Kelley's Break Room

I was caught in a lie!

2012-01-30T06:07:00.000-08:00

When I was about 7 years old, my grandmother's sister asked me to tell her about my house. I thought to myself that if she had to ask me these questions, she must have never been to my house. I saw before me a perfect opportunity to make something up! I remember telling her that it was a two-story house that was VERY large. The truth was, I can remember sitting in a certain spot in our front hallway and being very proud that I could see every room in the house with the exception of my parents' room. How I loved convincing someone that my house was gigantic. As I took a breath and probably started to describe the gardens or in-ground pool or something (ours was the very glamorous above-ground), she cut me off.

"Now, Kelley, are you telling me the truth?"

"Yes."

"Kelley?"

This is when I started to cry. What a bad liar. I guess I'm not surprised that I caught my oldest son at about 3-years-old stirring the cake mix and sticking frequent bites of it as he stirred. I didn't catch him in the act. I saw his face. It was like his mouth, from just under his nose to the bottom of his chin, had been dunked in chocolate cake batter.

"Have you been eating that cake mix?", I asked.

"No."

"You haven't had one bite?"

"No."

It really made me laugh. He was so young that I don't think he quite grasped what lying was all about. He had just turned 3. He is still not good at hiding evidence when he tries to be sneaky. He has gone into the bathroom with a box of Lucky Charms (to pick out all of the marshmallows, of course!) and left the box in there afterwards. He'll leave a chair wherever he moved it to reach something he wasn't supposed to touch. I'm obviously not going to teach him how to cover his tracks better!

Before you begin to think we are a bunch of depraved, hopeless liars over here, I assure you that is not the case. I hate hiding things from anyone. I typically tell too much. It is better to me to just blurt it out and receive any backlash right away then to wait for it later. One area that I'm not always the most honest is my location during a route. If I am running late somewhere, my family or my husband always like to ask the dreaded question "WHERE ARE YOU?" I hate that question. Here's how I answer it:

*If I have just left the house: "I'm on my way!"

*If I'm halfway there: "I'm almost to (name a street still SEVERAL minutes ahead)".

*If I'm almost there: "I'm right around the corner."

Notice I never say "I'm at the corner of Street A and Street B", because I will ALWAYS hear "You are just at Street A & Street B?! You were supposed to have left a long time ago!" I honestly think they'd be happiest if I just coughed up my longitude and latitude points already. Now that my husband has installed a new app on our phones, he will know my exact location at all times. Ahhhh!!! (Actually, it's fine. I have nothing to hide!). It is a GPS device in each of our phones. I won't be able to be vague anymore!!! Thank goodness no one else in my family has flip phones still.

My point? I can be creative in question answering. My questions for you are:

1) Do you have a fun story about being caught in a lie or "half-truth" when you were younger? I'm assuming if you've been caught recently, it probably wasn't fun, but I could be wrong!

2) Do you have any questions for me? Sometimes people ask me questions about the blog, the content that I write about, etc. I haven't kept up with them & thought I'd address them in a post later. I promise I will tell the truth (with embellishments where necessary for entertainment value only).

*If you have any funny posts of yours that you would like to share, come back on Wednesday for the "Finding the Funny" link-up! Over 70 entries were submitted last week.*

(If you came by this morning, you will see I replaced the other post with this one. If I gave you the background details as to why I did that, you would fall asleep.)

I found my time capsule yesterday

2012-01-27T08:55:00.000-08:00

It was like a time capsule, anyway. My parents are cleaning out their attic and have given my sister and me several boxes each containing old pictures, books, etc. Yesterday, I was going through a box that was my sister's, but then found several things in there that were mine. I thought I'd share a few of the things I found with you:

This cartoon was from 1991. In my early teens, I was sort of obsessed with Gary Larson. I had tear-off calendars with his cartoons on them and can remember standing in the greeting card aisle reading just about every one of his cards. I saved this one from the newspaper and it still makes me laugh out loud!

These cookie order from sheets are from 1983 when I was 8 years old. I was in Brownies. I sold THE HECK out of some Girl Scout cookies, friends. Each box was only $1.75. The names of the cookies were Samoas, Thin Mints, Do-Si-Dos, Van'chos (huh?), Tagalongs, Trefoils and Chocolate Chunks. I think the Girl Scout leaders at the very top where smoking a fat one when they came up with those names. Thanks, but I think I'll skip the Van'Chos until you can call it something else, Doris!! (I'm positive the top person in the Girl Scout chain of command back in the 80s was named Doris. It was Doris or Linda. Actually, it might've been Carol...)

Homies, when I found all of these books yesterday, I felt like I had won the lottery!!! For real! Why do you think I piled them on my 3-year-old's lap? I don't know either! It makes no sense! You do crazy things when you win the lottery! I was so super excited. All of my Babysitters Club, Sweet Valley High, Ramona Quimby and Beverly Cleary books were in there. I have two sons, so I doubt they'll want to read many of those books, but I'm keeping them anyway. Someone that I know will want to read them someday. At this very moment, I'm daydreaming of operating a small library from my house with these books. Please get the word out to all of the tweens you know.

I guess it is no surprise that I have a blog. I apparently have loved talking the ears off of people that I can't see for a very long time. This is the oldest diary I can find of mine. The first entry is dated July 7, 1984. I was 9 years old. Super exciting stuff in there, people.

I also found this poem that I wrote when I was 19. It was definitely written by a more serious Kelley than the one you have come to know here in the Break Room. I remember writing it at my grandmother's house while I was sitting on the floor of her home office. It won "Honorable Mention" in a little college publication. I probably haven't written another poem since. (You're welcome.)

the shaggy carpet occupies my fingers

i'm bored

or did that only occur at age five?

i look up into the window that I broke at age nine

right outside of, as if in 3-D,

is the green bush with busy bees

hovering over, wishing they could go through the glass

to sting me

next in my field of vision

is the dwindling tree

struck by lightning at age three

mr. johnson next door is working on the roof next to

the tall pine i climbed at age nine

i was a tomboy then

but through the tangled mess of my memories of outside

lies the eagle-shaped cloud

that had never been there until now

at age nineteen.

Wake up, already! I saw you nod off.

So, anyway, do any of these things look familiar to you? Did you keep a diary when you were younger? Would you eat a Van'chos? Are you looking at me differently now that you know that I used to write poems? Do you wish I would forget how to type? Tell me! Tell me!

***Oh, and before you go, did you link up one of your funny posts via the "Finding the Funny" link-up party we had here and on My Life and Kids' blog on Wednesday? There were over 70 entries. I have been laughing and laughing at the posts. The link-up ends today, but we will do it again next Wednesday. Go HERE for the details.***

Finding the funny. Have you seen it?

2012-01-25T00:00:00.000-08:00

My oldest son is addicted to his bike. He's coming down with LanceArmstrongoliosis, I think. If my 7-year-old doesn't get to ride his bike for at least a little bit after school each day, he feels like the day wasn't complete. Most days, it works out that he can ride his bike. Some days, though, we have errands to run and things to do and we don't get home until it is already dark. Even if owls are shooting past our ears and bats are whizzing past our noses hungry for a metric ton of mosquitoes and all human life has retreated indoors, my sons will ask with a straight face if they can go ride their bikes and then play in the dirt in the backyard.

Besides becoming the next Gary Larson (kidding!) and sharing my dumb cartoon today, I also wanted to share with you that today is "finding the funny", a link-up I'm co-hosting with Anna from My Life and Kids on Wednesdays. If you link-up here, it shows up on her site and vice versa. The main point of this link-up is to share funny or humorous or amusing posts that have either been written recently or written as far back as when you were a toddler, or possibly even a newborn. They can be about any topic! This is a really great time for me, and for you, to read blogs that we have never seen or may not read on a regular basis for whatever reason. I mean, we're all not machines, people. Amirite? We just can't read all that we want to read every single day, which means some really great stuff gets written all the time that we never see and that you never see!! Ahhhh!!! The thought of it! It hurts my heart. So, please, take a second to post a link to your site below and check out the blog just before or after yours, at least. Spread the love! (By the way, I'm going to read every last one of those suckers.)

*If you talk about it on Twitter, please use the hashtag #findingthefunny. Thank you!*

10 things you don't want to hear when getting your picture taken

2012-01-23T02:54:00.000-08:00

I blame Groupon. Or Living Social. It's one of those companies that had a deal for a photography session with one of those mall photo places. We hadn't been to a mall photo place in a while because I would prefer that a friend of mine take our pictures. (Her name is Kelly, too.) I love her pictures, but since this deal came along last year we thought we should snatch it up just this once. Last year, the deal was great. They told us if we came back once more within six months, we could get a free this and a free that and basically our payment could be made in pennies. We like free. It wasn't free. We will never, ever go back there again. Ever. Don't even get me started on how sick I am over the amount we paid for those dingdang pictures. Seriously, it makes me sick. Just Don't EVEN get me started. (For future reference, when I say, "Don't get me started, don't EVEN get me started", I'm always picturing Molly Shannon as Jeannie Darcy here. Just FYI.)

I was looking for a funny family photo, but came
upon this one and just could not resist. Source.

The only thing that can make me smile when I think about those stupid pictures are... 1) the stupid pictures (there were some cute ones) and 2) the list my husband and I came up with on the way to get our pictures taken. The list titled...

10 THINGS YOU DON'T WANT TO HEAR WHEN GETTING YOUR PICTURE TAKEN

#1 Before your whole family has even set all of their feet inside the mall studio, you hear the photographer say, "What's your credit card number? I'm going to need that 3-digit security code on the back, too. We accept tips. Glad you could make it!"

#2 You're greeted with, "Are you looking for the Food Court? You look like one of those people who are always looking for the Food Court. Let me help you out. Funny thing is, you just missed it! It's three-and-a-half miles back to your right, but you could use the exercise, right? HAHAHA!!!" (Malls are so dang huge.)

#3 "She's just here to watch, right?" because the photographer thinks you look like you just finished working in the yard and definitely don't look photographable (made that word up, I think) when actually you are a sweating mess because you had to get your whole entire family dressed in coordinating outfits, brush their hair, make them walk fast through the mall, tell your kids to quit playing on the escalator, reply to your sons repeated, "I HATE pictures!" with "We don't say 'hate'! You better smile when he says to smile!", keep walking fast so you're not late and then arrive at the appointment that you tried to cancel 23 hours in advance because you had second thoughts and the blood-thirsty photographers said that 23 hours wasn't 24 hours notice and, if you canceled, they would bill your credit card $25.

#4 "Welcome! Go ahead and have a look at our wardrobe station in the back and come out when you're ready", even though you dressed your whole family in outfits you thought were cute. Since you're pretty sure mall photo places don't have "wardrobe stations", you are convinced that what they are really saying is to run out of the second-floor mall photo place as fast as humanly possible, even if that means you accidentally run off the second story and fall on top of the gigantic tree in the middle of the kids' play area and are stuck up there until the fire department comes with a large ladder and has to carry you down.

#5 "Take as much time as you need to fix your hair and then we'll get started" when you just spent tons of time on getting your hairdo perfected just before you arrived. You even busted out the hot rollers and used some hairspray. You remember winking at your reflection and thinking you looked like hot stuff and are absolutely crushed the photographer thinks you look like you just went through a level 5 hurricane.

#6 "Okay, everybody smile!! Smile! Smi... Ew. You on the far right, don't smile. Everybody else, smile!"

#7 "Alright, you on the left, take two steps to your right. Okay, two more steps. Try one BIG step. Bigger. Okay, perfect." You look down and find yourself totally off the photo backdrop and realize the photographer just ousted you from the picture. You stand there and start bawling over the injustice of it all, accidentally pee in your pants, which then drips onto the backdrop and makes bouncers appear out of nowhere and escort you to the largest mall dumpster they can find.

#8 "Okay, for this picture, I'm going to need Mom to stand BEHIND the backdrop. Actually, Mom, stay behind the backdrop the whole time." (Because photographers are always referring to the parents as "Mom" and "Dad".)

#9 "Do you mind if we submit these to the 'Awkward Family Photos' website?"

#10 "All done! Now, go get yourselves a snack and be back in about 25 minutes so you can view the pictures and then we can take all of your money out of your bank account right in front of your eyes. YOU'RE SO STUPID!! HAHAHAHAHA. See you soon! Enjoy that fattening pretzel. HAHAHAHA!!!!"

Don't even get me started about the picture viewing time when the pictures are ready. The VERY LENGTHY picture viewing time where you are batting off the blood-thirsty photographer AND telling your kids to quit wrestling in the studio for the 18th time in a row. Don't even get me started.

_____________________________________

One more thing... THIS Wednesday, I am partnering with a new blog friend of mine named Anna from My Life and Kids for a link-up. Anna writes a funny blog with a parenting slant. Love it! I know, I know...I don't DO link-ups. I rarely participate in memes, "blog hops" and all of that jazz. For me, this is different. Our link-up this Wednesday, and possibly for several Wednesdays afterwards, as you can see from the banner above, will be called "FINDING THE FUNNY". Basically, you just link-up any post that you have written that is humorous and that you would like others to read. I am planning on reading every single one of them. I'm excited! This is a link-up for everyone, so men, children, the elderly and the kangaroos, I'm looking at you.

Fortune Socks: Are you a tucker or a tyer?

2012-01-20T06:02:00.000-08:00

Honestly, fortune socks have nothing to do with whether or not you are a tucker or a tyer, except that they just won't work if you are a tyer.

Are you a tyer?

When my husband and I first got married, HE WANTED ME TO BE A TYER. Does life get any worse than that? I thought I knew this man! Who was this stranger suggesting that I change the way I fold the socks? I couldn't imagine being a tyer. I had always been a tucker! My mother was a tucker! Her mother was a tucker and I'm sure her mother was a tucker! Generations of tuckers and he's wanted me to be a TYER?

The tucker makes brown socks look like a giant, warm, cotton cocoon (or, if you look at it another way, poop). The socks are cozy with each other until the time comes that they must be separated and stuck on big, stinky human feet. Also, tucked socks offer lots of fun that tied socks cannot. My sister and I used to get two large piles of tucked socks and act like we were having a snowball fight. (That's what we have to do in Texas. I swear, I haven't had to REALLY wear a coat yet this winter. I saw kids wearing shorts to school today. It's annoying. It's supposed to be cold in January!)

THE TUCKER

The tyer just knots the poor things together. "Take that, socks!" is what every tyer probably says while doing laundry. Tying socks together is a bit too violent for me.

THE TYER

Actually, there are two reasons I'm not a tyer. The first reason is that it takes more effort, it seems. The second reason is that it does not allow for the making of fortune socks.

(You think I'm weird, don't you?)

Fortune socks is something I just made up, but maybe will actually do for real in the future for my kids. Maybe. This morning I tried it out on my husband. He gave me lots of sideways glances when I put four fortune socks before him.

"Fortune socks??? What are you talking about? There is nothing in these socks. You know there is nothing in these socks. You just want me to open them to look stupid."

"No, there is, there is! Open them."

This is what he saw once he finally believed me:

See the little fortune inside?

Once he took the slip of paper out, he started laughing and just stared at me for a while before he even read what I wrote. Sometimes I don't think he can believe that he ended up with me forever. Pray for him.

Here were his fortunes:

Gino is a co-worker that will often come and sit (and sit and sit) in the two chairs my husband has in front of his desk in his office. Though he liked the Gino fortune, I am convinced his favorite was the last one. That's what I tell myself anyway.

So, now the important question...how do you pair up your socks when doing laundry? This is important stuff! This will forever change our relationship!! I will either look at you with fondness or wonder how I can ever change your mind.

7 Reasons I'd Be A Horrible Contestant On "The Bachelor"

2012-01-18T07:19:00.000-08:00

I'm pretty sure "The Bachelor" has been on since Sonny and Cher met, which is right about the time the show "Survivor" became so popular and Betty White was born. Also, Larry King. Out of The Bachelor's 1,542 seasons, we've probably watched 5 of them. We happen to be watching this one right now. Human behavior is a very fascinating thing. (If I say it that way, it makes me feel like there is intellectual value in watching of the show.)

Bachelor Ben holding his dumb rose. - Source

Last night, my husband and I thought about what it would be like if I were on the show. Now, I wouldn't make the cut. For one thing, I heart one piece bathing suits and tankinis, which are probably forbidden swim wear on the set. If, somehow, I were to snake past the producers and appear in the final group, and assuming I'm single, these are some things you would see happen with:

#1 The girls - At the beginning, I'd scope out the room for the girls that looked like they had the best sense of humor and then make jokes, do impressions and giggle the whole time with them. They'd eventually say, "Dude, we're here to find a husband", I'd tell them to go on with their bad selves and then I'd go do laps in the pool like I was training for the Olympics, complete with a swim cap and everything, until someone said it was time to eat. (I've never worn a swim cap.)

#2 The "Final Rose" - At the rose ceremony, when Chris whats-his-butt comes out just to say there is one final rose left, I'd yell out "CUT THE CRAP, CHRIS! WE CAN ALL SEE THERE IS ONLY ONE STINKIN' ROSE LEFT! GEEZ LOUISE!!" right in the middle of his sentence.

#3 My hearing loss - It is well-documented on this blog that I have a hearing loss. My husband said when Chris says "Ladies, the final rose", I'd hear, "Ladies, get in two rows" and try to arrange all the ladies into two lines right smack dab in the middle of that stupid, stupid, heart-wrenching ceremony. Also, if he ever said my name, I wouldn't know it. I'd stand there with tears streaming down my face in fear he didn't choose me while he repeatedly says, "Kelley. Kelley. Kelley." Then, I'd faint.

#4 The faces I like to make- For some reason, and especially when I've had a little wine, I have the urge to show people how I can contort my face in the ugliest possible way. The bachelor would not find this attractive. When I was dating my husband, I'd smile at him, turn to my family and then make this awful face. They'd start laughing (or crying- it was hard to tell) and he'd want to know what I was doing. Eventually, he realized I was making a stupid face and then actually begged me to never, ever show him. (I did.)

#5 My Crockpot lasagna- Yesterday, I made low-fat lasagna in a Crockpot and all my husband could say afterwards was "Are you going to make Frosted Flakes in the microwave tomorrow? Ice cream on the grill? Pizza in the toaster?" If I was on The Bachelor and got a chance to make a meal for him, I'd make this one just to see what he'd say. If he made any snide comments about using the crockpot, I'd contort my face and then he'd call the police.

#6 My hair color - I'm super allergic to hair dye, but continue to try different types in the hopes that I find one that works. (None of them do.) There is no way I could go on The Bachelor sporting gray hair, of course. All hair dye makes my head SUPER ITCHY. It's like I have a really bad case of poison ivy. So, just before the show started, I would have dyed my hair. Then, every time the bachelor would try to approach me, he'd see me itching my head like a dog with major fleas and run in the other direction. I'd run after him yelling, "IT'S JUST HAIR DYE! I DON'T HAVE FLEAS!!!" while continuing to itch my head, which would make him run faster, which would then make me run faster and then he would probably spray me with Mace.

#7 Foreign country visit -They're always jetting off to another country on that stupid show. The one time my husband sprung a surprise foreign country visit on me ON THE WAY TO THE AIRPORT, I became extremely nervous. It was irrational. I spent the whole time on the plane with a horrible stomachache and threw up in the airport just after we landed. I'd be the girl getting crazy sick out of nowhere and then be driven off in an ambulance as soon as they landed in Kazakhstan or whatever obscure place the producers of the show chose.

Another reason I wouldn't make it is because, as you can
see from this photo above, my head is very, very large.

So, as you can see, it is HIGHLY unlikely I would make it as one of the last two girls standing there hoping he gives me a ring. If I were to make it that far, I'd probably trip in my super high heels on the way (it's SO hard to walk in heels when you've got a head that large) to the rose-infested stage where the bachelor stands smiling as he's surrounded by the ocean, then fall into the water and have to be saved with a flotation device, which I'd keep falling off of because I'd be crying so hard. THAT'S how it would go if I was on The Bachelor.

"I Can't Believe It's Not Butter" and me

2012-01-15T18:46:00.000-08:00

I have often wondered if the "I Can't Believe It's Not Butter" (ICBINB) marketing logo would work for other products, like milk, eggs or meat. My mind must've been reeling over these possibilities at about the same time as the top executives over at the ICBINB headquarters were thinking about it, because JUST YESTERDAY I received a call from them asking ME to reveal the next phase in their business plan to the entire world. The entire stinkin' world!

I am so excited.

The really cool thing for you is that you will know what is REALLY in the products before they even hit the shelves in a few months. It will be up to you if you want to let anyone else know. See? There are some amazing advantages to reading this blog!

The "I Can't Believe It's Not Butter" group will put a few new products on the shelves starting April 1st that will include:

That's because it's not! It's water, chalk dust and milk flavoring!

Technically, these ARE eggs, but not from the chicken. These are really little platypus eggs, but...who cares? No one will know except us!

Everyone knows that everything "tastes like chicken". So, the ICBINB decided to give the chickens a break and go with straight-up aardvark!

Weeds!

These are all soooooo tempting, right??

So, yeah, I'm so happy to be partnering with the ICINB people. I'm very glad they are expanding their product line, as the thought over them just sticking with "not butter" gave me extreme anxiety each time I went to the grocery store in the past. It won't be long and I will be handing out samples at every Costco in the country of the delicious products above. I'll be right next to the lady handing out samples of Juicy Juice and taquitos. She's my sidekick and her name is Merle.

(Mention that you saw this post and Merle and I will give you a sample of wine from our stash and tons of coupons for dinosaur-shaped chicken nuggets.)

If I Met Me on the Street

2012-01-13T00:00:00.000-08:00

Do you see that "Outsourced" tab at top of this blog? It lists the people that have guest posted here. The list isn't long and hasn't been added to in a while. I was so very honored to have the writing talents of The Blog o' Cheese (who now is all about the Twitter), Gonna Kill Him, The Flying Chalupa, The Desperate Housemommy, A Beer for the Shower, Wendi Aarons, The LG Report and This is Not That Blog here in The Break Room, but, for whatever reason, I just haven't been doing the guest posting thing much anymore. Recently, I have been asked if there were guest posting opportunities in the Break Room. A chance to be the janitor here for a day, so to speak. That got me thinking that maybe it was time to give this space over to one of you guys periodically. At the moment, I'm thinking of the second Friday of the month. So, if you would like to guest post here in the Break Room, please either use the "Contact Me" form in the navigation bar or e-mail me at kelleysbreakroom@gmail.com. I'll even let you use my really good mop and broom! (Also? Unlimited access to the vending machine.)

Speaking of guest posters...there is one here today! If you have not had the chance to meet April Nolen from That Nolen Chick, you have been missing out. She is one funny lady and is an awesome Twitter friend. I love that she gets my stupid jokes! You can find her entertaining blog here, her Facebook page here and follow her on Twitter here.

I bet April is concerned that I only have one orange
chair up in the corner of this blog. Sit in it, April. It's yours!

And here? You can find the post she wrote for the Break Room. Love it.

If I Met Me On The Street

What I would say to 13-year-old April:

You don’t know me, but I’m from (insert mystical hand gestureswith wiggling fingers here) your future.I popped in to give you some advice before I head back into the mists of time. Quitlooking at me like that. I’m not fat, I’ve had 4 kids.

I have two words for you – Breakfast Club. Watch it. Memorize it. Think about it. Not just about how cute Emilio is or how Anthony Michael Hall might be fun to hang out with or how dark and brooding Judd Nelson may or may not be, but think about what they’re saying: 1 - everybody is nerdy inside, not just you, and 2 - nobody likes Cap’n Crunch on their sandwiches, even that weird Goth chick, who just happens to be a beauty queen by the end of the movie. What do you mean, “What’s Goth?” Goth is…just stick around. And buy stock in Maybelline now. Eyeliner sales will skyrocket in a few years.
Oh, and when you get the idea to start using paper clips as earrings? Don’t. Just don’t.

So are we clear? Don’t roll your eyes at me.

What I would say to 16-year-old April:

Hiya girl. Yup, it’s me again. Seriously? You’re still stuck on the fact that I’m a curvy girl? Get over it. At least I run, which is more than I can say for you, Miss Lazybones-on-the-couchwatching reruns of M*A*S*H.

Forget that. I have more advice for you. First of all, rock that crazy head of hair of yours for all it’s worth. Big curly hair is super-popular right now, but it won’t be in a few short years. Jennifer Aniston will see to that with the “Rachel.” Don’t worry that you don’t know who she is –nobody does. In a few years, she’ll get her schnozz trimmed a bit and be a favorite of the paparazzi.

Kelley here. I just had to insert this picture from
this source. Now, go back to reading April.

Second, don’t fret that all the boys you have crushes on aren’t reciprocating. Just focus on getting to know people for who they really are underneath all their layers of personalized teen angst. Because every one of your peers has angst out the wazoo right now. In fact, you’ll learn one day on Facebook that the captain of the girls’ basketball team actually hates basketball and doesn’t want to play, but she’s scared of what everyone will think. What do you mean, “What’s Facebook?” It’s this website on the internet…wait. Never mind. Just remember what life was like in kindergarten – making friends and having fun. Yeah – go back to that.

And buy some stock in Motorola.

19-year-old April:
Hey girl. Good for you that you’ve taken an interest inf itness. Keep that up, for sure. Also, change your major. Now. Change it to Recreation. You hate Agricultural Economics. You aren’t passionate about History, and you really REALLY don’t want to be a teacher. Trust me on this. I know you’ll probably have to get a student loan or two since you’ll lose your 4-H scholarship, but just do it. You’ll be happier while you’re here. You might even have a chance at making a 4.0…scratch that. You might have a chance at breaking 3.5.

Also, be careful what you eat in the cafeteria. Stop eating pasta all the time. It’ll catch up with you sooner than you think.

Hey, check out investing in Apple. Do that ASAP.

21-year-old me:

Quick word about apartment life with roommates: just buy some rubber gloves and wash the dishes. Don’t wait for anyone else to do it.They just sit around and get gross (the dishes, not the roommates), and everyone gets mad at everyone else for not cleaning up. If the act of washing the dishes doesn’t elicit immediate gratitude from the roomies, don’t worry.When they’re married with kids, they’ll remember your selfless act and bless your name.

When you get married (it’s coming up soon, trust me), don’t pick bridesmaid dresses with puffed sleeves. Tell the girls you want them to choose their own style of tea-length dress in navy blue and be happy with what they choose. Because you will regret those dresses. At least if they pick ugly dresses, it’s not your fault. The flowers, on the other hand, will be spectacular. Trust the florist. Also, don’t go with the first photographer you come across. He’s a tool. What’s a tool? Remember the principal from Breakfast Club? Yeah. He’s a tool.

And start saving now so that you’re ready to buy stock in Google in a couple of years.

If you can't stand the heat...

2012-01-11T06:01:00.000-08:00

I'm kind of excited, y'all. A relatively new Twitter friend of mine, @medinalite or Robert "Bob" Medina, is a retired firefighter from New Orleans and is giving one of you something you will definitely love (if you love food). I saw his cookbook on Twitter and approached him about giving me one and you one. Bold, right? He agreed and I feel like doing split leaps. ~ ~ ~ ~ ~

One for me and one for you.

The Background

Bob was a firefighter for 24 years but was forced to retire after he "sustained an injury that couldn't be repaired". He was 48 years old at the time. Since he was the firehouse cook, he decided to put all of his hit recipes together in a cookbook titled "If you can't stand the heat: A New Orleans firefighter's cookbook". (This cookbook is AWESOME.) Besides his background as the firehouse cook, he has a long history of eating really good food both with his family and, of course, in New Orleans.

Hi, Bob! Be careful with that knife!

The reason I am excited is three-fold: 1) New Orleans, 2) It's an awesome cookbook, as I've already hinted, and 3) I might get a movie deal.

New Orleans

St. Louis Cathedral, 1720

I love New Orleans.

There haven't been too many places I've traveled outside of the United States, but one of those places was Paris back in 1999. The closest thing to Paris in the United States, to me anyway, is New Orleans. For our 11th anniversary, we went to New Orleans. Once in the French Quarter, I felt like I was stepping back in time in many parts, especially since all the buildings are still only two to three stories high. Besides having fun exploring the sights of the city and listening to jazz, we ate good, good, good, goooood food.

I feel like I can eat that good, good, good food again, only without having to travel all the way to New Orleans. And the reason? Mr. Medina's cookbook.

The Cookbook

This cookbook reminds me of another cookbook that I have that, until now, was my favorite. That one was "Southern Basics: Traditional Southern Food for Today" by Martha Phelps Stamps. I bought that one at a plantation near Nashville. The reason I love both of these cookbooks is because they're conversational. The books are easy to read and the cooks toss in lots of details that help you make the dish like they would. There are personal stories in there, too.

When I received Mr. Medina's cookbook, I devoured the pages just about. I want to cook just about every one of the recipes in there. He has the traditional New Orleans fare, like shrimp creole and crawfish etouffee, but also has recipes for shrimp and crab martini, pot stickers, cheese grits (with shrimp? mmmmm...), mandarin chicken, fish tacos and a famous New Orleans firefighter recipe known as "Urky Lurky".

At the back of the book, I love, love, love that he has a glossary that explains lots of cooking terms like "au gratin", "Cajun cooking" and "bracciole" in a way that makes you feel like he is sitting across from you to explain it in his terms. And doesn't make you feel dumb.

(This is the type of cookbook that I might read from cover to cover first, like a novel or something. Love it.)

I have had the book less than one week and have already made:

Flashover Seasoning
(his own personal seasoning)

Take a hike, Tony Chachere!

Balsamic Vinaigrette

Get lost, Wishbone!

Smothered Okra & Tomatoes with Shrimp

Who's Paula Deen??

and I plan on making Chili Squash tonight and tons of other stuff in the weeks ahead.

The Movie Deal

Maybe if I make all of the recipes in this book and document it on this blog, someone from Paramount Pictures will call me and ask to make a "Julie & Julia" sequel, only it will be named "Kelley & Bob" and the movie will take place in Southern Louisiana. I guess our movie title doesn't have quite the same ring to it, does it? Yeah, you're right. They won't call. Excuse me while I bawl my eyes out.

*Sniffle.* I'm better now. Anyway, you want this cookbook now, don't you? How could you not? Even if you aren't a cook, you will want it to give to someone else OR keep it for yourself. It may inspire you to get back in the kitchen! The book has been signed by Mr. Medina even!

To buy it for $29.99? Go HERE.

To get it for free? Just comment. Just leave a comment below and I will pick one person that will receive it for free using random.org. You can enter until Sunday, January 15th, at 10 p.m.

Let's help get this man his own cooking show!

Wigs are the answer!

2012-01-09T09:14:00.000-08:00

A little entertainment for you today and a little plugging. First, the entertainment...

I have a solution for all of your problems: WIGS.

They can give you an instant hair makeover, of course, but it can also solve other types of problems, too. If you are irritated with someone, picture a wig on them. Better yet, carry the wig around. Carry it around and be ready to stick it on his or her head when they aren't suspecting it and you will feel immediately better. If Thelma in Accounting is talking incessantly about her bunion, stick a wig on her head. I promise you, she'll stop talking about her bunion and you'll be smiling again! If someone in your family is upset, put the wig on and start talking to them as you normally would. Instant smiles!

When my oldest son was about 3, I was at my grandmother's house (we call her Nana) and found one of her wigs from the 1970s. She and her sister loved to rock the wigs back then. Sometimes her 89-year-old sister still does. I couldn't resist sticking that wig on my 3-year-old's head.

Here we are at Nana's house. My sister took the picture.
We were both laughing so hard, we were crying.

Now, watch me put this wig on some other people you might recognize and see if you will enjoy listening to them even more with Nana's wig on their heads.

He's droning on about something that would undoubtedly be more
exciting to listen to with Nana's wig on his head.

Ben Stein in Ferris Bueller's Day Off was a REALLY, REALLY, REALLY boring economics teacher. Here is the super exciting clip of him teaching:

Now, if one of those students had only had access to Nana's wig, they wouldn't have been as bored. See the before and after for yourself:

Am I right? So, yeah, wigs are the answer. You can find some on-line or go to your nearest costume store. Stick one in your back pocket or in your purse. Stick another one in your closet or on top of the refrigerator. If you want to live a more fulfilled and happier life, GET A WIG.

___________________________________________

Now, the plugging....

Nominations for the 12th Annual Weblog Awards, or the "2012 Bloggies", is going on right now and ends on Sunday, January 15th. The Bloggies offers a great opportunity to support other bloggers because it selects the best blogs in science, religion, politics, sports, health, travel, photography, food, pets, parenting, HUMOR (ahem!), fashion, entertainment and music, among still others, via nominations and then voting. There are also bloggies for best-designed blog, most well-written and best new blog. Because I know you'd like to finish reading this post before your teeth fall out, I will just share a few of the blogs I've nominated that you might like to consider, should you decide to do some nominating, too:

Best Travel Blog: GO BIG OR GO HOME
*Traci writes an entertaining blog about traveling. She has been everywhere and was even in the tourism industry in the past.

Best Well-Written Blog: GONNA KILL HIM
*Erin's blog is hilarious AND very, very well-written. She has a gift.

Best New Blog: MAMA WANTS THIS!
*Alison blogs about her children (she has a son and one on the way), her life in Malaysia (cool, right?) and other fun and useful things, like recipes.

Click here to get to the Bloggies nomination page.

Thanks, everyone! Now, go get a wig!

My Last Name Builds Character

2012-01-05T06:57:00.000-08:00

Whatever that means...

If you are a female and married, did you keep your last name or change?

Though I like my maiden name, I couldn't wait to change back in 1999 and I'm still happy I did. That's my man's name!

I changed to N-E-T-T-L-E-S.

Not related to him.

Before my last name started being printed with my first at other places on-line, I kept my last name all top secret on here. Why? I don't know. It's not like I'm expecting paparazzi. Why I look out on the front lawn for big cameras and run to my car shielded underneath a dark blanket every single day, I also don't know. I can be dramatic.

You'd think that someone could see that there are two T's right in the stinkin' middle of the word, but they miss them all the time. Once when I worked at a hospital, I received a phone call. The receptionist called over the overhead speaker for everyone to hear,

"Kelley Nelly, you have a phone call. Kelley Nelly, you have a phone call."

I didn't answer it. No one is thinking my name is Kelley Nelly. If I answered that phone in front of a waiting room full of people, they'd all think, "That poor soul has the name Kelley Nelly." So, I hid inside a cabinet full of gauze and band-aids until the moment passed. Or maybe I jumped inside a sharps container? It was so long ago that I can't remember exactly.

Yesterday, someone said "Ms. Needles". NEEDLES? Needles has TWO E's, son! I've got two T's! For goodness sakes!

On mail, we often get "Nertles" and "Netless", so that's nice. Those are my favorite.

You can imagine my relief when I saw my girl, Jennifer, from Sugar Land had my same last name. I have seen her in concert twice. That girl can SANG.

I. Love. Her.

One of these days, I'm going to meet her and we're going to have lots and lots of laughs over the experiences we've had with this last name that means one of the following:

(n) any plant of the genus Urtica, covered with stinging hairs.
(n) any of various allied or similar plants.
(v) to irritate, annoy, or provoke.
(v) to sting as a nettle does.

Those nettles look a little naughty.

Those definitions actually made me laugh out loud just now. Here are some more things I learned about nettles while writing this post (for anyone that gives a flyin' flip) from DryIt.com: they can be made into pudding, beer, and other types of food; they are high in protein and good for soups, stews and casseroles; they are great for medicine and help to stop bleeding and congestion; they can be made into tea to help relieve acne and eczema; added to chicken feed, they will increase egg production; for cows, better milk production; nettles help produce a healthier, glossier coat in animals.

What REALLY cracks me up??

In Britain, there is a National Be Nice To Nettles week in May. Ha! For real, I'm going to start a new tradition in our family where I learn to make some of those nettles dishes. I'll make banners to put in my house that say: "NATIONAL BE NICE TO NETTLES WEEK". We'll all have to be EXTRA nice to each other in our family. I'm LOVING these ideas! (Maybe I'll make some pins to wear while out and about). I just thought of them. Give me a minute to bask in my great ideas.

(A minute.)

Okay. Done. Now, what I need to know now is any stories you might have about YOUR last name. Do people always say it right? Does it mean something funny? Interesting? Historical? Does it somehow build character? Come on with the details! You know I want to hear!

"How To Ruin A Picture Day Shirt" by a 3-year-old boy

2012-01-03T07:43:00.000-08:00

***I'm getting all Mommy Blogger on you with this story. Don't get me wrong. That is a great type of blogger to be, it's just that I'm typically writing other types of posts. I originally wrote this one for another website, but decided to keep it here. I thought you might enjoy reading it.***

A few months ago, my mom wanted to get picture taken of me and my brother. She loves doing that! I don't get it. Anyway, one day when I was playing with my trains, she starts getting all stressed and the next thing I know, she's chasing my brother and me trying to brush our hair and saying things like "You need to brush your teeth!" and "Don't eat anything else!" and "We need to leave in 2 minutes to get your pictures taken!"

When she put on my fancy shirt with a collar and buttons that she searched and searched for in every store around (while chasing me out of clothing racks) so that it matched my brother's EXACTLY, it hit me that these were the pictures where a man sticks a huge black thing in my face while he yells out, "SMILE! LOOK OVER HERE! GIVE ME A BIG GRIN!" over and over. (Mom mostly says, "Don't scrunch up your face like that. Give a REAL smile!"). Oh, great.

Because I am such a big boy, just before leaving to see Mr. Picture Taker ("Get in the car! We have to leave in 30 seconds!"), I decided I should wash my hands at the kitchen sink where mommy had been cleaning some vegetables earlier. Mom has kid soap for me to use in my special bathroom, but I wanted to show her that I could use the BIG sink that she uses sometimes. At my house, there is a bar with stools in front of the kitchen sink. All I have to do is climb on the stool, reach over the bar and turn on the faucet. Since she was so busy convincing my brother to wear the fancy shirt that matched mine, I started to wash my hands all by myself!

I streeeeeeeeeetched across the counter and washed them REALLY fast. I didn't even move ANYTHING out of my way! By the look on Mommy's face, though, maybe I should have at least moved this:

(Mommy actually managed to wash most of the tomato juice off the front of my shirt. We didn't see the tomato splatter on the sides and the back until we were there at the photo shoot. She said something about being happy about Photoshop.)

My Unofficial Compton Vacation Guide for 2012

2011-12-30T07:59:00.000-08:00

As you think about places you'd like to take your happy family in 2012, have you considered packing everyone up, flying in the opposite direction of Disney World and visiting Compton, Calfornia? Surely, you've heard the songs singing it's praises from NWA and Tupac's "California Love"? People out there LOVE Compton and, so, I see no reason why it shouldn't become a popular vacation spot for us all. If you get on the official website for the city, it is clear that the citizens of Compton are trying to portray a different image than the one we all might imagine from songs like "Straight Outta Compton". Actually, their official website touts it as a place to "live, work and raise a family".

This nice family is absolutely LOVING the city of Compton!

So, here is a brief vacation guide for you to consider:

PLACES TO STAY:

Ramada Inn- A customer on Tripadvisor.com left this raving review copied word-for-word: 地理位置方便，床非常舒适。另外. How can you go wrong with that place, huh? Did you see what they said? Nothing but good things!

Crystal Park Inn and Casino- I have taken the liberty to feature just some of the headlines to the reviews from Tripadvisor.com to help you make your decision to come to Compton easier: "Good Bingo night out!", "Nasty", "Do not stay here.", "Dirty, dirty, dirty.", "Hate it.", "Crystal Park, worst hotel ever." Wow, they really like it there!

THINGS TO DO:

Celebrity Helicopter Day Tours: There were only two reviews for this attraction in Compton that uses a helicopter that flies you over The Olympic Stadium, Hollywood Bowl, Dodgers Stadium, Staples Centre and nods toward the homes of the stars. Here is one of the raving reviews of this hot spot: "Ich hatte über DER-Tour einen Flug am 21.4.11 gebucht. Statt der vereinbarten Abholung um 10 Uhr kamen Sie um 12:15 und dazwischen erfolgte eine Lüge nach der anderen (das Wetter, der Stau, usw). Wir waren dann genervt und mit dem..." Amazing review, right?? I'm pretty sure they loved it!

Historical Landmarks: Heritage House, Angeles Abbey Cemetery, Eagle Tree, Dr. Martin Luther King, Jr. Memorial, Woodlawn Cemetery

Celebrity Home Tour: Now, I don't know if there IS such a thing, but, I bet if you ask around, you can probably find someone that knows where these famous west coast rappers lived at one time. If there isn't anyone who is willing to help, do some research yourself and start a side business or something. These famous rappers are from Compton:

Dr. Dre

Eazy-E

Ice Cube...is not from Compton. He's from
South Central LA. Everyone knows that, silly!

PLACES TO EAT:

Pretty sure the most famous place to eat is Bludso's BBQ.

Also, Dale's Donuts.

So, cancel your trips to Disney World, Time Square, Yosemite National Park, the Grand Canyon and get your little behinds to Compton before their hotels book up.

Stay tuned for more of my unofficial vacation guides in 2012 to overlooked, under-traveled vacation spots in the United States. There's more to life than Orlando! If you have any towns to suggest, please let me hear them!

HAPPY NEW YEAR!!!

I need an inner ear upgrade. Stat.

2011-12-27T22:40:00.000-08:00

Back when there were only two people that read this blog (one being my friend "PJ" and the other being my imaginary friend), I wrote a post about something embarrassing that happened to me as a result of my dingdang hearing loss. Embarrassing stuff always happens as a result of that, but this one was really bad. If I had it more on the ball, I wouldn't be repeating this post and would be offering you something new like The Top 5 Vacation Spots For Families That Love Danger and Impromptu Gang Fights (stay tuned for that later!), but, you see, my house is literally tore up from the floor up. This girlfriend needs to get back to throwing away and wiping off lots of stuff all over the house. So, I leave you with this post. The words in orange print are totally TRUE, but I might have exaggerated a teeny-tiny bit on the actual narrative.

The background of this post is that I used to test children's developmental language skills via standardized measures. When I sat down with this sweet three-year old girl for testing, at some point I asked her what she was learning in preschool. This was our conversation. Kind of.

Me: So, what are you learning about in preschool right now?

The 3-year-old: PARENTS.

Parents, huh? Oh, my! Parents are great, aren't they? Parents DO understand. Don't listen to Will Smith! You don't know Will? Anyway, I am a parent myself and I HAVE parents and they have parents. Some people have 2 sets of parents...

Sweet little girl: I said PARIS.

Paris! Oh my goodness! I am SOOO sorry about that misunderstanding. I just LOVE Paris! The only place I have been to outside of North America was Paris. My husband took me there in April 1999. It was wonderful! We had a hideous lamp shaped like the Eiffel tower for a while. The Eiffel tower... Did you know that when I went up that tower for the first time I had a stomach virus? I was crouched in the corner of the elevator as it made it's ascent to the top...

Sweet little girl's mom: E...Ex...Excuse me, miss. She said PARROTS.

"Well, don't I feel dumb! Knock me over the head, why don't you? Someone is going a little cuckoo, huh? Cuckoo! Cuckoo! That's me! One big cuckoo-head! Wow! Okay, parrots. I think PARROTS are a more appropriate topic for children to learn about. I was really snoring when she said "parents" and then I thought "Paris" was so random. What about America? I'm PROUD to be an American where I least I know I'm free, right? Call me Mrs. Greenwood! And I won't forget the men who died and gave that right to me [I'm standing at this point with my hand over my heart and violently swaying back and forth with my eyes closed and my mouth gaping open as I belt out the words]. Wow, look at me go. I just love America, but I also love parrots. I always wanted one but we got parakeets instead. A family friend kicked one over once and gave it a heart attack. Poor little thing died. Hello! Hello! [mocking a parrot's voice while bobbing my head forward quickly like a big, talking, colorful bird]. Polly want a cracker? Polly want a cracker? Hello! Hello! [imagine me heartily laughing at my horrible im-bird-anation while Sweet Little Girl's Mom blankly stares at me]."

Sweet little girl's mom: PIRATES. She said pirates. Like "Ahoy, mates!"

Oh.

Isn't that just pathetic? PATHETIC! But, yeah, that chain of misunderstood words really happened. No one put hearing aids in my stocking this year, so I will probably have a few more stories for you like this one in 2012, unless I get that inner ear upgrade. I'm going to Sears tomorrow to see if they have anything along those lines on sale.

I Caught Santa

2011-12-23T04:25:00.000-08:00

My husband said yesterday, "We sure do go to great lengths to lie to our kids, right?" And I laughed. How awful is that? I don't want to be a mother that lies to her children! This Santa business, however, is big-time lying and I guess we will keep doing it until they finally push themselves away from the table and yell, "NO MORE SANTA FOR ME, MOM!" (Peggy Sue Got Married reference. Anybody?)

Pay attention to this mug. You will see it later.

Both of my sons still believe. They are 7- and 3-years-old now. My 7-year-old came home from school a couple of times this month and said that some of his friends said Santa wasn't real. He is in the first-grade, so many of his friends are still 6. His birthday is in October. When asked what he said in return, he replied that most of his friends told that kid that Santa IS real. He was quite disgusted with the fact that someone would have the nerve to say Santa wasn't real. It is possible that he may have some doubt, however.

My three-year-old? He's all about it, which you would expect, of course. He wants to sit on every Santa's lap he passes. Here's the deal: he wants a bike. He HAS a bike, though. His bike isn't even that old. One of the training wheels came off, though, and he needs a new training wheel. My 7-year-old needs a new bike, so when he asked Santa for one, my 3-year-old decided he needed a new one. I keep telling the 3-year-old that I was going to tell Santa he didn't need a new bike, because his bike was fine. The look he gives me is priceless. He asked Santa for that bike and how dare I interfere with the deal those two are making! When we are at the mall recently, he begged to go sit in Santa's lap AGAIN. I told him that we had already sat on Santa's lap three times. There wasn't a line, though, so I finally agreed. He marched up to Santa very confidently, sat on his lap, told him he wanted a blue bike very matter-of-factly, hopped off and looked at me as if to say, "That business is taken care of, Mom."

We'll see what Santa decides to do.

Because the two believe in Santa like they do, I have gone to two websites to kind of play along. The first one is Portable North Pole. This is the website where you enter some information in about your child and then Santa uses it in a personalized video. They were GLUED to the computer screen witnessing their fate with the "Naughty or Nice Machine". While my three-year-old was watching it, I made his drink in a Santa mug. He told me, "I want to show Santa!" I didn't know what he meant, but within seconds I see him march over to where the Santa video was playing and hold his cup to the screen. Sweet dude thought Santa would be able to see it. Don't worry. I didn't let him hold his cup up there for long.

There's the mug!

The other website is ICaughtSanta.com. This is a website that is very easy to use and allows you to print pictures of Santa in your home! Crazy, right? After taking a picture of my tree and our fireplace, I uploaded the pictures, used their software to superimpose Santa on the photos, downloaded it and then uploaded it to Walgreens where I will pick up the photos for a total of 38 cents later today. My plan is to leave the pictures near the milk and cookies Santa has eaten with a little note for them from him. The pictures are normally $10 each to create on ICaughtSanta.com, but they are offering you all the photos for 50% off by using the code SANTA50 when you check-out. You can find this fun website here and follow them on Facebook here.

An example of an icaughtsanta.com picture.

(That's not my house, homies.)

So, yeah, lots of lying...or, can we just say pretending? Lots of pretending. I like that better. I hope you and your family have a very Merry Christmas!

*Although this post was sponsored by icaughtsanta.com, the opinions are my own.*

How To Gift Wrap A Snake

2011-12-21T00:00:00.000-08:00

If you are like me, you are just about finished buying all the various snakes you plan on giving out as Christmas gifts this weekend. You have rounded out your assortment of garter snakes, copperheads, King Cobras and rattlesnakes and finally are sitting down to wrap them all. You know that your kids, grandmother, Great Aunt Ethel, cousin Bill and the newest addition to the family, 3-year-old Molly, would be sorely disappointed to open a package and finding anything less than a live and well snake. It crossed your mind once to tranquilize the sucker and give it to them all limp and lifeless, but then they would think it was dead on Christmas morning! Who wants a dead snake? NO ONE! So, that is why I have decided to come to your rescue with tips on how to gift wrap a snake.

Before we go any further, I truly cannot take all of the credit for these ideas. As I wrestled a python so I could slap a big red bow on his head just yesterday, I was getting quite frustrated and turned to my personal Facebook page for help. Many clever people had good ideas on how to gift wrap a snake to perfection. You'll see those smart contributors' name with each idea.

#1: Use the wrapping paper tube (Chris H.)

The issue here isn't the exposed head of a poisonous snake. The issue is that, DUH, they'll see what they're getting for Christmas before they open it up! Christmas is about surprises and there is no surprise here. (Also, during our gift wrapping trials, he kept slithering out of the dingdang tube.) My friend, Aimee, suggested stuffing the snake inside it and then wrapping the ends with ribbon so that it resembles a giant Tootsie Roll. A snake-stuffed Tootsie Roll! Can you think of anything more pleasant than that??

#2: Festive Rubbermaid container (Courtney)

This is a great idea, because you can just mix the tiny snake in with food that you have prepared for the Christmas feast or food that you want to share with a friend. At first, they won't even know a snake is in there! Hahaha!! They'll reach their hand inside and, BAM, they'll know instantly that something in there has teeth. The last time they checked, it sure wasn't the green beans! So, yeah, this offers an element of surprise and, as Courtney from Just Plain Jayne mentioned on Facebook, guaranteed freshness!

#3: Stuff it into a pillowcase (Gabriella)

Now obviously, you have the option to just stuff that King Cobra deep in the pillowcase and call it a day. If you would like the King Cobra to have a chance to check out the sights, by all means, let him. Just know that his head might give it away that the rest of his body is inside that sweet pillowcase and the element of surprise will be lost on your friend or family member. It really is your call. (That cute pillowcase can be found here.)

#4: Make it a glitter-y snake! (Eliza)

Eliza suggests not evey worrying about "gift wrapping" the snake, but covering it with glue and then sprinkling it with glitter. Really, this is an efficient way and festive way of presenting your gift. As before, they'll defnitely know what the gift is once they see his black slippery tongue, but they would find out soon enough anyways, right?? I love that the glitter is matched with the King Rattlesnake here. He is ready to party! Actually, I insist that if you give the rattlesnake, you go with this gift wrap option.

#5: Show him Rosie or Whoopi's picture (Adrian)

Adrian said that if you just show the snake a picture of Rosie or Whoopi, he'll immediately lose the will to fight and you can essentially wrap him in anything. If you are more of a cute wrapping paper person or you just love gift bags with lots of tissue paper, this may be the way to go this Christmas. This method can also be used to place the snake in a stocking, though it would have to be a rather large stocking to fit this python, amirite? Thanks, Adrian, for that tip!

Susan from Susan in the Boonies chimed in that one could keep the snake in place with thumbtacks, but what a mess that would be! Also, how painful for the docile and kind snake. No, no...tacks won't do. Meredith and Greg suggested killing the sweet creature, but, as I mentioned at the beginning, everyone looks forward to a nice, live snake at Christmastime! Where is the Christmas spirit here, Meredith and Greg??

Back to gift-wrapping...as you can plainly see, there really are so many different ways to gift wrap a snake. You need not be worried over how to present this perfect gift to your loved ones this year. Now, go get you some eggnog and relax!

The Jets and kids that grow out of the ground, that's what my favorite Christmas memories are made of...

2011-12-19T08:17:00.000-08:00

My parents were really good at surprising us at Christmas, for birthdays, etc. They loved to see my face and my sister's face light up when we discovered something. When I think of Christmas, I think of the times they totally shocked us. Like, back in 1984 when Christmas morning came and Santa hadn't left a Cabbage Patch Kid for me. This is all that I wanted. I don't think I cried, but I was pretty disappointed. My mom then asked me to go throw something away in the garage trash can. When I opened the door, that bald plastic head was sitting in her Cabbage Patch Kid box on the hood of my dad's Dodge Ram Charger. My dad was in the garage waiting to take a picture of me. I was SO excited to get that doll. I'd show you my face in this picture, but I look horrid.

Me in front of the Ram Charger circa 1984.

Flash forward to 1985 when all I wanted was the cassette tape by The Jets. I loved "You Got It All" and "Crush On You". As my family and I were riding in the car one night, "You Got It All" came on the radio. I told them, "THIS IS IT! THIS IS THE JETS! This is the tape I want!" I had to be sure to let them know. They said they would remember. Then the radio played another song by The Jets and then another and then another and then...I realized it wasn't the radio. They were playing the tape they bought for me. YEEEEEEEHAW!!!! If I could have managed to do a flip-flop inside that car, I would have, except I didn't know how to do a flip-flop and I was inside the car, remember? Anyway, my day was made. My day. Was. Made.

There was also that one Christmas when I asked for an electric keyboard/synthesizer and got an electric organ with a Pat Boone songbook instead. Miscommunication with Santa was all that was about. So glad Santa didn't see my face when I saw Pat's.

Perhaps the biggest surprise of all, however, was the Christmas morning I woke up extra early to see my parents and grandmother arranging gifts in the living room "from Santa". Dagnabbit. Dag. Nabbit. Now, granted, it was last year, but still! Santa wasn't real??? Seriously, I'd be the kid you would NOT want to have. I wanted to go to sleep on Christmas Eve practically right after lunch so that I could wake up and see what Santa had left. Once I fell asleep as early as my parents would let me, I would wake up around 3 a.m. to see if Santa had made it. My younger sister would always still be asleep (LAME!), so I'd have to wake her up before going into the living room. Three a.m.! My poor parents had barely gotten into bed from setting up Barbie mansions and whatnot and there I was- wide awake- ready to play with all of the Christmas toys.

I look a little deranged, don't I?

They never complained.

My parents love for us and the way they loved seeing joy on our faces is something I carry with me all the time. It makes me want to do things that catch my kids off-guard in a good way. I know I could do better,too. Like, I could stop forgetting to move that dang Elf on the Shelf. I keep having to come up with reasons he's still dangling on the wrought iron Christmas tree decoration thingy. If you have kids or around kids, I know you want to make happy memories for them, too. I'm hoping my kids forget the not-so-good moments where I lose it after seeing all the couch pillows all over the floor..again. Also, the one where I yell "STOPITSTOPITSTOPIT" and contort my face in an odd way when I see them tackling each other in the middle of Best Buy or in the grassy area outside of Chili's or by the Christmas tree or near the...

Do you have any Christmas surprises you want to share? I'd love to hear them!

When Was The Last Time You Hugged Your Garage Door?

2011-12-14T21:01:00.000-08:00

A very dear friend of mine (since the 4th grade!) went into her garage, opened the back door of her minivan, quickly grabbed the Christmas presents she had bought for her three kids and ran back inside to hide them. She went on with her life inside her house until it was time to leave for the grocery store. The kids piled into the car, she grabbed her purse and pushed the button to open the garage door.

And heard an awful noise.

She had never closed the back door of her minivan.

Ahhhhhhhh!!! Before she knew it, the garage door was becoming unhinged and the door of her minivan seemed like it was going to be ripped off.

So awful, right? Right at Christmas and everything?

Thankfully, the car stayed in one piece, but my friend, on the other hand, did not. She lost it. She cried. She buried her face in her hands. She cried some more. She wondered what she would tell her husband. Yuck.

Her situation reminded me of the time when my 7-year-old son was three. I was in our half-bathroom right beside the door leading to the garage. We were about to leave. He went into the garage and somehow managed to push the button to open it. Within SECONDS, I hear him crying and yelling my name. I run around the corner and see this (except this isn't my house or my car and, really, that isn't even my son. The kid in the picture is a cartoon, for goodness sakes. You think I give birth to cartoon characters? Awful, badly drawn cartoon characters at that??):

I imagine that he took the ride up on the garage door and dangled there for less than two minutes, but I'm sure it seemed like an eternity to him. At first, he probably felt like he was on a fun ride and then he, as the reality set in that this wasn't a ride like the mechanical pony in front of the grocery store that he begged and begged and begged his mother to ride every time it was passed, he likely felt like he was a pair of longjohns on a 1950s clothesline.

Although we didn't have to replace the garage door after that indicident, we had to have garage door repairmen out a time or two to get it back on track. Worse than that, I had to tell my husband that I wasn't there when my son dangled precariously over hard concrete while I touched up my lipstick in the bathroom. At least my son wasn't hurt physically, right? He didn't fall. I was there to grab him from the edge of the garage door, but still. Dude was scared.

(Totally gave my garage door a high-five and a hug after that happened, though. My Garage Door, now lovingly referred to as "Gary D.", was an excellent babysitter for those two minutes. Sometimes when we are in a tight spot and need a sitter, Gary D. has come through for us, such as that time we took a cruisejustkidding.)

So, I'm asking you, being the generous reader that you are, to share any stories that you have had where you've almost demolished your garage door by doing something really stupid. It would be awesome if your story is much worse than ours so we can print it out and show our husbands.

(Can't you at least make something up?!?)

The Truth About Legos

2011-12-13T00:00:00.000-08:00

Today, my friends, I have two things to share with you. The first is this graph about Legos at my house. I think it explains itself.

The second thing to share with you is the link to my NickMom post from yesterday. NickMom is the new humor website by Nickelodeon. You may have already seen my link to it on Facebook and Twitter yesterday. If this is the second time you are seeing this, I am sorry and am forever in your debt. If we are together and I see a puddle, I will drape my coat over it so you can cross the street with dry shoes in an attempt to apologize. The post is called "I Wish I Could Be Like: The Mother from A Christmas Story". It is basically the picture you see, but with several bullet points about why I wish I could be that mother. Your support means a lot! Having you over there, even if it is just via a quick click HERE, makes me want to give you a high five. No, a hug. Maybe a high five and a hug? No, better yet, a high five, hug and a fist bump. No, let's just go back to the high five. Fist bumps are just not me. Fist bumps and I don't mix. It's like fist bumps are oil and I'm water. You know? We don't mi... Ohhhhh, you got it already. Alright, alright, alright.

Image Source

Thank you!

Someone stole my blog from me

2011-12-08T22:11:00.000-08:00

Somewhere deep in the shadows of the internet crouched a person waiting, patiently waiting, for me to release the www.kelleysbreakroom.com domain name. Perhaps they walked away once or twice for a bathroom break in the span of a year, or maybe they just wore really, really absorbent adult diapers as they lurked in that corner. Maybe they had a cell phone and called pizza in a time or two until, finally...they were free to walk into the sunlight because the domain name was finally his. Or hers. They galloped out into the streets whoopin' and hollerin' things like...

"KELLEYSBREAKROOM.COM IS FINALLY MINE!!!
ALL MINE!!!! I will take the blog name she spent so much time thinking
about and take this Break Room radio while I'm at it, too. In a second,
I will go back and empty her entire vending machine of Coca-Cola products!
Maybe I'll even take her orange chair! HAHAHAHAHA!!!"

Meanwhile, I continued on with my life of taking clothes out of the dryer, telling my 3-year-old son not to cover every inch of the piano in Endust, watching "I Survived", tweeting, contemplating a SECOND Weight Watchers ice cream bar (they're the size of a newborn ant) and listening to my 7-year-old's awesome stories while completely unaware that my domain had been snatched from me. Just taken away deep in the night while I contemplated, yes, even a third Weight Watchers ice cream bar (which, as I just told you, is about the size of a newborn ant).

You see, it's my fault. It's all my fault. Typically, things are my fault, so there is no surprise here. A little over a year ago, I paid GoDaddy.com money to host this site. I don't get all the techno lingo, but, basically, you have to pay for domain names. I didn't want www.kelleysbreakroom.blogspot.com as my main website name, so I paid some money to GoDaddy.com and it was then called www.kelleysbreakroom.com. WELL, I was to renew it after the year went by. I had seen multiple e-mails that said there was an automatic renewal. I thought GoDaddy had my back, so I just let it go. GoDaddy DID have my back, as it turns out, and kept sending me e-mails to tell me that my credit card had been rejected.

I guess I missed those e-mails.

My credit card had been rejected because my expiration date had changed, not because I had received an entirely new number. So, just like that, my much adored www.kelleysbreakroom.com was swept away and now belongs to another. I wonder....will she laugh at all of that Kelley's jokes? Will she be BFF's with this new Kelley now?? And, who is this Kelley, anyway?? Is Kelley his or her last name? Will the new www.kelleysbreakroom.com be in reference to a physical break room, like a pool hall or something or will it also be a blog?

OR...did someone just take my domain name away from me in hopes that I'd pay a high cost to retrieve it back?? I doubt it. They probably realize I don't have the money to pay them for something like that since some of my favorite sweaters are from Target.

Still, I can't wait to find out what this new www.kelleysbreakroom.com is all about, if anything. If I don't like it's new home, if it in fact becomes a home and not a place where a greedy person is squatting, I may be tempted to drive over there and karate chop someone right in the kneecap.

If this is the lady that stole away with my domain name, well, I can't really
see myself kicking her in the kneecap. I may just take her towel.

SO, please note that I changed the web address of THIS blog to www.kelleysbreakrm.com, which corresponds to my Twitter handle @kelleysbreakrm. So, now the blog can be accessed two ways: 1) www.kelleysbreakrm.com or 2) www.kelleysbreakroom.blogspot.com.

I'm hoping that you readers are still out there and haven't fallen down the black hole with that old blog name. If no one finds this blog post, I will assume I have been lost in Internet Never Neverland forever, in which case I will just have to take a permanent break in my break room. I will drink up every last Coke and just sprawl out in that orange chair up there on the right like a nincompoop. When someone passes my the doorway, I'll yell out, "THIS USED TO BE A BLOG, DAGNABBIT!" but they'll keep walking. They'll actually pick up their pace and start running really, really fast.

Maybe this little mishap is a sign that I should fall of the face of the blogging earth and spend my time doing other things, like finally cleaning out my laundry room? And having a fifth Weight Watchers ice cream snack? (They're only the size of a newborn ant, remember?)

Thanks to the very nice and hard-working Jeff O. over at GoDaddy for ALL of his assistance in helping me fix this situation I got myself into...

The Female Arrogance Meter: How To Become Ultra-Confident In Less Than 30 Minutes, Give or Take, Depending On If You Take Absolutely Forever To Get Ready

2011-12-07T07:12:00.000-08:00

People sometimes change when they talk to different people. Maybe they have one way of talking when speaking to their close friends, another way for when they are at work and another way when they're ordering a Big Mac. Women change when they wear or carry certain things, me included. To better illustrate what I mean, I have created the Female Arrogance Meter:

I obviously forgot the oversized purse.

With each additional square, that woman is becoming more and more cocky. You are probably not going to want to get into any kind of disagreement with a woman who has climbed all of the levels and is now carrying a small dog. They both will probably yap, yap, yap, yap, yap, yap, yap, yap right in your face, or not talk to you at all.

When I was in college, I had a temporary job downtown. The job was at a nice office, so I liked wearing a skirt and heels. One day as I strutted my stuff with quick glances in mirrored office buildings to make sure my skirt hadn't twisted sideways and didn't have any "runners" in my hose (remember those?), my heel got caught in the crack of the sidewalk while I kept walking. I had to run back, force my way through the crowd and put my shoe back on like a freakshow. My bar graph pretty much folded up like a collapsible cup then.

If you don't believe what I am telling you about this Female Arrogance Meter, let me show you Victoria Beckham before and after the transformation.

BEFORE

In this picture, Vicki B. has just awakened. She has no idea
where her sunglasses are located and the small dog is still asleep. She is
taking the morning slowly while enjoying her coffee and cigarette. She has
also yet to shave and is waiting for her smart phone to charge up.

AFTER

Here she is again after getting ready for the day. Isn't it amazing how
she even LOOKS really different now all because she has on heels, a skirt,
big sunglasses and is carrying that big purse?? If she had a small dog with her, were
on her smart phone and chewing gum, the Female Arrogance Meter would
be going absolutely crazy! (Homegirl on VB's left is wishing she had worn black shoes.)

Obviously, you don't have to be arrogant to be confident. In less than 30 minutes, get all of that stuff listed on the bar graph, and BAM!, you will feel ready to take on the entire world. (If you have only time for two, for goodness sakes, chew gum and put on some sunglasses.)

If you have anything to add to the Female Arrogance Meter, please let me know as I am constantly making adjustments to my scientific inventions.

The Four Incredibly Different Faces of Santa

2011-12-05T02:24:00.000-08:00

12:00 p.m.

www.rd.com

"Well, kids, there's Santa! Why don't we wait in this gigantic line so that you guys can tell him what you want for Christmas, huh? Santa looks so jolly, doesn't he? Just like the movies! Nice full beard. Round tummy. Pink cheeks. This is the real deal, kids! Hold on...hold on...yes, ma'am? What did you say? Oh! Santa is going on a lunch break. Okay. That's fine. Well, kids, you know what? I need to actually go to the other mall for a present that I couldn't find here. Santa will be there, too! That Santa gets around! Let's go see him there. We'll get there fast and, besides, this line extends practically to that mall anyway."

12:15 p.m.

www.stevenstenzel.com

"Well, there he is, kids. Yes, you're right. It does appear that he has changed clothes. Aren't you a smart and observant little thing? Well, you know, Santa may have gotten some of that Kung Pao Chicken from the Chinese place at the Mall Food Court all over his coat. He probably has a few different coats, kids. Not to worry. He's the real deal, too. Well, yes, you're right. He is a little skinnier than he was just 15 minutes ago when we saw him at the other mall. Maybe he drank a Diet Coke and those "diet" drinks work really fast on someone as magical as Santa. I wish I were Santa! I'd drink about 5 Diet Cokes right now, youknowwhatI'msayin? You don't? Okay. Well, anyway, let's wait here. Ma'am? Ohhhhhhh. I see. Santa has gotten a headache from all of the crying kids and is taking a break? Okay. Well, kids, let's scoot out of here to another shopping center. Maybe Santa is going there to buy his medicine and we can be first in line after he comes out of the drug store. We'll just follow him around until he sits down and then I'll throw you two on his skinny lap."

12:35 p.m.

www.1023bob.com

"Looks like he's already sitting down, kids! Here is headache-free Santa. We will stand in line to see him if it takes all day. What, son? Oh, my, you're right. It appears that Santa has really, really grown much larger than he was just 20 minutes ago at the mall. Why, yes, you're right. His legs are much, much, much wider. Are you pretending to be a detective, son? You 're only 3! Maybe you're a little young to be choosing a career!! Maybe you need to stop being so critical!!! Well, really, I can explain this one. Before he flew over to this mall with his reindeer and his sleigh, he went back for seconds of that Kung Pao chicken, because sometimes you get a headache from not eating enough. So, after getting more Kung Pao chicken, he decided to get an egg roll, fried rice, slice of pizza, cookie, large regular Coke, sub, corn dog and some Dippin' Dots. Just like the Diet Coke worked wonders for him within seconds, well, all of that food piled on the pounds within seconds. So, yeah, that's what that's all about. Hold on, kids. Ma'am? This Santa has had enough of "all of this kid crap" and needs a nap? Is that right? What about my pictures??? I need Santa pictures!!!! (Deep sighs.) Okay, kids, I bet I know the place where Santa is going to go when he wakes up from his nap. Let's drive over there. I PROMISE, this is the LAST place we will go. I just KNOW Santa will be wide awake, well-fed, happy and smiling by then."

12:50 p.m.

"Finally! Well, look at that! Santa appears to be feeling much better! He is smiling and looks like he isn't hungry right now. Let's wait in this line. Swe...sweet...sweetie, no, no more observations. Nope, nope...Mommy can't hear you. That'll be enough. Okay, okay, yes, I can hear you now. Drop the dingdang volume, son. Okay, what was that? You think Santa looks really different than he did before his nap? Well, naps have a way of transforming a person! They really do, son. They really, really do.

SANTA!!! We are so happy to see you!!!"

If you have kids, do they ever notice the different Santas? What do you tell them? Did you ever notice them when you were younger?

I was almost kidnapped. Twice.

2011-12-02T05:01:00.000-08:00

The Sandusky case and memories of the past have prompted me to skip the silly for today and focus on child predators of perhaps a different kind.

In 1983, the movie "Adam" came out on TV. It was about Adam Walsh's murder. As you probably know, his father is John Walsh and later became the host of America's Most Wanted. On July 27, 1981, Adam was in an aisle of Sears playing video games with some boys he didn't know while his mother shopped for lamps a few aisles over. When she went back for him, they were all gone. It is suspected that he followed the boys out of the store, or perhaps they were asked to leave by the management for being too loud, and was likely abducted at the exterior of the store. His head was found on August 10, 1981 in a nearby creek. They suspected that he had been suffocated and beheaded afterwards so that his body would not be identified.

After that movie came out, I thought about it all the time. I STILL think about it a lot. In 1983, I was 8 years old. Adam and I were about the same age. Sometimes I wonder if I should show the movie to my 7-year-old. I know that it would probably really scare him, but maybe that is what he needs. Maybe he needs to be scared. I think that movie helped me a couple of times in my life. After it came out, I remember hearing more about what to do in situations where you are fearful someone might be trying to "get you".

The first time I was probably around 9 or so. My cousin lived around the corner from us and I regularly walked to her house to play. A car started driving slowly beside me. If my memory is correct, an Asian woman leaned over and opened the passenger side door and asked me to get inside. I told her no, but she kept asking. After a couple of minutes, I just changed my direction and started running toward home. Because she is a woman, maybe it doesn't sound so threatening. I always remember, though, that there was a woman in the Jaycee Duggar case. I am not sure if she was in the car when her husband kidnapped Jaycee by hitting her with stun gun or not. My point is that women should be just as feared as men.

The second time, I was about 11 or 12 and was sitting in my dad's Dodge Ram Charger outside of Academy. To this day, I'm not a big fan of shopping. When I was younger, I definitely wasn't. I would always ask my parents if I could stay in the car and work on my homework or read or something. My dad said it was okay with him and he quickly went inside. The windows were rolled down in the vehicle. After a little while, I noticed a white "kidnapper" van facing me and parked a few spaces over. There was a man behind the steering wheel looking at me funny and he was talking to two other men who were outside of the car. One of the men started slowly backing toward the driver's side of my dad's car. I remember one of them saying, "I always either get too close or too far away." Something inside me told me to get out of the car and run into the store. I dropped my math book on the floorboard, got out and ran inside.

But one of the men followed me.

As soon as I entered the sporting goods store, my eyes quickly scanned it for my dad, but I couldn't find him. With tears streaming down my face and saying over and over, "Dad, where are you? Dad, where are you?", I ran to the back of the store to the shoe section and crouched behind a rack of shoes. I could see the man moving fast and looking around the store for me. It seems like I was crouching there forever trying to will the man away from where I hid with my eyes and panicking for my dad. Finally, I spotted my dad coming out of the dressing room. I bolted for him, wrapped my arms around him and let it all out. Of course, the man was nowhere to be found by then.

This scene plays out in my mind still when I pass an Academy store. I think about it when I tell my husband, "I'll stay out here and play on my iPhone while you go in Home Depot." If he was driving, I always move over to the driver's side and turn the car on so I am prepared to drive off if any weirdo gets near me.

Maybe I am a bit too dramatic and paranoid?

Scary people are out there, though. If I thought you had more time, I would tell you about the time I was followed in my car a few months ago. I will save that story for later. For now, tell me...

Has anything like this ever happened to you? Would you let your child watch the movie "Adam"?

If you are interested in reading more about child abduction statistics and strategies to teach your child in an attempt to avoid them, like running in the other direction yelling "no!", not wearing clothing with his orher name on it, etc., you can go to this great site on Kid's Health by clicking here.

The Food Alarms: Guaranteed to Make You Lose Weight or Go Insane While Trying

2011-11-30T00:00:00.000-08:00

Folks. It's getting ridiculous. I can't keep myself from indulging in things I know I shouldn't eat. In the morning, I'll eat a slice of wheat toast and a 1/4 cup of Egg Beaters and then finish off the entire buffet table at Golden Corral AND Ryan's Steakhouse in 30 minutes flat for lunch. In the morning, I'm all about it and then a temptation crosses my path and I consume it like a lion who hasn't eaten in months. So, that's why I came up with the idea for Food Alarms. If this idea takes off, they'll be on ever Big Lots shelf across the land. My heart is swelling with pride already at the thought. Here's the scoop:

THE FOOD ALARMS

Here's how it works: there are 5 levels of food alarms. These alarms are found in your pantry. The refrigerated alarm system is still being developed in our fancy labs, so hang on tight for that one. Each level of food has a different alarm on it that is more excruciating and annoying than the last. The alarms are attached to large boxes where these different foods are kept. Here are the five different boxes/alarms:

ALARM #1: NAILS ON A CHALKBOARD

Alarm #1 will immediately sound when you dig around the box for a bag of chips or if you even just grab a chip or two. Also kept in this box are crackers and Movie Theater Butter Popcorn. Orville is NOT your friend. He would love nothing more than for you to roll everywhere and become a human ball caught in a popcorn eating frenzy.

ALARM #2: THE ANNOYING ORANGE SAYING ABSOLUTELY ANYTHING

You will NOT want to choose applesauce, fruit roll-ups, diced peaches, fruit cocktail or anything like it over REAL fruit if you have to hear The Annoying Orange talking to you. He's is so stinkin' annoying. If you make it out with your staxh, The Annoying Orange will short-circuit and continue to talk throughout the day even when you aren't near Box #2.

ALARM #3: EMERGENCY BROADCAST SYSTEM

THIS is an annoying sound, amirite? Ugh! Really, it's more than an irritating sound. It's a reminder that your program has been interrupted! Something as minor as a tornado or flash flood warning or terrible hurricane is interfering with your precious TV show! That is why this particular sound gets linked to the box containing Coke, Dr. Pepper, Sprite or any sugary drink, juice boxes included!

ALARM #4: GILBERT GOTTFRIED

Tell me you'd want to touch another cookie or cupcake again after hearing Gilbert Gottfried's voice every time you went near one. This one has got to be one of the best deterrents for stuffing your face like a ravenous T. Rex.

ALARM #5: A CAR ALARM

If I buy no other alarms but this one, it will have been a good investment. If this blasted alarm kept going off in my ear, I'd stop wrapping my face around all of that Halloween candy- the Kit Kat bars, Whoppers and Reese's Peanut Butter Cups. The problem is that the candy bars are the "fun size". They're so little and cute. It is hard to see the harm in just having ONE. As we all know, one can quickly turn into two and before you know it you resemble King Kong after he's left a Chinese buffet.

These would make perfect Christmas gifts! You can even customize the annoying sounds. Maybe your husband's snoring is worthy of a level 5? The whole kit is only $19.95 and, if you act now, we'll throw in the ShamWow, Oxiclean, Showtime Rotisserie (Ron Popeil!) and a Tae Bo tape!!

The Petrified Pregnant Porcupine

2011-11-28T06:21:00.000-08:00

I think I've lost it. I've written a story about a porcupine. A porcupine. A pregnant porcupine even. Blame it on my husband. We started talking about painful things and it came up that nothing would be as painful as a porcupine giving birth to another porcupine. It was late. I had some leftover sangria from Thanksgiving...also some Moscato...and I wrote this story.

It was 5 a.m. on a cold winter day and Paula Porcupine could feel her baby (or was it babies??) kicking inside her. Paula was only 9 months old herself. When she told her mother she was pregnant, her mom looked at her in shock. "You haven't even started preschool yet! You still have a Diaper Genie in your room! This is ridiculous! I thought you were playing with blocks and you were out with a BOY?! Wait until I tell your father!"

Paula remembers crying and crying over the volatile conversation with her mother, Peggy. She knew she was right. Her mom had actually read "Goodnight Moon" to her the night she snuck out and met Pablo Porcupino. She didn't feel quite ready to have a baby since she was still in diapers herself. She also was still extremely challenged by her stacking rings set and sort-the-shapes box and was convinced that mothers had these types of things mastered. It didn't matter. The porcupettes, the name given to baby porcupines, were coming.

Much to her surprise, Peggy and her Aunt Pippa threw her a porcupette shower. Everybody brought the same thing- leaves and more leaves for the porcupette bed. Paula was a little irritated that no one brought tree bark, her "big ticket" item, but, she faked a smile while hugging everyone as they left. "Thanks for the leaves! That's just what I needed! One can never have too many leaves. I just love leaves. Leaves. Leaves. Leaves. Leaves."

And all they ate was corn. Here is a video Paula eating her corn below. Ignore the fact that the human owner keeps calling her "Teddy", when clearly this is Paula at her porcupette shower. Humans can be so stupid. For real. Listen closely to Paula talking. Her favorite words are "ighighighigh" and "SCHWANKA!!!", which means "I wish you would have bought cupcakes. Who throws a porcupette shower and serves CORN?!"

(Thanks to Abby Has Issues for sending me this video!!)

As Paula prepared her little nesting area for the porcupette that was conceived only 4 months ago and was due any day now, she worried about the pain factor. "I am going to shoot a baby with quills out of me? Am I insane??" Her mother would remind her incessantly that mother porcupines had been having porcupettes for CENTURIES without a problem- even without an epidural! She cried and cried at the thought of it all. Thankfully, her now-husband, Pablo, would pat her prickly back while offering a "Now, now..." at just the right moment. He wasn't really very smart, but he really could "now, now" a girl like a pro. A real pro "now, now"er.

The other thing that stressed the little 9-month-old mother-to-be was what she would name the porcupettes. Since she lived far away from a real hospital, she had no ultrasounds to let her know whether she'd be having one or two or three porcupettes. She also didn't know if they would be male or female. Thankfully, all the leaves she was given at her porcupette shower were green. Green was a neutral color, right? Not knowing what she was going to have and if they'd be boys or girls did not help Paula pick out names easily. One thing she knew was that she couldn't veer from the "P" names, as that's all porcupines ever used. When she mentioned "Quill, Quillie and Quilla" to her mother, her mother almost backed her spikey butt right into Paula, since, as she learned when she was much, much younger (a couple of months ago), porcupines don't actually shoot quills. "You want to begin your kids' names with Q???? Q????? Who do you think you are??? May I remind you that you are not even a year old?! What do you know about naming babies? I've had tons! I know! PORCUPINES ONLY USE 'P'!!!!"

So, Paula reluctantly settled on Pete, Pot and Pat. Poor Pot. She knew it was a stupid name, but she could think of nothing else. At least it was better than Pits, the fourth name she had on her list.

Just before Paula was to deliver her three children, she began crying over the pain she knew she would endure. She grabbed her face in her paws and wailed. "I'm spikey! They'll be spikey! I'm gonna diiiiiiiiiiiiiie!!!"

But, much to her delight, she delivered this:

www.buzzfeed.com

And named her Penelope.