HampoLand

Super Stupid Snacks…I Mean Super Healthy Snacks

Yesterday on Yahoo there was a story about  healthy and yummy snacks we’re not eating. Well, I think snacks make everything better and I wish I liked the really healthy ones, so I clicked.

I don’t know who the author thought they were talking to or writing for but obviously not the folks in Fountain Lake, Arkansas. Their healthy and delicious snacks were ridiculous, crazy expensive and most of them didn’t have artificial coloring so they were weird looking.

First on the list Raw Organic Kale Chhips, they are green and made by monks at the Detroit Zen Cente. Detroit Monks Really? What kind of hoodies do those guys wear when they make Kale Chips. 3 ounces for 16 bucks, now those are some very expensive freakin’ chips and did I mention they are green and made out of KALE.

Need a healthy meat snack? Try the Texas Wild Boar Sausage because a plain old pig just wont do. $17 dollars for 6 oz. Humm sausage that costs $34 dollars pound.  But I love Jimmy Dean and it’s pure pork too.

And finally, one of the only snacks that wasn’t absurdly expensive? Seaweed Snacks, yeah, that’s the stuff the floats on top of the ocean. Yum Seaweed Snacks….I just like saying it over and over. Actually it’s are supposed to be a super food that helps me live to be one of those old Asian people in National Geographic.

You know, I’d love to buy healthy snacks for my kids but after I buy these snacks the only other thing I’ll be able to afford is generic Mac & Cheese so the bad will certainly outweigh the good. Forget it, instead of Kale Chips I’ll get some grapes and call it a day.

But, if any one wants to send me some Seaweed Snacks I’d be grateful.

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How To Get A Boy To Clean A Room

Parents, I’ve figured out something huge. If you have a little kid, especially a boy, you’ll realize how brilliant I am.

When you tell your kiddo to clean the living room he might say “ok” but then he wanders around the living room, not seeing any of the mess or clutter, until he finds an object he can turn into a gun to “pretend shoot” the dog.

Guess what?  He’s a kid and he’s a boy so he doesn’t actually see any of the mess. Therefore, he’s almost incapable of cleaning up.

So, instead of telling the poor dude to clean up the living room try this.

Give your guy individual instructions. Here’s what I did today and I swear, it worked.
Me: “Boy boy, clean the living room and then we’ll go swimming.”
Boy: “Ok.”
Me:”First clean off all the tables”
Boy: “Ok”, he says as he places a napkin on the dogs face. But he does in fact, take the bathroom stuff to the bathroom, the dishes to the kitchen and the toys to his room.
Me: Boy boy, pick up all the stuff on the floor and put it in the right rooms.
Boy: “Ok” he says as he ramps a Hot Wheel on the cat’s back.
Me: “Boy Boy take all the blankets and stuff that are piled up on the couch and put them back in your room”
Boy: “Ok” he says as he captures a cricket and puts it on the dog’s head.

You get the idea, right? If you tell him to do one thing at a time there’s a much higher chance he’ll actually get a room cleaned up for you.

Yelling at a kid over and over to clean up a room is just stupid and mean.  I don’t think little kids actually see a mess or know what one is so you have to give them very clear instructions. And you can only give them one job at a time or everything gets gobbled up in their 7 year old brain.  If I say “make your bed, unload the dishwasher and feed the dog” there’s a really chance he’ll put the dog food in the dish washer and the dishes under his pillow. My children aren’t morons, they are just kids.

So, if you want things done think like a kid and then you have to take everyone swimming.

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I. Granger McDaniel II

Eulogy for I Granger McDaniel

St. Luke’s Episcopal Church, Hot Springs, Arkansas

As most of you know, McDaniels are legendary crybabies so please for give me.

Having Granger as a brother was a little like being related to a rock star. He came to town, the world temporarily shifted on it’s axes, black was white, three in the morning wasn’t late, then he would leave and it took months for things to be normal again.

But there were always two things Granger loved, first his daughters. His life was so full of love, everyone one considered him their best friend or the love of their lives.

But for Granger, it was the girls. They were the great loves of his life. The love he was looking for was there.

But Granger’s second love was a little like being a life guard at Magic Springs. My brother lived to rescue people. Like Don Quioete he would never give up, he lived to help and he was always looking biding his time till the the next great adventure.

If you were jammed up and needed somebody to loan you 500 dollars and drive you to Walla Walla, Washington . Granger was your man.
If you were a stranger in need of help, he’s the guy you prayed you’d run into.

I told CB, Granger was forever coming home with strays…there was Motorcycle Rick who lived in our garage, there was Danny Beavers who wore white turtle necks and I think totaled my mom’s car. There was a Russian poet named Valadimer. Granger picked up while he was hitchhiking in a suit with an umbrellaon  the Florida turnpike around Christmas.

Granger was simply incapable or turning his back on anyone in need. Imagine that next time a hobo asks you for a dollar in the Walgreens parking log.
Granger couldn’t’ say no

And after the rescue was complete, Granger created the story. You would be “Grangerized” .

When something is grangerized it becomes bigger, brighter, more extraordinary because that’s the way he saw life. Lakes, puppies, alligators, relatives, beautiful women, buildings. He had the uncanny gift of recognizing the most magnificent attribute then building entire fantastic descriptions around that single quality. It was his way of loving the world. If he met an ugly woman, I mean really horrendous looking girl he would tell me something like “she has the most beautiful ankles, so small I can get my thumb and forefinger around them, she has ankles of a race horse..” And the ugly woman was grangerized and beautiful

I realized the other day Granger was one of the few people in life that didn’t settle for the box of 8 or 16 crayons, he used the gigantic box of 124 , the one with the sharpener in the back because his world, and his vision of the world, needed that many colors

You know, the world would be a better place if was could all be a little more like Granger, find the amazing in every thing, use a few more crayons and take the time to rescue those in need.

If you really want to remember Grang make sure you turn your radio up waaay too loud, flirt shamelessly with a pretty girl, dance with an old lady and embrace this magical life God has give each one of us.

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Dogs Hate Cabbage…and Cauliflower and Mushrooms

dogs really like meat, like this girls hand

My dog, Theo, hates carrots. And he hates peas, green beans, apples, oranges, grapes, bananas, artichokes and squash. He’s a big dog and he doesn’t care for fruits or vegetables. When I throw him a slice of kiwi, he catches it then instantly drops the chunk. He looks at me with watery brown eyes and says, ‘What the hell was that? It wasn’t meat, why did you throw that hunk of slime at my face?” Then, in disgust, he will take a nap.

Now, I’m not a vet or a pet specialist, I didn’t even stay at a Holiday Inn Express last night, but I believe my dog does not need fruits, veggies or grains in his dog food. He’s a freaking carnivore so why do pet food companies keep trying to convince me Theo needs corn and tomatoes? Why do guys dressed like chefs tell me Theo wants gourmet meals full of pasta and zucchini? I have a garden and the dog never goes near it, not even to pee.

I think the dog food companies are trying to sell me on Theo’s need for collard greens and rice because it’s a cheap filler. I think the dog food companies are trying to trick me and Theo. But we’re not falling for it. We know that fake chef with the tiny dog doesn’t know jack about Theo and his meaty needs.

Theo just told me he’ll never mess with my garden, but the cute bunny that keeps nibbling on the broccolli plant is looking a whole lot like breakfast.

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The Rules Of Friendship

There are some basic rules of friendship but I’m convinced most people don’t understand them.

The whole point of having a friend is pretty simple. Friends generally make you feel better about yourself and your life. Friends make you laugh at yourself and your life. Friends tell you there’s black stuff on your tooth, but they don’t feel the need to yell it across the table.

Good friends don’t constantly have to outshine you. Sandor has a buddy and every time he’s in the car and I say something like “I’m so proud, Sandor made a 95 in spelling,” he’ll say something like “I always make 100s.”

What a jerk face that 8 year old is. I know, it’s insecurity that makes kids say stuff like that; it’s insecurity that makes them feel they have to put down other people inorder to rise to the top. But it sucks and personally, if I was still in school, I’d rather jump on the trampoline alone than play with someone who constantly puts me down. Life is tough enough without the added burden of mean friends.

And then there are the friends who think everything is lame or stupid if they aren’t a part of it. Oh my Lord. That drives me crazy. Friends are supposed to be supportive, damn it. If the coach kick you off the football team for smoking crack you shouldn’t start making fun of everyone who’s still on the team. That just makes you look pathetic you silly crack-head.

Ok, so here’s the bottom line. If you want to be my friend you have to be reasonably nice, you have to tell me when there’s stuff stuck in my teeth and since it’s summer time you need to have a boat or pool to be my friend.  It’ll be fun.

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That Gentleman Is An Ass!

Guys you need to read this because it might save you from being an ass. Girls, you need to read this so you can spo tan ass, a faux, fake,jackedj-up gentle men when he asks you out.

The world is full of men who act like gentlemen…sometimes, but they are actually “posers” and jerk-faces.

Here are some signs you can look for so you can distinguish between a true Gentleman and an ass.

1. The faux gentleman will hold the door open for you when you are in public and people are watching but when you are alone he drops it in your face. One way to fix that  bad habit, get to the door first then stop, wait for him to open it, then walk in first. And make sure you say thank you, praise good behaviour and manners, it’s like paper training a puppy.

2. The Gentleman/Ass will tip well when everyone at the table is looking at him, that’s when he leaves 25 percent. But when he eats lunch alone and the waitress is excellent but buck toothed or chubby, he leaves 10 percent. I don’t know how to fix that so just get away from him.

3. Is he smarmy(one of my favorite words).When he’s trying to impress people are his manners too polished to the point of being over the top and slimy? But when he’s talking to the check-out  boy at Wal-Mart  does he act like a chicken butt jerk face?  Then your gentleman is actually an ass and you need to run away.

Personally, I think the guy that pretends to be a gentleman is the most pathetic and far more annoying than a full time jerk.  The Lame-o genuinely thinks he’s fooling people and impressing them with has style and etiquette but the truth is anyone who can’t see through his tissue paper facade isn’t really worth impressing.

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My Kid Isn’t Mean Enough

Sandor(pronounced shawn-door), who is eight had his first official football camp last week. He was absolutley jacked…two and a half hours of foot ball with other boys, slamming, hitting, catching and running on the high school foot ball field in 98 degree weather. What could be better?

I arrived ten minutes early to watch my boy. He was one of the smallest and pailest on the field, but that was fine. He’s got heart. I’ve seen enough sports movies to know that’s the important thing.

But as my boy walked toward the sideline I could see there was a  problem. His face was the color of a pomagranate. Before he could even hear me I started whispering “don’t cry, buddy, not here, don’t cry in front of all these boys and your coaches. Don’t cry, we’re almost to the car.”

As soon as he slammed the car door his face exploded. Tears and rage. My normally calm laid kid had gone smoking hot crazy nuclear melt down mad. “I hate that kid, I want to slam his face into a tree, I want to kick his teeth in, I hate him so freaking much.” He couldn’t stop screaming and crying.

Finally  he took a breath, “What the hell happened?’

He gasped like a sun fish on a hot dock. “there’s this big kid and he’s so mean and he talks trash.”

My bully alarm started ringing, I braced my slef for all the terrible things this boy was saying. “What happened?”

“He told me he was gonna take me down. And he called me a loser!”

“Are you the only one he said stuff to?”

He snuffled and wiped his nose on his arm. “He said bad stuff  to everybody.”

I told my self not to laugh, don’t laugh, don’t laugh don’t laugh. “Sweetie, trash talk is part of foot ball…” You can imagine how the rest of the conversation went.

At home that night I realized we never ever say mean stuff to each other. Ok, sometimes we call each other “poop face” or “chicken baby cheese cake” . In Hampoland…that’s about as bad as it gets. Every morning when I drop Sandor off for school the same third grade teacher opens the door and smiles at him. Sandor picks up his backpack and I say “Be brilliant and kind and have fun.” Then the teacher smiles at me because Iappear to be a good mom.

So, that evening after football and the Sandor Melt Down, we decided to be mean to each other, all of us, in order to toughen up Sandor for football practice.  We laughed all night and talked trash, “Looser butt head”, “ugly little frog face”.  We were brutal.

The next morning when I dropped Sandor off Mrs. Currey opened the car door and smiled. I looked at Sandor and screamed, “Get the Hell out of my car you little looser”. Sandor just laughed and laughed as he ran toward the playground.  But the look on the teacher’s face was amazing. Everything was upside down and backwards and I was a horrible mom.  The moment was perfect. And I think he’s a lot tougher now.

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Stop Being A Jerk Face If You Want A Happy Marriage

I’ve been thinking about this for a few days. If you want a happy marriage or relationship here’s what you have to do. STOP BEING A BITCH or STOP BEING A JERK FACE.

 Wait, there’s a little bit more. The other absolute key to a happy relationship is this, both people have to care more about the other person’s happiness than their own. That’s it, now you can stop buying all the marriage self help books at the Mall. I’m gonna say it again but differently. If I care more about Alex than myself and he cares more about me, we can have a happy marriage because we take care of each other, we look out for each other and we try to find stupid ass ways to make each other happy.  Example: He gave me a yellow ukulele with a dolphin on it for Mother’s day and I’ve stopped getting crazy like a crack head because he won’t cut his hair. Now we are both happier.

Yes, I promise you my husband will frustrate me so badly I want to jab a hot poker in my ear but at the end of the day his happiness is extremely important to me and he worries that I don’t eat enough meat.

Here’s something else you can do to improve your chances of a happy relationship…try smiling at each other at least once a day. Make sure you say something nice to each other ever day…seriously…for some reason after a few  years of marriage the “bitch switch” gets flipped  and we stop saying nice stuff to each other. Well, if you want to be happy CUT THAT OUT.

A few weeks ago, asI was walking to the car Alex said something silly like “you look too hot to go to work”.  That cheesy ass line made me happy for three days.

A couple of days ago I told him his biceps felt like they were getting bigger and he spent ten minutes flexing and telling me how buff he’d become.

Most men do not want to be all tangled up in emotional support systems involving hurt feelings, tone of voice and intended meaning. When we talk about that stuff the average male literally stops listening and slips into a mini-coma. It doesn’t mean they don’t love usit just means they are dudes. The same thing happens to me when Alex uses the carburetor.  

All guys want is for a woman to notice them, have sex, eat meat and not get screamed at because they are men.

And what do women want? Somebody to tell us we are pretty, help around the house sometimes and a man who is a good dad. It’s that simple.

So, if you want a great marrige stop bitching and be nice.

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ARTISTIC POLE DANCING…SERIOUSLY?

Alana and Lexie asked me to write about pole dancing…yes I was concerned, becaue they are only 14. But I was also flattered because they had a blog request….pole dancing….artistic pole dancing.

So, I watched a bunch of pole dancing videos and here are my thoughts

1. I like the pole dancers with the hats. How do they keep them from falling off? Hats make everything better, from rodeo riders to state troopers. Hats make you more.

#2 Pole dancing that’s artistic and not the striping variety, kind of gets boring and repetitive. lLeg up, leg downs, legs out, arch back, wave hand, dangle upside down so hair looks magnificent. They do the same thing all the time, beautiful gymnastics and dancing while keeping one hand on a pole.  Here’s the thing, when stripping pole dancers are doing their thing they take off their clothes so there’s an end result.

#3 Tehre are a bunch of professional pole dancers world wide who want it to be named an Olympic sport. Wait, there’s already a sport where women handgupside down and do the splits and it’s called gymnastics. And trust me, if you put one of those 14 year old, 90 pound olympic gymnists on a pole, they would scamper up and down that thing like a spider monkey on crack.  I think the “artistic pole dancers” who want to get into the Olympics are just looking for a way to get the grown women competing. There are already plenty of poles in the Olympics they are just horizontal and they are called the paralle bars and the ballance beam. And the Poles from Poland of course.)

If you combine pole dancing and gymnastic it’s called polebatics.

There are local ads posted on some of the pole dancing videos on youtube, so my local Nissan dealer thinks I’m looking at Pole Dancers…interesting. Hey, this  ARTISTIC pole dancing…not stripping no tipping.

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