Archives for June 2008

no, I don’t mind at all.

I’ve been listening to a lot of music lately, due to the recent death of my old laptop and losing my uploaded cds on my old itunes as well as my music from Limewire.  When you try to sync your iPod with itunes on a new computer, it makes your erase your iPod and start over.  Arrggh.  Good news is I was able to transfer itunes purchases to the my new laptop, bad news is I have to upload the cds I can’t live without to the new machine.  Also been downloading new tunes, love REM’s “Redhead Walking,” since it’s obviously about moi.   “Living Well is the Best Revenge” is pretty deadgum good. 

Came across tunes I haven’t heard in a while.  A little gem I wanted to share is “I don’t Mind at All” by Bourgeois Tagg.  It’s always been a favorite, had it on a mixed tape back in the day.  The sound is a little like Toad the Wet Sprocket, Crowded House and others, but it’s the song that’s the stuff.   You can’t get the song on itunes and Amazon’s got it on backorder, so being that I must have it, I got the cd on eBay this afternoon, so that’s you’re best bet if you like the song.  If I had a band, it would definitely be a cover.  And “Brick House,” too.  And “Kung Foo Fighting” by Carl Douglas.  Of course you can get that crap on itunes.  If this were the radio, I could send it out in a dedication, well…here’s the video link (embedding’s been disabled for some reason.) 

I Don’t Mind At All
Bourgeois Tagg

The time for talking’s over now,
I think it’s time to let you go;
But I don’t, no, I don’t mind at all.

It’s getting so you never know
When things are better left alone;
But I don’t, no, I don’t mind at all.

It’s important to me
That I don’t see you laughing at me.
But I’m smart enough to know
That I’ll have to let you go.
But I don’t mind at all.

Sentiments and tears will get you
As far as you might think they will;
But I don’t, no, I don’t mind at all.

Misery loves company,
But she will never fit the bill;
But I don’t, no, I don’t mind at all.

It’s important to me
That I don’t see you laughing at me.
But I’m smart enough to know
That I’ll have to let you go.
But I don’t mind at all.

Seven years ago,
I said good-bye to my own sanity;
But I don’t, no, I don’t, no, I don’t mind at all.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

Dear Matt,

Dear Matt,

I know this is for a role, but for the love of Ocean’s 11, please stop. 

besame mucho, Kerry

chunka chunka Bourne'n loveremember me?

Oh, dear, I thought George Clooney in Syriana was chubby.  I have no room to talk, but sweet Good Will Hunting, this is bad.  I don’t know what’s worse, the hair, the ’70’s ‘stache, or the Taco Bell & Sonic shakes physique he’s sporting.  The movie is called “the Informant” and Soderburgh is directing.  To refresh your memory, this is Matt before he starting hitting the all you can eat places.  Just because it’s all you can eat, doesn’t mean you should.  Learned that the hard way.  Matt, I hope you win an Oscar for this role. 

Don’t worry, I’m not turning this into a celeb blog, but I was so shocked when I saw my boyfriend Matt Damon’s picture I just had to get it out.  Back in the day I would have called a friend and OMGawed over it, but boo-yah, I’ve got a blog and I’m not afraid to use it.  I’ll be back to posting layouts soon.  Promise, k?

You gotta know when to hold ’em.

I was online window shopping last night and found what may possibly be the most retarded (yeah, I said retarded) product ever.  I was on www.onestepahead.com  searching for potty training stuff, since I’m hoping to have Andrew out of diapers sometime between now and when he starts dating, and Kim had told me about a toddler urinal, so I looked it up ’cause I only know about girl stuff.  I thought the toddler urinal (yes, you can wall-mount it) was the dumbest thing I’d seen, but, no — it gets better.  I Googled potty training and hit on a site which will remain nameless because  no one should buy this product.  It’s the potty for your little gambler-in-training.  Let’s take a look.

Oh, yes, it’s a slot-potty!  For those who want to bring a little Vegas into the bathroom,  just pull the one-armed bandit and see what comes out if you win!   Everyone’s a winner!  My only regret in finding this little gem is that I didn’t get to give this as a gift to all friend’s 2 year-olds.  I might have to send it to an old friend who’s boy just turned 2.  Nothing says Happy Belated Birthday like a slot machine potty.  I’m pretty sure Brad Pitt has this in his kids’ bathroom to remind him of his times filming the Ocean’s series of fine films.   I just realized the only thing that could make this item better is if it came with a roll of dollar-bill-on-a-roll toliet paper.  Now that’s a quality product, there.  I think the slot potty, money tp, an Elvis ’68 comeback special cd, and a roll of quarters as potty-training incentive would be the best gift ever.  Oh, and free watered-down drinks served mom in a coctail waitress uniform. 

This pretty much sums it up

jump here

Have I ever mentioned I’m allergic to the great outdoors?  Oh, well.

BTW, I love www.someecards.com.  As many of my peeps know, I’ve always wanted to have my own card line for sentiments you can’t just find at Hallmark, but someone beat me to it. 

I am not a Cabbage Patch doll

yarn-haired version of meSo, 2 Fridays a month for I don’t know, 2 years, a few of us moms and kids have been going to Chick-Fil-A after MOPS Steering Team meetings & MOPS meetings with the kids.  Our precious children beg to go to Chick-Fil-A when we pick them up from MOPPETS, it’s not that we can’t get enough chicken, I assure you.  Anyway, I’ve developed this quasi relationship with a cashier by the name of Sylvia.  Sylvia is, I’m guessing, 63 and thinks I’m the bomb.  When I walk in, she waves and motions for me to come to her line.  This is the longest part of my day.  Sylvia is not the swiftest cashier in the joint and it takes forever to get through.  Sylvia asks me about church, tells me what her Bible study group is up to at Church of the King, it’s just like talking to your grandmother — until you fork over the $18 for 3 kids meals and my chargrilled southwest salad.  Mammaw never made me pay for lunch. 

better than Barbie

After a trip to Target, the kids begged for Chick-Fil-A, so we went through the drive thru.  I ordered, drove up, and the cashier says “Hi Miss Cabbage Patch!”  I looked around for a camera ’cause I’m sure I must be on “Punk’d” or something and the cashier says, “oh, Ms. Sylvia calls you Miss Cabbage Patch.”  As if on cue, Sylvia waves from 10 feet away.  I wave back, confused.  I handed my money over, got our food, and drove away.  Now, I would get someone nicknaming me something pertaining to my haircolor or my penchant for purses, capri pants, or my inability to park a car or drive in reverse, but I’m at a loss here.  I’ve never thought I looked particularly like a Cabbage Patch doll and I certainly have not mastered the dance as my dear husband has, so I’m clueless. 

I remained fairly nickname-less until college (well, I’m sure I was called names, but not so much when I was present) where I was nicknamed ReeRee by Kim, Smokey by Bryan, and random others.  I’ve been Red & Kerry B to many since middle school and high school, hence my email address and such.  And I like bees.  Bees are cool, ’til you mess with them & they sting the fire out of you.  I’m not liking this Cabbage Patch thing.

So, dear readers, question is: how do I break up with my Chick-Fil-A cashier?  I have plenty of break-up experience from back in the day, but this is beyond even me.  For added blog value I have included a pic of said doll (found a pic online of the doll I actually had when I was a kid, how’s that for being a good blogger) and a pic of me from a couple of weeks ago.  Yes, I have a round face, always have since birth, but that’s the only similarity I see.  I think I need to up the anxiety meds.  I’m sure I’ll obsess over this for weeks.  Y’all know I have a tendency to do that.

Breaking News

Seriously, yo.  A woman is suing Victoria’s Secret (or Vicki’s Secrets as I call it) because her THONG injured her cornea!  Really.  Here’s the video.  Go ahead, watch.  I’ll wait.  Ok, did you watch it?  How crazy is that?  The decorative thingie on her thong popped off when she was gonna get her groove on and smacked her in the eye, so she wants Vicki’s Secrets to pay.  I am so suing Lane Bryant for when the button popped off my black gauchos ’cause I ate too many almond M&Ms and then I pricked my finger with a needle trying to sew the damn button back on.  My finger bled.  I’m scarred for life.  WE ARE LIVING IN THE END TIMES!  I’m pretty sure somewhere in Revelation it says something about the horsemen of the apocalypse and unnecessary lawsuits over underwear.  

Eggs to Dye For

So, OCD mom that I am, this was the first year I let Andrew dye Easter eggs.  It was a complete mess, of course.  I couldn’t find the dye kit we used last year — it came with gloves — love that.  I should have just bought gloves.  Moron. Oh, well, he loved it.  I think it’s evident in the pics. 

Andrew’s 1st Haircut

Andrew’s haircut went great last year, but every one since has been a nightmare. 

I went out of my usual color palette for this one, ’cause the smock they put on him was a color I’d never use.  Still, I like the argyle pattern I made & I think this layout was the first in my series of a bunch of circle layouts I did. 

My Funny Valentine

My Funny ValentineHere’s a layout from last Valentine’s.  It’s obvious that I love holidays.  Holidays = photo ops.  And when you have kids that are natural hams like Molly here, it’s even better. 

Head full of curls

This is Katie.  Katie has inheirited my curly hair and most of the time it looks like she either just woke up or Stevie Wonder was her stylist.  She was sitting next to the sofa one day and it looked like a photo op for me, especially since she was having a good hair day.

I used Heidi Swapp ghost letters & crackle paint on this one.