Break Out the Battering Rams!

Well, I'm following the mass exodus & have officially departed for greener pastures. I have been upset with the no-reply messages I've been getting over here & finally got so fed up I decided to walk the plank, me hearties. When you are kind enough to leave me a comment, I would like to at least have the option of responding to you. Find me at my new home:

http://anglophilefootballfanatic.wordpress.com/

I hope you follow me there.

Ugg-sagne ala the Undomestic Goddess

The horror of all horrors. If you remember from Friday, I had serious vertigo from my latest sinus infection. Pup, in his infinite wisdom chose to ignore my pleading and decided to go to work, despite the five weeks of paid vacation. The Boy Wonder and I had a lovely day camped in my bed watching about seven hours of television. I was so proud of him for acting so well-behaved, while thinking not nice things about daddy dearest.

Husband returns from work and "makes" dinner by putting a frozen Stouffer's lasagna in the oven. I retrieved it. And, BOOM. It fell. On the floor. In between listening to my spouse accuse me of "throwing" the dinner he made (because I didn't want to eat it??), chastising the dog for trying to eat steaming hot food and burning herself, & picking up the food on the floor without keeling over from vertigo, I noticed what was underneath the lasagna.

Then, Pup started laughing as I positioned my precious shoes for pictures. "You're going to blog about this aren't you?" Well, duh numb nuts.

I'm heartbroken. My favorite shoes. And, you know what? I would NOT recommend washing Uggs in the washer. Even your fancy schmancy LG that can do wonders on the hand wash cycle. They seem to have shrunk if that is even possible.

Farewell my Uggs we hardly knew ye.

Haiku Friday: Green Berets (and Phlegm)

Welcome Home, Cousin!!

15 months in Iraq - done

Please support our troops

We missed you, Tommy

Loved your pics on Saddam's thrones

We're sure proud of you.

Freedom isn't free

Don't forget they are still there

and facing danger.

Swimming in green phlegm

A steroid shot in my arse

Mitchell Report next?

I'm taking some 'roids!

MLB eat your heart out

I'm the new Barry!

Sinus infection

Number 5 in seven months

Off to ENT

For a scan of my face

And, hopefully real relief

from this chronic crap.

It's gotten old

I can self-diagnose now

Give me Levaquin

More Toy Story 2

Dora, Wonder Pets, Blue's Clues

Word World, Curious George

So much for limits

It's not easy on toddler

with mom being sick

When I can sit up

Without feeling so dizzy

I could keel over

We might leave the house.

I haven't been to Target

In almost a week.

Shows you I am sick

When I don't visit crack house

Money's nemesis

And, Go Packers. Look for Mama Geek at the game.

He Now Thinks Less of Me

After almost 13 years together, my spouse has just informed me there was something he didn't know about me (although I have shared this with him before...and got the same reaction) that boggled his mind. He told me it made him think less of me. My crime? I liked New Coke.

Do you remember that whole three months of 1985 where the genius minds at Coke replaced their drink with something called "New" Coke? Then, very quickly, brought the original formula back as "Coca Cola Classic," due to an insane amount of public outrage?

Well, I was one of the single digit number of people who preferred the replacement drink. I know. Apparently, this makes me less of a person, but I was very upset when the drink I found to be superior was taken off the shelf. I was never a fan of either the "classic" drink or its rival, Pepsi, only Dr. Pepper.

Am I the only person who missed it being re-released in the early 90s as Coke II? Drat! I would've totally stockpiled the stuff. Considering the amount of tv I watched back then? I have no clue how I never saw a single ad about it.

Conspiracy theorists have at it (if you didn't realize, many believe the roll out of New Coke was a marketing ploy to replace cane sugar with fructose in the original formula) if you dare. And, unless I move to American Samoa or Micronesia, I will just have to think of New Coke with fond memories.

My Thumb Suffers from Muffin Top

Nap Warden read my latest cooking cluster (speaking of, we all did realize Switzerland & Japan don't have armies, right?) and decided to share with the class about her pizza scar. She even went along when I told her she simply had to put her face on Gordon Ramsey's head. I commented back about how I have a muffin top on my thumb. She emailed me within 2.45 seconds asking what the hell that meant. So, without further ado, here is the tale of the muffin top finger.


We knew going into my last year of teaching, that it would, in fact be my last. Hub made me promise up and down (to the right side and the left side) that I would reign in my spending. Cause we weren't doing well with saving on two incomes, how the hell would we do it on one? I swore. I promised. I acted hurt that he would even doubt me....and those promises lasted all of two days.


Why? Because, phase one of save that money was bringing our lunches to work. Sounds easy, right. WRONG. It's Tuesday morning of my inservice week, I have seriously outdone myself. I have created a gourmet-ish sandwich, complete with several cuts of deli meat, tomato slices, avocado slices, all on a French bread roll. So, being me, and so very impressed even by the ambiance this sandwich has given off, I grab the bread knife. You know the one I've literally never used? The serrated one. I start sawing through the bread. And, then..ouch. I seem to have sawed myself. Only I didn't just cut myself, I have cut a rather large slice into my thumb. Oh, shit. Cue hypochondriac within.


AHHHHHHH. I don't know what to do, so I start to vigorously shake my hand all over the place. Pup hears me, and being the total ass he is, he just keeps telling me to explain what happened. "Holly, what the hell is wrong? What did you do??" I'm far too busy shaking and screaming to answer. He looks around the kitchen, sees trails & splatters of blood all over (I shook my finger & it went from floor to ceiling!) the kitchen. It looked like I played Jackson Pollock with the kitchen as my canvas.

When Puppy realizes I've only cut my thumb, he calms down and says something like he thought I chopped something off there was so much blood. Assmunch. We both agreed this was no simple cut, it was a true laceration and would require stitches. As, you are simply not allowed to miss inservice, I call a friend who teaches with me to explain I will be late.

We drive separate cars to the ER, where I am given something to deaden, and five stitches later I am glued back together. I wish I had a picture of the amount of gauze and tape my finger is given. It was so huge, when I did get to work people asked if I'd had an operation.

Time heals all wounds. Sort of. The thing is, this dick of an ER doc must've been on hour 35 of a 36 hour shift, cause my finger, has a definite shape to it four years later. It looks a bit funky. It looks like it has a groove. Actually? It looks like it has muffin top.

Benadryl Brain at Two o'clock

I totally had a post in my head, ready to be written, but that was before I took two Benadryl for the head cold that has suddenly decided to plague me - oh, and son, who is running a 101 fever. So, I'm sorry I am very loopy & could only muster up the brain power to do this meme.


I was tagged for this one by both 1 Crazy Stitcher & You Don't Have to Like Me

*Rules of the Archive Meme*Go back through your archives and post the links to your five favorite blog posts that you’ve written. But there is a catch:

Link 1 must be about family. Purgatory
Link 2 must be about friends. I don't write about friends often so gotta do this one. (and whoopsy! Apparently David Cassidy will no longer sing I think I Love You, darn it!)
Link 3 must be about yourself, who you are… what you’re all about. Report Card
Link 4 must be about something you love. Trampolines, Macy's & Beer
Link 5 can be anything you choose. The 2.5 Retrospective

If you want to do it, take it. It's free to a loving home.

Whines of the Heart

Do you ever have those times when you know you are actually wrongly sentenced for the crime? And, every but is met with some "proof" of your guilt? Like sands in the hourglass, these are the days of my life. Let me illustrate for you.



I was maybe four or five. The Steven Spielberg tv show Amazing Stories was on. I distinctly remember it was about this truly geeky girl (ala Joan Cusack in 16 Candles with headgear) and the most popular guy in school both becoming magnetized somehow. And, they kept sticking together. At some point in the show, the "totally rad, awesome, gnarley, cool" guy stuck his finger up. Here is where it's a little fuzzy in my 30 year old head. Either my charming brother said Eff You at this point while the guy did it, or some how the censorship boys just missed one, cause from this, I learned a new meaning behind a middle finger. Not long after my brother, seven years my elder, and I were "packed" in the car on our way to the beach house. My parents went back in for those last few things and somehow S just did something so Godawful (and if you remember, this is the brother who hung me by my underwear & pushed me down the stairs in an igloo) I flicked him off. He just stared at me aghast! I didn't not make it any better by saying "F*** You, S!!" He beelined for Mommy Dearest to tattle. Mother always told me if I told the truth, the punishment would not be as harsh. So, when she asked where I learned such an awful word, I truthfully said, "Amazing Stories." And, not believing me, I was spanked much more severely for lying in addition to saying such a foul thing - even tho I was NOT lying.



My charming toddler has lost yet another key to our mailbox. The only one still in possession, is the one that belongs to Puppy. This is not good. How am I to hide the illegally purchased packages that arrive? It has only been a few months since I was quite literally deported to my mother's to "learn a lesson" for my spending. Having that key is like having the keys to the kingdom. So, of course, I have not been buying anything....well, anything that doesn't come UPS, of course!!



Flash forward to last week. Last Saturday Pup walks in from getting the mail with a "HOLLY!!!! What the hell did you buy?" And, I quickly do a mental checklist. Stuff from Hanna Andersson's after Christmas sale? Check. Arrived UPS. Stuff from Barefoot Books? Check. Arrived Friday via UPS. Stuff from Barnes & Noble? Check. Sitting on the table. Was there something else? Think. Think. Think. "Honey, I didn't buy anything. I promise." Which was the honest truth. I had not purchased anything that would've come by regular mail. So, he lugs this box upstairs and says, "Then what's this?" I glance down. OH!!



It's a package all tied up with string (these are a few of my favorite things?!!) from my favorite transplanted Brit with four little munchkins. What did I do to deserve such a treat? I open it up. And, holy cow!! It's like pure sex on a stick it's so wonderful. It's Lemon Curd!! Not just any lemon curd. It's honest to goodness, all the way from the UK, my total favorite lemon curd in the whole world. Mum of 4 is so awesome, she'd remembered me asking which kind she thought was really good, and she sends me some. I love unexpected surprises like that. Puppy, glances down, and literally 1 day after cursing me for making scones & promising he'll never eat another (Mr. Diabetic's sugar went lala), says, "OOOH! That's the good lemon curd. When are you making scones?" MEN!! Thank you so very much Mum. I found some Devonshire Cream & I have been playing British High Tea in the afternoons, eating scones with curd & cream and having some Earl Grey with milk. AHH. Sex on a stick guys! Sex on a stick!

Same song, second verse. Yesterday, Puppy walks in from getting the mail. And, guess what? "HOLLY!!! What the hell did you buy NOW!!?" Doing a mental checklist, realizing all things recently purchased are accounted for, I am puzzled. "Umm. Nothing." "It's from California?!" And, then it hits me. I won second place in VDog's contest. I got some soap, cause I told her I was a "dirty, dirty girl." And, in the box is also some organic dark chocolate. Guess who ate it? Yah, that's right. Mr. Diabetic. Thank you so much Vdog. We both loved our little care package while cheering the Packers on to victory!

Now, if anybody else should just happen to send me something? I'm ready, willing, and able to intercept it, as I just removed the key from Pup's key chain.

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And, if you are here for Fun Monday, the website that changed my life forever is this one:

http://www.endocrineassociatesdallas.com/Bios/Aronoff.htm

This is my endocrinologist. He helped me to get the love of my life. My son.