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Funny Faces

Dubious Amounts of Ice Cream

and Evil Black Cats that Like to Watch TV

So, my husband and I have been spending the last three weeks staying up way too late at night watching old episodes of Lost on Netflix. Well, you know when Netflix wasn’t having technical difficulties with Lost episodes (I think it’s a conspiracy) and making us get a Hulu account just so we could watch what we already paid for. Except Hulu sucks because you have to watch commercials. I hate television commercials. We just started season 5.

Because we’ve been watching so many Lost episodes back to back that means we had to have something to snack on, which the obvious choice for us is sunflower seeds and Braum’s ice cream. My cousin would not be too proud. Needless to say I haven’t lost any weight for a month, but I haven’t gained any either. That’s okay, these Lost episodes have to end sometime, right?

Which brings me to my last point: the evil black cat. That’s right, we still haven’t figured out a name for her even though we’ve gone through at least ten different ones in her almost one year of life. She’ll probably get stuck with Black Cat the rest of her life. She really is a sweet thing–when she wants to be–although lately I’ve gotten tired of her biting my feet and knees to make me pet her. Plus we really like her (and the other two furry friends around here) chillin’ on our bed watching TV with us.

The end.

PS: My husband is going to die if he finds out I posted that image of him on here.

A couple days ago I went to my local Mrs Baird’s outlet store to buy discounted bread. Of course this means I walked out with ten loaves of bread, some hotdog and hamburger buns, as well as some goodies. It’s so much bread that I can’t even fit it in the unused portions of my upright freezer so I started stuffing it in our refrigerator in the kitchen. That very night my husband begged me to go the store and buy hotdogs so we could get some of my bread stash eaten up pronto.

I soon found out that the amount of money I saved on purchasing all that bread at once I got financially raped for in the high cost of cheese filled hotdogs.

When I got home I smelled something like burning wires as I walked in the front door. And then a really loud noise emanating from the garage. The kids came running to me saying, “Mommy! You can’t go in the garage–Dad is making a surprise for you!”

Loud sounds? Burning wires? Secrecy?

You bet I walked into the garage.

That’s when I found this:

And then THIS:

Apparently, nothing of mine is off limits to these people around here. My metal shelf (yes, that’s what it is) got turned into hotdog roasters. So our family could do this:

Am I mad at him? No way! I mean he’s got to have a pretty good explanation for not finding sticks in the backyard.

Thanks for the surprise Honey.

Yah, you know, that one creepy looking dude in the ad section that keeps taking a peep at you while you’re wasting time on Facebook. Otherwise known as the Beardo. Pronounced beer-dough.

Thought #1: If you totally want to look like Jeebus, then this beanie is the hottest thing since curried Mexican tacos. You might even get the genius idea while wearing this beanie to spend inordinate amounts of time on Google trying to find the perfect place to live weather wise, then decide San Diego is it but you can’t move there because all you can afford is a cardboard box if you were lucky because the only job in the meantime you can procure includes holding advertising signs on the corner of busy intersections and picking up wannabe ninjas and bringing them home. Thank goodness the bearded beanie has a removable beard.

Thought #2: If Osama were still kickin’ then he probably would have bought one. These things make for really good disguises. How else did he remain on the FBI’s Most Wanted list for so long without being captured? Costumes for Halloween 2012?

Thought #3: WTFudge?! Let’s face it, the Beardo is Weirdo (and oddly gotta-have-it-just-because so). Personally, I like how it makes plain guys look like the Brawny paper towels guy. And all women secretly have a crush on that dude. I can now imagine what my husband would look like in a beard since he can’t grow one. Banks will now have to add a “no bearded beanies inside” poster to their doors. I can finally go to a car repair shop and not get taken advantage of. Imagine Beardo fame the likes of Snuggie love everywhere.

They had me at crazed hobo:

You know, the one where I mentioned fancy watches, old folks, and dinosaur bones.

Didn’t get a chance to read about a really good spot to go fossil collecting by yourself or with your kids here in the Dallas Fort Worth metroplex on Screwed Up Texan last week? Well it just got reposted on SheIsDallas.com. Go check it out HERE and be sure to bookmark the site for other great stories!

(I am a contributor on She Is Dallas. Find the post on Screwed Up Texan here.)

Amy, my friend over at LivingLocurto.com, is posting my tutorial on reupholstering/recovering dining room chairs today on her blog! I’m so excited to share one of my projects with y’all and welcome all the new readers to this blog! Readers can subscribe to my posts here or Subscribe to Screwed Up Texan by Email, like Screwed Up Texan on Facebook (lots of funny stuff there), follow me on Twitter, or take a look at my pins on Pinterest (the “Too Funny!” pin is a little out of control).

There’s a little bit for everyone here on Screwed Up Texan. Mostly, I post hilarious stories about my family, my mother-out-law (aka the Mother Trucker…she drives a big rig), and life in general. I also post my own recipes (fair warning: LOTS of desserts) which are generally easy to make. You can read more about me here.

I am a contributor on a few blogs, and a couple are: SheIsDallas.com – a blog about and for women in the Dallas Fort Worth Texas metroplex – and Lewisville Texan – a local blog that covers local interest stories and politics (I post funny stuff much to the headache of the site’s owner).

My Top 3 Confessions:

• I have exactly 30 pounds to lose.
• I have a really ugly left ear (it’s pointed).
• I support chickens in the backyard.

Now go read my post on Living Locurto.

I mean real, authentic dinosaur fossils.

For several years now my husband, our kids, and I have been traveling to the North Sulphur River near Ladonia, Texas to collect fossils. I think it’s one of those childhood dreams of mine to be a paleontologist that never came to fruition that I am trying to fulfill. I mean, what kid doesn’t get interested in dinosaurs and fossils even if only for a moment when they’re little? My boys are no different and you bet neither am I.

Getting down into the North Sulphur River can be tricky at times. The main Highway 34 bridge is built up a little and has “steps” to get down to the river to make it easier for kids, but honest to goodness I swear the steps were made for giants. Serious engineering problem in my opinion. It is usually less muddy in this area and it dries out quicker after a rain so you’ll usually find someone collecting at this spot. It’s also one of the most collected and picked through areas because it is the main entrance to the fossil park, but I swear I always find something good that others didn’t notice. Like this mosasaur vertebrae:

And this collapsed shark or fish vertebrae:

(or at least I think that’s what it is)

In order to have a successful fossil collecting experience you have to be willing to get dirty in the North Sulphur River. By dirty I mean muddy. And probably wet too.

Now we’re used to the muddy, sometimes smelly, wet conditions at this site, but if you’re some city slicker that can’t stand to let your kid pick up things like dead crawdaddies, frogs, bugs, ice:

and other “nasty” things, then you should probably stay at home.

(Small blue thing further upstream…besides my kid…is a discarded helmet. You will find trash. Your kids will find trash.)

The one thing you’ll notice in almost all these images is that my boys are wearing rubber boots that are duct-taped to their pants. This is absolutely necessary after any recent rain. Unless you don’t mind your kids throwing away their muddy clothes after you’re done for the day. Because honey, one wrong step and this will happen:

(This is day one on the river; yes he is wearing two pairs of pants because it was chilly that day. Yes I’m not helping him because I already did that once that day and got stuck myself.)

Thank goodness Daddy was around to help him out:

But if you’re patient you’ll find lots of goodies–like shark teeth:

Fish teeth and mosasaur teeth:

Can you find the mosasaur tooth in the above image? If not, you probably shouldn’t go fossil collecting.

Where:

Fossil Park at North Sulphur River can be found 1 1/2 hours northeast of the Dallas Fort Worth metroplex off Highway 34 just north of the main town of Ladonia, Texas. Check weather conditions ahead of time and wear appropriate clothing. There are no main grocery stores, convenience stores or restaurants nearby so pack your own food in and out. It’s a long walk back to your car so put your food, water, and anything else you need in a backpack and take it with you. There are tons of other fossils that I didn’t post here so do some googling to see what other types and variety you can find. Fossil Forum is a great place to get started if you need help identifying something you found. This Flickr set by DanaAAllen also has some good finds and fossils you’re likely to find on a trip to the North Sulphur River.

This is a preview to tomorrow’s post mostly because I couldn’t wait to share. So, what do you get when you combine little boys and a very muddy river? That’s right, a big ole “please throw your socks and pants away because I ain’t putting that in my washing machine.”

That’s one way to get out of doing the laundry.

Letters from an Anonymous Friend are written by my long time friend who’d rather keep her real identity secret. She also probably wishes she would have kept that face mask she sent me from Spain that she got when some dummy in her masters class joked that she had swine flu and ended up making the whole class spend a day at a European hospital.

Under normal circumstances, I’m as healthy as an ox.  I’ve got ¼ hardy German blood flowing through my veins and I’m no sissy when it comes to grunt work.  When God made me, He gave me a strong immune system and tough body to handle physical labor.

That’s why I’d like to give a shout out to the student who passed on his germs and got me sick.  Oh yeah, I’m sure I know who it is.

How? you ask.

My very educated guess stems from the week when little “Bobby” (who’s actually not so little) came in every day with a phlegm-filled cough, making everyone in the classroom cringe from fear that eventually a slimy lung would flop out onto his desk and start convulsing phlegm from its obviously congested capillaries.

Wait- it gets better.

“Bobby, you’re sick!  Why aren’t you at home?!”

He looked up at me and- yes- he grinned boyishly.  “I’ve already missed so much school, my mom made me come back.”  (And infect other children, I added with silent consternation.)

“But you’re sick!” I reiterated, in case he missed it the first time.

“I’m actually much better.”  (But still sick.)

“What do you have?”

(You might want to sit down for this one.)

“Pneumonia.”

I wanted to push that kid away with a 40 foot pole and keep him there forever.

Now, I know that there are circumstances when a parent can’t be home to take care of a sick child, but pleeeeease!  Sending your kid to school exposes other children to the sickness!

And while teachers really wouldn’t mind smaller class sizes (even if it’s temporary), we are exposed to the germs as well.  Regardless of our built up immune systems, we’re not freakin’ Superman.  And it’s actually a pain and a worry to bring in a last-minute sub (a topic for another blog), so, unless I’m on my death bed, I’ll come to school sick and give the kids group work so I don’t have to be near them.

Well, thanks to little Bobby, last week was a very under the weather type week; but, thanks to my ¼ hardy German blood, I’ve been able to tough it out.  And, thanks to modern medicine, I feel like a walking pharmacy for all the maximum medicinal amounts I’ve taken.

I don’t know if I’ve learned anything from this other than to keep a face mask on hand during school hours.  Might not be a bad idea…

The smartest thing about Texas literature is that as a Texan I can always imagine myself in the story. I can see the landscape, hear the Texan drawl, and taste the local foods. I don’t read many fiction books, but when I do they are almost always certain to take place in Texas or be written by a Texan author. There’s something about this great state that makes me proud to be her citizen and proud to promote most of what comes out of this fine land. Jeremy Mark Lane’s collection of short stories, While I’m Still Myself, is a prime example of one of those literary works of art that beautifully tells the stories of what it’s like to be Texan.

For just a minute, imagine the following description of a small West Texas town as described in the opening paragraph of The Pebblestone Five:

“Somewhere along the Texas Panhadle sits a town like most others in that part of the country. A few buildings–mostly boarded up–sit scattered, seemingly by happenstance, among a decaying post office, a filthy, roach-filled corner store, and houses with missing shingles and grass reaching the bottom of the windows. The town’s name, though not worth mentioning, is of interest only due from its being derived from a stray dog that, as history tells it, would meander back and forth between the porch of the local watering hole (now nothing more than a rotten frame without roof or walls) and the town post office (not in vastly better condition, but inhabited by a toothless drunkard of a postman known by the name Booger).”

While I’m Still Myself beautifully transcribes these purely Texan descriptions. How many times as we’ve driven through Texas have we seen a town that might just be the town and the people Mr. Lane is writing about? There’s also those more serious matters and shameful parts of history that are found therein such as in the fictional short story, Souls in the Wind:

“Under the tree were two horses, both riders dismounted, and a third man, who looked to be on his knees. Briscoe set his whiskey on the window ledge…pulled his horse from the first pen and mounted with no saddle…A black man, no doubt the one of his knees before, was now standing with his hands tied behind his back. Briscoe approached and spotted the white of a noose around his neck. “Mornin’ Mr. Briscoe,” said one of the other men. He knew the voice right away. It was Hank Aldridge, the over zealous young sheriff of Wichita Falls.”

No doubt that as you read the short stories contained in While I’m Still Myself by Jeremy Mark Lane you are going to be left feeling captivated, mesmerized, happy, thoughtful, and angry throughout its pages. Mr. Lane has a way of evoking the deepest feelings from the reader, making them come face to face with their self. Mostly you’ll want to read more from this very gifted author. As one reviewer wrote, “Charming and rich with emotion that makes me ponder on pieces of our existence that are often overlooked,” or as Jeremy Mark Lane puts it in the words of his character Ceely, “Oh to fly away…This very minute. While I’m still myself and can be something to someone.”

While I’m Still Myself can be purchased at Amazon for the low price of just $10.99.

Jeremy Mark Lane on Goodreads

Jeremy Mark Lane website

Disclosure: I received a copy of this book for free in exchange for my review.

Letters from an Anonymous Friend has been on a short hiatus, well, because my secret friend has been busy welcoming her sister home from a Mormon mission, getting annoyed with online dating sites, and enjoying her Christmas vacation. In this post she tells you all about her Christmas vacation with family. I think the story makes more sense (and is even funnier in some ways) if I tell you her mom lives in California. I mean, this post just goes to prove you can find rednecks anywhere in the nation.

Christmas break was great.

My brother, sister-in-law, and niece flew in from half-way across the country, reuniting the family for the first time in 4 ½ years; my sister flew down from college and together we made the almost 5 hour drive to mom’s house.

My mom, needless to say, was ecstatic to have all her kids together again.  She’s kind of a sap, but she’s my mom and I love it when she’s happy.  She’s been a single parent for almost 20 years and has had to make a lot of sacrifices during all that time.  Working as a receptionist for a big-whig shrink during the day, doing medical transcription at night, somehow fitting in night school and homework and study, and, on top of that, raising 4 kids, I don’t know how she’s still alive!

(I’m pretty sure she sacrificed sanity, mostly.)

So, I try and take care of her…whatever that might entail.

Well, this Christmas break that entailed a variety of activities, the most basic of which was simple house cleaning.  Then there was unclogging a nasty toilet, which is pretty much performing CPR with a plunger.  (Try getting that image out of your head for the next couple of hours.  You’re welcome!)

Activities soon turned into projects of questionable legality.  No lie.

On Christmas Eve, while everyone was home snug in their beds or roasting chest nuts over an open fire, my brother, sister-in-law and I were sneaking the decrepit old garage-fridge behind an unnamed store to, uh, add it to the trash items that were already there.

Other escapades of questionable legality continued into the New Year.  While party-goers were counting down the clock, my mom decided to get in on the dumping action.  After cleaning out items that had been stored in the garage for several months (a story in and of itself), Mom made 2 piles: dump and donation.  We took the dump pile to-you guessed it!-another place with dumpsters that were not locked up for the night and chucked it all inside.  As for the donation pile, after finally finding a drop off place that wouldn’t slap us with a $1,000 fine for ‘littering’ (aka, leaving the donation items outside the drop off box during the night), we made 2 trips to provide others with the opportunity to enjoy the crap that we enjoyed first.

Yep, my mom’s amazing.  She’s 58 and can still shell out a full-throat horror-movie-worthy-scream.  How do I know this?  Well, on Christmas Eve (before the fridge dumping escapade) we all jumped a mile when mom screamed bloody murder!  As she reached in the linen closet to get bed sheets, she discovered a rat squirming around in there.

Well, that was that.  My brother rooted out the filthy vermin and chucked it out into the street, and suddenly the evening and next day were dedicated to washing every single bed sheet and pillow case in that closet.  (My brother, handy man that he is, found the hole and patched it up; cross your fingers it holds.)

And speaking of rats, apparently there has been a rodent problem in the neighborhood; my mom’s linen closet wasn’t the only victim.

So, on New Year’s Day, my brother, sister and I went to help a neighbor tear down a rusty tool shed used mostly for storage.  This neighbor strongly suspected that there were rats nesting among the dark confines of who-knew-what-was-in-there.  So, she provided the tools and invited us to have at it.

I’m not going to lie, it was a blast.  I expected numerous rats to stream out of there the second we started hacking away; in all reality there were only 2 or 3, but we found and destroyed a couple of nests.  It was a noisy endeavor and we had to wear gloves to avoid cutting ourselves with rusty metal, but how often do you have the opportunity to destroy something without fear of consequence?

In the end, we made 3 separate night time trips to 3 separate dumpsters to get rid of the remains, which were nasty.  And it was weird to drive around the back of buildings in search of dumpsters (yet again) that weren’t already full, locked up or under video surveillance.  Not to mention “I think there’s a dumpster here…” conversation starters.

How’s that for quality family time?

It was a good visit home, good being with the family and having my brother back for a time; and, though we rarely have “traditional” family activities, I love what we do have, quality memories that we’ll be able to laugh at for a long time.