Archives for December 2008

goodbye 2008, felt like I was just getting to know you


Dear Reader Friends,

Wishing you a healthy and happy new year!  Thanks for reading in 2008.  We've had some fun, haven't we?  I've shared, you've shared, and we learned some things together — mainly that I know a lot of stuff about stuff and I like to shop, tell you about music you might not be familiar with, and explore the things that amuse me.  Occasionally we talk about serious things, but we're here to have a little fun and retreat from the chaotic everyday grind.  I appreciate each and every one of you who stop by to read (you know I like you the best — yes, I'm talking to you) and I sincerely hope you have a wonderful year.  

Much love,

a new year’s eve story

New Year's Eve has always been a fun night for me.  Whether I spend the evening at a party or at home watching Dick Clark's New Year's Rockin' Eve, I enjoy it.  And for some reason it's usually a night out of some movie, only not as cleverly written. I thought I'd share one of my more memorable New Year's and an ex-boyfriend story at the same time, fun for everyone!  I looked half-heartedly for a high school photo to post with this, but couldn't find one from the year I'm writing about.  If I find one while I'm going through stuff to organize my scrap office, I'll edit and add a pic.

Once upon a bizarre New Year's Eve, when I was 17 in 1991, I was dating a guy named Judd who looked a lot like the actor Jeffery Dean Morgan on Grey's Anatomy now.  Anynatomy, we went to a party at my friend Kim's house on Cross Lake (if I recall correctly) with another friend I'll call Drama ('cause that's the best word I could pick to sum her up) and her boyfriend.  Judd had wrecked his car the day before Christmas, so we were all riding together. That year I was in a black and white phase, I remember wearing black skirt and white button-down with cuff links — I think I got that look from Sassy magazine, loved that mag. 

The night started out decent enough, then a guy a had previously had a really bad blind date with showed up and it started getting weird. Now, I'm not a social butterfly and I hate parties, so I was pretty much dragged to that one by Drama because we were both friends with Kim and Kim was super sweet and I'm a glutton for punishment.  We were there for about 45 minutes and Drama announced she and the boyfriend were headed to another party, one I hadn't been invited to.  Now, they were our ride.  Kim said not to worry, her mother was coming home at midnight and would take us home, so I said goodbye to Drama only to have more drama unfold.  Judd and I were having a pretty good time, I was trying to avoid eye contact with blind-date-guy and then some pretty unsavory characters showed up, friends of Kim's boyfriend.  It was the entire Fair Park High School football team and some guys I assumed were drug dealers, not to mention the girlfriends and a baby.  And they brought a liquor store with them.  It was then when Judd suggested we go sit on Kim's pier. Once outside, he tells me he smelled pot, and he knew the scent of pot when he smelled it.  I learned more about my boyfriend that night than I wanted to and knew he was yet another guy I'd be breaking up with soon. 

And so we sat on the pier until midnight, watched fireworks — it was actually nice (despite the fact that I was freezing to death because I had sacrificed warmth for fashion — which I did often, actually — and didn't bring a coat).  So, it was going fine, until we headed back to the house.  Most of the football team had left, the air was thick, and most everyone was drunk, a few couples were making out — the party had turned.  I remember having that awesome uncomfortable feeling that starts down deep in the pit of your stomach and works its way up to your throat and you feel like you're watching something bad unfold and you're afraid of what's next.  We sat on the sofa and blind-date-guy moves toward us and sits next to Judd.  Did I mention I hate parties?  If the first part of this story didn't give reason enough, let's seal the deal. 

Kim tells us her mom isn't coming home after all and I realize we're stuck without a way home.  At this very moment blind-date-guy begins to tell my boyfriend just how bad a date I was.  Me.  I was the bad date.  And he was talking about me like I wasn't in the room.  Nice, huh?  Turns out I was a snob.  Me.  Well, excuse me if my idea of a great date doesn't include mini-golf (really, who plays mini-golf on a first date?), hot dogs, you talking to your friend who works at the mini-golf place the entire time we were there, being referred to as a "hot piece of —" and hearing your friend ask you if the curtains match the drapes (nice), the glove box in your car falling open 20 times into my lap, dodging your hands all night, and the boom boom boom of your car's bass playing Vanilla Ice (too cold).  He was surprised when I turned my head to avoid his kiss at the end of the night, his kiss landed in my hair thanks to my cat-like reflexes.  Blind-date-guy went on and on, I think he ranted longer than our date actually lasted.  Oh, and my genius boyfriend laughs with the guy and agrees with him that I was indeed, a prude.  Awesome.

Most of the guests had gone home by one, and I was in my own personal hell, as now blind-date-guy and Judd were now BFFs, Kim was doing sexy times with her boyfriend in her bedroom, and my allergies start to go through the roof because Kim's cat has decided I'm a scratching post.  I managed to find some Benadryl as Kim was coming out of her bedroom and I told her I really had to get home.  By now my eyes were watering, I was sneezing my head off, and I was itchy all over — exactly how I like to spend my New Year's.  Kim begins asking people if they happened to be heading across town and if they could give Judd and I a ride to our homes and no one is volunteering.  Lovely.  Judd and blind-date-guy were now drinking to my prudishness and other faults, something I like to call good taste, and Judd was none too concerned about getting home.  I believe that was the moment I decided to go hide in one of the bathrooms, great idea.  A few minutes go by and Kim knocks on the door.  No, she hadn't found me a ride home, but she did have something to tell me.  I'm thinking she's going to apologize for the night turning into the party scene in Pretty in Pink when she tells me she's pregnant and starts sobbing.  

By this time the Benadryl had kicked in and I wasn't feeling much like being the sympathetic friend, but I gave it a shot.  Kim cried on my shoulder for a while and her boyfriend comes in to tell us his two buds are going to my area of town.  I'm pretty sure he referred to these characters as Ray Ray and Tiny.  This was just getting better.  My boyfriend remembered I was there and asks if I'm ready to go with these delinquents and I look at him like he's been smoking crack.  He assures me it's okay, he'd be with me, I would be safe — like he could fend off these linebackers should they choose to kill us.  At that point, I didn't think I had much of a choice because if I called my mom to pick me up she would a) kill me, b) ground me 'til summer, or c) kill me and ground me.

SpaceballI got my purse and headed outside with Judd to what I was sure would be my last car ride before being murdered and thrown in the lake.  I got into the car, which looked like something out of the Pimps R Us catalog and soon we were on our way.  It seemed like the drive took forever, Tupac playing, and Judd trying to have a conversation with our chauffeurs, who, it turns out were in their 20's and were wanna-be rappers.  Eventually they pulled up to my house, Judd had been giving the directions, since he was now BFFs with Ray Ray and Tiny.  He walked me to the door, Ray Ray and Tiny yell "night, sweetie" and I'm hoping they don't commit my address to memory in case they had only offered to drive us because they were casing out our houses.  Judd told me goodnight
and happy new year and I told him happy new year and please don't call me.  

A few days later I broke up with Judd and resolved not to go anywhere with Drama again or go to another party that year.  When I recounted the story to friends they thought it was pretty funny, knowing I was Miss Goody Two Shoes and antisocial anyway.  Looking back at my 17 year-old self, it's hysterical.  At the time, it wasn't funny at all, since I was convinced I was going to be killed one way or another that night.  Later that year, Drama's mother sent her to a children's home and Kim had a baby girl she named Jade.  I lost touch with her after that, but I did attend the ghetto-fabulous baby shower, where I met Ray Ray and Tiny's baby mommas.  Good times.  If I had it all to do again, I wouldn't date guys with the first initial J, because there seemed to be a running theme there for me; and I would have stuck with Dick Clark's New Year's Rockin' Eve that night.  Dick Clark never did me wrong.

Happy New Year and say hi to Ray Ray and Tiny if you see them!

2008 year end wrap-up

I'm not sure if you've heard, but it's the end of this year.  Look at a calendar, you'll see.  So, the journalist in me thought I'd give you a year end wrap-up, being that I'm a news junkie I can't help myself.  I've scanned all my usual news sites and my favorite list comes from CNN/Time.  They have the Top 10 everything stories, from straight news to the top 10 Late Night Jokes, it's worth checking out.  But, because I'm me, the list that caught my eye was the Top 10 Oddball News Stories of the year.  That's a list I can get into. Let me start by saying the story names are from CNN/Time, but the writer has my sense of humor.  Particularly for #5.

1. The Pregnant Man — trans-gendered Thomas Beatie gave birth to a baby girl in June.  Beatie was using testosterone therapy and underwent chest reconstruction, but kept his girly parts and was artificially inseminated because his wife had had a hysterectomy.  He went talk shows, 20/20, Oprah felt his baby belly and everything.  Oh, and guess what?  He's preggo again.  Personally, I don't think this is a big story. Um, he still has a uterus and a vajayjay, so yeah, he can have babies just like me and almost every other person born a girl.  Now, if I don't know, Tom Selleck were preggo — that would be news.  Anderson Cooper would be all up in that action with the first interview and Oprah would have a fit.

2. Night of the Corpse Skull Bong — 3 Texas teens not only robbed a grave, but cleaned up a skull to turn into a bong.  The idiot that confessed was sentenced to 8 months in the county jail for abuse of a corpse.  Damn.  When I was a teenager we used to prank call people and stay out past curfew.  I was a goody goody, but some of my friends did at least commit misdemeanor crimes and though I did hear tales of hi jinks, grave robbing never came into play.  At least not that I know of.  My friends weren't into drugs either, but I would think if they had been, human remains wouldn't be at the top of the list for making bongs.  Again, I am assumming.  For all I know, they were smokin' crack out of Elvis' sideburns.  Really, I wouldn't have put it past some of my high school punk-ass boyfriends to rob a grave.  I dated some high class morons, some day I'll tell some stories.

3. Strange Things Afoot in Vancouver — 6 severed human feet have been found on the shores of
British Columbia since August 2007.  Medical experts believe the feet were "detached naturally" from bodies floating in the ocean and have washed up on the beaches.  Um, dude, are there that many dead bodies just floating around up there?  Seriously?  And can we just talk for a minute about the poor people who stumbled upon these feet?  I could never go to the beach again.  I guarantee you I'll never go to a beach in Vancouver.  When we lived in Canada, my bookclub friend, Paula, was from Vancouver and she never mentioned the washed-up feet.  And she was the outdoorsy-type (complete opposite of me, hence the bookclub), so I'm sure she went to the beach.  Who's up for a vacay to B.C.?

4. Virgin Shark Mother

a female Atlantic
blacktip shark named Tidbit. Tidbit, who died due to pregnancy
complications — the pup, also deceased, was discovered inside her womb
after her death — had produced the offspring without the help of a shark
father. The asexual reproduction, known as parthenogenesis, occurred
at an aquarium in Virginia Beach, VA and the October announcement was only the second documented case in shark history. 

Y'all — I wouldn't attempt to paraphrase that one.  First of all — virgin shark.  WTF?  Second, asexual reproduction is freakish.  I wouldn't trust any animal who could reproduce by itself.  If an animal can Xerox itself, that's pretty much cloning as far as I'm concerned.  Not that I learned that in biology or anything ('cause Lord knows I wasn't paying attention and I was probably writing Mrs. Andrew McCarthy on my notebook) and I'm far from being a science whiz.  Unless it's the science of love, of which I have a PhD.

5. She Ain't Heavy, She's My Partially Absorbed Embryonic Twin

When doctors examined a 9-year-old Greek girl complaining of a stomach
ache, they were startled to discover the cause: an embryonic twin the
girl had absorbed while in the womb. The girls' abdomen was swollen
with the growth, which surgeons removed safely. "Vanishing Twin
Syndrome" is not entirely uncommon — experts say it occurs as often as
1 in 8 pregnancies — but the vast majority of vanished twins are
completely absorbed by the surviving twin or by the mother before birth.

Shut up.  I've spent A LOT of time in OB/GYNS offices and I've never heard of this in real life.  Yes, I've seen the documentary on TLC, but for realz, y'all.  Damn.  Absorbed?  No.  Viva paper towels absorb, not people.  Can you imagine being told this info in the doctor's office?  I wouldn't need anestetic for the surgery, I'd go into a coma right there.  Have you noticed 3 of these stories have had to deal with pregnancy?  I'm glad the reproductive chapter in my life is over because I couldn't take this crap. 

6. Second Life Divorce — follow me on this one.  A real-life British couple were apparently really involved in an online role-playing game called Second Life (I've never heard of it, but it sounds just lovely) and the wife caught her husband "cheating" with a Second Life prostitute, who in real life is a divorced mom from Arkansas.  The Brit courts saw online cheating as grounds for their real divorce AND now the guy is engaged to the woman he "cheated" with online — in real life.  Did you get that?  I'm getting a headache just trying to process that.  The only role-playing games I'm familiar with are action games, not people being prostitues online.  Is that what our world of technology has turned into?  Online prostitutes?  I suppose you can't get STDs from computer sex, but you could get a computer virus, perhaps.

7. Fish Pedicures — The practice of plunging feet into a tub of tiny carp called garra
rufa, which nibble on dead skin, was popular in some Asian countries
and became an American craze after John Ho, a Virginia salon owner,
announced he had offered the treatment to 5,000 customers over a
four-month period. Soon, pedicurists all over the country were ordering
thousands of
the fish, which are said to help soften the skin in advance of normal,
human-administered pedicures. Unfortunately for some salon owners who
had already ordered the fish, Washington and Texas quickly banned the
on sanitary grounds.
Oh, hell to the no.  I love a pedicure, but there's no way on Earth I'm sticking my feet in a tub of itty bitty dead-skin eating fish.  That's sick.  What the hell are people thinking?  This is disturbing.  Damn, why not use a freakin' dingo from the outback or a damn grizzly bear to give your tootsies a rub down?  What's the punk-ass salon owner going to do next, get wasps to sting you and call it botox? 

8. Breast Milk Ice Cream — PETA wrote an open letter to Ben & Jerry's telling them to use breast milk instead of cow's milk.  PETA later said it was a gimmick.  Really?  Now, I'm all for breast feeding, I nursed three babies, but I draw the line at ice cream.  And I'm all for ice cream, too, just make mine with cow's milk, please.

Big foot
9. Bigfoot Lives! No, Really! — Ok, here's my summary: a couple of guys in Georgia told the world they found bigfoot and had its corpse in a freezer and CNN and a bunch of news people went nuts when a bigfoot expert went to see it.  The dudes put up a website, had videos on YouTube, and people ate it up.  Of course, it was a bigfoot costume in a freezer and those guys are back to watching Larry the Cable Guy on Comedy Central.  Yeah, if bigfoot exists, two rednecks will find it, I'm sure of that.  I'm actually going to give these guys props, they sold it and people bought it!  Oh, by the way, I've got a unicorn in my backyard and some leprechauns in my garage.  CNN, you listening?  Just be careful when you go in the backyard, the unicorn's tame, but my dragon gets a little hot around strangers. By the way, is this not the best photo ever?  I think it's t-shirt worthy. 

10. Your Money For My Life

After his wife left him, Ian Usher decided to make a clean break from his
old existence as a rug salesman in Perth, Australia. So he took the next
logical, if extreme, step, and put his entire life up for sale on eBay. On
the auction block, sold only as a package, were Usher's three-bedroom house,
his 1989 Mazda sedan, a jet ski, his computer, his furniture, an
introduction to his friends and a tryout at his sales job. The bids rolled
in and Usher, 44, ended up collecting around $380,000. He later said he had
hoped his life would sell for more, but he still had enough to finance phase
II of his unusual midlife crisis, embarking on a massive trip around the
world to complete a hundred life goals in a hundred weeks.

That's pretty awesome.  Who hasn't wanted to start all over after an extremely stressful period?  The rug salesman put his whole life on eBay!  It would be strange to watch the bids roll in for your life, wouldn't it?  When I've sold a few things on eBay, I was excited to see people bid on stuff, but I don't know how I would react to selling all the tangible things in my life.  Here's what my auction listing would include: 4 bedroom house, Town & Country minivan with a dent on the back right bumper, 7 or 8 magazine subscriptions, my Vera Bradley collection, pink Dyson vacuum and pink handvac, fantastic record collection, a closet full of clothes in a range of sizes to accommodate the most discriminating yo-yo dieter,  co-ownership of a small scrapbook business, an introduction to my friends (who rock the house, btw), a husband who loves scuba diving and video games, and 3 kids who are super adorable, but don't listen worth a flip.  Oh, and ton of laundry that's currently blocking the doorway to the laundry room.  What would the starting bid be? How would you decide that?  I'm not sure.  My auction listing title would be "Get a Life."  Maybe the bigfoot guys would buy it.  They need one.

Well, peeps, that's my year in review.  I stayed away from the obvious stories because we all know about those, you've heard all the commentary you need about Palin, Obama, gas prices, the economy, and Iraq.  Where are you going to hear about the virgin shark mother and fish pedicures if I don't blog about them?  This blog's tagline should be "pondering the innane, so you don't have to."  Once again, the Kerry Blog delivers on that promise!

Friends and peeps, there are lots of fun things coming up this week — my new scrap office will be revealed (before and after pics), pics of recent layouts and a trip down memory lane with a look at my first foray into scrapbooking from back in '99!  And my New Year's resolutions, so check back for more fun than you can shake a paint stick at.

My sweet potato

The hubs and I went to the new Zeas last night and It was some kind of good. If you live remotely close to a Zeas, stop what you’re doing and go now. Save room for dessert and get the sweet potato bread pudding. Y’all, if Jesus were born today, the wise men would forget the muhr and bring the sweet potato bread pudding. Then baby Jesus would give them a fist bump and share his dessert with everyone. Meanwhile, the fam and I are here at Chili’s, where the no longer have my fave blue cheese burger. Ugh. My sweet potato

day after Christmas ramblings

I hope your Christmas was a special one.  Our's certainly was (all three Christmases.)  Last night before bed, my oldest said it was her favorite Christmas ever and the crazy middle one gave a toast over pizza at dinner (I made Christmas lunch, the kids at pizza for dinner) she said "cheers to Christmas and the birf of Jesus!" She can't say words that end in TH.  It was a nice moment. 

Christmas 1975 mml
When I was a little girl Christmas was all about family and for me, it still is.  Every year on Christmas Eve we would go to my Mammaw Lewis' little house for dinner with my mom's side of the family and it was always a lot of fun.  My great-grandmother made these sweet carrots I loved and she had always had a little tree that sat on top of a table.  My great aunts and uncles and cousins were there and we had lots of presents to open.  Every year we knew it was time to go home when the weatherman on the local news said Santa had been spotted in the area.  I loved Christmas Eve, it was a special night and it didn't have anything to do with the Santa.  My great-grandmother, Katie Lewis, passed away the Christmas after the hubs and I were married.  We had long stopped the Christmas Eve tradition after she moved in with my grandparents as she got older, but it gave me the same feeling to have spent one last Christmas with her. 

On the right is a familiar sight — Christmas morning.  Change a few things in the picture and it could be present day, but it's my sister, Otto the dachshund, and I in 1981.  That was the year Santa brought my Barbie Townhouse and I knew he had to be real.  Of course, the next year I found out the cruel, hard truth and I'm sure that's what set me on the path to cynicalville you see today.  Did anyone else equate the authenticity of Santa Claus with the quality of presents you received?  I don't know about everyone else, but when I got the Barbie Townhouse with a working elevator it pretty much blew my mind.  I have to admit, the whole elevator-thing ruined the real estate experience for me as an adult.  We lived in a 3 story townhouse in Canada, but there was no elevator.  The hubs' aunt has a townhouse in Metairie with an elevator.  It's a real-life Barbie Townhouse, only it's not pink and the elevator isn't run by pulling a string.  If I lived there, I'd paint the whole thing pink and hang out in the hot tub all the time.  Then if I got bored, I'd take my pink Corvette out with Ken, Midge, and Skipper — well, not Skipper, I never liked that whiny beyotch. 

If you were a kid in the 80's like me, you remember the goofy toys we had.  Check out the little squirrels I'm holding in the photo.  Those babies were a little rodent family called the Woodsies that came with a little fabric log that was their house and little squirrel furniture.  How weird is that?  I don't know what my sister is trying to keep my disinterested dog out of — she always had the weirdest taste in toys.  Does anyone remember the Monchichies?  If not, maybe this will refresh your memory.

Y'all, that's some freakiness going on right there.  What crack smoking toy exec came up with those?  My sister loved those damn Monchichi monkey puppet dolls.  Over the years in my world the word monchichi has somehow morphed into a term of endearment for children — I don't know how or why, but call kids monchichies — not just mine, all children.  Munchkins and monchichies.

At some point in adolescence I became less interested in my own gifts and focused on giving.  Trust me, it was not some highly spiritual epiphany that came to me; although it was around the same time I became a Christian, so maybe it wasn't a coincidence after all.  Anypresent, I didn't care too much about what I received, it was all about finding the perfect gift for friends and family and wrapping it in Martha Stewart fashion.  I went to extremes.  I went to such extremes in gift-giving that the band Extreme was all "damn, we better change our name, this chick's making us look bad."  Friends will know what I'm talking about.  If you asked me for a book, you'd better believe I was going to try to find the first edition.  I was nuts.  With the invention of eBay, I'm sure I'm worse now, although I try to not go overboard anymore. 

I still refuse to use those plasticky stick-on bows and just any paper.  I'm a gift wrap snob and I'm not afraid to admit it. It's real ribbon (I've also been known to use ric rac, pompons, and felt) and heavy paper, no drugstore stuff, mainly Hallmark.  Last week I realized I had left the tissue paper and enclosure at home when I got to the pack and ship place to mail a few gifts and I had to take a moment, count to 10 and tell myself it wasn't a big deal.  I'm pretty sure when the magi showed up with their gifts for Jesus they didn't have polka dot tissue paper and monogrammed gift enclosures.  But then again, when you're giving gold, who cares how it's wrapped?  Although I'm more of a silver person. 

EDIT: Because I'm a giver, this is for Jenn because she said I have the innate ability to transport her to "back in the day," which is of course, my goal in life.  Yes, it's the Popples commercial.  Popples are the bastardized stuffed animal ball-thing that haunts Jenn's dreams!


Mainly for my own amusement, I’ve compiled a list of Kerry Blog frequently asked questions, so maybe not frequently asked, but at least once I’ve had these questions asked through the magic email machine of the interwebs.  I’ve gotten enough questions to compile a list, so I made a page for you to read.


1. Why won’t your blog let me leave a comment?

        I don’t know.  Typepad says nothing is wrong, that you have to wait for the page to load completely before you try to leave a comment, but it’s still not working.  All I do is write this thing.

2.Are you selling something?

3. Is that your picture on the blog?
        some of them are.

4. Isn’t this supposed to be a scrapbooking blog?  Why don’t you have more stuff on scrapbooking? 
        no, it’s supposed to be my blog.  ’cause.

5. Is Kerry your real name?
        as far as I know.

6. What do you do?
        this and stuff.

7. Is this supposed to be funny?

8. Is this supposed to be serious?

9. Where do you find the time to do this? 
        I don’t sleep.

10. How old are you?
        about your age, give or take.  

11. Is this blog PG-13?

12. Where do you like to hang out?
        my house 

13. Blah blah blah…That post on plus-sized women and pantyhose was the vilest bunch of mean-girl rage I’ve ever read.    No, you may not be a supermodel, but you certainly are ugly on the inside.  Where do you get off?
        hey now.  seriously?  you may want to read my fat rant post.

14. Do you do any public speaking?
        unless I’m talking to myself, nearly all of my speaking is in public.

15. I don’t have a question, but I think we’d get along.  Do you like sports?
        well, that was a question, now, wasn’t it?

and so this is Christmas

Merry Christmas from the the Kerry Blog.  Here at Kerry Blog headquarters, we're up to our ears in boxes, plastic enclosures, and those deadblame twistie-ties from all these toys.  Seriously, I think there's more security devices in place for the toys my children received than in a nuclear power plant.  What is so dangerous about the Imaginex Batman that he has to be incased in cardboard, industrial strength plastic, tape, and twistie-ties?  I'm telling you, if we were in a movie, any villian would be deterred by this. 

So, in my way I'm wishing you a happy Christmas and hope you have a wonderful day with family, friends, and loved ones. 


Take some great pictures and if you're not already a scrapbooker, it's a great time to start (the above greeting was made on I'll be taking pics to scrapbook at Crop Connection next month.  It's going to be good times.  

Have a wonderful holiday! 

have yourself a merry little Christmas

Dear Friends and Readers,

It's Christmas Eve and I'm thinking about this holiday and how much it means to me.  It's always been my favorite holiday, even with all the chaos that's always surrounded it as a child and now that I have children of my own.  As we celebrate the birth of our Savior and reflect on what that means in our own lives, I hope you will take the time to tell the people close to you what they mean to you.  While wrapping presents today, I asked my daughters what Christmas is all about and I was so happy to hear them say it's about Jesus' birth and giving.  It was a proud mom moment.

Being that I'm not actually Santa Claus, I knew it would be impossible give each of you a gift personally, but I hope this will do.  I'm posting two videos that say Christmas to me and I hope you enjoy them.  The first is my favorite Christmas song, "Have Yourself a Merry Little Christmas," this is the Coldplay version.  A few hundred versions are out there, I have  my favorites and I like this one.  The Judy Garland original is awesome, and although I love Ella Fitzgerald's version, it's a little too up tempo for my present mood, which is reflective and actually peaceful. All of the covers of "Have Yourself a Merry Little Christmas" are for your Tunes Tuesday.  Go visit YouTube for a few dozen versions.  Sinatra's is fab, but pass on Xtina Aguilera.  Here' the lyrics for you in case you haven't committed them to memory. 

Have yourself a merry little Christmas
Let your heart be light
From now on, our troubles will be out of sight

Have yourself a merry little Christmas
Make the Yuletide gay
From now on, our troubles will be far away

Here we are, as in olden days
Happy golden days of your
Faithful friends who are dear to us
Gather near to us
Once more

Through the years, we all will be together
If the fates allow
Hang a shining star upon the highest bough
And have yourself a merry little Christmas now

That's Christmas.  That's what this holiday is to me: friends, family, and forgetting your troubles while you're together. 

The second video is one of the best pieces of television ever aired. 
It's Linus' speech from the Charlie Brown Christmas Special.  I've been
watching it my entire life and it always brings me joy at Christmas. 
The way Linus quotes the book of Luke and then tells Charlie Brown, "that's what Christmas is all about" is pure Christmas Magic.  There's something about the belief of a child that trivializes your
worries and brings things into perspective that makes all the chaos and insanity of the weeks before Christmas melt away.  I hear it in my children's voices.  To hear my daughters say Christmas is about giving is immensely gratifying and lovely to a mother's ear.  It makes me think maybe they are listening to me after all, maybe the commercialism of the season isn't ruining the meaning of Christmas after all.  That is a blessing and I am grateful for that. 

I am also grateful for each and everyone who reads this blog.  I wanted to thank you for spending some of your time with me and tell
all of you how much I appreciate your comments and emails.  The words
I've head from you make writing worth it.  I have such wonderful
friends and readers, y'all are just superfantastic and I wish you the merriest of Christmases. 

Happy Christmas to all and to all a good night,

Christmas shopping guide: idea #8 — a great ending to the series

So, I wanted to end the Christmas Shopping Guide series with a bang, and peeps, I think I've found the perfect gift for the hard to buy for man in your life.  I can say with full authority, I have seen nothing like this in all my 34 years, never heard of such a thing, never dreamed I'd lay eyes on anything so beautiful and wrong at the same time.  What could I be referring to?  Feast your eyes on this catalog page:
New catalogue 01

For your final edition of the Kerry Blog Christmas Shopping Guide, I give you custom made urinal sculptures.  Yes, they are sculptures of flowers and shells. Yes, they are working urinals.  Yes, I am just as confused as when I watched "The Lake House" and couldn't figure out how the heck Sandra Bullock and Keanu got together through a magic mailbox. 

Being as how I'm a chick and know little to nothing about urinals, I assumed they were purely utilitarian.  I was obviously wrong.  I've not been in many men's restrooms, of course there was the Taco Bell men's room somewhere in Mississippi, but my knowledge on this subject is limited.  So, I turned to my hubs for his opinion, who said "I have a mixture of emotions, not one is desirable, kind of like mixing ketchup and icecream."  No, I don't know what that means, the hubs in an enigma.

Art has always spoken to me.  I love art and I understand that beauty is in the eye of the beholder.  Call me crazy (wouldn't be the first time), but when I think of art, bodily functions do not jump to mind.  The potty artist is is Clark Sorenson and he says the sculptures are meant to be installed and used.  Now, once upon a time, I was featured in an art show, I was on the program as an artist — at no time while viewing my work did I think, "hmm…that would look great as a toilet."  Maybe it's just me. 

So, if you're still looking for that perfect gift for that guy in your life and you'd like to have more art in your home, go ahead and order one of Clark's pieces.  Of course, it may give you nightmares to walk into your bathroom at 2 am to potty and see a giant Calla Lily jutting out of your wall.  I know that would give me nightmares.  Not to mention I wouldn't be able to take the hubs joking about watering the flowers, which I know he would do everyday. 

And just in case you're not a flower or shell person, maybe you can't get enough politics in your life — well, here's the urinal for you:

George 2 sm
Y'all, I'm not a Republican and I find this disturbing.  Beyond disturbing.  I'm pretty sure I'll have nightmares about this.  I mean, hell, what's next — a Cheney bidet?  Ew.  No, that's just, no. 

Ok, later I'll post on something a little more congenial.  Well, maybe not congenial, but I'll aim higher for the next post (pun intended).  For now I have to get some sleep, I've spent far too much time on this post and my eyes are quite heavy. 

Remember to get your entries in for the Kerry Blog Ugly-Ass Christmas Decoration Contest by Christmas Eve.  Email pics or videos to

worst gift ever

Being that I have a bunch of gifts to wrap, laundry to fold, piles of magazines and kids' school papers to go through, not to mention I think I'm getting bronchitis — I didn't think I'd post until tonight, but then I saw this on 

This is beyond wrong.  Everyone knows I hate birds.  I like them when they're flying around, not bothering anyone, but no — they have to attack people and try to kill them.  Have you seen Hitchcock's The Birds?  Scariest freakin' movie I've ever seen.  The damn birds are everywhere!  It's pretty much my nightmare since that day in 1994 when the parrot attacked me at the Audubon Aquarium of the Americas.  I was not injured by the bird only because I was able to get away thanks to my cat-like reflexes. For a chubby girl, I can run when faced with a big blue pterodactyl.  Damn giant blue parrot.  Scott said it was a Maccaw, I prefer to think of it as a giant blue instrument of death. 

If I opened this on Christmas morning I would no doubt go into cardiac arrest.  I'm sure seeing that Barbie under my tree would put me in the hospital.  It could only be worse if those were owls.  What the hell is Mattel thinking?  Are there no other Barbies left in the world to make?  What's next — Carrie from the Stephen King movie?  Have they made the Aretha Franklin Barbie?  Yoko Ono Barbie?  How about a First Lady series?  I suggest starting with Dolly Madison.  Surely there are other Barbies out there to make.  I'm not an anti-Barbie feminist.  I love Barbie.  Sure, she could stand to eat a sandwich, but I have nothing against her.  I just don't want to see her being pecked to death by birds. 

Here's the blurb about it from In 1963, Alfred Hitchcock,
the Master of Suspense, gave us a tale of terror not soon forgotten in
his film “The Birds.” Dressed in a re-creation of the stylish green
skirt-suit worn by the film’s ill-fated heroine in an iconic scene, Alfred Hitchcock’s “The Birds”
Barbie® Doll celebrates the 45th anniversary of the acclaimed film.
From the doll’s classic ensemble to the perfectly painted expression to
the accompanying black birds, every aspect captures the film’s infamous

Seriously?  Her perfectly painted expression of utter fear for her life!  I give up, Mattel.  Here's an idea: the Kerry Barbie — In 2008, Kerry Faler, the Mistress of the Mundane, gave us a blog soon not to be forgotten for its near-humor and paranoid ramblings.  Dressed in a pink ScrapFest! t-shirt and black yoga pants worn by her while writing the blog, the "Kerry Faler" Doll celebrates the life of the 34 year-old acclaimed mom.  From the doll's comfy ensemble to the perfectly painted WTF expression to the accompanying MP3 of "Black Bird," every aspect captures Kerry's moderate appeal. You should know the Kerry doll cannot wear Barbie's clothes as the Kerry doll is not a stick and most likely would not play nice with Barbie. 

No one better get me that scary doll from The Birds.  Unless you want me to come to your house and beat you down, don't even think about it.