Note: The following thought from the deep end is directed at no one in particular...It's just one of those random thoughts that floated by today...Female...
Dear friends & followers of my blog (a.k.a. - all 3 of you),
I received an e-mail this morning in which the sender in essence prompted me to "get my finger out" and start blogging again...
(I know what you are about to ask and actually it's an English (as in Jolly Old) expression that my British BFF Marge uses quite often to describe the need to stop dragging your feet about something... as in,
"Jackie! Get your finger out and help me pick out an outfit"
(which would actually NEVER happen, as she is somewhat of a fashion plate and the kind of plates I am interested in usually involve eating!)
Plus, I'm not 100% sure I want to know why the Brits say that or even where your finger supposedly has been...
up your nose?
or some other sordid place that has kept you from doing what you should have been doing all along?
And YES! I understand that the sentence I just wrote broke all kinds of rules set forth by scholars centuries ago... But as I've told you before...
I'm a rebel... a freestyler of sorts!....
That's just how I roll!
I digress.....
Thanks to this (not so) anonymous follower of the Deep End who encouraged me to get back into it...
HERE I AM...
Back Again in 2010!
I did it...
Again...
I caught myself saying the two words that I PROMISED -
NO!!
I VOWED to NEVER, EVER say to another Mom as long as I lived...
Can you guess what they were?
"Just Wait"
No!!
I'm not trying to make you sit on the edge of your seat before revealing those words...
Those ARE the words!
I have a brother who loves circus peanuts...
You know, the orange peanut shaped candy that is made from pure sugar and has the consistency of stale-banana-flavored-marshmallows...
I've always had a hard time understanding how anyone could possibly like these 'treats'...
Did you ever wonder what the inspiration behind the invention of such a confection was?
This is my guess to what may have transpired on that fateful day...
BACK IN THE 1800's AT SOME UNIDENTIFIED CANDY FACTORY DEVELOPMENT KITCHEN:
Okay... so today I stopped by the old blog-a-roo to dust off the cobwebs and see what I've been up to lately...
I kid....
I was shocked to realize that my last post was back in April!!!
Is my life so uneventful that I had nothing to write about since then?
*chirp*chirp* (is that the sound of crickets?)
Actually, life is busy for me ALL the time...
It really boils down to the fact that my down time has been consumed with other things like sleeping, eating, and keeping up with my favorite tv programs...
Today however, I needed to call upon my BF's (that's YOU... my Bloggy Friends)
I NEED your help...desperately!
I am meal planning for an upcoming camping trip...
Before you start envisioning me in my over sized girl scout uniform, I should probably let you in on a secret...
My BF Les sent this to me today...
Truth be told, it couldn't have arrived on a better day for me...
Ummm... can you say teenagers?...
Sure you can...
I wanted to share the wealth with you...
you know...
the ones who understand me...
and who will also understand and appreciate this idea...
THE NEXT SURVIVOR SERIES
Six married men will be dropped on an island with one car and
3 kids each for six weeks.
Each kid will play
two sports
and either take music
or dance classes.
There is no fast food.
Each man must
take care of his 3 kids;
keep his assigned house clean ,
correct all homework,
and complete science projects ,
cook, do laundry,
and pay a list of 'pretend' bills
with not enough money
In addition, each man
will have to budget in money
for groceries each week.
Each man
must remember the birthdays
of all their friends and relatives ,
and send cards out
on time--no emailing.
Each man must also
take each child to a doctor's appointment ,
a dentist appointment
and a haircut appointment
He must make
one unscheduled and inconvenie
visit per child
to the Urgent Care.
He must also
make cookies or cupcakes
for a social function.
Each man will be responsible for
decorating his own assigned house,
planting flowers outside
and keeping it presentable
at all times.
The men will only
have access to television
when the kids are asleep
and all chores are done.
The men must
shave their legs ,
wear makeup daily,
adorn himself with jewelry,
wear uncomfortable yet stylish shoes ,
keep fingernails polished
and eyebrows groomed
During one of the six weeks,
the men will have to endure severe abdominal cramps, back aches,
and have extreme, unexplained mood swings but never once complain or
slow down from other duties.
They must attend
weekly school meetings,
church, and find time
at least once to spend the afternoon
at the park or a similar setting.
They will need to
read a book to the kids
each night and in the morning,
feed them, dress them,
brush their teeth and
comb their hair by 7:00 am.
A test will be given at the end of the six weeks, and each father will be required to know all of the following information:
each child's birthday,
height, weight,
shoe size, clothes size
and doctor's name.
Also the child's weight at birth,
length, time of birth,
and length of labor,
each child's favorite color,
middle name,
favorite snack,
favorite song,
favorite drink,
favorite toy,
biggest fear and
what they want to be when they grow up.
The kids vote them off the island
based on performance.
The last man wins only if...
he still has enough energy
to be intimate with his spouse
at a moment's notice.
If the last man does win,
he can play the game over and over
and over again for the next 18-25 years
eventually earning the right
To be called Mother!
After you get done laughing,
send this to as many females as you
think will get a kick out of it and
as many men as you think can
handle it.
Just don't send it back to me.... I'm going to bed.
Can I get an 'Amen'?!!
Occasionally someone will send me one of these kinds of things in my email...
Okay... if I'm being COMPLETELY honest.... I get this kind of crap, junk, spam humorous stuff all of the time, and once in a while, something will arrive that tickles my funny bone or makes me laugh (and snort a little)
This was one of the few of them that didn't involve flatulence, sex, or a story involving a rabbi, a priest and a prostitute conversing on the 18th fairway of a country club golf course....
Here they are:
I'm a bargain hunter.
I'm not sure if I ever mentioned that to you before, but it's true.
I go for 'big game', which by my own personal definition, means that I don't waste my time on half-off sales...
No siree!
I scoff at 40% off ads that come in the mail...
'Big Game' in my book means AT LEAST 75% off...
It's actually somewhat of a 'gift', this ability to scope out deals...
I'm like Patricia Arquette's character in Medium....
Except that my 6th sense is more along the lines of 'knowing' when I need to get to a store...
Tony has a hard time accepting my 'special talent'....
He sees it as more of a curse...
"Why Jackie???!!! Please tell me why we NEEDED a labeler??? WHY???!!!"
"You just-don't-get-it!!!! Poor, sad, Tony!!! They cost $35.00 everywhere and I only paid $6.00 for it..... Six dollars I tell you!!!!!! I saved us $29.00!!!"
Is anyone else out there sick of hearing the word "stimulus"?
Call me immature...
(lots of my friends do)
But my gray matter can't seem to detach that word from the area of my brain that houses things like the 'K-Y His and Hers' commercials and other 'dirty' things...
I mean, in my mind, I am picturing some governmental hotshot on the phone with the economy, candles lit all around speaking in hushed tones asking, "What are you wearing? ...... Because all I have on is a smile..."
Couldn't they come up with a less provocative way of expressing what they are hoping to do to the economy??!!!!!!!!!!!
Couldn't they just "spur" the economy?!
Or perhaps "trigger" the economy??!!
At least until my maturity level increases to that of a person half my age...
Or never......
Remember the good old days when even the worst behaved kids pretended to respect authority?
When all parents lived by the code: "Guilty until proven innocent"?
Those days are gone....
Long gone, I'm afraid.
My sixteen year old daughters ipod was stolen during her lunch period at her high school...
Right out of her bag...
By someone she knew... (a "friend")
She told me two days later, having put off the task knowing that I would react in a not-so-pleasant way...
(she was right)
To make matters worse, several of her other "friends" had seen the JAKWHIP (Jack Ass Kid With Her I Pod) some of whom had even been approached by the kid offering to sell them her ipod cheap...
It had hot pink earbuds and displayed her name when turned on.... no doubt about it... it was HERS!!
(Why, you ask, didn't one of them insist he hand it over on the spot? I have no idea... as I have come to realize, "friends" is a relative term these days among 16 year olds)
At that point, she had already reported all of the info to the officer at school....
and yes, you read right...
they have a "resource officer" aka the Po-Po, the Heat, the Fuzz, at every high school in the district!!
My how things have changed!
After several days of absolutely NO HELP AT ALL, my level headed husband decides that it would probably be a good idea to phone the JAKWHIP's parents.
After all, it takes a village...right?!
After debriefing him on all of the facts complete with names of witnesses, he phones the father of this future guest of the state pen...
I hear him very "Dad to Dad" talking, very calm and friendly like... using phrases like "just want to get this straightened out" and "appreciate your help"
Which is exactly why HE called instead of me...
If I had been the one to make the call, some of the phrases overheard may have included "Don't make me come over there" and "What method of torture do you plan to use to get him to talk?"
So Dad of JAKWHIP assured my guy that he was going to get to the bottom of it...
Which we learned 45 minutes later must have consisted of a conversation similar to this:
DOJAKWHIP: Son!! Did you take some girls ipod?
JAKWHIP: What Father?! Of COURSE NOT!! I would NEVER steal! You and my wonderful mother (who incidentally are the best parents that any kid could ask for and I'm lucky that you are mine) taught me better than that!!!
DOJAKWHIP: That's swell! Now you and Wally go out and play ball with the fellas... But first phone that girls Dad back and explain this to him... poor guy! He was REALLY on the wrong track! I hope he finds the REAL thief!!
How did we come to that conclusion?
Because ol' JAKWHIP phoned my husband and assured him that he didn't steal the ipod and there must have been some kind of misunderstanding.
The Dad didn't even call back...he told the Beav to!!!!
**Sigh**
At the end of the day, we sit back and shake our heads...
and long for the days when parents stuck together...
The days when they all hoped that their kids would never do anything wrong, but they understood that in raising kids...ANYTHING is possible and that even the best kids make mistakes.... sometimes BIG ones...
The days where parents weren't afraid to be parents and understood that having a good relationship with our children, didn't mean that they had to be their best friends...
I would love to be a fly on the wall in JAKWHIP's house the day that Mom or Dad is faced with the reality that their son is a thief...
I do hope for their sake that someone in the village shakes them out of their "happy trance" before the Beav ends up in the slammer!!
In the meantime, my daughter has hopefully learned several valuable lessons including listen to your mother and "friends" is an overused term that has very broad definitions and obviously doesn't mean the same thing to everyone!!
If you happen to see JAKWHIP (a.k.a. the Beav) you might want to warn him not to mess with my girl again... now that her Four older, much larger, and now angry brothers are on to his games...
