November 2011 | Kelley's Break Room

The Food Alarms: Guaranteed to Make You Lose Weight or Go Insane While Trying

Folks. It's getting ridiculous. I can't keep myself from indulging in things I know I shouldn't eat. In the morning, I'll eat a slice of wheat toast and a 1/4 cup of Egg Beaters and then finish off the entire buffet table at Golden Corral AND Ryan's Steakhouse in 30 minutes flat for lunch. In the morning, I'm all about it and then a temptation crosses my path and I consume it like a lion who hasn't eaten in months. So, that's why I came up with the idea for Food Alarms. If this idea takes off, they'll be on ever Big Lots shelf across the land. My heart is swelling with pride already at the thought. Here's the scoop:

THE FOOD ALARMS

Here's how it works: there are 5 levels of food alarms. These alarms are found in your pantry. The refrigerated alarm system is still being developed in our fancy labs, so hang on tight for that one. Each level of food has a different alarm on it that is more excruciating and annoying than the last. The alarms are attached to large boxes where these different foods are kept. Here are the five different boxes/alarms:

ALARM #1: NAILS ON A CHALKBOARD

Alarm #1 will immediately sound when you dig around the box for a bag of chips or if you even just grab a chip or two. Also kept in this box are crackers and Movie Theater Butter Popcorn. Orville is NOT your friend. He would love nothing more than for you to roll everywhere and become a human ball caught in a popcorn eating frenzy.

ALARM #2: THE ANNOYING ORANGE SAYING ABSOLUTELY ANYTHING

You will NOT want to choose applesauce, fruit roll-ups, diced peaches, fruit cocktail or anything like it over REAL fruit if you have to hear The Annoying Orange talking to you. He's is so stinkin' annoying. If you make it out with your staxh, The Annoying Orange will short-circuit and continue to talk throughout the day even when you aren't near Box #2.

ALARM #3: EMERGENCY BROADCAST SYSTEM

THIS is an annoying sound, amirite? Ugh! Really, it's more than an irritating sound. It's a reminder that your program has been interrupted! Something as minor as a tornado or flash flood warning or terrible hurricane is interfering with your precious TV show! That is why this particular sound gets linked to the box containing Coke, Dr. Pepper, Sprite or any sugary drink, juice boxes included!

ALARM #4: GILBERT GOTTFRIED

Tell me you'd want to touch another cookie or cupcake again after hearing Gilbert Gottfried's voice every time you went near one. This one has got to be one of the best deterrents for stuffing your face like a ravenous T. Rex.

ALARM #5: A CAR ALARM

If I buy no other alarms but this one, it will have been a good investment. If this blasted alarm kept going off in my ear, I'd stop wrapping my face around all of that Halloween candy- the Kit Kat bars, Whoppers and Reese's Peanut Butter Cups. The problem is that the candy bars are the "fun size". They're so little and cute. It is hard to see the harm in just having ONE. As we all know, one can quickly turn into two and before you know it you resemble King Kong after he's left a Chinese buffet.

These would make perfect Christmas gifts! You can even customize the annoying sounds. Maybe your husband's snoring is worthy of a level 5? The whole kit is only $19.95 and, if you act now, we'll throw in the ShamWow, Oxiclean, Showtime Rotisserie (Ron Popeil!) and a Tae Bo tape!!

The Petrified Pregnant Porcupine

I think I've lost it. I've written a story about a porcupine. A porcupine. A pregnant porcupine even. Blame it on my husband. We started talking about painful things and it came up that nothing would be as painful as a porcupine giving birth to another porcupine. It was late. I had some leftover sangria from Thanksgiving...also some Moscato...and I wrote this story.

It was 5 a.m. on a cold winter day and Paula Porcupine could feel her baby (or was it babies??) kicking inside her. Paula was only 9 months old herself. When she told her mother she was pregnant, her mom looked at her in shock. "You haven't even started preschool yet! You still have a Diaper Genie in your room! This is ridiculous! I thought you were playing with blocks and you were out with a BOY?! Wait until I tell your father!"

Paula remembers crying and crying over the volatile conversation with her mother, Peggy. She knew she was right. Her mom had actually read "Goodnight Moon" to her the night she snuck out and met Pablo Porcupino. She didn't feel quite ready to have a baby since she was still in diapers herself. She also was still extremely challenged by her stacking rings set and sort-the-shapes box and was convinced that mothers had these types of things mastered. It didn't matter. The porcupettes, the name given to baby porcupines, were coming.

Much to her surprise, Peggy and her Aunt Pippa threw her a porcupette shower. Everybody brought the same thing- leaves and more leaves for the porcupette bed. Paula was a little irritated that no one brought tree bark, her "big ticket" item, but, she faked a smile while hugging everyone as they left. "Thanks for the leaves! That's just what I needed! One can never have too many leaves. I just love leaves. Leaves. Leaves. Leaves. Leaves."

And all they ate was corn. Here is a video Paula eating her corn below. Ignore the fact that the human owner keeps calling her "Teddy", when clearly this is Paula at her porcupette shower. Humans can be so stupid. For real. Listen closely to Paula talking. Her favorite words are "ighighighigh" and "SCHWANKA!!!", which means "I wish you would have bought cupcakes. Who throws a porcupette shower and serves CORN?!"

(Thanks to Abby Has Issues for sending me this video!!)

As Paula prepared her little nesting area for the porcupette that was conceived only 4 months ago and was due any day now, she worried about the pain factor. "I am going to shoot a baby with quills out of me? Am I insane??" Her mother would remind her incessantly that mother porcupines had been having porcupettes for CENTURIES without a problem- even without an epidural! She cried and cried at the thought of it all. Thankfully, her now-husband, Pablo, would pat her prickly back while offering a "Now, now..." at just the right moment. He wasn't really very smart, but he really could "now, now" a girl like a pro. A real pro "now, now"er.

The other thing that stressed the little 9-month-old mother-to-be was what she would name the porcupettes. Since she lived far away from a real hospital, she had no ultrasounds to let her know whether she'd be having one or two or three porcupettes. She also didn't know if they would be male or female. Thankfully, all the leaves she was given at her porcupette shower were green. Green was a neutral color, right? Not knowing what she was going to have and if they'd be boys or girls did not help Paula pick out names easily. One thing she knew was that she couldn't veer from the "P" names, as that's all porcupines ever used. When she mentioned "Quill, Quillie and Quilla" to her mother, her mother almost backed her spikey butt right into Paula, since, as she learned when she was much, much younger (a couple of months ago), porcupines don't actually shoot quills. "You want to begin your kids' names with Q???? Q????? Who do you think you are??? May I remind you that you are not even a year old?! What do you know about naming babies? I've had tons! I know! PORCUPINES ONLY USE 'P'!!!!"

So, Paula reluctantly settled on Pete, Pot and Pat. Poor Pot. She knew it was a stupid name, but she could think of nothing else. At least it was better than Pits, the fourth name she had on her list.

Just before Paula was to deliver her three children, she began crying over the pain she knew she would endure. She grabbed her face in her paws and wailed. "I'm spikey! They'll be spikey! I'm gonna diiiiiiiiiiiiiie!!!"

But, much to her delight, she delivered this:

www.buzzfeed.com

And named her Penelope.

Boo-Boo! See you later!

"Yay! It's the turkey this time! Take that turkey! Hahaha!!
My family and friends get to live to see another da-- Oh, you're
kidding, Ma! Bill & Betty? Really? This is TERRIBLE! Don't people know
they are supposed to eat TURKEY this weekend? TURKEY! What an
awful Thanksgiving this has turned out to be. Bill & Betty. Really, Ma?"

If you are reading this right now, you are probably on top of your game. You are all prepared for Thanksgiving tomorrow and actually have time to read a blog or two. I am so grateful you decided to stop here. For real, thank you for EVER stopping by my blog. I have been HORRIBLE at reading blogs lately. So, having you stop here to read and/or comment when I've been a terrible blog friend lately makes my day. I will get myself together soon! I honestly miss being in your blog houses. Some of you aren't blogging friends but are Facebook/real life friends. If you are a Facebook friend, there is ANOTHER area that I have completely neglected that I feel terrible about. A neighbor or a friend will say, "You didn't know about that? I put it on Facebook."

I'm terrible. Just terrible.

What am I doing? Too much. I know I'm dividing my on-line time in too many directions. For one thing, I feel guilty just about every time I'm on the computer. I know there are other productive things I need to do in the house. There are family members that I am not talking to at a particular moment because I'm on the computer. Do I want my sons to remember the side of my head while I'm typing on the computer? Of course not. That is depressing. I should at least turn so they can see my eyes. I shouldn't be looking at the keyboard anyway, if I learned anything at all from Ms. Parker in my high school typing class. A memory of me looking at them while my body is still turned toward the computer and impressing them with my amazing typing skills has GOT to be a better memory than the side of my head. Still, I try NOT to be on the computer too much when the kids are around, or when the husband is around, or when that little dust bunny in the corner is around, which doesn't always leave a lot of computer time.

When I'm on the computer, I may shoot out a blog post, read blogs, check Twitter, check Favstar (a system that tracks stars or "favorites" given on Twitter for one-liners. I love it! If you love Twitter and like following the funny, you should totally use it!), check Facebook really quickly, work on a writing assignment, check my dusty e-mail account and then repeat. I don't spend much time in any one area and am, therefore, not very productive. I bet all of us can relate to the difficulties of multitasking. Come on! Say you can! Please! You are making me feel like a complete jerk over here! Thanks a stinkin' lot! Okay! Yeah! Whoooohoooo! Go! Fight! Win! Boom! Bam! Wham! Slam! Crash! Bash! (I'm just trying to keep the exclamation marks going...)

So, the point of this post is to ask your forgiveness, wish you a Happy Thanksgiving, let you know that I think you're legit (Actually, too legit to quit. Hey! Hey!) AND to tell you one random thing....

Until next week, Boo-Boo!

(My grandmother had a friend that used to say "Boo-Boo" instead of "Bye-Bye". This both entertained me and stressed me out. Boo-boo? It sounds too close to boob. It's like telling someone "bye" by refering to body parts "Boob-Boob! See you later! Boob now!". If you were talking to Bob, it really got weird. "Boob-boob, Bob! Boob for now, Bob! Boob, Bob! Didn't you hear me say Boob? I said Boob, Bob! Aren't you going to say Boob back, Bob?" I mean. that just doesn't make sense. He was saying "boo-boo" in the '80s, so I know he wasn't referring to my grandmother as his "boo". Ha! I'm loving that image. My grandmother as someone's "boo". WHY? Why did he choose "boo-boo"? Why couldn't he just say "bye" like the rest of us and spare me this anxiety???)

The night I wanted to hug a bed bug

So, if you stopped by on Friday, you know that it was our anniversary was this weekend. To celebrate, we went to a nice hotel in Galveston. If you aren't from Texas, Galveston is a beach town, but the beaches aren't pretty. The Gulf of Mexico doesn't get pretty until you go east to Florida or south to Mexico or if it's the 1920s and you run into The International Pageant of Pulchritude, which was the very first "Miss Universe Pageant" that began in Galveston. ("Pulchritude" would make a good girl's name, right? "I'd love for you to meet my twin girls, Gertrude and Pulchritude.")

Miss St. Louis looks TICKED.
via www.shorpy.com

We arrived at the historic hotel late at night. When my husband pulled back the sheets later, HE FOUND A BED BUG. Because I truly do love this hotel and believe MOST of the rooms likely are bed bug-free, I am not going to say the name of it. I am not trying to bash the hotel. I'm just saying...

WE FOUND A STINKIN' BED BUG!

We immediately put our regular clothes back on and called down to the main desk. They came up and looked at the bed bug we contained under a glass. We trapped him like a criminal. "You will PAY bed bug! I already put my toothpaste by the sink! We have clothes on hangers in that closet and, because of you, we have to move!", we yelled. I think I heard the bed bug yell back something like, "It's not my fault! I was brought in on Mr. Bumbledorf's suitcase! I was just in Ohio last night and here I am in this new place! I have no family, no money..." It was difficult to make out JUST what he said because his voice was extremely high-pitched. Also, I walked away in disgust after a few minutes.

Once the manager knocked on the door and I ran away from it emphatically mouthing, "YOU ANSWER IT!" to my husband, he peered into the glass. He really didn't appear too shocked, which is telling. He gave us a key to a new room on another floor. We debated whether or not to leave the hotel, but it was really late at that point and I wanted to say there, dagnabbit! I was looking forward to the brunch the next day where I had visions of stuffing King Crab legs and soup in my pockets, rolls in my purse and a bunch of grapes draped over my shoulder in an effort to be the most efficient buffet consumer ever.

After wiping away tears over the ocean-view-with-a-dash-of-large-roof-covered-with-the-added-bonus-of-a-gigantic-air-conditioner we were losing, we found our new room on the 6th floor. This room was actually meant for a Mr. & Mrs. Morton. I'm not sure if they were getting married there that weekend or something, because there were 8 chocolated covered strawberries waiting for them on a Saran-wrapped plate and a bottle of Martinelli's sparkling apple cider. My husband said they weren't getting married, because where were they? It was 11:30 or so at that point and they still weren't there. I told them they were down at their reception still. He thinks they just didn't show up to the hotel. After we hashed all of that out complete with a visit from 92-year-old Judge Wapner to help us settle the case, who was a bit agitated that we woke him up over something he considered so trivial, we ate all of the strawberries and drank that cider within 10 minutes. Chocolate was in my eyebrows from eating those strawberries so fast. The apple cider was even dripping off of my eyelashes.

So, in the end, I was grateful for that bed bug. If he had been little bigger (and not dead), I would have gone back to our old room and given it a hug.

I've got my own Edward Cullen

Taking a break from my regular scheduled nonsense to share a little something different with you. Men are welcomed to read, too!

The Twilight "Breaking Dawn" movie just came out, as many of you know. Like a tween, I read all four books long ago. The Twilight series is right beside The Hunger Games in terms of book series that I devoured in a short period of time, with the latter being consumed faster. Also, like a tween, I already have tickets to the movie! Ahhh!!! I am going to see it tonight with some friends of mine. Although I'll be staring at the screen at Edward and thinking about the true love he has for Bella, I will know that, obviously, it is all fake. With the possible exception of the man down the street who sits shirtless in his garage in his kitchen chair with his drink atop an overturned paint bucket staring at everyone as they drive past, there are no vampires.

Source: The Twilight Saga

But we all have our Edward Cullens.

I mean, sort of.

The ones we love now or have loved in the past may not look like Edward Cullen, but made our hearts beat fast like Bella's does when he came near. Some of us have not met him yet. Some of us may never want to meet him. The men may have had a Bella they've loved in the past or love now or...what? Ohhhhhh. Some of us wish I'd abandon this paragraph and go on to the next one. Okay. I will.

I met my Edward Cullen in 1995, but this is what he looked like in 1977:

This is one of my favorite pictures of him EVER.
Our younger son looks exactly like him here, except our
son has dark hair like mine.

We married on November 20, 1999. Tomorrow will mark 12 years of marriage. Twelve years. That makes me feel old, but, more than that, it makes me feel grateful.

If you were in the Break Room a week ago, you'll know that our marriage isn't perfect. We get into spats over things like leaving a cup on a desk. (Here is how I handled that.) There was also that time where I thought he was being unfaithful with his Aretha Franklin look-alike commuter bus driver. (That story here.) There was also that time I picked him up from the bus stop in the evening pretending to be an airport chaffeur because of an argument we had that morning, with this sign in my window:

Still, he is my Edward Cullen.

He makes me laugh all the time, except for the times I want to stick him in a human slingshot. (Don't all couples want to do that sometimes?) He gets me. He balances me. He does things he doesn't want to do, like go on historical tours, because he knows it makes me happy. He takes his time picking out cards for me. He is an awesome dad. He lets me pile up the clean laundry in the corner of our room for a long time without saying anything. That alone makes him awesome.

Four years ago.

When I met Chris in 1995, I was immediately enamored. At this risk of making you slightly sick to your stomach from being too sweet, I had a feeling about him. I promise you, I imagined my children riding on his shoulders before we even had our first conversation. I was VERY good at appearing nonchalant and elusive when all I really wanted to do was yell, "Pick me! Pick me!", like I was trying to get on a elementary school kickball team.

Once when we were working together at an after-school program, we had taken a field trip to the Riverwalk Mall in San Antonio. We had barely had exchanged a few words by this point. After a stranger who was drawing pictures of random people from a hidden table in the food court approached our group with his rendering of me, Chris slowly walked up and asked if he could see it. That is when I knew that he was interested back. Chris doesn't gush with words about his feelings, but little actions like that one, and countless others since, help me realize on the weekend of our 12th wedding anniversary that...

I am also his Bella.

You like to laugh out loud, right?

Over the last couple of days on Twitter or elsewhere, you may have seen someone mention NickMom, which, until now has been a secret. It's brand new! You may have also seen the link to The Wall Street Journal about NickMom on Facebook.

No?

Well, here's the deal: NickMom is a website that just launched THIS week. This spot on the web only focuses on things that moms would find funny (and dads, too). There are lots of videos, pictures, graphs and short posts about mom-related funny stuff. I think you will LOVE it! I seriously have laughed out loud over and over again reading through it. Eventually, the NickMom brand will transition to include comedy television for mothers on the Nickelodeon channel.

There are several writers for the site and I am grateful to be one of them. Since it is just rolling out, my name is not in the writers section at the bottom yet. Once a piece from me goes up, it will appear. What is mine that is on the site right now are the Take 5 news headlines followed by some commentary. For this week, another writer and I are the news anchors, so to speak.

In the future when I post anything over at NickMom, I'll list the most current over in the right sidebar under the NickMom badge, just in case you are interested in reading it. The writing I do for Kelley's Break Room will continue to be about really important things like what my husband would like to see in my purse, sock monkeys, pets and deodorant. I saw that worried look on your face. Oh, it was just gas? Nevermind.

Anyway, the point of this post was to introduce NickMom to you, if you hadn't already met, AND to encourage you to send in your funny mom stuff over to the NickMom editorial team. Dad's can be writers on the site, too, it just has to be written from a mom perspective. The NickMom editors are always looking for humorous stuff and would LOVE to hear from you, I know! If you are interested in giving it a shot, go HERE. I read your blogs. I know you've got some good stuff.

4 things you HAVE to carry in your purse...

...according to my husband.

Really, he is not asking that YOU carry anything in your purse. You two don't know each other. If he came up to you and asked if any of these items were in your purse, you'd probably hit him over the head with it, scream "THIEF!!" and, well, things would just get ugly at that point.

So, this is really a list of items he thinks that I should carry in my purse all the time. He often asks me, "Do you have ___?" to which I always reply "No". I mean, I sometimes have whatever it is he is looking for but most of the time I don't.

Don't even get me started on the things my children think I should have in my purse. "Mommy, do you have any water boons?" My 3-year-old is obsessed with water balloons and probably thinks I should carry them in my change purse. Also, my sons would also like to see an endless supply of snacks stuffed between the sunglasses and the lady goods. Maybe even a bike.

But, my husband would like to see my purse stocked at ALL TIMES with the following critical items:

GUM
(Source: Sodahead)

TYLENOL/ASPIRIN
(via Dr. Pinna)

KLEENEX
(Source: Kleenex)

PEN
(Source: Ebates)

At this moment in time, I have a pen (that probably doesn't work) and some gum (that is probably no longer in it's wrapper and may have some purse dust all over it). No medicine. No Kleenex.

Women, what about you? Do you have all of these things in your purse? Men, anything to say?

Oh! Before I go I wanted to show you what I was thinking of getting my husband for Christmas. Shhhh! I want it to be a surprise...

A MAN purse like Hugh Jackman's!
He can stuff it with all the pens, Kleenex, aspirin and gum he wants!

The Monkey That Helped My Marriage

During this spring of this year, a little sock monkey named Leo began traveling around North America. His journey started at Debbie's place, Miss. Deb: Confessions of a Triplet Mom. He has been to New York, Michigan, Las Vegas, Indiana, North Carolina and Canada. He arrived in the big old state of Texas just last week to see me! I felt AWFUL that he was stuffed in a box and that he truly has no home to call his own. A homeless sock monkey! The box he lives in has no holes or ANYTHING! Fortunately, sock monkeys are exceptionally good at holding their breath, so he seemed to be fine when I took him out. Before we knew it, he was outside trying to show me his gymnastic moves.

He kept yelling, "See how I can keep my legs straight! Notice the strength I have in my legs? This isn't easy!" He wanted us to try it, but I told him a Texas Longhorns flag stuck in a potted plant wouldn't hold up our weight. That's when he yelled, "Lose weight then!", which hurt pretty badly. I thought sock monkeys were always kind. I bet he was super kind before he went to Las Vegas. That probably really changed him. Maybe he was grumpy due to having to move so often. Or maybe he gambled away his retirement?

His mood quickly improved when he it was time for another photo opportunity. After pointing out that I had two empty planters that needed to be filled, he situated his cottony behind on my metal pumpkins and smiled. He really is photogenic.

The next thing we did was to explain to Leo that he was in a state that was known for having lots of cowboys. He was really bummed we didn't have any cows or horses in our yard and asked me what type of host would accept a traveling sock monkey without being adequately prepared. Later today, we may drive past some pastures with cows and horses in them if Leo straightens out that attitude. Anyway, we DID have a cowboy hat and boots both of my sons have worn to the Houston Livestock Show and Rodeo that fit Leo pretty well. Once my three-year-old there got Leo all dressed, Leo started saying "y'all" over and over. He asked if I had any Skoal he could dip. When I said no, he grabbed a long stalk of grass to chew on and then realized his mouth was sewn shut and full of cotton. He was pretty down about that for a few minutes.

At the end of the day, Leo and I had actually become really good friends. It wasn't long before I felt safe to confide to Leo that my husband and I had a little disagreement the day before about a cup that was left on his desk. My husband likes to keep his desk REALLY CLEAN and sometimes I leave stuff on it. On this particular day, my three-year-old had actually left the cup on the desk, but whatever. So, Leo and I decided that since my husband was so irritated by that one cup left on his desk, we should show our remorse rather than just saying, "I'm sorry." So, we did this...

I'm going to miss that Leo.

Obama Obama White House Pajama

Imagine this book cover with Obama's head where
the big llama's head is right now.
www.walmart.com

One of my three-year-old's son's favorite books is "Llama llama red pajama" by Anna Dewdney. Many times when I read it, I think, hmmm...maybe she should have made a historical children's book to explain how Osama was finally killed on May 1, 2011 during the Obama administration. Don't our sweet, tender children need the details about the storming of that terrorist compound in Pakistan? The book could have been called "Obama Obama Destroyed Osama".

Too harsh?

Maybe "Obama Obama White House Pajama" sounds better? You know, there would be no mention of Osama in the title so as not to turn anyone off right at first. The ugly details would be revealed later in the book. Parents could skip some of the pages, if they felt so inclined.

The text of the book would be patterned after Dewdney's story in "Llama llama red pajama", of course. It would probably read a little something like this:

*The red color was used to help distinguish the names from each other.*
Obama Obama
White House pajama
Listens to the military
Talk about Osama

Osama's hiding
In his lair
Obama Obama
Will find him there.

Obama Obama
White House pajama
Wants justice
For Osama's drama.

Obama Obama starts to think
Osama might be in Pakistan at his kitchen sink.

Obama Obama
White House pajama
Talks to the military
About destroying Osama.

The military says they'll find him soon.
Obama tells them to get him before noon.

Obama Obama
White House pajama
Waiting waiting
to hear about Osama.

Osama hasn't
been found yet
Obama Obama
Starts to fret.

Obama Obama
White House pajama
Whimpers softly
To Michelle about Osama.

Then Obama hears the phone
Obama Obama answers at the first tone.

Obama Obama
White House Pajama
Listens, quiet
About Osama.

Osama Osama
Was found near his bed
Obama, Obama,
Osama's dead!

Obama Obama
Jumps and shouts
Osama Osama
Has been taken out!

Although I'm sure I got some of the details wrong about how it all played out, we all can appreciate the general gist of the story, right? Osama's gone and it was during the Obama administration when he was captured. Also, and most importantly, Obama rhymes with Osama, of course. If this had happened when Bush was president, a book would never be possible. "Bush Bush White House Pajama" just sounds ridiculous.

So, yeah, I'm hoping Ms. Dewdney gets out her paint brushes and begins to illustrate a slightly different story than is she used to while working magic with her oil paints to create a bedtime story that may result in a later bedtime. Possibly a much, much, much later bedtime. Actually, your children may never go back to sleep after this story. In fact, your children may need counseling after reading this book.

Still...great idea, right? What? Why are you looking at me like that?

Are pets worth the pain??

We have 0 pets at our house right now, unless you count some of the ants I saw this weekend. So, really, we only have 3,216, 231 pets. I counted some I saw in the kitchen and then proceeded outside and counted all of the ones I saw in the yard. I was there for HOURS. Because all the dadgum things look alike, I had to stop and start over about a hundred times. I lost about 5 pounds because I never wanted to stop to eat. At the end of my couting spree, I had to be rushed off to the emergency room due to a severe case of dehydration. It was worth it, though! My near-death experience was worth it because I know how many pets I have now! Well, hold on a minute... I think one of those ants was pregnant. Now, I'm stressed...

Speaking of ants, there is a dear older person to me, that will remain unnamed, that had ants in her kitchen once. She absolutely refused to acknowledge the fact that there were ants at her house. We'd say, "Hey! Look at those ants!" to which she'd reply "What ants?" just about every time. This amused my husband and I a lot. We walked into her dining room and saw this once:

It was hard to hear their tiny voices, but I gathered that it was someone's birthday, ants love to gamble and their favorite character on Family Ties is Alex P. Keaton.

The ants in my yard don't make great companions, though. They can't fetch worth crap and when you cuddle with them, they bite you! So, I am on the search for a different type of pet for my sons. Aren't all children SUPPOSED to have a pet? No? Sometimes I'm afraid to get a pet that will attack my kids. My grandmother was walking one day a few years ago when a Rottweiler bit her right in the butt and held on for a while until he was knocked away by a stranger. A friend of mine's daughter recently got attacked in the face by a Dachsund and had to have plastic surgery. So, I ask...

Are pets worth the risk...and the heartache? My pet history:
CHARLIE, dog: I think he got hit by a car.
AMOS, dog: He definitely got hit by a car. We found him on my way to school in the 7th grade. I still remember crying to my science teacher about him.
RANDOM FISH: When my sister was 2-years-old, she fed them a whole box of Triscuits and they ate themselves to death.
CHARLOTTE: Pretty white cat that ran away.
MARTHA, cat: She was a stray with lots of sores that my sister and I tried to nurse when we were in elementary school. She mysteriously disappeared one day.
KELSEY, dog: She had to be put to sleep because of cancer. We had her the longest. My dad still gets sad when he recalls having to take her to the vet to do that. She loved to swim in our pool. Oh, my heart!
PARAKEETS: A friend of ours did a flip-flop, knocked the cage over and gave them all a heart attack.
JACK & DIANE: Goldfish we won at a White Elephant Party that died in less than 72 hours.
THOSE DINGDANG ANTS: Still going strong.

Dagger in the heart! Dagger in my stinkin' heart!

So, considering that I want to subject my children to likely emotional turmoil, painful memories and sadness down the road, what kind of pet would you suggest? Actually, what kind of DOG do you suggest? I don't want a cat, fish, bird, turtles, hamsters, reptiles of any kind, ferrets or sugar gliders. No, no, no. Just a dog. What kind of dog do we get??

I'm over at Nickelodeon again!

Thanks to everyone who headed over to my post on Nickelodeon's ParentsConnect website yesterday about my 3-year-old's "7 Tips for Playing GO FISH". If you missed it, you can find it here. With the minor success my little guy achieved over there yesterday came opportunities for him to become a card dealer in Vegas or to host his own "How To Play Go Fish" on ESPN. He may even get to do both! We will miss him, but I hear Vegas has the best preschools. We sent him on airplane yesterday with our fingers crossed that he finds a way to balance it all.

Today's focus is on trying to get my 7-year-old a full-time job doing, well, I'm not sure what. Maybe he can be kitchen help somewhere until he gets to the legal working age? Fulfilling this noble dream is the reason I am asking you to head over to Nickelodeon's ParentsConnect again to read a humor post I have up called "DON'T BLAME ME!"

(Really, it was me that should have been blamed. I did something REALLY dumb. You will look at me differently when you are back here again.)

You can find it HERE.

(Thank you for clicking, reading, liking and/or sharing. I appreciate it VERY much!)

I'm over at Nickelodeon today!

Not my 3-year-old.
(It's from Nick. You'll see.)

That didn't come out quite right. I'm not over at Nickelodeon, like, on a Nickelodeon show. You won't see me starring in an episode of SpongeBob SquarePants. For one thing, I'm not a cartoon and, for another, I'm not an actress and, for another, I can't hold my breath under water that long. Also, Squidward looks so moody and mean!

No, a post I wrote is on ParentsConnect, one of Nickelodeon's websites. It is on their "front page" and I'm obviously excited! I wrote a post from my 3-year-old's perspective about how to play Go Fish. He gives REALLY good advice (wink, wink).

It would mean a lot to me if you made your way over there, read the quick post and commented or shared it! I have written other things for Nickelodeon for a while now, but this is the first one that has been branded with my name. My first and last name. So, there you go. The other posts I have written were for the Nickelodeon brand, you know? This one is mine and it can be found right HERE.

Have I ever told you that you are da bomb?

You are.

When did you and deodorant meet for the first time?

Yesterday afternoon as I was sitting with the neighbors while the kids played outside, I smelled a sewage smell. My neighbor laughed and told me he had just forgotten to take a shower and put on deodorant. A sewage smell cannot be mistaken, though. I knew he was kidding and realized it was coming from the manhole in front of my other unfortunate neighbor's house. This prompted a conversation about deodorant and our kids. It also made me remember this conversation between a friend and her mom when my friend was in elementary school:

Her mom: "Ummmm, sweetie?"

Her: "What, Mom?"

Mom: "Well, sweetie, you're little arms are starting to stink."

Her: [Begans wailing]

Remembering that conversation makes me laugh every time. It was obviously pretty traumatic being told you smelled like a sweating hippo. It kind of gets you right in the heart, apparently. After that conversation with her mom, she began piling on the deodorant. She probably used a stick of Secret per pit.

I don't remember having that kind of conversation with my mom. I don't know if one day I smelled something funky and decided to go talk to my mom about it. Perhaps we were walking on the beach with our hands in our pockets and our hair freshly hot rolled and instead of re-creating a Summer's Eve commercial, I asked "Mom, do you use deodorant?" instead.

(This conversation is from 1981. I remember this commercial so well. I was only 6.)

Deodorant is one of those essential things one must not forget when getting ready in the morning, but it seems so often people do. Take my masseuse at an upscale spa in Santa Fe, New Mexico, for example. He apparently forgot his Speedstick. I was lying on my stomach ready to receive a "Swedish massage" when all of a sudden I was hit in the face with the scent of donkey breath. It kept wafting my way. It didn't take long to realize that this smell occurred each time Swedish Massage Man lifted his skinny, hairy arm. He just talked away about the massage and flapped his arm up and down like a dingdang chicken while I willed my face and nose from contorting into an awful "WHY DO YOU SMELL LIKE A DONKEY?" face. Maybe the Swedish don't use deodorant and that was part of the experience?

(CONFESSION: Sometimes when I run out of deodorant, I will borrow my husband's until I have a chance to go to the store. Every now and then, I will glance behind me expecting to see him and then realize it's because I've got on his Old Spice Deodorant.)

Since that conversation with my neighbors yesterday, deodorant has obviously been on my mind. I'm thinking I've got to start putting my face right in my son's armpit every day. He's 7. Too young, right? I just can't have him going to school smelling like a yak's wet fur! I've got to catch it as soon as it happens. So, tell me...

When did you start using deodorant? Did someone have to let you know you smelled like a hot yak's wet fur? Was it traumatic like my friend's experience? Do your kids use deodorant yet?