Monday, November 16, 2009


Yesterday I inadvertently figured out how to embarrass my dad. For those who know him, this feat is a marvel and all the more amusing because it was accomplished on his turf. While exploring our local massive outdoor flea market searching for unique finds among the garbage/hispanic novelty items/imported knock-offs/old stuff, I found a few intriguing items. Most sellers had piles of stuff all over their tables, in boxes, and scattered on the ground that buyers could dig through (kind of like a dirty treasure hunt). In the bottom of one of the boxes I spotted what looked like an upside down white enameled metal bowl of some sort - I pulled out one of these:

I struck gold again at the same booth just a few minutes later with what looked like a pretty white flower pot. This time however I had a tiny little voice in the back of my mind saying "Girl, you know what that thing really is," while another voice responded "Yes, but wouldn't it look nice filled with flowers or potpourri!" The aforementioned paternal mortification resulted from my rather loud query of "Can anyone tell me what exactly this is?" It was at this point that all of the old men around me stopped and stared. Let me give you a clearer picture of this scenario: I (a 20-something respectably dressed young lady) am standing behind an old diesel truck that has disgorged it diverse contents (likely accumulated from several estate sales) onto tables and the ground around me. The display is manned by four
slightly smelly dirty old men, all of whom are wearing at least one item of camouflage clothing. I am asking this innocent-sounding question while pointing at one of these:

The loud silence combined with a nervous chuckle and "Aww man, y'all gonna make me answer that?" from the gentleman standing next to me, confirmed my worst suspician. "Oooh, so that is a chamber pot then! I though so, but just wanted to be sure......I need to go wash my hands now" said I. The best part comes however when we had walked away and my dad says something like "I can't believe you actually asked that!!!" I would like to say that he was not entirely thrilled by how amusing I found his feelings to be.

However, the story does not end there. In an impressive attempt, I managed to go 3-for-3. At another booth I spotted what looked like a melted old milk bottle, and again asked what it was. This time the seller didn't even bother to answer - the ancient old man just gave me a look while my dad covers his face and walks away, exclaiming "UGH, Jamie, not again!!" Unfortunately this time it took me a little while to catch on, although I'm still not sure why a urinal really needs to have ounce measurements marked on the side:

think the entire situation was hilarious, HE thinks I should have been embarrassed right along with him. Nope, not going to happen, I refuse to be embarrassed for asking silly questions - I like being able to laugh at myself, it keeps things not-so-serious in Jamie-land. And besides, they were cool looking, maybe I should go back and buy them. Wouldn't it be a great conversation starter at my next dinner party to have a urinal, chamber pot, and bed pan displayed on a shelf together? Just imagine:

Guest: "Oh my, Jamie you have quite the collection."
Me: "Yes, I know, you wouldn't believe how difficult it was to track down these family heirlooms. The fact that my great-great grandparents spent so much time with these personal items makes them infinitely more special for us. Would you like to hold one?"

Wednesday, November 11, 2009

Full Moon

This video definitely falls under the category of "funny enough now to keep around and embarrass her with later." We were out having a late dinner on our quick road trip to IKEA last night when we noticed that there was a full moon occurring at our table. Lil miss had pulled her pants down and was wiggling her butt. Thankfully we were in a deserted section of the restaurant, not because of her partial nudity, but because we would have really disturbed others with our cackles of amusement. The hilarity results from what she was saying to Daddy while rubbing her bum against his's the only clip I could manage to get once we restored our table's G rating.

(you might have to turn your volume all the way up to hear what she's saying)

Tuesday, November 10, 2009

Can You Spot The Mouse?

Guess what! We're soooo excited to announce that we have finally succumbed to the marketing schemes of one the largest and most entrenched American business machines of today. Yay for us!! No really, we actually are excited, because we're going to Disney World for spring break this year :) Joe, Mom, and I all intend to participate in the "Give A Day, Get A Day" promotion that is occurring next year. Disney is offering one free day of park admission in exchange for a day of volunteer service with any participating organization. I think this is an awesome opportunity on to get involved in some local charity work (please remember that I am a proud alumni of Gamma Sigma Sigma, a sorority dedicated to service) and save some serious $$ when we go to Disney World. Additionally, Gillian will be about two and half weeks shy of her third birthday, so she'll still be a bit young for the experience by my reckoning, but at least everything for her will be free.

How do we know that she is old enough to really enjoy herself and that it isn't a waste of time that she won't remember? Well, aside from her obvious Disney princess fever/brain washing...which has been marketed so relentless to little girls nowadays (I swear we've been pointlessly trying to prevent it)....there was one particularly illuminating event. While driving one evening, I hear a shriek of excitement from the backseat, closely followed by a barely coherent round of finger-pointing, screeches of "Mickey, Mickey!!", and all of the squirming and bouncing a child safety device's restraints will permit. After quickly scanning the cars around us looking for bumper sticker or visible toy, I spotted the mouse..can you?

Believe it or not, it's actually MUCH easier to spot Mickey in this picture than it was that day. I still can't believe that she saw it from her car seat. I think she's ready.

Oh, and she'd better remember it, if only through pictures, because we'll be snapping those away like lunatics and someone will have a camcorder attached to their face. Hey, we're just trying to blend in.

Friday, November 6, 2009

I know, I know....we've been neglecting the blog. *Hugs* to all of the far away friends and family who've been pestering us about it :P


I'd like to think that a fashion scout for Walmart just happened to spot us Trick-or-Treating last year, and thought "Eureka!"

Monday, July 13, 2009

Toilet Seat Discussion..Revisted

Please disregard the previous post.

Joe will no longer be gloating that he has won the toilet seat up/down battle. He has in fact, lost that fight.

You see......he left the seat up this morning. And unfortunately, the little two-year old trying her hardest to be a good girl and go in the big girl potty all by herself, didn't get the memo about looking behind her before she backed up. Poor thing was soaked up to her armpits!

What mommy can't accomplish, daddy's little princess sure as heck can.

The toilet seat stays down! Score one for the ladies!

Monday, June 8, 2009

One for the Good Guys

It's me again *waves* with another one of my class portfolio writings that my wife finds amusing.

Gentleman your attention please! What I am about to tell you is a first, and must be told to all men. So listen closely and spread the Word. I have won the toilet seat argument with my wife. I know… take all the time you need. Yes it’s true I won the argument through logic and I am going to tell you how you can take this victory home with you as well. My logic is this: I have to put the toilet seat up everytime it needs to go up. So I am doing all of the work putting it up. She only puts it down. Sounds fair yeah… but there are times when I must put it down as well so I am doing part of the work to put it down too. Therefore, I am doing all of the up work and some of the down work, and she is only doing some of the down work. Doesn’t sound fair anymore. If we are to have an equal amount of work in this, toilet seat movements or marriage, then she needs to handle the down work without complaining all the time. And if you get yelled at about her “falling in” ask her “You look behind you when you back up in a car don’t you? Why the Hell wouldn’t you look behind you with your pants around your ankles?” Just don’t expect her to be enthusiastic about your reasoning, or to openly acknowledge that you’re right – that’s a whole different battle.

Thursday, June 4, 2009

More Than We Baragined For

**Warning, if you're easily offended read no further. If however, you'd find an extensive list of English colloquialisms for the human mammary glands to be entertaining, then by all means read on...**

It is a testament to Joe's training as a husband that it took me making a comment for him to even notice. After a few hours of exploring the Carnival Imagination on our recent cruise I said something like "Well this is just entirely inappropriate!" Which of course got a "Huh?" from Joe, who promptly began looking around for something inappropriate (like an 4 year old wearing a string bikini). Since he obviously had no idea what I was talking about, I pointed to the sphinx statues that adorned ALL of the decorative columns on every floor of the ship. "They didn't need to include anatomically correct boobies on them! They even have nipples, and they're at eye-level. How would I explain to Nana that I'd poked out my eye on a statue's bazoombas?!" Sure enough everywhere we went inside the ship, and I do mean everywhere, there were impressive sets of gold chesticles staring back at us. We stopped counting at 73. I wanted to blind fold Gillian and complain to customer service that they should warn people that this is an X-rated boat. Just imagine if you had an adolescent son and you brought him on this ship! That many ever-present knockers would be sure to cause trouble. Heck, traveling with a grown man was challenge enough - I'm proud of my hubby for limiting his cha-cha jokes to just a handful, and even resisting the temptation to fondle the gazongas for a photo that I'm sure would have been priceless for years to come (sadly many other men did not restrain themselves thusly). The really sad part is that even a married mother can be reduced to crude potty humor when she has had one too many fruity drinks and there are that many hooters staring at her....that's one picture you'll never see, lol!!

So consider yourself forewarned: generous yahoos aplenty!

Oh and one more thing.......the absolute worst part is that, upon closer examination..all of the statues' had the gold paint rubbed off of the nipples! *shudder*

Now, if you're curious to see what I'm talking about, go here to look at a picture someone else took...cuz I just couldn't bring myself to be seen in public taking a picture of a statue's ta-tas.

Other entertaining synonyms not included in this post: rack, ninnies, melons, titties, hood ornaments, funbags, bosoms, badoinkies, goombas, flapdoodles, jahoobies, magambos, dinglebobbers, ...and of course breasts

Friday, May 29, 2009

The Sound of Orange

(Two posts in one day, and one from the elusive Joe! I know, I know, it's very exciting. Now please, calm down, I think you just tinkled on yourself a little. This is a portfolio writing from my composition class that Jamie has been bugging me to post.)

Based on a True Story

Soft. Warm. Comfortable. Snuggled deep into an overstuffed king-size goose down comforter, contentedly sleeping away the last few minutes of my blissful slumber. The past twenty minutes of “Joey get up!” have done their job and chiseled away at my unconscious mind until I groggily mutter something along the lines of “…need more sleep.” Now, the beautiful woman I love and adore who has birthed the most gorgeous little girl and tolerated my sloth for the better part of a decade, is running late this morning. I, who really should have been up twenty minutes ago, am slightly behind schedule as well.
SHREIK!! I snap to full consciousness as my lovely wife, who is one of the most talented sopranos I have ever heard, wails in a voice with pitch and tone that would make a dog uncontrollably wet itself and would make a banshee weep, “You have to leave in ten minutes!” As I hurriedly dress her voice continues to erode even the faintest memory of the pleasantness I was enjoying just seconds ago. I take a moment to clear the cobwebs from my disoriented mind, but this disembodied voice that is following my wonderful spouse is relentless, and if not for the accompaniment of occasional dirty looks to punctuate her complaints, it would be difficult to convince me that it is my wife actually speaking. It is at this point that I inform her that again I will not be keeping our standing lunch date in lieu of a much needed nap.
The destruction of Pompeii at the hands of Mt. Vesuvius pales in comparison to the explosive tirade launched at me. I know you’ve heard all the rumors and myths about redheads, but let me tell you that the reality is far, far scarier. I ended up keeping our lunch date.

I am the Rain Man

No, no, not in the autistic savant way. I am referring to the perpetually precipitation-plagued personage that is me (or is it "that is I"...I dunno, just appreciate my splendid example of gratuitous alliteration!) We just got back from an extremely spontaneous vacation to Florida and the Bahamas. It was tons of fun if you can overlook one very important fact: it rained every flippin day! I'm completely serious, it rained at home for a week, then followed me to Florida, the entire cruise, the drive home, and now it's still drizzling here at home again. I noticed that while on this kind of damp vacation, it's awful hard to:
1) figure out what to wear - it's hot outside, but all those cute summery outfits become surprisingly transparent when they get soaked
2) explain to a two year old why she can't run free on a cruise ship like she does at home (cuz no matter how many strangers say "oh look, she's sooooo precious," someone will still give you the stink eye for not putting your child on a leash)
3) have some adult fun time while stuck in your tiny cabin with that little one glaring at you resentfully from a rickety porta-crib
4) talk the child into staying in her stroller...which is definitely not waterproof
5) hear they other passengers talk enthusiastically about the two waterspouts/tornados they took pictures of today while at sea, and contain your own abundant excitement
6) share one small umbrella among three people
7) not gain twenty pounds when eating is the only interesting thing to do
8) answer questions like "How was your vacation?"

We did have fun though, and now that we're back I'll be posting some pictures and hopefuly even some video.

Sunday, March 22, 2009

Time Flies

Apparently another year passed when I wasn't looking, and now it's too late to put a rock on her head to keep her from growing (I honestly thinks she likes to do when I turn my back, and she concentrates real hard.....making that face that makes me think we need to run for the potty..... and SQQUIRPP! up she goes another 1/2 inch). To honor the occasion we are going to have a birthday party, where we will attempt to keep our sanity while entertaining 10-15 children all under the age of 4 (if I'm singing 'I'm A Little TeaPot' and combing my hair hair with a spork on Monday, well know what happened). It's going to be in a picninc shelter at a lovely little park nearby, and if you are reading this (with a child under the age of 4 you claim ownership of ) and still haven't replied to my invitation...get with it!

Wednesday, March 4, 2009

How Do I Hang This On The Fridge?

I am so very glad that these wash off easily. The hard part is explaining to an almost-2 year old the difference between a bath tub wall and a living room wall :)

Sunday, March 1, 2009

First Snow

This is the first time it has snowed since we bought our house :) If it sticks, we're going to take her to play in the snow for another first tomorrow.

Friday, February 27, 2009

What I Would Give to Have Been There

Yes, that is a picture of a Christmas wreath...and yes, it is still hanging on our front door in February. In my defense, it doesn't have the big bow on it anymore which makes it just a 'winter' wreath in my mind; and since our homeowners' association says we can only have seasonal door decor, I'm pretty sure that I can get away with it for another week or two (unless the weather stays this nice).

What I would have killed to have witnessed is my husband's reaction as he looked out our peephole this morning. He has a habit of doing that, which I just don't understand. I mean there's a window right there - unless you're trying to be sneaky and spy on someone..which is what he did I guess. Apparently when he peeped out the peephole, there was someone peeping right back at him..a bird! I can just imagine the way he jerked back and wondered who was uttering that sissy-girl scream if it wasn't his round-eyed daughter? (who promptly decides the door is 'bad'...oh the intolerable cuteness!) Apparently my realistic wreath is the cool bird hangout, I guess it's too bad for them that the spring wreath going up next isn't nearly so comfy.

P.S. - On a side note I guess it's not so weird that Joe peeks out the door whenever he walks by. It might have been useful if he'd spotted the person STEALING our car's front license plate. We didn't realize it was gone until he got a parking ticket for not displaying it. It's interesting to speculate about the uses the thief could have for a single license plate, possibly using it in a robbery, as wall art, or maybe as a really cool cookie sheet.

Friday, February 20, 2009

Rock Star Baby

(she put the sunglasses, hat, and tiara on all by herself....this makes me worry about her future fashion choices in kindergarten when she insists on dressing herself)

So I finally gave in and bought Joe a new game system. I wasn't planning on it since he just started his first semester of college (full-time too!), but I felt obligated. You see, Joe committed what he considers to be one of the ultimate sacrifices this past Christmas:

Joe is a gamer, a hard core gets-lost-in-them-for-hours kind of gamer. They came up with the title "Ever Quest widows" for women who are married to men like Joe (just insert name of his current black hole/game). In the past, I have actually asked him to get ready to go to the store while he was playing, got frustrated with the "Ummhumm.....just let me get to a save point baby," left, gone to the store, and arrived back home in time to be greeted with "Ok, I'm ready to....oh $@#*, you already went ......I'm in trouble, right?" The advice most people give: if you can't beat 'em, join 'em. Sadly, I am the worst gamer on the entire planet. For those who understand, I can't get past world 1-2 in the original Mario bros. My coordination is so poor that my consumate gamer spouse threw his hands up in frustration years ago. Since he can't control his addiction and I can't think of anything more *fun* than spending a few hours getting sore thumbs, I have ignored his pleas for the latest game system for almost a decade now. That is, until the introduction of the Nintendo Wii. Advertised as a game platform for the unskilled masses, it sounded like the perfect way to meet in the middle and actually spend some quality time with Joe doing what he loves (making it less likely that he'll bail on the 'us' time as soon as I turn my back). So I bought him one for Christmas. It was difficult to get my hands on, but it was going to be a complete surprise. And it was...when I told him that we were going to have to return his best-present-ever to the store because we couldn't justify spending that much on a gift when money was so tight. And I'll be darned if that poor man didn't go and return his own Christmas present, with minimal sulking too!

So, to make it up to him, I saved up enough money and went out one night in January to buy him another Wii. After going to several stores I found one, along with the game he desperately wanted (Guitar Hero). I set it all up as a surprise waiting for him when he got home from work. And it is AWESOME! We have so much fun, I'm even ok with how much I still manage to suck at these silly games.

Now getting to point of this post. Gillian has received many electronic games in her short life. They involve hooking a controller designed for babies up to a TV, and helping them play games that 'teach' them something. Well Gilli never really watched TV when she was younger, so these games don't even hold her attention for 30 sec (making them useless junk as far as Mommy is concerned). The only reason we even still have them is because a few of the controllers themselves have entertainment value. A big, bouncy horse controller works as just a big,bouncy horse. **Yes, there really is a full size bouncy horse that doubles as a game remote** Maybe she'll be more interested when she gets older, but for now, she has decided that the Wii is the COOLEST NEW TOY EVER. Needless to say, Daddy is not in the least bit thrilled with his Gilli-Monster's tendency to hide Wii bits all over the house (oh but it's so fun to watch, let me tell you! talk about karma :). She also actually understands that the action of the remote affects the image on the TV, so I decided to teach her to play. Unfortunately there are no games available for the under 2 set, and the ones that we do have just frustrated her. Until one I was practicing the vocals on Guitar Hero she came up to me and indicated that she wanted the microphone. I handed it to her and proceeded to watch in stunned amazement as my 21 month old little girl made it thru an entire Bon Jovi song without getting boo'ed off stage. Admittedly, it was set on beginner but she was dancing around singing/screeching like the little rock star baby Joe always says she is. If I can figure out how to get the video off my camera and post it, you'll all get to see how funny she is.

Monday, January 19, 2009