Moose in Panties

Finally...

2012-01-22T13:11:00.000-06:00

Been FOREVER since I've blogged, but before moving out to CA I was working 7 days a week and as many hours as possible.

My first semester in grad school was awesome. Learned a ton and got to know some of the people in my program...which I may describe some of them. Then I got to have one of the longest breaks I can remember having and went back to Kansas to spend a lot of time with family and friends.

School: studying, class, interacting with new people. And finding out that there are some who obviously slipped through the cracks into the program and maybe should not have (mostly due to their total lack of social skills)...I won't use their real names, like Christina (crap, I used it)...everyone, just look away and pretend you didn't see that. I meant to change her name to Xtina, to be somewhat mysterious and to make you think she has blond hair, not red, is a famous singer, not an annoying overly talkative know-it-all. She is a very smart person, but has no self-awareness or ability to interact with others.

One thing Xtina said at our orientation is that she is someone who professors don't like because she will go out of her way to try and prove them wrong and argue with them. I was sitting across from her when she said this and she looked at me and laughed like I was going to laugh with her. I sat and looked at her stone-faced and then shoved a cupcake in my mouth. I was obviously more interested in the food at orientation than listening to Xtina talk about herself.

Xtina and another guy, who I'll refer to as Goober, always like talking back and forth during Stats class. Now, Goober, he showed up to campus one time after one of his workouts and drove in making at a show that he had not yet put his shirt on. What he failed to realize was that I didn't take a picture of him as admiration of his body but more to enter his tiny nipples into the Guinness Book of World Records.

Now, Xtina and Goober like talking in class and being obnoxious about how much they know and doing their best to make others think they are less than worthy. As a typically quieter and focused student, they will be soooo surprised when I present them both with a gift certificate to a nearby hotel where they can go and consummate their love for each other. It's a gift that I'll most likely present to them in front of class prior to the start of lecture.

For those people who have never been to Fresno, it's not a bad place to live and has a small town feel to it. I appreciate it because, while some people here say Fresno is about 10-15 years behind the rest of CA, people are really laid back and down-to-earth. They are courteous and polite and you can actually have a conversation at the grocery store with a stranger. But I don't take their candy.

Moose.............................um, this little guy makes friends as easily as breathing oxygen. Everyone in my complex who has met him loves him and he's always so sweet to greet them. Even little kids love him, but sometimes Moose forgets that if he jumps up to give kisses he can knock the kids down. Fortunately, the parents have only laughed and said that Moose is sweet. Moose is particularly fond of my neighbor, Doug, who I also refer to as Mater. Also, our neighbors across the way, Pride and his wife Saray, are very fond of Moose--especially Pride. He and Saray always make time to give attention to Moose no matter what.

I have another neighbor who is in the military and he drives a mustang to work...that thing revs like nobody's business and I always know when he's going work. Sometimes he takes his motorcycle to work and it's cool to see him in his uniform speeding away. He and his wife have a cute little boy, too.......I think one of the kids that Moose has tackled.

The ladies in the rental office...they suck at communicating with each other. But they are all nice. Maria wears reading glasses and whenever I go in there she likes to tilt her head down and look at me over the top of them. I kinda wanna just tell her to take them off and not do that. Michelle, she always seems to be struggling to get all the information and seems nervous. When my apartment flooded along with 2-3 others, they were both working really hard to get everything under control.

That's just a tiny bit about life in Fresno...we'll see what this next semester has to offer.

What I think is funny...

2010-12-16T09:53:00.002-06:00

Most people know that my humor is fairly elementary and I took this quiz one time that described me as an idiot savant.

It pretty much said I was really smart but that I found some of the most simple things absolutely hilarious. Anyone who has ever worked with or lived with me knows that I am very easily amused. And am also known to carry things a little too far to the point where it turns into something disgusting.

Various things that have made me laugh:

1) This is a clip from the movie "The Proposal"-- Betty White and Sandra Bullock are my heroes.

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2) There are those occasions when I am out with friends and if we are, let's say, in a grocery store, I will say something like, "Hey, Ginger, I will give you a dollar if you dance like this all the way down the cereal aisle." If they happen to take that challenge, then I'll quickly yell, "Hey, shoppers, look at the weirdo dancing down the cereal aisle? Isn't that just ridiculous? I wouldn't come over here if I were you!"

3) I will sometimes hide around the corner at the studio where I work and just as a one of the other trainers may be coming by, I'll quickly but in a calm voice say, "Hey, Jill, what's new?" Scares the crap out of her and then I'll try not to laugh while saying, "Oh, did I scare you?"

4) I have always loved the Hoda Kotb and Kathy Lee Gifford skits on Saturday Night Live. I also miss Tina Fey and Amy Poehler on SNL's Weekend Update.

5) I love it when my sisters imitate things that their sons/my nephwes do; this always leads to my oldest sister and I talking in a midget voice that only adds to the humor of imitating the boys. It drives my other sister crazy. Love my nephews. And my sisters.

6) My dad, who's Brazilian, has a tendency to say things the wrong way and his accent makes it even funnier. For instance, when he bought my mom a new car they came home from the dealership. His summary of his experience with the car salesman: Man, dose guys, dey get you sink, line, and hooker!" My sisters and my brother and I all kinda just look at each other and shrug. Huh, guess the guy threw in a hooker as part of the deal.

7) Moose, due to only have 1 eye, and his tendency to misjudge the distance of the couch at times. He will take a good running start, jump to get on the couch, but because he can't quite calculate the actual distance he will face plant and fly backwards. Without missing a beat, he springs up, and jumps on the couch. Success!!

8) Watching my sister, Olivia, playing the boxing game on the Wii. All sorts of spastic and involuntary movements come out of this typically prim and proper woman.

9) My brother reciting movie lines.

10) And this is my favorite holiday recipe, I make it every year.

Real-World X-mas Recipe

Ingredients:

1 cup of water
1 tsp baking soda
1 cup of sugar
1 tsp salt
1 cup of brown sugar
lemon juice
4 large eggs
some nuts
1 bottle Vodka
2 cups of dried fruit

Sample the vodka to check quality. Take a large bowl, check the vodka again. To be sure it is of the highest quality, pour one level cup and drink. Repeat . Turn on the electric mixer. Beat one cup of butter in a large fluffy bowl. Add one teaspoon of sugar. Beat again. At this point it's best to make sure the vodka is shtill OK. Try another cup .... just in case. Turn off the mixerer. Break 2 leggs and add to the bowl and chuck in the cup of dried fruit. Pick fruit off floor. Mix on the turner. If the fried druit gets stuck in the beaterers pry it loose with a drewscriver. Sample the vodka to check for tonsisticity. Next, sift two cups of salt. Or something. Who giveshz a ...t. Check the vodka. Still teast OK? Now shift the lemon juice and strain your nuts. Add one table. Add a spgoon of supar, or somefink. Whatever you can find. Greash the oven. Turn on the cake tin 360 degrees and try not to fall over. Don't forget to beat off the turner. Finally, drop the bowl on the floor spillling contenst, finish the vodka, swip in the mess, and trip over the cat.

CHERRY MISTMAS!

This list is just a small bit of the things I find funny. Moose is currently making a list of things he finds funny, too. He keeps looking at me and laughing and quickly scribbles in his Big Chief notepad. I'm suspicious.

Great story!

2010-12-14T17:54:00.000-06:00

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Jill's birthday

2010-12-13T14:04:00.000-06:00

So Jill decided to turn another year older.

We acted like it was going to be the last celebration any of us would ever have.

The night started when Ginger, who had just that morning broken her toe, decided to at least come hang out with us before we headed out. She didn't feel as though she'd be able to stay out since her foot was throbbing and she was unable to wear decent shoes.

She came over after school (she's a teacher) and wanted to go to the liquor store to get Jill a good bottle of wine for her birthday.

Ginger also bought herself a huge bottle of white wine.

I got a 6-pack of beer...Landshark.

We went back to my place and just hung and talked and laughed. I finished getting ready and Moose was being his usual self, just all up in Ginger's face and invading her personal space.


Moose is never short on attention

It was a couple of hours before Jill and the rest of the group showed up, and Ginger and I weren't really paying attention to how much we drank. We were just having a good time. It was all out of naivete and innocence. We knew not what we did.

Jill showed up with her sisters and then Allison followed shortly thereafter.

We kept drinking. The girls made their mixed drinks and we all sort of just hung out for a while.

No one knew that Jill and her sisters, Kristi and Lanelle, were going to dress alike: dresses, black tights, and boots. I wore my typical jeans, boots, and shirt. Ginger, who was the loveliest of all, wore her teacher's outfit: gray slack, blouse and cardigan. Allison had managed to shop for something new and trendy--no surprise there. We were a multiculturally-fashioned group.

All I know is that this was my thought in getting ready: It's frickin' raining. We're going to a biker bar. I'm 32. I could care less. I just can't wait to eat when we get home.

The other girls thoughts:

Ginger: My damn toe hurts and I can't wear my new cute teacher shoes. I'll just keep drinking my keg o' wine.

Allison: This is one of the cutest outfits I've worn in a while!! I can't wait to see how cute I look when I'm dancing on the bar...

Jill: I hope I can pull down these tights easily when I have to poop.

Kristi: I should pump breast milk before we go out. And probably try to poop.

Lanelle: I bet my sisters are thinking about pooping right now.

Moose: I could just poop with all this excitement and attention I'm getting right now!

After some time Ginger announces she's going to go out with us. My assessment was that she'd had enough wine that her toe was numb and she was also having so much fun that she didn't want it to end.

We went to the biker bar. After some dancing on the bar and a good laugh at the spectacle in the ass-less chaps and fishnet hose, and watching Kristi perform a drunken basketball shuffle/trip-and-fall all the way across the floor of the bar, this was our thoughts:

V: Why did I just take that disgusting shot of what tasted like stale cherry Pucker?

Ginger: I'm the hottest, broken-toed, cardigan-wearing teacher here.

Allison: I look goooooooooood!

Jill: I think I'm gonna River Dance now for all to see my glory.

Kristi: That was the best basketball shuffle I've ever done in my life.

Lanelle: I'm disowning my sisters in court tomorrow.

Moose: Those bitches need to get home and let me outta this kennel, otherwise I'm poopin' in their shoes.

The next morning, Ginger, Allison, and I all woke up in my bed. Moose was snuggled in somewhere with us happy as can be...

I walked downstairs to fine Kristi balled up on the air mattress. Lanelle was buried in my oversized chair, and Jill was pleasantly nude on the couch delicately covered up in a fleece blanket.

Moose, upon seeing Jill, cried and pointed, "Hey!! Look, we're BOTH naked. Isn't that awesome?!"

Our thoughts:

V: It's 6:30am, I need to clean something.

Ginger: Damn, my toe hurts.

Allison: I hope I still look cute.

Jill: Good thing I'm naked, I gotta poop.

Kristi: I feel like poop.

Lanelle: I'm an only child.

Moose: This was so fun, I might poop!

Good thing Jill's birthday only comes around once a year, it's always a long recovery.

Moose on Jersey Shore

2010-12-12T10:58:00.000-06:00

I have no shame in admitting that I like "Jersey Shore". Does it seem silly that they just picked a group of random kids to put up in a beach house and film them partying and creating their own drama? Of course. But man, it's that kinda stuff that drives network ratings as well as appeals to so many Americans. Everyone wants to be all up in everyone else's business. So why not get a group of cuties, give them alcohol, add hormones, and then broadcast it all on the air.

I would bet that most people would say Snooki is by far the most entertaining character of them all. She carries that poof like no one else and I think someone should create a Twitter Account called Snookis_Poof; there would be so much of the inside scoop of Snooki's life, that we'd all be in on what really goes down when the cameras are off.

We'd have a fun "Situation" there, I think.

And to add to even more of that fun, I think Moose and Snookis_Poof would become the best of friends. Moose has no shame in displaying his life and every single aspect, so why not add a whole new level to the world of Jersey Shore??

Now, if Angelina decides to return, I'd bet money that once again she leaves because she's a conniving "dirty little hamster" who loves to stir the pot in the house. Not to mention, she lies through her teeth and can never take responsibility for her actions. But just as @tbeanmom pointed out on Tweetdeck the other day, she does have an offer to make a porn spoof of the show. @tbeanmom is TOTALLY on the up and up with what goes down on Jersey Shore. Not to mention, she's the amateur publicist for @TeamDJPaulyD...what devotion. I love it.

Moose is shaking his head at the thought of Angelina in a porn. I think he's over there in his kennel praying that it doesn't happen. He'd hate to have to take out his left eye, too, after having the retina seared from such a scary sexual travesty.

But Moose and Snooki? Yeah, that's about as awesome as it'd get on that show...the partying, the gossip, the slipper-wearing good times. And when Angelina pulls another one of her stunts, it's no second thought for Moose to just prance on over, take a dump in her shoes, and fart in her purse.

Moose would always have Snooki's back--she seems to have a good heart, a ton of energy, and he'd certainly be able to keep up. And what doesn't add to the energy of a bunch of Jersey kids, who tan, party, and live out their drama? A one-eyed wiener who doesn't listen, does whatever he wants, denies any boundaries, and acts like he owns the world.

Plus, he has 6-pack abs, tight glutes, and the same kinda smolder as The Situation. He's not down with the GTL, though--just the G. He doesn't need the T, he's already got a shiny soft coat that the perfect red color for a wiener. The L part? Dude runs around naked all day, who wouldn't love THAT life?

A little more on the serious side...

2010-12-08T10:17:00.000-06:00

I never knew anything about Elizabeth Edwards until her husband's campaign as the vice president nominee alongside John Kerry. Even then I didn't pay as much attention to her as I did to what her husband's party's mission was during that time.

I paid a little more attention to her when it was in the news that she had been diagnosed with cancer. Not only that, but they also talked about the loss of their 16-year-old son in a car accident. Everyone has experienced some kind of loss in their life whether it is a parent, grandparent, sibling, friend, co-worker, or other relative.

I kinda got a little emotional watching the news the past couple of days and the way in which they talk about Elizabeth and the things she wanted to leave behind; those things that don't make her some kind of martyr but just doing the most simplest of things and realizing that the most important thing anyone can do is their best.

She had said in an interview that she didn't want her children to think of her as dying, but rather as living life in the best way that she could. Their family also never denied what it was that was happening and didn't make attempts at minimizing the situation.

I have a lot of admiration for a woman like that. She faced some major challenges in her life and while her distance after the loss of her son is certainly justified, she then made a decision to work through and take a direction in which she was going to try and make a difference.

As is typical of me, I will tend to reflect on my own life when I hear stories like that. As many people may know and some may not, probably the single most life-changing event in my life was the day I found out Matt, my fiance, had been killed in an automobile-pedestrian accident.

And I will forever be grateful for my sister, Olivia, taking the time to set up grief counseling for me. I'm not sure if I would have done that on my own, but I did agree to go. My first session was the worst and it took everything in my being to say to Robyn that he had died less than 2 weeks prior. I was certain that my life would never be good again.

Robyn asked me at one point, after some time had passed, if I still felt the same. By then I had this extremely strict routine down that I realized later was my way of trying to control everything else in my life because losing him made me feel like I was completely out of control. I felt totally helpless. I wanted some sense of having a hold of my life and learned that I was holding onto the wrong things. I had to change things within me and do some hard work; not expect things around me to change.

I told Robyn that I was really tired and I felt like I had aged a lot. I was 24 when he died. But I told her that I was determined enough to not be one of those who took this event and use it as a way to cultivate misery and self-pity. Matt had a ton of energy and sometimes it drove me crazy, but he had a great perspective on life that was not realized because he was sick or had had any major life event. He was just happy and recognized that being a good person and always trying to do the right thing were just a small part of living a quality life.

One thing that I will always remember about Elizabeth Edwards is that she said one of her saving graces besides her family and friends was her "faith in the power of resilience and hope." I think that's a huge statement of her character. I think that too often people don't believe in their own ability to survive or that they have the fortitude to actually move in a direction that will only lead to better things and a happier existence.

I remember I had one woman call me after Matt's death. She had lost her daughter several years ago and she called to tell me that things would only get worse. She said that she was still so angry and still didn't pray or anything since her daughter died. My thought:

"Bitch, you don't know me and don't think I'm anything like you. If you're calling to tell me that I will only become more miserable and sad, then you just wasted your time. I feel sorry for you that you have chosen to still think of yourself rather than what your daughter lived. Fuck you and your sorry existence."

I was so angry, it amazed me that people can come to you and say the things they say. She was not thinking of me but of herself. And I didn't ask for attention or anything, all I wanted to do was get through it and come out of it in a better place.

I've had other life experiences and I think that how you view your experiences is what determines who you are; you can either say, "Why me?" or you can say, "Bring it on because I'll conquer this one too."

I think Elizabeth Edwards made a tough decision in deciding to continue putting her life in a positive direction and not let the cancer consume her. She said that cancer would not keep her from living. I love that.

I've done a lot of work to be a different person since his death, and he is one who I think of often who I give credit to for being such a great example. He wasn't perfect by any means but he did his best and worked very hard to always move forward and to be better.

I think that the fact Elizabeth Edwards took the time to call family and friends when she found out that her treatment was no longer working was amazing. She wanted people to know they were important to her and she also wanted to make sure others were taken care of. I would bet that she even had plans in place for her funeral so that others would have less to worry about. She also took the time to write letters to her kids about what advice she felt would be important to them and also wanted to make the most of those days prior to her death. They played games and had fantastic moments while also allowing for tears. She was a realistic woman, yet not so stoic that she disallowed others to express their feelings or her own.

It'd be nice if everyone could live like that and always remember what it is that's important in life.

On a lighter note, Moose knows what's important: kisses, hotdog toys, dryer sheets, and fleece blankets in the winter.

2010-12-07T11:38:00.001-06:00

Www.havefaithhaiti.org

Go donate to save Haitian children!!!! It's a site started by Mitch Albom!!

Thankfulness-a-miss-a-lat-a-narium-istical-ism

2010-11-22T13:50:00.000-06:00

It's always this time of year that people want to say what they are thankful for and many times it's just the same stuff: family, friends, job, health, etc.

Moose and I made a list of things we're thankful for that may fall outside of that typical range. Here goes:

1) Moose is thankful for his hotdog. He loves that toy more than panties sometimes and has an average rate of 568 squeaks a minute. I'm thankful for 2 hands that sometimes need to take that toy away.

2) I'm thankful for a good vet who took excellent care of Moose when he had to have his right eye removed. Moose is thankful for all those shmucks who brought him treats afterwards. Overheard recently as my son was playing in the bathtub, "Hehe, man, that was the best scam ever...faking this glaucoma and gettin' my eye out. What a buncha suckers...hehe. Boo yah."

3) Moose is thankful for all the stuffing inside his toys. I'm thankful that his digestive system is able to eliminate the stuffing in a nice neat turd each time.

4) I'm thankful that while I manage to burn the rice at least once a week, I haven't burned down the house. Moose is thankful for his tiny fire blanket and tiny fire extinguisher.

5) Moose is thankful for our neighbors Juan and Rosa cuz Juan lets him pee on his work boots almost every time. I'm thankful that Rosa vacuums/cleans just about as often as I do.

6) I'm thankful for Victoria's Secret having a sale on panties. So is Moose.

7) Moose is thankful for apple pieces and baby carrots. I'm thankful that he eats clean cuz we don't buy junk food.

8) I'm thankful for how happy Moose is ALL THE TIME. (He's happy that I wrote that.)

9) We're both thankful for all the fun people in our lives and know we're fortunate that they put up with our total nonsense so gracefully.

10) We're both also thankful for all the future moments that we'll turn into all sorts grand adventures that really aren't true but we like to think it is because we like to think that so much happens to us and it all needs to be recorded and reported. And exaggerated.

This list could go on and is just a tiny drop in our large bucket of thankfulness. Right now, I'm thankful for the impeccable timing of Moose's bowels and his ability to pace frantically at the door until I take him out.

A Moose of a workout (dedicated to Patrick)

2010-11-19T11:47:00.000-06:00

Moose decided that since he turned a year old last week, he is ready to hit the gym with his mother. He summed it up nicely this morning as I was preparing my routine glutamine/BCAAs, coffee, protein, etc....

"Mother, since I have no balls, it might be good if I build some muscle. I think that if I eat these panties right here, it's a good pre-workout boost."

"So, you're saying that you've been getting a good pre-workout boost for about a year now..."

Anyway, I said it was ok, but that he had to stick with machines only and he wasn't allowed to use the free weights just yet. He has a tendency to run around like a little maniac exercising little control over his body so it would pose a great risk to throw him into any exercises that require strong proprioception.

When we got to the gym, I made sure Moose's velcro shoes were tight and that he had his tiny water bottle strapped around his waist. Then I told him he needed to warm up first to make sure he got the blood moving and increased his core temperature. That way he'd be much more productive during the workout. He said he'd jump rope cuz that's what all hardcore bodybuilders do to warm up.

"Honey, you're not a bodybuilder. You're a tiny wiener who wears velcro shoes and uses his hotdog toy as a pillow."

"Yeah, that does make me cooler than a bodybuilder, huh?"

After his warm-up I walked him over to a corner of the gym and had him start with some pushups. I was prepared to spot him but next thing I know he's cranked out 50 of them.

"It's cuz I got these tiny legs, 'member? I can only move a few cm at a time."

Anyway, so then we did a few more things to warm-up his legs. Some tiny squats, tiny lunges, and tiny jumping jacks. Then we moved on to the leg press machine--luckily, the gym had installed a tiny leg press machine for him at my request along with tiny weight plates also known as Cheerios. I got on the adult-size machine after strapping him into his machine.

I had him do a few reps and after about 5 of them he said, "Is it time for a snack?"

"No, not yet. Let's add a couple of Cheerios to your weight there and give me 5 more reps."

"Can I eat the Cheerios?"

"No, you can't eat them, those are your weights."

"But Patrick over there is eating brownies and he's gonna do some heavy squats. And I wanna look like that."

"He's a human, you can't look like that. But you can have some cute little glutes to show off."

Patrick comes over and says, "Moose! What's up bro?"

Aaaand then they chest bump.

"Did you guys just chest bump?"

"We did, Mother, cuz we're really masculine guys."

"Yeah, but you're 14 lbs, and stand 8 inches high. He's 6'3" and 220lbs. Big difference, babe."

"And we eat brownies and cheerios for post-workout meals, V."

"Patrick, don't teach my son those habits, he already poops stuffing."

Patrick then assisted my little boy with some bicep curls using a rubberband attached to a pencil.

Then those 2 proceeded to wrestle and Moose got Patrick to throw his hotdog toy about a million times while I could see that my son was well on his way to becoming a tiny beefcake.

Herpes and Humor

2010-11-06T15:37:00.000-05:00

As you know, my posts tend to be common situations/moments in life that I take and turn into more humorous episodes. In this case, all the focus is on my friend, Ginger. We've been friends for a long time and I'm proud to say that we have a tendency to talk about whatever trivial subject and turn into some over-the-top kinda rant. One particular case was a night that our other friend, Riann, decided she'd bring her bag of used makeup. Riann has a tendency to not throw things away but she'd rather share her tiny eyelash bacteria and other facial cells with the rest of us. A true friend she is.

And if you know me, I don't wear a lot of makeup. So I simply chose to pass on trying out anything in her stash. Not to mention, I wasn't in the mood right then for a debilitating case of herpes simplex virus. Not that Riann was sportin' a small speed bump on her lip, but it's just best to avoid that potential altogether.

But not Ginger...the girl loves a good deal on some Maybelline. Not only that, but I think there was also some Rimmel in the mix. And who wouldn't want a good mascara that's endorsed by none other than the crack-snorting, tantrum-throwing bombshell, Kate Moss. Gosh, I hope she doesn't subscribe to this blog--I'd hate to feel the backlash from this puny post.

Ginger (on the left) currently herpes free

So after all the makeup hoopla, I was going about my business the next day when my phone begins to blow up with texts. They happen to be from Ginger. In all her hysteria, she's able to send word that she woke up with a tiny mountain on her lip. I laugh and send her a message that that's what happens when you use makeup that is already used. I told her Kate Moss would be utterly disappointed and would probably call her to chew her out right after she sucks up a tiny bag of COCA-EEN up her left nostril.

"But, V, it can't have been the makeup! I love that lip gloss!"

"Well, it seems that so did a little virus. You both have shiny lips now..." I don't hesitate to let her know I'm rolling on the floor laughing and she's not very amused by it.

"It'd be nice if my friends were a little more supportive! I have to go shopping later for a nice outfit that I find on the clearance rack for $3.25!!"

"Ok, ok, I'm sorry. Why don't you come over and since Moose is currently setting off Roman candles, I'll have him aim that sucker right at your lip-enveloping alien and he'll shoot it off--free of charge. I'll take pictures."

"Stop being a bitch, this thing is disgusting! I think it's going to need it's own zip code!"

"Well, we also have a small lab kit here. I bet if we take a sample of it, it may just turn out to be your twin. Let's go ahead and name it and maybe you can take your Christmas pictures by fireplace. I'll knit the little booger a sweater. I heard herpes tend to get a bit chilly during the winter months."

"Ok, I'm defriending you on Facebook and then permanently deleting you out of my life...that is, after I get that little sweater. Hahahahahahahahahaha! Oh wait, do you think I could get a deduction on my taxes if I claim it as a dependent?"

"Hey, it can't hurt to try. Take it into the INS, give them a few bucks and they'll make it a full-blown citizen."

I finally got a little serious and said that I read on WebMD that you can ease the pain of the virus with Vitamin C, lysine, and topical creams. Other than that, you just gotta wait it out and then do things to prevent future outbreaks.

She did come over after that and upon seeing her Moose ran screaming out of the house. It went something like this:

"O. M. G.! My mother let a foreigner into our home and I think it wants to use my tiny body as a host! I'm just a little boy! Juan! Rosa!! Save me, por favor! Que debe ejecutar para la frontera ahora! (We must run for the border now!)"

Seriously, where that little guy learned Spanish is beyond me. But it's cute to watch him running down the sidewalk with his little paws flailing in the air...

Ginger was successful in defeating the creature that invaded her lip. She's finally back to normal, but last I knew she was texting Riann to see if she could another batch of lip gloss. She's about as addicted as Kate.

A message from Moose

2010-11-01T13:30:00.000-05:00

Um, not sure how this works but my mother is in the shower right now and I snuck onto her laptop. The miniature greyhound next door told me she writes stories about me and says that I do all these things. But I have now taken an oath and swore on this tiny Bible that I DO NOT eat panties. At least I think it's a Bible, kinda looks like a book on training your dog. Hehe...hold on a sec, Ima pee on this thing. *squirt squirt*

I simply chew them like gum. One time she gave me my own pair and I chewed it til it fell apart. That was just a case of bad craftsmanship on the part of Victoria's Secret. I wrote her a letter to make better ones:

Dear Victoria, I need better panties to chew. You got some for me? I like pink and black. Maybe a striped one too. Here's $5 from my mother's purse. Your most devoted customer, Moose Wazowski.

I got only one eye. I got no balls. But I got lotsa personality and I know how to use it to get treats. Now, if anyone out there is near this apartment, I'll help you get the treats down from up on top of the fridge. Here's the address:

You go down this street. Then you have to turn over there and she lives in that apartment with the white door and the pumpkin out front. Easy peezy directions. Remember, sometimes there are these red things that are bright and my mother will stop her car when she gets to them. I always tell her to just go ahead and keep going but she said something about a ticket and going to jail. I'm a little suspicious she has a history of some felonies. Not sure what exactly a felony is but guessing it doesn't get you treats. 'Specially those that taste like filet mignon. Mother doesn't eat filet mignon cuz she says it doesn't help you get lean? Let me show you something:

Glute pose

I got nice glutes. I eat filet mignon. That lady in the shower don't know crap 'bout what it takes to get lean. She just a chub.

Sometimes when I take naps, I like to get into the snuggie. I like it cuz it makes me feel like I'm a leopard in the jungle. I'm not really a leopard, guys, I just kinda come off like one. It's my swagger. But this is me in my snuggie:

See how I just got one eye? My mother says it makes me more handsome and that having 2 eyes is overrated. I think she loves me. She always kisses me.

Sometimes I go to work with my mother. Her clients love me and sometimes they ask about me when I don't go with her. I like the studio, I can run real fast and once I accidentally pooped there. I got real excited when I saw lots of people and just dumped. She said it was ok, that I didn't mean it. I didn't.

My first time at the studio, I was just real little...like this:

That's when I had 2 eyes still. I got a harness on cuz my mother doesn't want me to be without my leash. I look kinda handsome, huh? But I'm lots bigger now, she feeds me everyday and gives me water. I also get apples, carrots, egg whites, and cucumbers. She doesn't let me have other bad food. Says I have to stay real healthy so my poop is solid.

It's solid. Sometimes when I poop, we run away from it because she forgot to put more poop bags on my leash. That doesn't happen very often. But when it does I have to poop by a bush far away. Haha, my mother is funny when she runs from my poop. I told the new kid next door about it and this is what he thought:

Ok, that's all. I gotta go, my mother's getting out of the shower. I'm gonna get to nap now, I got the red fleece blanket all ready and all she has to do is cover me up. I can't wait. Hope she doesn't find out I wrote on here.

The Honda gets an oil change...

2010-10-29T12:48:00.000-05:00

I'm not a fan of having to take my car for its routine maintenance. It was always awesome when my grandpa used to do that for us, and now I'm stuck taking my Accord to the dealership for this stuff. I especially dislike it because they already tried to tell me that since my car had almost 100,000 miles on it, that I should consider trading it in. I mean, it was going to need a new timing belt and all that stuff soon and it would cost me like $1500. I can definitely see the smart move there: buy a different car for $15000 when I only owe $2000 on mine...in the end I'd save that $1500, right. But I'd have another 3-4 years of payments. Sure, let's get on that right now. Durrrrr.

"Yeah, I don't think I'm looking for a new car. I plan on driving this one until it falls apart. And if I do need a new timing belt, I'll let YOU know."

"Ok, ma'am, but we just want to warn you of the potential risk."

"I like a little risk in my life...how do you think I got this rash?"

Meanwhile, Moose is pulling in with his little wagon.

"Yes, I need the tires on this beast to be rotated and balanced. And check the pressure in those bad boys, will you? I take some speed bumps like a demon and need to make sure I got some good balance. Cops almost caught me last time and if I don't have good speed, I might get caught next time."

"Sir, we don't work on wagons, and besides, these tires don't have air and it's just a measly little steel rod that connects them."

"Oh, well, then can you paint it and put big flames on the sides?"

"Uh, sure, I guess we can do that..."

"Thanks, bro, way to hook a brotha uuuuuuupppppp! My mom'll tip you. She's money bags."

He walks away with a slight pimp limp and gives a quick "what up" nod to the front desk clerk, Peggy. I said, "Moose, seriously, you don't walk like that and I'm pretty sure your little Transformers backpack doesn't fall into the pimp category. Leave Peggy alone."

After some time, the technician informs me I need new brakes and rotors as well as new tires. I said, "Yeah, I'm getting new tires soon. What will the brakes/rotors cost?"

"Oh, around $700."

"Oh, that's all? I think it'd be cheaper if you just cut a hole in floorboard and I'll settle for Flintstone brakes. Thanks."

"Ok, well, again...we just want to let you know of the risk."

"I appreciate that, and as I said before too...how do you think I got these bumps?"

"I thought you said it was a rash?"

"I got both, it's a combo deal. What, you jealous or somethin'?"

"Alrighty then, how about we just get you on outta here."

"Sounds good to me."

As I'm paying, Moose comes tearing around the corner on two wheels with his little wagon. And not just that, but he's got the technician behind him in the wagon as well..."Yeeeaaaaaaah, baby!!! We got this thing blazin' and ain't nobody got a Wiener Wagon like this!!!"

I roll my eyes, the technician looks at me and I simply say, "That's my son. He's his own kinda creature."

We left the dealership with Moose having made even more friends. This little guy is a magnet like no other.

Ladies Night at the K (Royals game)

2010-10-28T16:02:00.001-05:00

It's within my being to be one of the most girliest of girls. One who is teeming with femininity in a way that would make Barbie look like a mountain man who just got done bare hand wrestling a grizzly bear while at the same time making a good batch of deer jerky from a deer he shot with his homemade bow and arrow. That and he hasn't showered in about 8 days and his beard likens that of ZZ Top. Yes, that is how girly I am. Barbie is a simpleton compared to me. Good thing she divorced Ken and finally retired--she knew she was no match.

Probably the best way to celebrate any woman is a night out at Kaufman Stadium for a Royals game. I was lucky enough to go with my good friends Jill and Kristi. Kristi brought along her little son, Grayson, who, along with Moose, may have been 2 of the 6 wieners in attendance that night.

Now, at this event there is always a good variety of booths and all things appealing to females. This is everything from massage, skin care, clothing, and whatever else a woman would be attracted to...think they forgot to provide a booth with shirtless male models. One booth that was of particular interest was a chocolate fountain, which provided strawberries and you could cover the fruit in the chocolate and then indulge. I'm pretty sure women were tackling each other to get to the front of the line for that savory chocolate, which I think was just a whole bunch of melted hershey's kisses that were fed through a garden hose into a fishbowl. Nonetheless, it was a popular little setup.

One thing that should be noted is that it was quite rainy during Ladies Night at the K. So many women, so many heels, so much hairspray...then me--jeans, t-shirt, tennis shoes. Barbie is writhing in jealousy knowing how glamorous I looked. Kristi and Jill were dressed in similar fashion and little Grayson was strapped in his little Baby Bjorn stationed in a way that he could watch all the chaos at the chocolate fountain.

This fountain provided more amusement than anything else that night, including the game. While 95% of the women were at this booth the other 5% were trying to snag one of those pink bags that probably had coupons for Botox and lip injections...only in JOCO can you find your true worth in a session of Botulinum Toxin A and a good squirt of fat globules into your lip. Mmmmm, I bet that lady can't wait to go home and kiss her husband with lips full of fat taken from her right ass cheek. Does her husband know he's kissing her ass? Oh well, he'll just continue his affair with his 25-year-old secretary in the Sheraton Hotel over lunch while his wife spends his money on Gucci and plastic surgery thinking it keeps him interested.

Anyway, back to Chocolate Fountain. So, the line is long and it's raining. Jill and Kristie are in line and I'm standing off to the side keeping my eye on that stand over there where you can get roast beef sandwiches. I wasn't surprised that it was a bit isolated and not many women were flocking to it. They must have not received the memo on the importance of protein intake in order to maintain a shapely figure.

Jill says, "V, you want a chocolate covered strawberry?"

"No, I want a sandwich. You can fight those demons to get to the fountain, I'm gonna go eat like a caveman..."

"Of course you are...why wouldn't you? Well, I guess I'll enjoy all this chocolate to myself and feel what it's like to savor my femininity and revel in all this womanhood...yes, that's what I'll do."

"Riiiiiiiight, you get on that and tell me what it's like after you fend off the rest of those drooling housewives."

I'm pretty sure that after that statement, Jill farted. Nice womanhood, Jill. Keep reveling.

As I waited for Kristi and Jill to get their chocolate fix, it was obvious that the woman running the booth was not in celebration of womanhood. She must have been cursing it since it seemed as though certain functions were occurring within her body that caused her to lash out at any innocent bystander. I bet she was experiencing that brief segment of the month that required her husband to go into hiding until it passed.

She was a bit edgy because the fountain was not working properly. Not only that, but with all the rain, I noticed that the cord that plugged that fountain into electrical power was also laying in a nice puddle of water. She was a real bitchy sort so I simply said, "Hey, Satan's Mistress, I think if you just take 2 steps to the left and plug that fountain into the wall while holding this fork, you'll feel a WHOLE lot better."

She threw her fork at me as well as several strawberries. I ducked and ran while yelling, "It's only shock therapy, I swear!! Moose held his belly and laughed til his 1 eye started watering...little turd never helps his mother out. Grayson pooped in his diaper to show his disgust with Satan's Mistress.

The game was good too. Moose was trying to do the whole hey-batter-batter-swing thing but when he was in full force with it I noticed he wasn't looking at the field. He was looking at the guy carrying the big pole of cotton candy bags. I said, "Moose, turn your head and use your good eye. That's the cotton candy guy, it's not Billy Butler."

"Oh...hehe...whoopsies. GO COTTON CANDY GUY!!"

Kristi wanted a picture of all of us together and we managed to get a good one where her eyes were open. I told her if she wouldn't smoke so much weed prior to the game, it wouldn't take 7 attempts to get a good one. Here's what we came up with:

Grayson passed out because he was exhausted from all the smiling and got tired of his mom not being able to keep her eyes open. He said, "Hey, lady, how 'bout you wake me up when this crap can be a decent picture. I got dump in my diaper and I'm not a fan of getting rained on."

Another lovely night at the K celebrating womanhood...a cranky, menstruating chocolate fountain attendant, rainy, thundering weather to ruin any woman's updo no matter how much BigSexy Spray and Play she used, and coupons to satisfy any cougar's mission to complete plastic surgery in hopes of landing herself a 23-year-old boy fresh out of his law firm internship.

I already have tickets for next year's Ladies Night.

Researching online dating

2010-10-08T10:38:00.001-05:00

So it has been an abnormal couple of weeks in the house of Moose. We got some sad news that Moose's right eye had to be removed and went into quick surgery. He's been recovering like a champ since and we are waiting to get the cone taken off as well as the stitches out so we can feel like our routine is back. It's been frustrating for both of us at times, but we're happy knowing he'll be pain-free and back to regular play before too long.

Until then, we have to be careful about running, jumping, and becoming too active. That and taking the rest of the antibiotic and finding sneaky ways for him to swallow the little pills.

BUT...just because we have been a little out of sorts and things have not been as usual around here does NOT mean that we haven't had some indoor entertainment. This time around it came in the form of an online dating site.

Now, first of all, this business with the site came about when a friend of mine informed me that she has signed up for one.

"Hey, I joined this dating site."

"You did? Ok, well, it's a new avenue for you so I guess we'll see how it goes."

"Yeah, but I'm kinda nervous and scared."

"Why? It's gotta be easy, right? You can delete or ignore anyone who you're not interested in."

"Yeah, but it's still a little scary. Will you get on it with me?"

"What? Why? You want me to help you stalk boys?"

"Yeah, you can tell me which ones sound good. Pleeeeeeeeeeeeze? Oh, and it's totally free. You can communicate with people and you don't have to pay to sign up."

"Oh my gosh. Ok, but I'm only doing this for you. I'm not going to communicate or do whatever, this is to help you filter through the mess."

So as we chatted on facebook, I proceeded to go to the site and fill out the necessary info to get myself signed up. I didn't put up a picture and this was my "About Me" information:

"I keep myself in shape and will start my PhD next fall. Don't BS me with how much you workout."

Needless to say, with a picture-less profile and information as detailed about me as that little sentence, I was bound to have the boys flocking to get to me. Then I got a message (a totally generic one for sure) from the creator of the site saying that he'd reviewed my profile and it looked "perfect" and that I was ready to start meeting some good people! I should have emailed him back saying, "No picture. Wee bit of info. For all you know, I'm fatal attraction stepping onto your site. I'm 'bout ready to boil some rabbits and chase men with a large knife."

After I got myself signed up, I told my friend that I was ready to check out some guys for her. But first she wanted me to check out her profile and give her feedback to its content. I did and it was good. It was all authentic and just who she is. Then she asked me to look at a couple of guys and let her know what I thought. So I did.

But then she also noticed that I had no picture. She got mad and said that it wasn't fair if she had one up and I didn't. Really???? I'm just being supportive and helping to weed out some creeps. After some badgering I quickly put up a pic just to appease her.

We proceeded again to check out guys for her. She had been contacted by several and some we sent packing and a couple we decided were good enough to at least get to know a little. No harm, really, she could block any of those she felt were of no interest.

Then all of a sudden I started to get messages. One guy was really smooth. I couldn't help but jump up and down with excitement. His message read, "I just logged off and your pretty face just popped up on my computer are you teasing me?"

Oh gosh, cute guy with the cute line. I just got a little light-headed. Let me just race to reply and we'll get on the road to true love. Not long after that he sent 2 more messages asking me if we could "chat" and the other said that he kept running up to the bookstore to check his email hoping I'd responded.

I did write back: Ok, first of all, it's a little creepy that you keep sending me messages and I hadn't replied. Second, stop running back and forth. You'll only find I'm not sending you sweet messages and you'll most likely pass out anyway from lack of oxygen with all that running. Go hydrate yourself.

Another one wrote, "Acctually [sic], I work out every monday, wednesday, and friday. I'm currently doing Wendler's 5/3/1 routine. What do you do? lift weights? bodybuilding?"

Now this little guy obviously did not read my in-depth profile in which I clearly stated not to tell me how much you workout. Durrrrrrrrrr. But out of curiosity I looked at his profile. I'm 5'9".....he's 5'4". I like to wear heels sometimes that make me around 6'2" or 6'3". I'm guessing he wanted to go out with me so that I may have a walking end table by my side upon which to place my drink. I should probably bring a coaster, too.

Another guy wrote, "If you're in such good shape then why don't you post a picture from the neck down?"

Me: If I felt the need for your under-height weasley ass to tell me whether or not I'm in shape then I'll be sure to join some other trashy site. I know I'm in shape.

I didn't hear from him again. Wonder why.

After some time my friend told me that she was talking with a guy she met on the site. She asked me to go to his profile and once again give my feedback. I did. He seemed decent enough and I said, "Well, you really have nothing to lose and if you find he's creepy, just block him and move on. You have a bit of safety with the online thing that way."

Now, one thing with this site is that apparently you can see who has visited your profile. I was not aware of this at the time. Then my friend says, "He just asked me if I sent my friend to check out his profile."

"What? How does he know?"

"Ummmm, well, I may have a photo up on my profile that includes you and me."

"What????? Seriously, the whole point of this stalking thing is that I be undercover and sort of hang out in the bushes while you interact. I was only to give a few whistles and clicks in case I felt that any of them were creepers. Did we not go over this in Undercover Training 101??"

"I'm sorry! It's just a cute picture of us and I like it, so I put it up there! And he laughed about it anyway, he said you're a good wingman for helping me out."

"Well, whatever the case is, you have to allow me to run incognito during this operation. How can we claim victory when you're blowing my disguise?"

After all of that nonsense, she seems to have found someone to communicate with outside of the dating site. If it turns into everlasting love, I'll probably be the flower girl or the organist or the flutist at the wedding. Moose will decorate his cone with frills and flowers and grind out the chicken dance.

Calling all nannies

2010-09-22T12:47:00.000-05:00

There are many changes happening with my schedule these days. I am taking one final class as well as starting a second job this week. There are things that I need to make sure to pay off before I move out to California next fall. Not only that, but (*covers Moose's ears*) he also needs to have his tiny balls removed.

Anyway, because my schedule will require a lot more time away from home, Moose is in the process of conducting interviews for a temporary nanny. This will be a role with high expectations and total undivided attention. We're talking letting the little boy come into the bathroom with you...there are no exceptions, he's extremely needy and HAS to be near you. Given his cycloptic trait this means no more than 3 feet away, otherwise he thinks you're just a big blurry talking blob.

We have had some success this morning with interviews. He was good to get up early and post an ad on Craigslist. I was rather proud of the turnout since his ad looked something like this:

Deer Sum1, mye name iz MooSe. I live rite here in this kenell, butt most tymes i git 2 run round tha huse. i lik mye weener 2 much, mom sez. im jus a cupple inches off da ground. always happee. lyke toys. kan u come ovurr n watch me while mom duz othur things? jus 4 liddle while. im sweet. shee pays gud.

So far we've had a number of nice candidates. I did happen to also place an ad saying that he is fond of apples and kisses, so that prompted a greater number of resumes. He insisted on conducting the interviews himself since he had a better understanding of what he needed in a good nanny.

"Why? You're not that hard to make happy, honey."

"But, Mother, what if I accidentally pass the silent gas? Those are smelly and you always tell me to go wash myself after. What if the new nanny can't handle it?"

"I guess. And since we're on the subject of smelly, you also need to make sure you let them know how you like to yawn right in their face first thing in the morning."

"I don't know what you're talking about, lady...my bref ain't stank."

Before I could respond he raced upstairs and put on his best little suit and combed his ears back. Since he has no thumbs, he gets clip-on ties and when he came down the stairs he accidentally put it on wrong and got his lower lip caught in it. My son tries so hard. He even asked me to spray him with his little bottle of cologne.

He vacuumed out his kennel and got out his little chair along with a clipboard with a list of questions. He put together the list the night before using his brand new crayons. He was writing intensely as indicated by his little tongue sticking out of the side of his mouth. Note: if you're envisioning this, he's left-handed. Like his mother. He didn't have an extra chair so he just piled up some pillows and said the candidates can just sit on those.

"Why don't you just let them have the chair and you lay on the pillow like you do when you watch Nickelodeon?"

"Mo-om! Cuz this is business! Don't embarrass me! And can you go sit over there when I do this? You always have to be so anal, I can do this!"

"Ok ok. You do it your way, I just go fold some laundry."

The candidate, who will be called Farrah (in honor of the late Farrah Fawcett and for confidentiality purposes), was dressed quite nicely in her little pant suit. I had advertised that it was not necessary to dress up since my son runs around naked anyway. Casual attire would have sufficed. But to each his own.

The interview went a little something like this:

"Ok, Farrah, I see here that you have 2 squeaky toys and like to play all day. What kind of squeaky toys?"

"Well, one is a squeaky hamburger and the other is a squeaky football."

"Okaaaay...well, I think I might be able to work with that. (*adjusts his monocle and clears throat*) Now, just so you know, I am a fan of the hotdog and the soccer ball. This may affect your pay."

"Well, I will work hard, Mr. Moose. I promise."

"I believe you, Farrah. I really do. Now, my mother, she will rub my ears and eyes and she gets on the floor with me to play all the time. Can you match that kind of work ethic?"

"Uh, I---I--I really think I can."

"Ok, well, what if, oh, I don't know, let's just say I happen to get a hold of some of those weird panty things. What would you do?"

"Um, I don't know. I guess I'd let you have them?"

"Is that right? Now what do you know about these panty things?"

"Um, well, I know they are a piece of clothing and I guess that's about it. I'm not sure if this is a trick question but what's the deal with panties?"

"Oh, uh, well, nothing. That was just a test. You passed. If you ever see me with a pair, just look the other way and if my mother would ever happen to ask you if I had some, just remember this phrase: I di'in't see nuthin'."

"Ok."

"Practice it one time for me."

"I, um, I...oh gosh..."

"It's ok, take your time, we can practice all day."

"I....uh....I di...int...see, um, oh what's that word...NUTHIN!"

"Yessss! I think you and I will be fast friends. But one last thing, do you happen to have any apple pieces?"

"I do, but they are Gala apples."

"That's ok, just slip me a few pieces now. When you start tomorrow you can just bring Fuji. Mom's real specific on what kind of apples."

My son, the little clip-on tie-wearing boy just found himself a naive and clueless nanny. And I'm pretty sure that instead of going over his pooping routine he is only showing her where I keep his treats, the best route to my top dresser drawer, and telling her that he's allowed to watch PG-13 when that is clearly NOT the case.

What was I thinking?

Moose gets a Go Kart

2010-09-20T07:39:00.000-05:00

I thought that maybe Moose needed a little independence. He's a very social little booger and is always either on his phone texting frantically like Kim Kardashian or he's constantly on Facebook updating his status and keeping up with his fan page.

I decided he may need his own mode of transportation that would be a little simpler and cut down on navigation time. In the past, in order for Moose to get out and meet his friends he always sort of relied on me to hook his wagon up to the back of my car. He'd sit down strap himself in, put on his aviaton goggles and cap, and brace himself for a wild ride through the streets of Overland Park.

What the goal usually was is that I'd pull him up a hill, then unhitch the wagon and give him a push. See, he was too embarrassed to have his mother drop him off to meet his friends. He'd rather I give him that shove and using the increase in acceleration and velocity, it would hypothetically drive him to his destination of interest. The only part of the equation that would typically be impossible to adjust is acceleration--little guy's legs just aren't long enough to use as brakes.

He'd go barrelling down the hill and since he has no thumbs to adequately steer the wagon handle there would be too many instances where his intention to make a right hand turn failed miserably. With the handle in his right paw, he'd make the appropriate right-turn signal with his left paw at 90-degree angle. Upon realization that he was unable to slow down and was gaining considerable momentum he'd end up screaming in both fear and alerting others.

"OOOHHHH MYYYYY GOSSSSSSSSHHHH!!!! COMIN' THRUUUUUUU! THIS THING AIN'T SLOWIN' DOWWWWWWWN!!!"

With that air of confidence and composure, he'd make a sharp turn which only ended up hurtling his tiny body into the air. Good thing that little wiener wears his aviator goggles and cap, they keep his eyes from drying out and his ears from getting tangled in the telephone wires.

I would just get in my car, drive down the hill, help him down off the wires and put his wagon in the trunk. Then it would just be that horrible embarrassment when his friends would see me drop off my son so they could all go bowling. He'd have little goggle impressions on his face and a little bit of road burn.

It was time we tried a new route. I decided that he needed a car, one that would suit his size and would allow him to drive himself to each and every social engagement. He got a Go Kart.

He still insists on wearing his goggles and cap. He also opened an iTunes account and has proceeded to make his own pimpin' mix. It's a combination of Snoop Dogg, Daddy Yankee, Pit Bull, and Madonna. He's my little material boy. He does have a tendency to try and compare rims and hydraulics with our neighbor Juan. The problem is, he has no hydraulics and no rims. And it's not a CD he's made, just a cassette tape and his ghetto blaster is attached to the back to the kart. It's full of Milli Vanilli, Guns n Roses, Salt n Pepa, and Madonna. Yes, Madonna seems to follow us through the years and I'm sure he'll once again be downloading her music when she's still making albums at age 85.

We are currently working on not parking in the yard. He also has a tendency to whistle at the ladies yelling, "Heeeey girl, wanna push play on my ghetto blaster? Then we can drive down the pet store and get some nice squeaky things. You got any money?" (He'd whistle but he can't quite get it and just ends up spitting bits of apple onto their shirts.)

He has a few issues with tact. I'm sure once his voice cracks and he becomes a little older, he'll also mature a little in how he interacts with the females. Until then, for anyone who lives in the KC area, be aware of the little wiener burning rubber and blaring his blaster. He's the one wearing the goggles.

Neutering Moose

2010-09-17T17:09:00.000-05:00

I haven't taken Moose to get neutered yet and that is because it is not a financial obligation right now. I figure that he can relish in his masculinity for a while before those tiny balls are no longer taking up residence between his hind legs.

Here is the specimen cooperating with scientists in displaying his teeny balls circa Feb 2010.

I read this statistic on neutering that the descendants of one female dog can produce almost 200 offspring before she is 5 years old. Now let's imagine if Moose was the one who managed to be the patriarch of that line.

Here are the likely characteristics and behavioral patterns that I'm pretty sure will one day be mapped out in a giant genome project funded by the government:

1) They will all have 1 blind eye, which is also known to function as a Magic 8 Ball. You turn the little guy upside down, give him a couple gentle shakes, ask a question, turn him over and reveal the answer.

Ex: Question: Did you just eat the elastic in my underwear? Answer: It is decidedly so.

2) They will most likely try and steal entire rolls of toilet paper and decorate your bedroom with it.

3) They will think it's cool to eat moths and watch ants crawl along the sidewalk using their good eye that just slightly cocked to make sure they get high definition vision.

4) They will poop out teddy bear stuffing.

5) They will expect you to pull out that stuffing when it is obviously tangled up in the chute.

Note: This is only after they have freaked out and frantically run circles around you trying to get away from the poop that has a death grip on their little chute.

6) They will beg for apples, berries, carrots, and PB and cheese ice cream.

Alert: At times this desire will be emphasized with high-pitched yelps and attempts to knock over the bowl. It is a pre-meditated action that is followed by putting their paws up, shrugging their tiny shoulders and saying, "Wha' happen? These dirty now? Want me to eat them?"

7) They will effortlessly dismember rope toys in a matter of minutes. Said rope has a high probability of making an appearance during chute-tangled poop episode. Note to self: Do not buy anymore rope toys.

8) Dryer sheets are their breath mints.

ATTN: This action will also result in similar consequence as pointed out in behavioral pattern #5. Exercise caution should one of those boogers happen to ingest a combination of stuffing/rope/dryer sheet. Make sure to have the number of a tiny dachshund ambulance on hand so as to notify the Wiener Authorities of such an atomic mixture. The nature of such poop should be studied at NASA.

9) They will take great pleasure in riding in the car and randomly honking the horn, thereby scaring Juan and Rosa. No big deal, just wave a nice "hola".

10) This should be at the top of the list, but without a doubt, they will be the most loveable and happy little cuddlers. With the occasional gassy ass. Get some Febreze.

P.S. They make great little furnaces in the colder months.

As I type this, Moose is lying at my feet using my foot as a pillow. He spent the afternoon playing with company and wore himself on a walk to the mailbox.

He always goes balls to the wall. How long that will last with actual balls is a mystery.

We got a drug screen

2010-09-16T12:21:00.000-05:00

Sometimes when you get a new job you have to go get a drug screen to prove that you are not high. They tell you to do it and will even give you up to a week to get it done. That's just enough time for Moose to run to the store, get a buncha Flush the Coca-Een, run home and drain his tiny system of all illicit products. If you call peanut butter and cheese ice cream illicit, then so be it--his system is typically drenched in it.

We moseyed our butts on down to LapCorp and proceeded to Suite 218. A big sign on the door read, "Drug Screens and Paternity Tests". Moose laughed, pointed at the sign and said, "Get a loada this, Mother. If they think I'm gonna claim to be anybody's baby daddy, they got another thing comin'." With that, he revelcroed his Spiderman shoes and we entered into the suite.

A pleasant smell greeted us. It was something of a combination between spilled urine, a mechanic shop, Axe body spray, and cheap cigars. Moose and I inhaled as deeply as possible and signed in.

We took a seat next to a woman who was seriously dressed for the prom. Not only was her hair very pretty but the way she managed to teeter on her heels was very elegant. I could tell that in order to walk so agonizingly you had to make sure your shoes were at lease 3 sizes too small. In the 10 minutes we waited, she managed to apply lipstick at least 5 times. Once she even offered me some, but I politely declined.

"Oh no thanks, I'm still trying to get rid of this little herpes hill on my lip."

Moose: Yeah, that thing been there forever. Woman won't just go get it lanced off.

"Shut your mouth when you talk to people, you want those balls bronzed and mounted on my mantle next week?"

The obviously overworked/underpaid employee at the window called me and Prom Queen over to sign the papers and present our IDs. Then she called me back and told me to wash my hands and use the green soap. I did as instructed. Then she presented me with the little plastic cup with a lid.

"Now go in that bathroom and fill to this line. And don't flush the toilet."

I was immediately confused. "So I pee in this thing? But I don't flush the toilet? Am I suppose to pee in the toilet too?"

I could tell by the look on her 5-foot frame that she had no time for someone like me. She was annoyed.

"No. don't. flush. the. toilet."

"But you said for me to pee in this. What does the toilet have to do with anything?"

Her face got a little red but I thought maybe she was just a little bashful. Then I think she was talking at me through clenched teeth.

"Just...pee...in...this. touch. the. toilet. and. I. kick. your. 5-9. ass."

"Okaaaaaay, geez. By the way, I think if you get more protein in your diet, you might feel better. You're kinda tense."

I went in the bathroom. There was red tape on the sink and the toilet tank. Kinda like mini crime scenes. I peed in the cup.

I came out and she told me to wash my hands again. With the green soap. I did. I was scared of her.

"You can't flush the toilet because people will try to cheat that way. But you obviously wouldn't cheat."

"Haha! No way, if anything you'll find a ton of Dunkin Donuts coffee in my system. And protein. Speaking of protein, have you ever..."

"Git yo dingbat ass outta my office!"

Meanwhile, Moose managed to befriend Prom Queen, peed on her heels, and danced to Islands in the Stream by the BeeGees with her. Pretty sure I heard him say:

"So, yeah, like, I got these babes you know, and they all think I'm da baby daddy. But I ain't. It just that I'm a lover and treat the ladies all good...then they want me raisin' they kid cuz I do right."

Me: Moose, really? You have no concept of females. You only learned all that from watching Step Brothers. Now veclro your shoes and let's go."

"Man, Mother, why you gotta bring up the velcro?"

We had to make a stop at Costco on the way home. As I put Moose in the cart and he was swinging his legs happily, he managed to tell everyone we passed that his Mother just peed in a cup.

"My mother just peed in a cup. They wanna look for Coca-Een. She won't get the job if they find it. I got Spiderman shoes. Velcro."

My son is very discreet. He is currently serving a sentence of 2 minutes on the Time-out Bench for telling the cashier she looked like she did the Coca-Een.

The dish on Deals

2010-09-14T15:15:00.000-05:00

There's this store called Deals that I was introduced to not too long ago. It's much better than the Dollar Store and everything in Deals is really $1. Moose and I decided that since he'd managed to completely destroy all of his other toys save the squeaky hotdog, it was time he reloaded his arsenal.

I love this store because they will have these brands that no one has ever heard of and I would highly question the true content of some of their foods. The label may say the food is refried beans, but the ingredients are written in Russian, there's a tiny Chinese flag on it, and the location of origin for shipping is from somewhere is southeastern Peru. Moose stood there for a bit scratching his head trying to translate cooking instructions. He asked me a question at one point and I just said, "No, Moose, we don't have any gasoline to marinate that." It's all a little suspicious.

I did read this article once on MSN Money that listed a few things you should buy at the dollar store. One of those items is vitamins, especially the off-brand stuff. But as is my duty as a personal trainer in fulfilling the obligation to fully research various aspects of the fitness industry, we decided to load up on some of those vitamins. Never mind that some of the bottles had a picture of a cockroach with a machine gun on them. Just a little humor by those funny factory workers.

But other than a few things, there are other great things you can purchase. The article approved shampoos, household cleaners, spices, kitchen utensils, party goods and gift bags, and obviously various toys and games.

The MSN article said that the vitamins don't digest right. They also said not to buy toothpaste there because some of them contained a chemical called diethylene glycol--you get that crap in antifreeze! I guess it's easily explained away because maybe they just make toothpaste and antifreeze in the same garage and they always have leftover diethylene glycol laying around. They thought, "Gosh, this stuff sure helps the antifreeze to protect a car engine and make it run well while preventing oxidation. I bet if we added it to the toothpaste, it'll keep your teeth from freezing and rusting too! Yeah, that's it!"

We grabbed a coupla tubes of DentaGoo to go with our Lyfe Buz vitamins. I wasn't concerned at all with the spellings of the names or that we had to sign waivers when we checked out. Moose paid with his weekly allowance and home we went. He got 3 new toys, 100 poop bags, and a brush too...all for $6. A real steal.

We were excited to try our new stuff, so we popped open the vitamins and ran to get our toothbrushes. It was like Christmas at our house! As soon as we popped the lid off the vitamins, there was a weird dust that came out of the bottle and for a brief second I thought Moose strongly resembled Little Bo Peep and he suddenly started doing River Dance. But that moment soon passed and we eagerly swallowed the recommended dose of 6 pills each. The warning said something about having a first aid kit and the Jaws of Life readily available, but we just thought that was more factory worker humor.

As we waited for our bodies to absorb and relish in the magical ingredients, we thought we'd kill time by shining up our teeth. DentaGoo came in a tube that had that little symbol for radioactive material. Misprint, I'm sure.

I flipped open the cap and accidentally spilled a little on the floor. It started steaming and then created a small hole in the carpet but I moved my plant over the hole so that I don't get charged extra when I move out next year. Hate those extra fees.

Moose eagerly shoved his Spiderman toothbrush forward in anticipation of a glob of DG. I gave him some and then got my own and we started brushing away. We took the recommended 2-minute time to brush our chops and then rinsed thoroughly to experience the shine and clean.

We are now watching a movie. Moose has mysteriously swollen up like a little blowfish and has a weird lump growing on the bottom of his lip. He smiled at me and a tooth fell out and landed on his right leg that seems to be covered in warty clumps. I suddenly got a bad case of herpes on my lip and my hair is falling out. No big deal, though, kinda like my right eye all of a sudden going into spasms and I can randomly speak Mandarin.

A day without herpes is a day wasted.

A trip to the Sprint store

2010-09-13T21:17:00.000-05:00

My data card quit working last night which means that I was unable to connect to the internet and obsessively keep track of my fantasy football teams. That and fart around facebook. Moose was pissed because he couldn't play minesweeper but that discussion was quickly shut down when I reminded up that as he's frantically trying to sweep all the mines, his good eye starts to get tired and he always ends up going narcoleptic onto the keyboard. So annoying when I'm also simultaneously trying to constantly refresh my facebook page. There is just not enough elbow room for the 2 of us.

Anyway, my Sprint USB760 Novatel Wireless Modem went dump on me and next thing I know Moose and I are completely disconnected from the human race. We are beside ourselves and all we did was run around the apartment flailing my arms and his little nubby things screaming for mercy. Juan and Rosa came over and offered assistance but we quickly slammed the door and resumed the screaming because it is in our nature just to simply refuse to be realistic and take the time to breathe. Instead of collecting our thoughts and figuring out how to fix the issue, we'd rather lose our heads and throw ourselves to the ground in complete devastation.

Then this morning as we emerged out of our cave, covering our eyes from the blazing sun and unsure of our surroundings, I decided that I might as well get my butt to the Sprint store for some technical help. Moose came along for moral support and hopefully a chance to pee on the tech guy's tasseled loafers.

Since we live in such a technology driven world and no one can seem to function without their bluetooth or constantly being connected in some way, it was hard for us to communicate face to face in an appropriate way. Moose started:

"HELLO! MY NAME IS MOOSE. I NEED TO PLAY MINESWEEPER!"

"Honey, we are you yelling? It doesn't make things easier to understand."

"WHAT? BUT HE WORKS FOR SPRINT."

"I know, but speak quietly, he can still hear you."

Sprint Guy took my device and I informed him of the issue.

"I feel like half a person. I don't know who I am and I don't know my purpose in life unless I am obsessively connected to the world wide web. I have no way of functioning without it. It's like my liver."

"Ma'am, you need to calm down. It's just probably a small issue with the data strips and we'll check it out. If anything, we'll just replace this one."

"But Moose here tends to jump up on my laptop and I think he's knocked something loose with it."

Moose says, "Geez, Mother, can't a dude get up in his mama's face? Can't help it if I need to lick your face and my teeny balls just happen to whack up against the data card. Daaaaaaaamn, Gina."

"Stop calling me Gina."

Sprint Guy, who stands about 5' and weighs a solid 105 lbs, smiles and says that he'll call us when it's ready to go. In the meantime, he asks if I'd like to look around the store.

"No, I don't want to look around your store. I'm within spitting distance of Sprint headquarters and I have no bars of service on my phone right now. What makes you think I wanna upgrade to another phone that would only do the same thing. Oh, that's right...this 5000-dollar phone has an instant savings of $299, with a mail-in rebate of $50, which only leaves me with $4651 to pay. Gosh, I can't wait to get it and have all my calls dropped and then the phone crashes because it can't handle all the apps ya got downloaded like this sweet Nascar tracker."

As Sprint Guy is trying to sell me, Moose is over at another help station asking if there are any panty phones available in the new 4G network. "Yes, I need one that is so fast I can get my hands on a nice pair of pink cotton panties that specifically have a 1/2-inch waistband in approximately 4.3256 seconds. Right now, working at my own speed and with the right wind direction I can snatch a good pair of undies in about 6.57 seconds--gotta improve my time, ya feel me? I prefer those that are 50% cotton and 50% algodon. Not sure what algodon is, but it's yummy."

You got any 4G panties?

"Sir, we don't sell those types of phones."

"Are you sure? It might not have reached the Midwest yet. Think I saw in USA Today that it's flying off the shelves in South Dakota."

"Sir, South Dakota is in the Midwest."

"Oh, I meant in the Bible belt."

"Still the Midwest. Now get away from my station."

As he's walking away, he manages to loudly exclaim, "What kind of place is this that doesn't have 4G panties??"

Me: Moose, let's go. You're so embarrassing and we need to get home so we can finally get back to normal by reestablishing a connection and find meaning in our lives.

"Meaning in my life equals a gift card to Victoria's Secret, lady."

We finally got home, got things reinstalled and managed to reconnect with the world. Moose is now ferociously updating his dating websites and sweeping mines like a mudda. I'm trying to watch some Monday Night Football while tracking my fantasy team and also stalk numerous people on Facebook. Thank Buddha that we are back in contact!

It was like a day with only one good eye.

We went to a garage sale

2010-09-11T15:15:00.001-05:00

Overland Park can sometimes have the best garage sales. Entire neighborhoods conspire to get each homeowner to dig out their most worthless crap, dust it off, slap a sticker on it and attempt to sell it to those who may not necessarily live within the same zip code. Some of these OP natives can have some pretty good crap, though.

People have everything for sale: TVs, clothes, boots, shoes, skates, Hot Wheels tracks, lamps, chairs, wire hangers, broken coffee makers, etc. There is never a lack of variety when a person decides to hit up a whole slew of sales during these neighborhood events.

OPer's display such items in a way that makes them seem like they have some actual worth. But what the poor buyer sometimes fails to see is that some items have been strategically assembled in such a way that it will not fall apart until after you have arrived back home with it. And since many of them come from farther away, it's a move made by vendors knowing that buyers will not bother with attempting to return the item once they realize it really is crap. They live too far away and it would cost more in gas money to make the trip than to actually have any hope of getting their money back.

Moose and I decided to head out to a few. I thought that I'd just park my car on the street somewhere between several houses all displaying a vast array of stuff. Then we'd just take our time on this incredibly nice day and browse through old stretched out shirts, picture frames, water guns, and lamps that no longer have their shade.

I was not looking for anything in particular, but just wanted to have an excuse to be out and about and knew that Moose would love the activity and not lack for attention from other garage salers. As a matter of fact, I'm pretty sure he tried to finagle a lollipop from a little girl who was determined to buy that pink Barbie scooter for a whole dollar.

"Pssst, hey kid, lemme lick that lollipop real quick."

"No, it's mine. (lick lick)"

"Aw, come on...my Mother isn't looking, lemme just see it for a second."

"No, it's mine. (lick lick)"

"I'll give you one of my poop bags that's attached right there at the end of my leash. Please?"

"No, don't wanna poop bag. (lick lick)"

"I'll give you my monocle."

Meanwhile, I found a nice blouse circa 1973 that I am sure will come back into style in about never. But I was determined to talk down the vendor from her sale price of 75 cents. It is my duty, as an aspiring garage sale maniac, to talk them down to at least one-third of the asking price. That's right, I wanted that devastatingly wretched blouse for 25 cents.

"I got a quarter for that blouse. Can I have it?"

"No, this is a one of a kind piece of crap article of clothing."

"But it would look hideous with my new jeans. Can I have it? Got one quarter..."

"No, see this nice wine stain? That was a bottle of Dom...priceless at this point."

"But I'd really like to accent those pit stains with this crusty, cracked plastic belt I just got for a nickel down the street. Can I have it?"

"For 50 cents."

"I'll give you 30 cents and this lint from my pocket."

"Sold!"

Just as I was paying in lint and small coins, I see Moose snatch the lollipop and we take off running. I drop my belt, get it tangled around my legs, and we go tumbling into the table piled up with doilies and snow globes. Moose face plants and gets the lollipop stuck on his ear.

As we get to our feet I spy a faded pleated skirt that would wreak havoc with my blouse and a pair of neon scrunchy socks. After much haggling and a couple of after dinner mints from my purse, I manage to snare those gems for a grand total of 55 cents and fresh breath.

What Moose and I have just demonstrated is the art of "beading" at a garage sale. This means that we have taken on a gypsy-like persona and outfoxed the vendors in selling their item for almost nothing. According to the website http://www.thundergroundfilms.com/zen/ysdictionary.html, we have managed to pull a Manhattan on those unsuspecting sellers of crap. HAHA!

Now that we're back at home, Moose is staring in the mirror at his lollipopped ear and keeps asking me if it's watermelon or cherry flavor. I'm parading around behind him admiring my new look for church on Sunday.

Watch out, Jesus, we are comin' to get ourselves exorcised of these gypsy ways!

We love our neighbors! (Amamos a nuestros vecinos! )

2010-09-09T15:38:00.001-05:00

So Moose and I have the best neighbors. They are quiet unlike the last philandering dude who inhabited the proportionately dumpy townhome next to mine. What I most wonder is if they get to have linoleum flooring that doesn't curl and if BOTH of their knobs on the bathroom sink work. If I told them that my cold water knob was broken and has been for the last 5-6 weeks, they'd running screaming into the front office demanding that someone come in and make their place just as equally crappy. I'm positive of that.

Moose and I like different things about our neighbors, Juan and Rosa (those aren't their names, I'm sure, but I like to give nice ethnic people nice names if I think they're nice. I'm sure people call me nice names too based on my ethnicity--Lupe, Maria, Espiranza, Lolita, Helga, Frau Lederhose, etc. If they don't, they need to start.

Here's what I like about Juan and Rosa:

1) He ALWAYS wears the most perfect ironed pants. And his shirts are always crisp and sharp and his hair is cut very neat. He really takes the time to look nice and I have a lot of respect for that. I live my life in workout clothes and while my shirts are always fresh and clean and my pants are fitted and perfect for being a personal trainer, it never seems to attract the eyes the way his outfits do. Ole Juan!! Moose and I dance around our sombrero in celebration of your ability to starch the crap out of your wardrobe!

2) She always keeps a very clean home and likes to vacuum alot. I vacuum alot too and keep my place clean, so I think she and I are secretly twins, separated at birth. 'Cept she is about 6 inches shorter and looks nothing like me. We're still twins. Just different moms and dads. Still twins. She was born in Mexico, I was born in Paraguay. Twins. Her first language is Spanish, mine was German...ah, crap, who cares. We are facebook BFFs, and that is more than you can say about being connected by blood. Facebook is thicker than blood.

3) I'm pretty sure they make some kick-ass tamales and empanadas. Meanwhile, on our half of this dwelling, I have a staple diet of egg whites, chicken, apples, lettuce, and carrots. Not sure that I could ever get much of anything resembling Mexican food out of those pathetic ingredients. But it keeps me lean and since Moose gets apple and carrots every now and then, his little glutes are starting show some good lift and he's quite the lean little booger himself. What my neighbors may have noticed by now, though, is that on Sundays, some pizza delivery boy is bounding up our walk on his way to deliver yet another meal for 6 to my apartment of 1 and a half. If food is such a big part of their culture, with my eating skills I'm pretty sure that I would have had one kick-ass quincenera back in the day! Makes me wanna hit a pinata filled with churros!

Here is what Moose likes about Juan and Rosa:

1) Juan wears these work boots that Moose kinda likes to pee on when Juan pets him and gives him lots of attention. Juan says it's no big deal, they are his work boots, so Moose just can't help but squirt all over 'em. When Moose hears Juan come home from work: Mother, Mother, can I pleeeeeeeeease go outside? Please oh please oh please oh pleeeeeeeease. He's just right there and I jus' need to see him for a minute! Pleeeeeeeease?? He has literally thrown himself against the door before with his exuberance temporarily knocking himself out and most likely dreaming of a good fiesta complete with tres leches cake and platanos machos. Delicioso amigos!!

2) Rosa likes to put the trash right outside their door and Moose can't help but run over and smell it and hope that one day Rosa will treat him to one of her empanadas. When he sees the bag he immediately makes a beeline for it: Man oh man, she put it out there! I just need to see something, Mother, just a little bit. I bet she put a tamale in there and I bet if I dig hard enough I can get it out!! Por favor, Mami! Poooooor favoooooooor!!!! Oh mi pobre madre dulce, ¿por qué usted tortura me tan? (little did we all know that my son is bilingual. He's not bi-ocular, but he is bi-lingual--hahahahahahahaha)

3) Juan drive 2 low-riders. These are especially attractive to Moose who so happens to be fond of shiny tires that he can leave his mark on. There is nothing Juan likes better than for my uni-vision boy to drench his freshly shined tires with his urine. But Juan is a good soul and lets us look on as he fires up that tricked out truck and puts the hydraulics into action causing it to bounce up and down and right to left--it makes Moose quiver with excitement just knowing he claimed that left front tire as his own.

We love our neighbors. They are good people and they also like to eat IHOP just as much as I do. Moose sits by the door sometimes just waiting for any sign of activity from them, while I try my hardest to figure out where he got that little Mexican flag. Hijole!!

Moose and Nessa go to a wedding...

2010-09-07T09:12:00.000-05:00

...and we had no idea when to kneel, when to criss-cross applesauce, or which saint went with what. So we decided, that as a coupla Mennonites, we'd handle this day with grace right there in the pew. The priest was one of the coolest either one of us had ever come across and it made Moose really consider having me send him to a monastery. But I said, "Moose, you don't go to a monastery to become a priest. You gotta, like, study theology or get a master's degree in divinity. Then you should probably volunteer at the parish and help the priest with religious services. Then you have to take a vow and pretty much commit to a life of solitude. No more flirting."

"What? That's what I gotta do? I just wanna eat the wafer things and get blessed a lot."

"Yes, honey, it's not just something you can do...it's a serious commitment. Now come on, he's about to do the reading thing and we gotta say something."

"But I like the ladies...and I like to keep my balls. Do those wafers come in peanut butter flavor?"

"Both those gotta go, and no, the wafers don't really have a flavor--it's about the meaning behind it, the spiritual experience. Now do this chant: aaaahhhhh....rooooogata....aaaaahhhh..laaaay....loooo....yaaaaa..."

"What if we do this: boom shaka laka...boom...wow wow.... I think I saw those cute little Spanish nuns doing the Stanky Leg to that beat earlier..."

"No, that's after the blessing and when Melissa tells Fermin that she will be his wife and love him forever. And stop making things up about the nuns, they don't do that. They make play clothes out of curtains and sing about their favorite things--you know, when the dog bites? When the bee stings? When they're feeling sad? They simply remember their favorite things?"

"Oh yeah, why don't you become a nun, Mother? When do we kneel?"

"Right now...and I'm not going to become a nun, I like my Mennonite heritage that always comes with a side order of fresh bread, butter, and a good game of Dutch Blitz."

"Oooh, I love Dutch oven!"

"Dutch BLITZ, you gassy son of mine! Now kneel and say grace!"

Moose proceeded to kneel but due to his lack of the appropriate length in legs, he uncontrollably slid off the pew, fell forward, and face-planted right into the back of Sister Agnes' habit. He was so embarrassed and just blurted out, "Sweet Mother Mary, this is gonna get me kicked out of the next Mennonite Central Committee sale and I'll never get another cheese curd sandwich again!"

I grabbed Moose and pulled him back onto the pew and told him just to hum the tune of "Whoomp There It Is" as atonement for this most shameful moment. I couldn't help myself with the humming and we both then did Da Dip right den and dare...pretty sure I caught Moose doin' the booty shake out of the corner of my eye. No one told me he learned that while watching MTV.

He did get brave at the reception and thought he'd try his hand at Spanish considering the groom's family is from Spain. Unfortunately, it went something like this: Hola. Mas grande caca en los pantalones. Donde esta la biblioteca?

Alas, my son just told them he had pooped in his pants and then asked where the library is... Let's forget this moment and just dance the night away, shall we? This ended up being yet another tragic event given that Moose bribed the DJ to play "Get Low" by Lil Jon. Appropriately, Moose then proceeded to imitate Sandra Bullock in "The Proposal" where she happens to dance in the woods with Betty White: from the window to the wall, til the sweat drop down my balls...let me see you get low, you scared, you scared, drop dat ass to the floor, you scared, you scared...

That little booger sure knows how to put on a show. Especially when he put his hands behind his head, wiggled his hips and yelled, "Hey Sister Mary Magdalene, get a loada this!"

Once again my face-planting, pants-pooping, wiggle-wit-it son is making a complete spectacle of himself. But at least he looked handsome: I had made sure that his mini suit was fitted perfectly as his little black tie nicely encircled his little neck and his boutonniere really brought out his eyes, at least his good eye.

He's my baby boy and I love him. We are a good pair and there is never a lack of entertainment or total nonsense...it's a wonder sometimes his mother is able to proceed with her PhD and schools actually take her seriously.

Her starbucksy and unstellarly way of using the word "stellar"

2010-08-30T13:01:00.000-05:00

I'm sitting in Starbucks off 119th Street reading/researching for a paper. I've been here for a couple of hours already and think that I may friend the barista on facebook. Let's call her Little Miss Sunshine. This is not because I recently viewed that awesome movie with the unforgettable dance scene at the end, but because LMS brings nothing but sunshine to all the Leawoodites who happen to saunter in for their daily latte. And before I proceed, I just need to remind everyone that this little bubble known as Johnson County has been identified as one of the most educated regions in the nation. I'm pretty sure that once I get my own boob job I'll also grow smarter.

So, Sunshine likes to strike up some good conversation with all customers. She's really very sweet back there behind that little counter whipping up a skinny vanilla latte for all these already highly emaciated beacons of beauty. She likes to compliment people on their shirt, their hair, and whatever else she finds pleasing. I bet she was bred in the Starbucks Stockyard for the very purpose of what I am observing today. If she was also fed hormones and a good mix of corn/milo mash, she can go long periods without eating or sitting or even having to use the restroom. She's a machine.

But one thing Sunshine lacks, and makes me want to educate her, is the ability to correctly use the word "stellar". As defined by Daniel Webster, a man very near and dear to my heart, the origin of the word stellar is latin (just like everything else under the sun). It is from late latin stellaris, or the latin word stella, which means star. We are talking about a word that is synonymous with words like this: cosmic, astral, universal, supreme, galactic. But it also has meaning that can be similar to words like this: leading, major, essential, most important.

"Have a stellar day!"

So, is she telling people to have an astrological day? A starry day? Or is she wanting them to have a major day? Perhaps a primary one? Or what about a preeminent one?

She also just told a woman that she liked her shirt. Lady: Oh, thank you!

Sunshine: Do you know where you got it?

Lady: No, not sure, I've had it a while.

Sunshine: Oh, well, yours looks too big for me, anyway.

Aaaaaand, you just pissed off a highly botoxed stay-at-home Leawood mom. Just you wait until her philandering husband hears about this because when he does, I bet he'll wanna sleep with you too, Sunshine.

Next up, Target #2 is approaching slowly and in a very stealthy manner because her new size 6 Manolo Blahniks are just a wee bit tight and prolly rubbing a good blister on her actual size 9 feet.

Sunshine: Hi, welcome to Starbucks! I like your hair, did you change it?

Manolo wearer: No, I haven't done anything different to it.

Sunshine: Huh, well, I liked it better before.

Okaaay, and we have another one going down. Mayday! Mayday! Sunshine needs a quick recovery and we need to get this woman another pair of size 00 True Religions to squeeze her skeleton into!

Despite herself, Sunshine is really a pleasant person. She is constantly smiling and likes her job. Who wouldn't like a job where you have access to an array of pastries and a constant stream of caffeine? If I worked here, they'd lose a silly amount of profits cuz their newest trainee keeps eating the pound cake.

Moose likes Sunshine, he peed on her shoe and winked at her with his good eye. I like her too, 'cept I did neither of those things. Just gave her a dollar tip when I got my coffee.

Days of our Lives, starring Moose Wimpy Pants

2010-08-26T14:45:00.000-05:00

He is unbelievable with is dramatics. One of his favorite things to do if he is on the bed or on the couch is to drop his toy deliberately off the bed or behind the couch. Before it even hits the ground he starts whining and staring at me to pick it up. At first, not quite caught on to his manipulations, I would pick it up and give it back to him. Not before too long, I noticed he would consciously get his toy, jump up onto the couch, stand on his hind legs, make sure I was looking, and then drop it over the back of the couch. Then the whining proceeds. That sneaky little mudda.

And of ALL the other toys laying around, he just so happens to NEED that one. Then it becomes a battle between us where I refuse to get it for him and his whining becomes more high-pitched. He eventually comes over, gets in my lap with his face in my face, cocks his head so he's glaring at me with his good eye, and emphasizes his whine. NO! I will NOT get your toy! You have 7 others laying in the middle of the floor and they are just as stinky as that one. Now go play!

Then he paces back and forth on the couch trying to show me that his anxiety is building and building and there are not enough apple bites in the world that could solve this crisis. Well, maybe a couple with a side of baby carrots, but that's IT! "No, mother, I will NOT let you rub my eyes or smash your face on my face. I will NOT let you cuddle me and make me laywith you til I fall aslee.....ZZzzzzzzzzz...zzzzzz...zzzz...zz...

Thirty minutes later he wakes up and I'm thinking he's forgotten about the toy for now. I mean, he manages to forget that he ate half a roll of toilet paper that I was very clear about not doing. But no, he gets back on the couch to resume his soap opera drama. What's worse, he has a whole act put together. He throws his stumpy little paws into the air although they barely go above what should be his shoulders. Then he flings his head back and wails, "Why?!?! WHYYYYYY?!?! In the name of everything that is holy and sacred, why have you done this to me Vishnu?!?!?!"

"Um, since when did you become Hindu?"

"Since you gave me that Star of David bracelet."

"That makes no sense."

"Neither does the fact that you make sleep in a bed shaped like Noah's Ark and recite Confucian ethics before I fall asleep."

"Honey, that's just so my son grows up to tolerate and be open-minded. Now go get your Wiccan scepter and write me a poem about how you are one with the earth."

"No, I need my squeaky hotdog!! It gives me inner peace and makes all my chakras line up so I can get to Temple on time."

"I don't know what those words are that are coming out of your mouth. Help me get this bread out of the oven so we can get to the Mennonite Relief Sale on time."

Instead, he resumes his whines, paces back and forth and then turns to the couch and extends his paw dramatically with a longing look on his face: Til we are together again, my love, my dear sweet squeaky. Til we meet again...I will not rest until I can once again carry you around in my mouth and am ready to stuff you under the ottoman. Then and only then will I be able to curse the day that that damn L. Ron Hubbard ever was able to convince John Travolta and Tom Cruise that they had aliens in their bellies.

He's a dramatic little mudda who just wore himself out, so he's sleeping peacefully on his back exposing himself to the world as I study and apply to more scholarships.