheese and living in a van down by the river. I am a stubborn woman, and by Grabthar's Hammer, I can and will make it on my own, thankyouverymuch.

6) If I had credit card debit then I would be living in a van down by the river and eating bricks of government cheese.

7) I have a ginormous food bill. This is life when you have four growing kids and one income. Groceries happen, and since I know my biology and digestive system, so does the other thing.

8) I did not pay Mr. BOB Jiffy Lube $80 for just oil. I paid $80 for fuel filter, oil filter, synthetic oil (two head gaskets replaced on a v6 that is 11 years old will make you do this, too). Then there is this state's sodding sales tax. This is not a lot of money for what I had done. It's just a lot of money when you could instead spend it on things like red bull and duct tape.

9) I am in no way slamming divorced peops. It does take two to tango. It only takes one falling down to make the dance end.

10) I am so glad you are still with me, despite my inherent need to number everything and explain myself into your good graces.

In other news....

Today in Target, my 4 year old daughter decided to full-on run our cart down the crowded main isle.

She became possessed and pulled her own private Ben Hur Chariot Race, clearing people like bowling pins. She was completely unable to see where she was going. I was there yelling behind her, "RED LIGHT!! RED LIGHT!!" as I do when I want her to stop.

It was completely in vain as she barreled blindly toward the cash registers, her little arms barely able to reach the cart handle. Most people laughed and some people gave me the evil eye. It was still funny.

~Bee has always wanted to cart race

23 October 2007

Bob The Oil Man


"That'll be $82.74, please"

My stomach dropped to my knees. Did I ask for the diamond-plated air filter? No.

I was having the oil changed, and this without Mr. Coffee asking me to get it done. I was proud of myself and just under the 4,500 mile mark. I was tempted to pop on into Sweet Ride Tires and have them put some 22's w/spinners on my 1996 Ford van but one thing at a time. This was monumental. I was having the oil changed on my own.

"Here," I said, attempting to be cheery. I handed him my debit card but I should have slapped my wallet on the counter and told him to help himself.

I started tallying the items in my head because you can't be too careful when letting a computer, a Swifty Lube computer, do the work.

Oil filter, air filter, oil change, 5W30 and coolant. $82.74?!

I noticed his Swifty Lube name tag spells out, 'BOB'.

Now BOB looked suspiciously like an escaped convict in blue overalls. His faded, tattooed teardrop in the corner of his eye did not make me change my mind. I like to give people the benefit of the doubt but my benefit was immediately shot down by BOB's apparent brainchild that I should be his new girlfriend. He smiled, flashing his gold tooth in the front. He handed me back my card and receipt. BOB probably hadn't had a girlfriend since Nixon was in office. BOB probably hadn't showered since then either.

Gee, I wonder if he spells name backwards. B-O-B....B-O-B....
I suppressed a giggle at my own brilliance. I could see BOB wondering if ate too many dry instant coffee powder packets. Or maybe it was because I was getting my oil changed without being reminded. And while I was evolving into a higher life form in the waiting room.

This place was named "Swifty Lube" wasn't it?

Then I got the look from BOB as he handed me the keys. You know. The look? Like Joey Tribbiani meets Alcatraz. I can almost hear it now.

"How you doin'? I'll change your oil lady, anytime of the week, except Tuesdays, I'm due in court for boostin' cars...."

BOB asked me if I want to fork over another $75 to have my serpentine belt replaced. The thing costs all of $40 retail and 10 minutes to get it off and on.

I hadn't downed enough powdered coffee packets to agree to that. I'm just as happy to do it on my own.

~Bee doesn't really do it, Mr Coffee does.

22 October 2007

Dr. Jenn Is In

Mr. Coffee has irked me. He is the perfect husband for me.

He still brings me flowers or coffee. He does dishes, laundry, makes dinner, urges me to go out with girlfriends AND spend money on myself. He even gets the dirty laundry in the hamper and puts the lid down on the toilet.

I can't complain, but at times I am reminded of the pedestal I put him on.

You've heard the mantra of marriage is work, and it IS. I am usually upset this time of year but my perception gets warped. Mr. Coffee and I go to work, listening, communicating and making sacrifice. (including him reading this post) It's marriage and this is the way marriages survive.

I have a good friend who's ex-husband would frequently tell her, "You have no right to be angry!".

Really? Seriously? Seriously? And I'll allow you to stop being condescending.

I am of the opinion that everyone has a right to feel the way they do. When I get the urge to do some monster truck carpooling, I never act upon it regardless of the impatient driver about to merge off my front door panel.

How you feel is your own right. However, you are not entitled to act on what you feel, including going Evil Knievel on the rude driver in front of you.

Right now, I'd like to stick Mr. Coffee's head in the oven. Obviously, cooking his head not an option. I know it's just my hangups. We have never gone without or lived in our van down by the river, but I get so frustrated at the feast and famine nature of his job. I married a concrete man and every rainy season since we've been married we go through this same cycle.

A woman will get into a car accident in her Mini Cooper but does she blame it on the Cooper? No, in fact, you'll even see her go out and buy another Cooper. It's not the vehicle that's at fault, it's the driver. The same can be said for marriages. Marriage is not the issue but those navigating the marriage can be.

Mr. Coffee and I will get through this. I fret over the bills and he feels the overwhelming disappointment that he is not providing for the family. We talk it out...work together, we ebay half my worldly possessions and another year goes by.

Pretty soon all the kids will be in school and I will go to school myself. Until then, it's a lot of work..hard work, but I know it's well worth it.

Besides, I'm terrible at broiling.

21 October 2007

This Post Does Not Deserve An Award

I got sick about 3 years ago. Not that it's exciting blog fodder, just that I had bronchitis, strep, double ear, sinus and lung infection. Another exciting walk in the park.

Ever since, I get sick and it does feel like I'm going to cough up a lung. I hate feeling like my body is falling apart, maybe that's why I like learning about physiology so much. So much, in fact that when I go to school in fall of '08, I will be pursuing something in the medical field.

Since I'll be going back to school in my mid 30s, I'm going to strive for something that makes a lot of good bread. Forget the Hippocratic Oath and helping our fellow man! I need some cold hard cash. I enjoy writing but even the amazing author Laurie Notaro told me there were many years that she was hungry.

(can I drop names like that?)

Speaking of medical, I have been thinking. If identical twins marry identical twins and they each have children, are the children biological siblings or cousins?

My brain does not shut down. This post however...off to make dinner.

~Bee makes good lasagna

20 October 2007

Guilty Dreams and Rainy Days

I awoke to rain this morning. I love it. Growing up in the Pacific NW for most of my youth, I learned to love the rain and ignore the usual sentiment of suicidal cloudy gloom and a dockets worth of fender benders.

For my kids, rain is the signal to behave like room hobos. For me, I have the overwhelming urge to bake and drink obscene amounts of coffee. And read a book. I'm not good at baking. This is not a perfect scenario.

Not good at baking=burns lots of doorstoppy things.

Last night, Mr. Coffee and I saw the Transformers movie. Great popcorn and action show.

I also caught Elizabeth: The Golden Age with friend and fellow blogger, Dapoppins. Out. Standing flick, as I love history and have it be known Clive Owen is the ugliest person on the planet but I managed.

Speaking of, I've mentioned it before in passing but do you think it's odd that I constantly have a dream that I'm making out with Mr. Coffee but he has Clive Owen's head?

I'm not complaining but I have a growing apprehension in my dream that I'm doing something terribly naughty, but yet not...because it is my husband.

If Mr. Coffee dreamt he made out with my body and Angelina's head, I think I would laugh.

I have been meaning to post these for your viewing pleasure. You can see Mr. Coffee does not even look like Clive. (click to enlarge these)




I've named Mr. Coffee such because I can't stand the acronym DH. DH like, Darling Hubby, Dumb Husband, Doltish Heathen, Dodo Head?

Despite my dislike for 'code names', I named him after my coffee: Tall, dark, and hot.

I am not complaining. I discovered even the barista's at the nearby Coffee Cleavage Shack refer to him with drink of choice in a fond manner, "Hey, it's Hotty Chocolate". This is done while they are bending down, hanging cleavage out the window to hand over a drink.

~Bee says that Clive kisses just like Mr. Coffee. Weird...

PS. you can get your own facial recognition at: Myheritage.com

17 October 2007

Blogroll Schmogroll, Its Not Rocket Surgery

I have a whole lot of new readers coming through, so in light of that and my soon-to-be updated blogroll, I think it would be good to share again some of my profound knowledge (hahahhaha) about linky love.

The big dilemma. To Link or Unlink, that is the question.

I've seen these disclaimers now on blogs about blogrolls and linking. These are about as fun as reading your bank disclosures while getting a root canal. I'm talking about blogrolls that are passive-aggressive disclaimers on why the blog owner can't just take the link off without feeling guilty and yammering on, and on, and on about it.

I've been removed by haters and noooooooo, I'm not bitter.

No one likes to be removed from a friends list, a blogroll, or the line at Krispy Kreme, but I digress.....

When you have been taken off someone's blogroll/links, you will undoubtedly wonder, 'what did I say', 'do they hate my writing' , 'They can't smell me, can they?' or 'I wonder if their statcounter will show all 428 hits yesterday?'.

In light of this, I have come up with a blogroll, friends list and link disclaimer.

YOU WILL APPEAR LINKED or BEFRIENDED IF:

*IF I read your blog regularly. If you ignore me after 428 hits to your blog, I can take a hint. I won't link to you though. I will also sign you up at half a dozen free coupon sites just for spite. I sure hope you like email, I'm just saying.

*IF you make me shoot coffee or other assorted beverages in the morning, you are automatically linked. If I perhaps laugh at more than one post or choke on my own spit in a fit of laughter, I will give you extra kudos. If you make me wet my person while laughing, I might just have to add you to my blog stalker shrine.

*IF you make me think and use my head for more than a hat rack. I'm afraid my brain has gone to mush with kid movies, overdosing on coffee, spell check and calculators. I continue self-improvement efforts with a daily Sudoku game to keep my brain as nimble as a three year olds fingers. Thinking = good. Mush = bad. This however should be accompanied by adult conversation and witty banter for the desired effect.

*IF you come by my blog and say hi. Happy communication is a happy friendship. Now can we sing Kumbaya?

*IF you are famous and I want to look important and/or funny I will absolutely link to you. (ie, Dave Barry, Homestarrunner) I am a blogger, read me roar, but I am not short of acting desperate for readers.

*IF you appeared in the latest NY Times Bestsmeller. Books are for smelling don't you know? I have a love for reading, and as a self-proclaimed biblioholic, if you talk books or write them, I will link to you and perhaps name all subsequent children after you.

YOUR LINK DISAPPEARS:

*IF you have offered to be my sugar daddy, online stalker or other such sordid romantic gestures. Have it be known, I'm a female, 500 lb construction worker with a Subaru Outback and 5 o'clock shadow. I've also been banned from Yahoo Personals and MySpace. I feel the most dainty when my pit hair is braided and my nail polish, tube socks, and prison overalls match (Bonnie Bell #37 Faded Denim). I also have a husband, Mr. Coffee, that you could not measure up to. He still brings me flowers for no reason, after 14 years of marriage.

*IF I simply do not read your blog. Come on. It's not rocket surgery.

*IF I screwed up my template links changing my template for the 5th time this week. This should be reason #1.

*IF the number of "F" bombs and rated R content you use on your blog is taken into consideration. More than a handful of episodes in days post and you'll voted off the island by Me, Queen of The Prude Tribe. Unless you are waiterrant. Why waiterrant? I don't know him but he is hilarious.

*Lastly, you may have indicated a keen interest in the following, to which I am wholly against: Animal sacrifice, Hungry Man frozen dinners, fingernail decals/faux birthstones, fruitcake, plastic yard ornaments shaped like a granny's backside, blackmarket kidney donors, Ozzy Osborne, instant coffee, yugos, Barbara Streisand music, One Whole Chicken In A Can, owning Manheimlich Steamroller records, lookatmy.nekkid.self.com, el caminos, Jerry Springer, vegemite, pyramid schemes, Hammerpants, m@gic, fortune telling, and last but not least, boycotting toothpaste and or deodorant.

I like to peruse new reads, so if you see me on your statcounter for an hour, I'm either commenting or simply stepped away to change my tube socks.

**Please be aware that this post is entire tongue in cheek because tongue in keyboard gets really gross and messy.

16 October 2007

Reece High Call

It appears only 13 of my readers and subsequent commentees are bookish, er....book lovers. Or as someone says, "biblioholic/geek". I am not a geek. I only have a couple hundred ~mumble, mumble~ okay, over 1500 books.

Okay, I'm a geek.

I'd like to take a moment to officially own up to coining the word biblioholic. I've had it in my profile for like, 400 years. It's all mine now.

Making up words off the cuff is always fun.

On the spotzkey!

Like fabloid magazine and my personal favorite Manheimlich Steamroller. I just cannot wait for the Christmas music that descends upon us like a bucket of hot tar. Fond as I am of this group, when I hear them play, I have the abnormal urge to grab the closest sharp implement and jam it repeatedly into my ears.

Friends, do not let friends listen to Manheimlich Steamroller.

I was taking in a good read today and got the 10-4 about common expressions. It made me think of speech and expressions because the post was about, well...speech and expressions. I tend to say very 'Brit' things because this chick can't get enough of Britcoms. I hear it all the time.

If anyone on the planet has a good grasp of the English language, it's the Brits. ((sending love across the pond))

Yesterday, I intended to post on the environment or recycling, or perhaps fess up to the 10 years of Pampers diapers I've contributed to landfills.

I know that's irresponsible but I'd never use generic or Huggies.

Now thanks to modern medicine, a tubal ligation, and those furry Charmin bears that have cool potty training kits, I shall contribute no longer.

Today, in late fashion but still in the recycling spirit, I introduce you to my list of Click to Donate sites. Clicking to donate is a great idea and suggest that you DO IT NOW all change your home page to one of these. Every day you fire up your browser, you will see it, click it, and make a difference.

Not doing this is the equivalent of being a celebrity and not adopting. ~gasp~


Fight Against Breast Cancer

Gave a Child Free Health Care


Helped Feed a Child

Protected the Rainforest


Rescued an Animal


Funded Free Books For Kids

~Bee is all about peace, love, and recycle

15 October 2007

Blog Action Day Means Recycled Post

I'd like to point out that I'm recycling a post on the recycling environment. Does this count? Of course, it does.

I am a self proclaimed Recycle Queen. Just call me RQ. If there is a recycle award, and there should be, my name would top the list.

Mr Coffee can attest to my status as OCD and Recycle Queen coming together in moments where I go dumpster diving to avoid having a 3x3 paper packaging go in the garbage.

I was raised in Oregon where they recycle everything. It is ingrained from birth when they give you your first tree at the hospital with a complimentary bottle of patchouli-scented baby powder in a 100% post-recycled, organic, unbleached hemp tote. It reads, "Recycle This, Dammit!"

Seriously? Oregon is a conscientious state, recycling paint, tires, bottles, cans, toilet paper, medical mary jane, you know the usual.

The word is already out that Soylent Green is people otherwise Oregon would recycle them, too. Tastes like chicken.

Every week I triumphantly place my FOUR overflowing containers at the curb with satisfaction that I'm doing my part. It's the most beautiful abundance of properly washed, squashed and sorted recyclables. I laugh victoriously as my neighbors put out their measly little box every week thinking they are going to out-recycle me.

Time to put out the oil jugs and Recycling approved box of batteries.

Of all things to recycle, plastic grocery bags are not included which I take back to the store or reuse as dirty diaper bags. I just don't think this is what Albertsons or my garbage company had in mind.


At least the boy earns double points for imagination. I never thought to place a FRESH logo over my banola and loop my arms in the handles.

You should have seen mine. I wore it frontwards and it looked more like a really lame bra and obscene message across my chest.

If you think I'm going overboard? Consider this:

A typical family consumes 182 gallons of pop, 29 gallons of juice, 104 gallons of milk, and 26 gallons of bottled water a year.

That's a lot of containers.

~Bee Repartee is recycle friendly

13 October 2007

My Purple Wings Have Spots and Rainbow Colors

I'm recovering, thanks to all who sent me well wishes. I recouped with some down time which was in order. Mr. Coffee is very sweet when I am sick, bringing me take-out, flowers, lattes, extra soft mentholy and lotiony tissue. Yes, mentholy is a word...and even drugs like Nyquil, nectar of the drippy-nosed and bronchial congested. That stuff is a saving grace......and sweet holy Alice the Maid, I took some yesterday morning and ended up attacking my house like the FlyLady on crack...sans the purple wings.

You, too can shine your sink and eliminate hot spots in under 4.3 seconds!!

All seriousness aside, it's a deep seated, inherent need to organize and clean. I'm a Sep baby and often meet people with the same birth month with the same tendencies and characteristics. I don't do the whole astrology bit because I believe that the Maker of the stars holds my future, but enough about Simon and the American Idol judges.

On occasion, I meet people and they ask me what my sign is. I don't care, really, but I do believe there is an element of scientific truth in the whole 'what's your sign' aside from being a very bad pickup line. I'm thinking if a pregnant mother is stressed, it can stress the baby, right? This is proven science. Babies get their vibes from mom, so wouldn't it be realistic to know that women feel differently at each turn of the season? Traditionally, people have to be organized around Christmas time and do spring cleaning in April and March. They are happy spring is sprung, and generally most people are happy to see the flowers and sunshine. My theory is that this is why Sep babies like me are organized, easily make friends, logical and type A people persons. This is simply a theory but I think it is logical, but naturally I would think that. It would be just like me.

****

In other news, I've trashed yet another template from blogger. You can see the carnage here at Flip Flop Momma's blog. I love to design** and love the way this turned out. (**read: hunt and peck through HTML and CSS code with delusions of graphic design grandeur. I taught myself, thankyouverymuch.)

Feeling The Season

I'm recovering, thanks to all who sent me well wishes.

I've recouped with some down time. Mr. Coffee is very sweet when I am sick, bringing me take-out, flowers, lattes, extra soft mentholy and lotiony tissue.

And sweet Alice the Maid, I took some Nyquil yesterday morning and ended up attacking my house like the FlyLady on crack.

All seriousness aside, it's a deep seated, inherent need to organize and clean. I'm a Sep baby and often meet people with the same birth month with the same tendencies and characteristics. I don't do the whole astrology bit but there is something odd with that sameness.

On occasion, I meet people and they ask me what my sign is. I don't care but there is an element of scientific truth in the whole 'what's your sign'.

I'm thinking if a pregnant mother is stressed, it can stress the baby, right? This is proven science people. Like gravity and colon cleansing.

Babies get their vibes from mom in the womb, so wouldn't it be realistic that the baby takes on Mom's attitudes of the season?

People have to be organized around Christmas time and do spring cleaning in April and March. They are happy spring is sprung, and generally most people are happy to see the flowers and sunshine. My theory is that this is why Sep babies like me are organized, logical and type-A, people persons.

This is simply a theory but I think it is logical, but naturally I would think that.

~Bee has a dirty kitchen right now. Don't tell anyone.

11 October 2007

Nyquil Shooters Aren't As Fun As Jello Shots




I'm sick....please talk amongst yourselves. Until I'm feeling better than death warmed over, I will be out.....

04 October 2007

Strange Women Lying In Ponds

The title has nothing to do with anything but I think that Monty Python skit rocks.

I have decided to be more positive. I mean it this time. I am only going to surround myself with those who ooze positivity, dot every 'I' with a heart, and can at any moment launch into a lengthy soliloquy on the meritorious glories of starting the day with bran cereal.

Perhaps it's the company I keep that is inspiring my insanity. Carpooling moms or the awesome mailman with a funky tattoo that don each of his calves. Maybe it's the fellow apartment dweller that I noticed picking her teeth in the rear view mirror with a dollar bill.  Okay, not her cause we all know that's clean.

I'm going to start surrounding myself with more people who do not care if I drink too much coffee. It has not yet stunted my growth since I'm just shy of 6ft tall.

People who don't think I'm shallow for watching only the last 10 minutes of The Bachelor to see who goes home crying this week. And we wonder why they are still single?

I will immerse in the presence of happy souls who eat probiotic foods, green leafy vegetables and an entire large bucket of extra buttered pop corn with a Box-of-Milk-Duds chaser at the movies. I will ingratiate myself with those who eat too many breakfast pastries (like Invisible Woman, who has been hiding wicked skills, and not just Invisibility. She can throw down the Strawberry Pop Tarts. I'm just saying... ) and lets not forget the daily phone calls from fellow bloggers who are demented enough to think I'm slightly funny.

Let's just face it. I am not.

In turn, I will actively avoid those who:
Eat too much chili, can name all of the members of the Partridge Family, enjoy patchouli (that's Arabic for "stink"), wearers of tube socks or lycra gym shorts. People who still use the term "my bad", can dance to BJ Thomas, put the 'poo' in carpooling, grow a chia head afro, regularly watch golf on TV, or pick their nose behind the invisibility of their car windows. Granny Fanny cutouts are out as are drinkers of Sunny Delight.

Which if you think about it, is neither Sunny or Delightful. How much carpet did those Marketing Dudes smoke?

Last but not least, I will write happy, random posts such as this so you are left to ponder if I have been indeed been drinking too much coffee....or just drinking too much Sunny Delight.

Woohoo, I'm already feeling positive.