One of the few shows my entire family really likes is….i Carly. Yeah, that’s right, we all love it, a really silly show designed for 10-12 year olds. Even Alex, my husband, who looks like a pirate. Sometimes we come home and bust him out watching iCarly on Nickelodeon all alone.
Last night Lexie and Alex had a major discussion about iCarly relationships. Can Sam and Freddy really date, will it work? They did make-out on camera. But didn’t Freddy and Carly kind of go out one season? How does Gibby, a plump kid who dances without his shirt, get such smokin’ hot girl friends? That’s the stuff we talk about.
Today, while shopping in Wal-Mart I realized I’ve learned a lot from iCarly. First, spaghetti tacos are absolutely amazing. Spencer makes them for Carly sometimes, so we tried them out. Crunchy taco shells stuffed with fettucini and red sauce. The crispy shell texture with the soft and rich noodle and Mariana is sooooo good.
Last night as we were watching iCarly with my oldest son, Jack, who’s 23 and about to drive around the country, we were all stunned when Carly squirted whipped cream on a raw carrot.
“Did she just do that?” Lex asked.
“Yeah, that was whipped cream and a carrot,” Sandor confirmed.
“It’ll be gross,” I said.
But Jack disagreed. He thought the combination might work, so we raced to the refrigerator for the bag of baby carrots and half empty can of whipped topping.
And it was good. I promise you, whipped cream and raw carrots work.
What else have I learned from i Carly? This one is very important. If you have a fairly attractive mid section it’s perfectly ok to walk around with your shirt pulled up, rubbing your stomach and saying, “belly belly belly.”
Go on, you know you want to try it.
Tags: i carly
I am a big believer in the power of family stories. I think they help us all remember who we really are and where we came from. And I love family stories because you can loose everything from guitars to dogs but nobody can take your history.
Fortunately I’ve been blessed with a very “oral” family. God knows,we yammer on and on and for generations we’ve been telling stories. (When I married Alex there was a cosmic hiccup in the universe because he was the first quiet member of our family in 200 years)
So, here’s one of my favorites from my grandmother Bubba.
Bubba, who’s real name was Ruth Ross, was born in Kingsland, Arkansas in 1895. She was the middle child of three and her brothers were named,(I swear I’m not making these up) Egbert and Delbert. When this story took place Delbert was around 12, Ruth was 8 and Egbert was probably 6.
Kingsland isn’t far from the town of Fordyce, Arkansas and one day, when Ruth was eight her father decided she was old enough to ride the train, with her younger brother, alone, to Kingsland, where Delbert would meet them at the station.
Her father, who was a small man with a gigantic mustache, gave her a dollar for the tickets and put them on the train with their suitcases, because they were supposed to spend the week with their Aunt.
Both the children were dressed up of course. Ruth was wearing a puffy yellow dress with a white sash and Egbert had on his suit, suspenders and a cap.
The conductor came around and took the dollar from the children. The train started rolling and they waited patiently for him to return with their change. The train began chugging along, faster and faster, and still he didn’t come back with their change.
After fifteen minutes or so, the train began to slow down in order to stop at the Kingsland station and still, the conductor hadn’t returned with their change.
Passengers got on and off the train and finally, the conductor appeared with their eighty cents. But the train was already pulling out from the Fordyce station.
So Ruth, grabbed Egbert’s little hand and they both jumped from the slow moving train.
Together they rolled and tumbled down the embankment, their suitcases popped open and all their clothes flew out. A shocked crowed gathered around then Delbert appeared. He was obviously annoyed. He pulled Egbert,who was crying, to his feet and as he brushed the dirt and grass off his suit said, “You silly little fool, that’s what you get for following a woman”.
Comments OffTags: Arkansas, family history, trains
CRAZYNESS! I know I don’t sound very liberal or like a democrat or like a woman who voted for Obama, but how can our government justify the expense of giving all those people cell phones. And why do they deserve them?
My annoyance only increased when my daughter Mary told me abut a group of kids that begs for money in front of Wal-Greens while texting on their iphones.
My family hangs on to middle class by our cuticles, my husband and I work hard for everything we have. Why won’t anyone give us a free cell phone? None of us have the kind of phone with a screen or key board, we all have flip phones, the same kind the government is giving away. That’s the kind of moaning and wailing I was doing when my friend, Dick Antoine, walked into my office…his face glowing.
“Guess what? I just talked to my brother in Las Vegas!” he announced happily.
“The one who lives in a box?” I asked because Dick has told me all about his brother who is homeless, 55 years old with a three foot beard. He lives in a box and only makes money when he sells his blood. Dick hasn’t talked to him in a few years.
“Yeah, he called me, he got one of those Obama phones. He gets 250 minutes a month. How bout that”!
Dick looked so happy because his brother in a box had a phone.
I think giving phones to people who won’t or can’t get a job is stupid and insane. But I’m happy Dick gets to talk to his long lost brother. Still, I am wondering how his brother will charge his new Obama phone in a cardboard box.
Tags: food stamps, free phones, govenrment assistance, obama care
My last blog was about men putting their hand in their pants and now I’m going to write about handshakes. Yeah, I realize that’s a little odd and I think I’ve written about this before but I’m feeling passionate and it’s really really important.
This weekend I met two perfectly good kids with really sorry handshakes. They were pathetic and weak and the kids didn’t have a clue what to say or how to make eye contact. The seemed hopelessly squirrely. I felt sorry for them because it was obvious no adult had ever taken the time to teach them how to shake hands.
Parents, it’s nearly criminal if you don’t teach your children, especially your boys, how to shake hands like a man and say, “nice to meet you”. If you don’t teach them, who will? You should start teaching your kids how to shake hands as soon as they can walk so when they are six it’s not a big deal. When they are toddlers shake hands with them around the house, at dinner shake hands at the table and say “Nice to meet you, will you pass the chicken, please?” AND YOU HAVE TO MAKE EYE CONTACT.
If you don’t teach your kids how to do this, people will think they are slimy little punks, like Draco Malifoy. Seriously, that’s what we are thinking. I know it’s wrong but if a 13 year old kid has a pansy handshake I assume he’s also the kid who picks on little girls and spits in front of Grandmas.
If you love your child give them an advantage in life and teach them how to shake hands.
And now, will somebody please help me off my soapbox?
Tags: children, draco, parenting, shake hands
Here’s the question all women want to ask. Why do guys always have their hands in their pants? It’s a really strange thing to do in front of people. But everyone who is married or had a boyfriend or brother knows that’s exactly what they do…all the time.
Lying on the couch watching tv…the hand goes south,
Standing on the porch, drinking a coke, his left hand is checking on the situation in his pants.
Brushing his teeth with his right hand, the left is warming up in his boxers.
I honestly believe half the time guys don’t even realize they have their hands full, it just happens.
Men, how weird would it be if women stood around with our hand in our panties all the time. Pretty strange visual, huh?
The hand in the pants habit seems to happen a little later in life but I’m not exactly sure when. Little boys don’t need to cup their jewels quite as often. Maybe they would do it too more if they didn’t have moms barking like a walrus every time a hand started moving in that direction.
This week I decided to simply ask a few men why they do it and the two answeres they repeated were “It feels good”, and “It feels natural or comforting”. Some were willing to tell me exactly what they were doing down there but I don’t feel the need to share that information with you.
Guys, I’m not going to ask you to stop. I don’t think you can and you’ve probably been doing it for thousands of years. But please, take a look around the room. If you’re not alone just put your hand in your pocket. Then at least your in the right neighborhood but you’re not freaking anyone out. As my friend at work said, “Stop checking on it, that things not going anywhere”.
Leave a comment even if you like the hand in the pants look.
Tags: bruno mars, hand in the pants
If there is something good in your life, something that inspires you or makes you better….but requires work….don’t ever think you can “take a break” and you’ll come back refreshed or renewed. Chances are you won’t come back at all.
I’ve seen this happen dozens of times in taekwondo. Students “take a break” so they won’t get burned out and never come back. When I see them in the video store there are always a multitude of excuses, but the truth is they just quit. Slow down if you need to, but you have to keep your foot in the door.
I took a break from taekwondo, (for medical reasons, I swear) and in just a few weeks I forgot nearly everything I’d learned in 11 years. I was suddenly a moron. My flexibility was gone and so was my confidence. I didn’t want to go back becasue I was afraid I would suck…and I did.
The same is true of marriage and serious relationships. If you “take a break” all kinds of terrible things can happen. You go out for a drink and the next thing you know your making out with a stranger in the parking lot. And of course your girlfriend, that you actually adore, will hear about it and your done. Breaks are a terrible idea.
If you are a runner you know how dangerous a break can be. Convincing yourself you should return to sweating and groaning and being soar is nearly impossible. That first 1/2 mile is gonna be a nightmare so why not stay on the cushy couch? You’ve got a rerun of Friends and a bag of Cheetos…who needs to run?
”Take a break” almost always turns into “I quit” because starting over is a miserable prospect.
So, if you have a hobby or passion or loved one that makes your life better and brighter, stop your whining, tough it out and keep your foot in the door.
Hey, you, leave me a comment. Please
Tags: burn out, martial arts, running, taekwondo, take a break
Which of these phrases would get your attention?
“You F*&%$*@* Wuss!” or
“You Chicken Baby Cheese Cake!”
One is an average insult the other is brilliant, silly and ridicilous. The first line you can hear over and over, in any high school, mall or factory, so it’s lost most of that legendary power and mojo.
However, if you call somebody a “chicken baby cheese cake” they will pay attention to you, yes they will wonder what planet you came from but sometimes that’s ok.
Cursing needs a style make over, a face lift that makes it cool or tough or at least meaningful and shocking again. Everyday kids hear so much cursing it’s become lukewarm at best. Not long ago throwing the “f -bomb” was shocking and a profound insult now it’s like ordering chicken noodle soup. It basically tells me you’re not very creative and you have limited verbal creativity.
The wow factor is gone, unless you’re an old person, like Betty White, then it’s still really funny.
If I say, “she’s an ugly b$%^#” you get the point. If I say “she’s as ugly and graceless as a toad” you really get an understanding of the ugly woman’s face.
So, guys, it’s time to give up on the hackneyed phrases and curse words. Step up your anger and insult game and try something new. Call the sales guy “smarmy”, call the mean waitress a “witless hag”, call the stupid bull a “vapid pawn”.
Yeah, you might get a monstrous ass whupping by the “hulking waste of flesh” bully, but you’ll sound wonderfully droll as you make these urbane and disparaging remarks.
See, that’s so much better than “shut the f*%$ up”.
Tags: cursing, verbal style, vocubulary
Generally, I don’t worry about my freedom and liberties. I trust and love my country. But there are times reality forces me to pay attention. Right now I’m really bugged about seat belts. I did get a no seat belt ticket a month ago and I started thinking.
Here’s my question, why is it ok for me scream down the highway on a Ninja at 120 miles an hour wearing Daisy Dukes, a tank top and flip flops, with my head bumping like a coconut bobble-head, naked and unprotected? If I got hit by a truck while riding my Ninja without a helmet my skull would split like a watermelon on the curb. This scenario is just fine with law enforcement.
But, if I’m driving 25 miles an hour and I’m completely engulfed and cocooned by my 5,000 pound Hummer with cushy leather seats and four different air bags, I better have my seat belt on or I’ll get pulled over and written up. This just doesn’t make sense.
Unless….our society doesn’t really like motorcycle riders and wants to eliminate them completely. No, that can’t be it, I’m just making stuff up now.
The truth is, if I choose not to wear my seat belt or helmet I’m not endangering anyone but myself. If I’m willing to have my head cracked like a honey dew melon, that’s my own stupid decision.
I understand laws that protect other people from my idiocy. I should not be allowed to drive around with my kids in the trunk or in the bed of my truck because they might get hurt. I should not be allowed to drive with my feet on the steering wheel or while smoking crack, both might cause me to kill someone else. So those laws make perfect sense. But when I decide to drive without my seat belt, I’m only endangering my self and as an American, my right to act like a moron and make super stupid decisions, is protected.
We must cherish and protect our freedom, even from those who mean well and want to keep us from harm.
PS I want you to believe I’m a middle-aged white woman in Arkansas who rides a Ninja in my Daisy Dukes and has a massive, gas sucking, Hummer. Yeah…that’s me! It’s possible and that’s why I love this country.
Comments OffTags: helmets, personal freedom, seatbelt laws
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.
Tags: detroit monks, healthy snacks, kale chips, seaweek, wild boar
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.”
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.
Comments OffTags: boys, cleaning, parenting