Define natural

.
.


Restore my "skin's natural beauty" ? As natural as yellow eyes below a crown of acrylic nails, perhaps?

I'll be adding Doc Jepson to my list of plastic surgeons I won’t be using.

Very clever, you non-obstetricians you.

We spotted this on a VW Bug the other day:

Made me chuckle hard enough that I almost considered foregoing the assistance of a board certified physician to deliver any additional children we might have in the future . . .

. . . then that absurd thought made me chuckle even harder.

Let me just make public my labor and delivery policy: NO ONE in Birkenstocks comes near me or my kid. There. I said it.

"When you are a man, sometimes you wear stretchy pants. In your room. Just for fun."

Now that we are back in the Mountain West (Hooray!) we got in a little white water action.

Matt got right into his gear and hopped into the raft looking confident and handsome as ever.

.

Me on the other hand . . .

.

.
I held up the party for the better part of an hour trying to squeeeeeeze my post-baby body back into a tiny wetsuit.

.

Sexy photo, n'est ce pas?

More fun with the poster generator

After hearing of my dad's continued heartache and sorrow which could be caused only by prolonged exposure to hundreds of contractors, I returned to the Despair Inc. poster generator.

My dad's a funny guy. A funny, frustrated guy.

More evidence weighing against Utah's wholesomeness

We went to Utah last week for a battery of job interviews. My brother was kind enough to let us stay at his house. I was in his back yard when I noticed his neighbors' passive-aggressive message to my brother and his family:

That's right, Utahans see nothing inappropriate in flipping their neighbors topiary fingers.

At least Wyomingites are more direct with their gestures:

Wholesome Utah?

We are delighted to be moving to Utah. Not only because it is closer to our family in Wyoming, but because of the State's golly-gosh-gee innocence.

In anticipation of our move to SLC next month we have been reading the Salt Lake Tribune to keep abreast of regional news. That's where we came across this fantastic nugget:
.

Caught on Tape: Naked Woman Slams SUV


Holy Heck! What have we got ourselves into?

Hooray. I have career options!

I am officially unemployed. I just wrapped up my old job and am now fully immersed in that most joyful of undertakings: the job hunt. .

.

(I hate to lay a guilt trip here, but I am still awaiting SLC job leads . . . whenever you guys get a chance . . . surely you haven't forgotten about me)

I have some interviews lined up in the next few weeks, but for every single interview offer I get, I receive at least three very pleasant rejection letters.

Things are looking good. I have been assured that my résumé is "very impressive" and that many prospective employers will be keeping my information "on file." Oh yes my friends, I am as good as employed.

My favorite rejection letter to date was from an insurance company who was seeking an in-house defense attorney. In their rejection response, they indicated that they had just filled the position . . . however . . . (brace yourselves) . . . my qualifications were so Got-dang phenomenal that I should consider becoming an insurance agent with their company.

I am flattered to say the least.

I say a career move from lawyer to insurance agent is at least one notch over on the dirtbag continuum.

¯I'm a-movin’ on up . . . ¯

Potty Paradox

As I sit impatiently at my desk waiting . . . waiting . . . and waiting, it occured to me:


The longer you have to wait on the person ahead of you in the restroom:

1. The more you need to go to the restroom, yet
2. The less you want to actually enter the restroom.

I need to invest in an S.C.B.A. for office use.

That's some painful protection!

.

.

.

.

.

.

OH! I actually had to read the ad to understand the illustration.

.

This is sketch of a light bulb, not the male version of a chastity belt.

.

.

.

.

.

.

.

.

.

.

.

.

.

.

.

.

That's too bad, really. This was a much more interesting advertisement when I thought they were discussing barbed wire prophylactics.

What exactly are you trying to tell me?

The eternal question: What is the greatest gift I could give my family?

Unconditional love? Security? Support? Warm-and-fuzzy memories?

No, no. According to the folks at Accuquote, the most wonderful gift I could ever give to my beloved family is the gift of life insurance.

Is that supposed to make me want to do business with Accuquote? Oh, I picked up on the ever-so-subtle potshot. Their ad should just say:

I hate you, Accuquote.

I'm pretty sure that was not my search.

Google keeps track of the terms you search. For those of you to whom this is news, I suggest you go back and clear your history. Trust me on this, you don't want your kid to be looking up "Bunsen Burners" for her science project only to discover that you have a deep seeded bunion fetish.

Anyhoo . . . I typed in the letter "f " into Google this afternoon and noticed this odd search term:



For the life of me, I cannot recall any projects that would have required "fat chicks" research.

What I have here is a real-life whodunit. WHO has been using my office computer? WHAT were they looking for? WHEN did this happen? WHY the hell didn't they use their own computer?!

If anyone has information that would assist in my office sleuthing, please drop me a line.

Time to retire the sign

Seeing as how teeth are nature's way of saying "time to ween," my days of pumping at work are coming to an end.

While I won't miss the inherently awkward experience of running a dairy operation out of my office, I will miss the sign I placed on my door while I was pumping.

Nothing says "don't bother me" like a cow on your door.

People wouldn't even knock when I had my sign up; documents would just magically appear under my door to be signed at my leisure.

It is with a heavy heart that I bid farewell to the deference, privacy, and quiet that was utterly commanded by my bovine sign (forgive the pun).

.

Chomp!

It was like the perfect storm.

.

A mother's moment of inattentiveness,

.

burgeoning incisors,

.

and a baby with a head cold . . . .

.
.

Do you see where this is going?!

I sat down to nurse Max (who now has teeth on the top and bottom). We were all set up with his boppy, situated in the rocking chair, and just about to begin, when the this harrowing chain of events unfolded:

• Max opened wide
• I looked away to talk to Matt
• Max SNEEZED and CLAMPED down!

" GOOD LORD AND BUTTER ! "

(We are working on the coarse language around our house)

It's trying times like these when one must remember to "count your blessing." For instance, I am grateful to be living in this age of modern prosthesis.

I am laughing, just not out loud

.

The first time I encountered "LOL" must have been my freshman year of college. I will confess that there may have been a time or two in the mid-90's I used LOL; it seemed like the thing to do.

It is a proven fact* that despite the frequent appearance of LOL's, those people typing or texting LOL are only laughing out loud 2% of the time. This means that when you see LOL, there is a 98% chance that someone is telling you a filthy-bald-faced lie.

In light of the foregoing I have refrained from using LOL. Please understand, however, I am not above using abbreviations as a means of saving keystrokes and time.

The following is a list of the abbreviations I most frequently use in emails and texts. Please print off a copy for your records. I also recommend laminating this useful reference card.

* A "proven fact" I just made up

Smart Alec for Hire

I have three questions for you:
(yes you)

1. Are you an attorney living in Salt Lake City area?
2. Do you know an attorney living in Salt Lake City area?
3. Are you aware of law firms in the Salt Lake City area who need to hire a wise-cracking attorney?

If you have answered "yes" to any of these questions drop me a note! I would like very much to be employed when we move to Utah this summer.

My pitch:

• I am a hoot to have around the office
• I leave snacks in the break room
• I know my way around the courtroom

Until I have at least three decent job leads I will be on a humor strike! No more funny for you unless I get my way.

New administrative changes. Make a note of it.

.

It has been almost three years since Benedict XVI was elected as the Catholic church's 265th pope (Happy Popeaversary!) and he has just released what is surely the most controversial announcement of his papacy:

Pedophiles. Are. Bad.

.

.

This is a new policy?

Now, when the Catholic church interviews a new priest, the candidate gets points off should he admit "a tendency to molest children." What was the old policy?

You have to wonder what this interview process is like.

Interviewer: Would you say you have a tendency to molest children?

Interviewee: How would you define tendency?

Girl Power !

I post the following ONLY because I know my husband will laugh at this. . heartily.

__________

Ladies, you may have wondered what is a girl's best defense against "The Shocker."

Well wonder no more, girlfriend. Presenting . . . . "The Stinger"

"Feminine hygiene goes lethal with The Pink Stinger, a stun gun creatively disguised as a tampon...except for the buttons, prods and high voltage."

I am going to stop on over to Inventor Spot right now to buy one for myself and one for each of the women in my life.

Self defense never looked so crabby!!!

I leave you with a few words of advice:

1. Always be on the lookout for men wearing typical criminal attire (note the black stocking cap and teeny tiny prowler Mag -Lite) these are the most common "shocker offenders"
2. Keep the Pink Stinger separate from your other *ahem* toiletries

DIY Demotivation

.

Just playing with the demotivational poster generator at Despair.Inc . . .

When our son is 16 years old, this poster is going up on all four of his walls.

.

Maybe I am just reading too much into it ...

Everyday, National Geographic sends a nifty little picture of the day (POD) to my homepage on Google.

It was downright awkward having this particular POD on my computer screen at the office today ...

`

I'm a little bit afraid that National Geographic is coming on to me.

Hey . . . I'm flattered, but . . .

- - - - - - - - - - UPDATE - - - - - - - - - -

I have clearly offended National Geographic with this post. It was evident first thing this morning when I got online to find that I had been blatantly snubbed.

.

All of my other nifty iGoogle features opened just fine, but the National Geographic POD is now refusing to speak to me.

Incidentally, My husband read this post last night. Someone had to, right? Anyhoo . . . this photo seems to be something of a Rorshack ink blot test around our house.

Matt also saw a racy image, be what he saw was the Aurora Borealis in a B-cup. I can definitely see how this looks like a cleavage shot.

I won't go into details of what I see when I look at this photo, suffice to say that if this National Geographic picture of the day was a doctor . . . its specialty would be POD/Gyn.

`

A boob in hand is better than two in the bush

I am not entirely sure what this title means, but just typing it made me laugh. Joy -- there is joy in that there title.

When I had my C-section, I made some lame joke about giving me a tummy tuck while they had me sliced open. They didn't even humor me with a polite chuckle, which would have been the least they could have done after 14 hours of labor and an unsuccessful epidural, but I digress.


It turns out that such a procedure does in fact exist! I was researching the C-tuck procedure out of curiosity when I came across this freaky little logo for Bermant Plastic Surgery (whose website name is also odd, www.plasticsurgery4u.com/).



While I appreciate artistic license, it has no place in plastic surgery. And what is that weird little point on the right side? Is that a beak?

This is not what I want to see when they remove my bandages:

We once chose an artsy body shop to fix our car after a fender bender. I won't make the same mistake when it comes to going under the knife.

Hillary Explained

Hillary is now finding herself the subject of a media brouhaha. Apparently Hillary recounted her terrifying trip to Tuzla Bosnia at which time her life was threatened by sniper fire.

The media has interpreted footage of this trip and made an uninformed determination that Hillary was exaggerating her claims that her life was in danger when she stated:

"There was no greeting ceremony and we basically were told to run to our cars"

If you think Hillary was overstating the perilous conditions of her Bosnian visit, then you clearly were not there. She was not greeted by school children, but by a member of the Compact Bosnian Terrorists Organization (CBTO).

This photo chills me to my very core.

It is apparent that the same misogynistic media, which does not believe that a woman can be president, also does not believe that a woman (albeit a tiny woman) could be a sniper.

Chauvinist pigs.

You can see more details regarding Hillary’s harrowing tale here.

Disastrous cropping

This has to be one of the best photos I have ever taken of Max. Admittedly, the quality is poor, but it makes me laugh every damn time I see it.

He was only about three months old at the time, but was still able to clearly communicate his displeasure with his parents despite being plugged with his pacifier.

I loved this picture so much that I decided that I needed to have it reproduced in mug form. I eagerly looked forward to sipping a warm beverage as our sweet son gives me the finger.

`

I was bitterly disappointed when my mug arrived:

`

`
They cropped his first obscene gesture right out of the photo!!! Now we just have a mug with a poor quality photo. What's worse is the fact that I am undoubtedly too lazy to bother to re-order.

`

So, I have moved on. I am contemplating redesigning the mast on Max's blog. This way he can flip off friends and family en mass.

`

Max says, "Nuts to you, hippies!"

Clock Watching

I have so much stuff I need to be doing this morning. I am having difficulty concentrating, though (not the first time I have struggled with this topic).

Today is MATCH DAY !!!!

At noon today we will learn with which residency program Matt has matched.

Will we remain in this Midwest Land O' Corn? Will we be returning to our beloved Mountain West?!

THE SUSPENSE IS MADDENING!

So, we know we will be moving, we just don't know where . . . until NOON, that is.

Last night was Christmas Eve for our family. This morning we are sleepy, we are giddy, we want to know where to start shopping for a our very first house!

I really just don't think I can get anything done today.

`

- - - - - - - - - - - UPDATE - - - - - - - - - -

`

YAY! Matt matched with his first choice! We are headed back to the mountains, BABY!

`

Max can learn to ski, and we will have use, once again, of our climbing shoes!!!!

The Changling

It seemed like years ago I placed my order for Girl Scout Cookies. When I learned they had at long last arrived I began daydreaming about that first glorious moment in which I would tear open my box of Samoas . . .




Ahh . . . the texture, the aroma, the crunch . . . the happiness!


But my Samoas never arrived.

`

Instead, I had unwittingly purchased a box of Carmel deLites. Since the packaging looked identical, I presumed that the Girl Scouts just changed the product name.

`

Sadly, I could not have been more wrong.

`

`

The Carmel deLite (shown above) is, at best, a sad and miserable excuse for a Samoa.

`

This goes far beyond a mere name change, this is not the same cookie but an unholy abomination before God and my own taste buds.

`

I have done a little digging and it seems that there is a slow and evil encroachment of the Carmel deLite into Samoa territory. Carmel deLites are the carp of the Samoa pond -- an insidious fish of a cookie that is pushing out the more tasty indigenous species.

`

This affects all of us, people. Sure, you may be able to purchase the Somoa in your neighborhood today, but next year you may not be so fortunate. Then, instead of a delicious Samoa, you will find a Carmel deLite staring back at you with it's soulless eye.

`

`

First they came for the Thin Mints, and I did not speak out—because I was only lukewarm about the Thin Mints;

`

Then they came for the Tagalongs, and I did not speak out—because I think the Tagalongs are kinda gross;

`

Then they came for the Do-Si-Dos, and I did not speak out—because, to be frank, I don't know what the hell a Do-Si-Do is anyway;

`

Then they came for the Trefoils, and I did not speak out—because, honestly, who orders Trefoils? Really?

`

Then they came for the SAMOAS . . .

Suprise filling

I love the Cadbury Mini Eggs. I really do. It's just that I wish they didn't look quite so authentic.









Specifically, the white speckled ones that look remarkably like sparrow eggs.

`

Years ago when my dad gently placed in my hand a white egg with chocolate colored speckles, I should have thought, "what a lovely little sparrow egg, I wonder where this came from?" What I actually thought was "Yum, a mini egg! I love these things."

`

I will never forget that terrible crunch and the nauseous moment of realization that Cadbury Mini Eggs do not have runny, slimy cream filling.

`

That was about ten years ago; I still gag a little every time I think about it.

Perhaps not age appropriate

There are so many incredible toys I would love to buy Max. Somehow I have managed to use some parental discretion on the following items:

and my favorites, in traditional University of Wyoming school colors . . .

`

For now I am determined not to impose my own weirdness on our kid. When he is old enough, he can decide for himself if weirdness is right for him.

No one likes optimists anyway

Five words:

I . . MUST . . HAVE . . THIS . . MUG

This fantastic product is available at Despair, Inc. :-(.

Enjoy your Friday, people, if you can. Try not to dwell on the fact that Monday is looming just three days away.

Bum Fodder

Around our house we have frequent disputes regarding toilet paper.

I like to buy toilet paper that is soft and gentle; Matt likes to buy toilet paper that says that it is soft and gentle.

`

There are two universal truths when it comes to bathroom tissue. First, buying toilet paper is no time to be budget conscious. Second, the more a toilet paper brand claims to be soft, the more freakishly abrasive it is.

`

A toilet paper which sells for 97¢ and is called something like "Fluffy Soft & Dainty" is probably made out of leftover copies of the Weekly World News mixed in with glass shards.

The ONLY toilet paper I want near my tookus is Charmin Bathroom Tissue Plus Lotion with Aloe.

You will note the absence of a single adjectives. Adjectives are to be avoided as if your tender little pucker depends upon it -- because it does.

My point in a nutshell:

`

(I tried so hard to make my little roll of TP look evil and menacing, despite my best efforts he ended up looking inexplicably cute-ish)