Thanks, Stadium Pal

ok I've mentioned David Sedaris before. I'm sure you already know who he is. One of my favorite things he's talked about is Stadium Pal. I've made references to it in casual conversation for months. In case you don't want to do all the cross links here, stadium pal is essentially an external catheter that is worn like a condom (I think there is a gal version but I mean really? I don't know any women who would be willing to strap this baby on) with a tubing that runs down your leg (presumably strapped in some secure way to a 'collection bag' at your calf. Supposedly discreet, though as David Sedaris has mentioned, the smell of warm urine is probably easier to disguise in a sweaty outdoor stadium than in say a 747.







I am not sure how this came up but it did again tonight while I'm talking to H via the computer.

Me: (something or other...) "thanks stadium pal"

H: "in time for next year's family santa (for his side of the family its bring a gag gift and then everyone draws numbers and tries not to get stuck with the worst gift. who 'won' last year? me of course with a sparkly sequined 'santa' bra and panties in front of an entire room of people who would turn their heads to see such a thing in the store (though I wonder who actually bought it now LOL) but I digress..." ---you could actually make something like that"

Me: "uh, stadium pal is real, I'm sure it is"

H: "really?"

Me: "yes hang on" (google is my other hidden talent...) "yes, see..."

http://www.stadiumpal.com/

and this is where I lose the ability to talk because, well....ok in case you don't want to read it yourself, here's an excerpt (and it is at this point that I lose all ability to communicate aside from laugh and snort):

Motor Cycle riders that participate in the Iron Butt have found that the Stadium Pal is an absolute necessary. Para Gliders that spend hours in the air have found its uses immeasurable. Oktoberfest, Mardi Gras, New Year’s Eve at Times Square, and the list goes on and on

(plus I swear this list included pub crawling when I first looked...)

ok now that I've typed this, I'm back to snort and laugh and I really can't type when I laugh that hard. It has to be aerobic exercise, that is a bonus right? Thanks Stadium Pal!

Life, the soundtrack

I've been thinking. No that isn't the news-worthy item to warrant this post.

I'm probably not the first to think this either. But as I got up the other morning to make coffee, the boys were watching Deep Space Nine on Netflix, it was the opening sequence with the song. Hmm, let me find a link for that so you'll get the full picture...




so as I walked into (more like dragged myself into...) the kitchen to make coffee I hear the theme song and suddenly making coffee is an adventure. Its important, like the mundane things people do in the opening sequence, it might be a small part of something bigger, something MORE.

And so what I think is that we all need a soundtrack. Now I'm not sure how we'd go about having one playing all the time and who is in charge of making the soundtrack might be a serious downside. I mean it would be a bit creepy to suddenly hear this:




So maybe I don't want to take my chances. I'd rather not have that creepy feeling that something is about to happen and, well, wouldn't most people be tempted to play that for someone else? LOL Seriously? If you were the soundtrack master of someone's life that you didn't know wouldn't you occasionally want to mix it up?

I'd like to say I'd be above that, but I'm sitting here and the neighbor has taken in his trash can, but if I were here watching and was really bored, well I might play that to watch him glance around...I admit it, I might...

So maybe we don't need soundtracks, but this blog does since I have a backlog of completely strange and weird/cool music to share. I'll be working on that, but no auto play of music. Because we all know that sucks.

WTF Parade???

Well today I thought I was going to the city's Christmas parade but really aside from one Santa that threw some candy and didn't look very jolly at all, I'm not sure I was at the right place. I mean seriously...







I know you think I'm being a grinch or maybe my standards for parades are just too high, but I assure you, if you had been there, you'd say it was the WTF parade too.







There were no bands. Ok it was raining. There was a bus there with a high school band from somewhere, BUT I saw one person get out and the rest stay on the bus. No one marched, not even our own town that I could tell. Maybe they were stationary somewhere but I never heard them. It was a bit depressing.







No music at all. In the absence of a band, I'd expect some Christmas music coming from cars or, anything really. Hopefully someone would carry a boombox if nothing else. (they still make those right?) but no....







Only the sound of about 5 firetrucks which led the parade and a police escort. Granted one was dressed up quite festive with some lights (of the Christmas variety, not of the normal 'there is an emergency get out of our way" variety).







There was a color guard (the military variety, carrying the flags, not waving them) and the cub scouts, a couple of churches had a truckload of people, the local 'beauty pageant' winners (it was raining so we didn't really see them inside cars, but they were there. And then a few antique cars. And then the crowning WTF? moment:

Ok sorry it was raining and it was hard to get this picture. In case you cannot tell that is a pickup truck, on the top of the cab is a lingerie clad leg with a lampshade. In the back of the truck was a girl wearing a coat and a pole. The second time I saw her she was acting as if her tongue was stuck to the pole. I was a bit afraid what else she might be doing with the pole, but this isn't that sort of town ...had it been New Orleans I would KNOW what she was doing with a pole in the back of a truck, but no.

Otherwise the truck had no sign, no labels, no theme that I could tell. Later in the parade there was another van, its interior full of glittery garland presumably to deck the halls all over city hall or something but also WITH a lingerie clad leg and a lampshade.

Now do you see what I mean? WTF was that?

If there was a theme, then this parade was like Bridget Jones, where no one told these people the theme was cancelled.

AdSense, You clearly weren't reading this blog carefully...

I enabled adsense and placed the ads at the very bottom of the page. This might have been a mistake. Once enabled and I previewed, the ads were as follows:

1) Solutions for House Mice---how to EXTERMINATE them

and

2) Dirty Pigeons (ok that phrase struck me, no idea what that ad was even for. I haven't even mentioned pigeons on here, just chickens and again, I didn't call any of the fowl foul...)

So for the moment, Adsense, you are warned. Read my blog more carefully or you will be exterminated.

Quiche--the other crack

There should be a 12 step program for these things-->

I'm convinced as of this morning that Quiche means 'crack' in some foreign language I don't comprehend (and no I don't mean French. je parle francaise, merci) (moving on before H interrupts with what I sound like when I speak it....

Anyway I am convinced quiche means crack and it should come with a warning label. Normally I'm a healthy eater, not healthy like huge appetite, not the euphemysm as in "well nourished" (aka fat)...just I mean I normally would eat one piece of toast or at most like a egg mcmuffin. Then come these chariots of crack quiche. I have turned into the cookie monster with them. Thankfully the box is almost gone and I will avoid them for another decade (I hope). Maybe I should take a sharpie to the store and write the warning labels on there myself.

Because I didn't mention what's worse. These things for me are like a trojan horse of doom. My gallbladder hates them and in an hour it will be attacking me for even thinking of these things.

So, I tell you: My name is &&&&& and I'm a quiche addict.

The Girl of His Dreams and also a Mouse

So something yesterday evening reminded me of the guy in the UK who was looking for the girl of his dreams. Yes, I know. All single guys (and some not single) in the UK and elsewhere are looking for the girl of their dreams, but no. This guy was unique; he was/is looking for the girl LITERALLY that was in his dreams. He has a nice pencil drawing of what she sort of looks like (though not really, this guy does not claim to be an artist). And while he may be weird, his posts seem sweet and besides, I really want to compare the real thing to his drawing so I can accurately assess his artistic ability.

I ran across him from public radio probably two years ago. I tried to help. I'm a weird but good person after all. I posted to facebook and told all of my friends. I'm not sure anyone was nearly as interested in this cause as I was. Anyway so yesterday evening I followed up. And his webpage shows so sign that he's actually found this girl. His Youtube channel has comments suggesting he still dreams of the same girl but no luck (at least at 4 months ago), and I see I'm not the only one wondering because others are asking "did you find her yet?"

So I guess I'm helping again by posting it here--take a look. It MIGHT be you.

In other news, the mouse was sighted. He apparently was preparing cleaning supplies in the water heater closet where the mops are (yes! that is on the right track for earning your keep) when he abandoned post before doing the floors (nnoooooo) and decided to go back into the boys' room.

I'm told by my youngest he has a little pink nose and cute whiskers while my oldest confirmed that he was walking through much slower this time so they saw him before he darted into their room.

I think he needs a name....any suggestions?

Chicken Joe...

Meet Chicken Joe.

He's mad. He's been crowing at me allll morning because so far, I have not highlighted him and he is not getting the exposure he thinks he deserves. So I will fix that right now (in exchange the hens are to start laying eggs for me which so far they are not doing either, Chicken Joe, so that is your job!)

You probably can't tell but Chicken Joe is tiny, he's less than a pound and when he crows he throws his head back and looks like he will injure himself (oh sorry Chicken Joe, that wasn't the exposure you wanted)...

So he's really sexy (better, Chicken Joe?) with his huge comb. He has also bested our bullmastiff. After a lap or three around the yard hanging from the dogs mouth, Chicken Joe survived so he really does have a story to tell.

Ok, Chicken Joe that is enough of the blatant advertising for you, until you get the hens in line and producing eggs. You have your own house for goodness sake, and a heat lamp and a massive garden...you even have an admirer in the neighbor that comes and talks to you over the fence. I think you are good....

heh, and you are sort of sexy.

But seriously, was checking on the chickens and no eggs yet. They are about 4 months old now I think. But one of these days....

So yesterday I wondered if the one that rode around on my shoulder like a parrot when she was young would still do it. So I was in their house and I called her. I was surprised that she walked over to the 6 ft ladder that was hanging out in their house, climbed up 3 steps and flew to my outstretched arm and hung out with me a bit. She's a cool bird (not as cool as you, Chicken Joe...no THAT did not break our agreement!)

Which Reminds Me of a Song...

Sorry but it just won't do to not put in the moose theme song here:




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"Who Says Poop Can't Shine?"

Browsing Etsy this morning because, well some mornings are like that and I found these earrings. Don't ask how I found them, I just did.

And yes, these earrings are currently (at least at the time of this posting for sale on Etsy) and YES, the seller says they are actual poop from moose studded with rhinestones. I'm not sure why we aren't going all out on this with real diamonds but...they are shiny and reportedly not stinky. What's not to love? I am sort of wondering what led to the discovery that moose poop makes good earrings but I suppose the world may never know.

Here's the link to the store: http://www.etsy.com/listing/86348676/real-moose-poop-doo-doo-dung-nugget just in case you want to buy them. I can't imagine a better Christmas gift for your boss, or that 'special' someone, Secret Santa anyone?

Laughing My Ass Off...

oh not now but this can't wait to share...of course if you are my neighbor you will be too...but watch this:




Yes, I'm reading The Wheel of Time. Hmm, that might not fit what you thought of me, well you'll have to be a little flexible here.

Anyway so H (not h1N1, don't we have that straight yet?) shows me this tonight. And I'm watching it thinking partially ohhhh a cloak like that would be niccccceeeee but mostly like wait a minute, if H will do THAT in the front yard, I could totally sit out there...so....

me: "so you could do that in the front yard and I can sit out there and drink wine?"

H: "sure."

me: "cause then I'd be laughing my ass off. I mean really enjoying a good evening."

LOL. You know where this is heading...

Of course after a glass of wine I'll be getting out the nerf type jousting sword things we bought the kids and trying to kick his ass with them in the front and THEN the neighbors will be laughing at ME...

I might require being tied to the patio furniture. You know, because the water bottles of death have me held captive and all.

If you are going to be in the kitchen, at least do the dishes...

So the mouse was sighted! I screamed. I admit it. No, it wasn't because the mouse that decided to move in is actually the rabid thing in my previous picture, but I was heading for a late night snack last night...(this should teach me but it probably won't) when
out of the fruit bowl arose such a flutter
I screamed out of my head to see what was the matter...
a little brown mouse ran across the counter,
crossed over the stove and into the corner....

ok it doesn't rhyme. So sue me. Its a work in progress. Sort of like our song of the weekend:

(to the tune of Love you Like a Love Song Baby)
(and from the dog...)

I love you like a big bone baby
I love you like a big bone baby
I love you like a big bone baby
and I'll drool all over your faaaaacccceeee....

yes I know, also work in progress. I'm never going to bust into the song writing business.

Anyway so I was reaching for the sourdough bread and up popped the little mouse out of the bowl and across the counter and yes (how did you KNOW?) across the stovetop and into the corner. Here's the deal, mouse in our house...

You may NOT go up my pants!
I will not kick you out, but you are not allowed pets!
And, really, if you are going to fruit bowl dive, at least do the dishes. They were still here this morning and seriously, I thought it was understood that if any rodents, squirrels, birds, or of course mice (that is YOU) moves in that they have to pull their weight with the housework. I'll sing crazy songs, whatever. (You've seen Disney you KNOW how this works) and you will do the work...

and maybe make me a dress...

all pretty with ribbons and stuff, you'll need the birds for that....

No I don't have anywhere to wear that sort of thing, but it would be beauuuuutiful watching it be made.

Yes, I AM SERIOUS.


Good, I think we understand each other now.