Again… the nose knows!

I TOLD you I had an extra large scent organ.  Remember? Well it is one strong sniffer, and today it detected the ….ugh…. one of the most…undesirable scents of all. DEATH.

I’m sitting at my desk, minding my bidness like always. Daydreaming working on spreadsheets and what not.  I smell something.  It is definitely faint, but unpleasant.  I check my garbage can.  Nothing.. was just emptied last night. What could it be?  No… it couldn’t be…….me?  Pit check: no.  Shoe check: clean.  Shirt check: fresh.  Breath: like roses (some people are just lucky that way).  No idea…but the rankness is still there.

I’m a busy girl, don’t have time to investigate because I have daydreaming spreadsheets to work on.  I carry on with my work.

But that nose of mine.  I mean, that  NOSE!  It won’t let go of the smell.  So then I try to distract nose.  Someone who knows of my weakness for men’s cologne left smelly magazine ad on my desk To. Taunt. Me.  I press it to my face trying to distract nose from the stench.  Well, it worked for a while, but my brain went off into la la land as  is the affect of  men’s cologne.  It’s like trying to distract a hyper kid by giving them a chocolate cup cake.  Bad idea.

The cursor on my screen was in the same cell for like, 15 minutes.

This just won’t do.. so I decide to investigate a bit more.  I’m under my desk, moving the garbage can.. nothing.. and empty tub, nothing.. a rolling filing thingy…no, but then, I see…small.. black pellets on the floor.

That *%$#@ mouse is back!  We have a mouse problem in my building.  It has been trying to get into my chocolate stash without success.  It has pooped on my desk.  It has friends.  They have pooped in our kitchen both upstairs and downstairs.  Each morning I check the traps, dispose of what I find and disinfect everything and more before anyone else arrives. I am not squemish. I hate these little MFers.

Then I see it.  It is dangling from the frame of my rolling filing thingy, obviously got its legs caught and crapped itself a big pile on the floor below while it died.  I let out a pathetic girlish scream that is so unlike me.

Ewwwwwwwwwwaaaagggghhhhhhhhhhhewwwwwwwwwwww!

And I ran away shaking my hands wailing “Dead Mouse! Dead Mouse!” like a complete idiot.

It was the smell, I’m sure that put me over the edge and turned me into a freak.  I mean, I was right there in close range smelling its poo and dead mouse.  A wonderful friend at work disposed of dead mouse while I walked outside for fresh air coupled with cologne sample shoved to my nose.

I go back in, grab the Clorox spray, paper towels and the Febreeze from the bathroom.  I clean up the poo and the rest of the floor around my desk.. and roller filer thingy.  Febreeze under my desk, and then.. for kicks…the whole lobby.

Ahhh, much better.  Now about that spreadsheet… ugh.

The many uses of Spanxs….

If you are a woman over 30, which I am just barely (sha!), you probably own a pair of Spanx or some other kind of “Body Shaper.”  Smooths out your curves, or your fawhumpawhumps, as I lovingly call them.  Sometimes my curves misplace themselves and if I wrangle myself into throw on a pair of Spanxs my ghetto booty is lookin just right.

Yes, I said ghetto booty. There is even a group on Facebook I recently joined thanks Jennyonthespot, that is dedicated to the white girls with ghetto booties.  Fa Reals.  If you’ve seen me, you know I have one.  It is a blessing and a curse, depending on my mood (cha cha cha!).

BUTT….back to the Spanxs.  Besides being the curvy gal that I am, I am also wife and mother.  One day my son decides to dress up as a ninja, cuz like, he’s a little boy, and he’s part Asian..so I figure its gotta be genetic somehow.  He’s put a pair of his sister’s tights on his head and has mummified his face with the legs.  But the tights were TIGHT, right?  His already Asian eyes were stretched to slits…. he looked uncomfortable.  So, using his creative idea, I grabbed my Spanx and but them on his head and tucked them around his cute little face.  Much better, and wicked cute.  See:

I know.. he is adorable and you can only see his eyes.

Last night we had Gourmet Dinner Club, and the theme was Rockband Party.  We made our delicious dishes, and all arrived in costume, from glam rocker to gangsta rapper.  Mark, my hubby, is not one for dressing up in costumes, unlike his wife who plots a different persona each day, party or no party!  I insisted he play along.  His options were Twisted Sister (I borrowed a wig) or gangsta rapper.  He refused to wear make-up, so, I looked up some pictures of Snoop Dog, and Ludacris, and quickly pieced together his outfit.  The topper… my Spanx in a doo-rag.  Total success, don’t you agree?

Fo Shizzle, right? Yep… he even had a fake tattoo.  I told him he pretty much needs to get one, for me at least.  I think they are hawt.  He’s not into it, much like the not wearing cologne, but a girl’s gotta keep trying right?

What other fine uses have you used for your Spanx, ladies?

Space Age President….

Just a brief blog today.

I was having a super sucky day.  Got some info this morning that had me bumming big time, and praying hard.  But that is not the story for today, cuz I don’t want to “go there” again.

I’m at work, it’s around lunch time.  I head into the faculty lounge to throw the morning’s 6th grade sprained ankle ice-pack back into the freezer.  My peeps are all gathered around, eating their lunches and I overhear one of them say that Presidents age faster than the average American because of the stress.  Two years aging for each year.

I say, in my absolute brilliance, “They should govern from space.”

My peeps all laughed hard and my heart momentarily let go of the ache it had all morning.

Seriously.. what IF they governed from space?!?!

We wouldn’t have to worry about an assassination attempt, except from maybe aliens, and I would not put money on them.

They would have that “awe struck about the gorgeous Earth” thing and so would be dang inspired to keep our little globe happy and healthy.

They would not age so much faster. I personally don’t want to see Obama get all gray and wrinkly.  He’d prolly still be handsome, but for his girl’s sake, we could hold of the geeserness for a while.

He wouldn’t have to spend money flying everywhere because.. you know.. he’d be in space.

How about some help?  Any other reasons you think would be good to send our President into space?

Husband Fail…..

So.. there we were, Jennyonthespot, myself, and my girl Wendy, sitting snug around a table with our husbands all sitting on the other side.  We were killing time, tossing back some beverages, waiting for the band to come on so we could boogie.  The place was getting packed.

My girls are on either side of me when the waitress says, “excuse me” trying to squeeze through the quickly decreasing space behind our table.  People were really filling the place up.  I lean forward to give her more room and bump into my beer which spills a bit on the table, my bosoms and in my lap.  The boys are all holding their iphones.. oblivious to what has just happened.

Ugh.  Cold.  Wet.  Waitress wipes the table, my girls get the napkins and start to pat the dampness on my shirt.  We got kind of silly.  You know, they were all, “ohhhhh… ” patting my breasts and giggling while I  enjoyed experienced the feel up.

Aren’t these the kind of moments husbands wish would happen right  in front of them?  Not one looked up from their phone.

However, two gentleman BEHIND our husbands took in the whole event with much pleasure, laughed at our clueless husbands and then fist bumped each other.

Technology wins again.. and this time the hubbies are the losers.

Let me tell you about my nose……….

Tweaked Taken from www.peteducation.com:

Q.

How good is my dog’s sense of smell?

A.

A dog’s scent organ (inside his nose) is about four times larger than a human’s, and a dog’s sense of smell is about 50-100 times more powerful than yours but not mine.  Although all dogs have a powerful sense of smell, some breeds have a greater talent for sniffing out things. A few examples are Basset Hounds, Bloodhounds, Scotch-Irish/ Scandinavian Red Heads, and Beagles, which are considered ‘scent hounds or scent goddesses‘ If you live with a scent hound or goddess, you know how difficult it is to get his her mind focused on anything but odors. Apparently I have a larger than average scent organ…..*ahem. I have always had a keen sense of smell.  I once smelled that a young child was trapped in a well 5 miles away and was able to rescue him. Thank you, no, really, no applause necessary. Seriously though, I have a few favorite and not so favorite smells I’d like to tell you about.  Here they are: 1.  Men’s cologne. 2. fresh baked brownies. 3. Men’s cologne. 4. lilacs 5. I know…. Men’s cologne, really. I bought my husband some cologne… good stuff. Allure Homme by……lets see……..Chanel. I had to go look…..and  I just  put some on.  On my wrists. Like I usually do.  Everyday.  OMG!  Ok…focus…focus…. He never wears it, unless I spray him, or make it “conditional,” if you know what I mean.  My friend Heather has a plug in room freshener in a small stylish un-mud room in her house that smells like men’s cologne.  Sometimes I just stand in there.  And breathe.  I don’t know why it is, but it just makes me relaxed and happy. Now for the UN-favorite smells: 1. Ass 2. sweaty children 3. red onions 4. fresh seafood sections in markets 5. cigarette smoke Now, much like a Pavlov’s Dog, I have had some Classical Conditioning relating to sight and smell.  I was not aware of my conditioning until today, I’m embarrassed to say.  Here’s how it all went down. Sitting at my desk at work, minding my bidness, I see a brown UPS truck pull to deliver our Office Depot order.  Eyes tell brain.. get nose ready.  UPS man always smells good. Nostrils tense up preparing to maximize inhalation without getting assaulted. It’s nice how self preservation is always kicking around. UPS man walks in.  NOT my usual UPS man.  Eyes send confused message to brain which send ridiculous message to mouth and hands to hips: “Where’s our usual guy?”  My, that was pleasant. “He’s on vacation.” Right, he deserves that I guess, seeing as he works harder than SANTA during the holiday season. I get up to sign for the package, and my nose is still in its “amped” state.  As he hands me the thingy to sign, my Classical Conditioning kicks in and I take a deep breath in through my nose. AAAAGGGGHHHHHHH!  CRAP THIS IS AWFUL! IT’S IN MY NOSE! GROSS! IT’S IN MY NOSE! GET IT OUT! GET HIM OUT OF HERE! Fortunately that all happened in my brain and not infront of this stand-in UPS man that must have finished his cigarette before he walked in my door.  That would have been awkward. So.. I tried to get the smell out after he left.  I blew my nose a gazillion times, put lotion on my face, and walked through a mist of Febreeze.  It improved somewhat. I will not order anything, I will not send any packages out, until I know MY UPS man is back to work.. and boy is he gonna hear about how bad his replacement smelled. What an awful thing to do to my cute little nose!  Isnt’ it a cute nose?  Like the little bling?  You would never know there was such a big scent organ in there!

Mom, you are a bad influence….

Again.. that’s my boy. He said that today after I shamefully cracked up my family with the comment, “Um…that guy over there ought to close his mouth.” Which made them all look and then laugh as a guy ordering Teriyaki stood at the counter with his mouth in a stupefied puckered “O.” Then they all realized it was not nice.. they all felt guilty a bit. I just said, “Yeah, well be thankful your face isn’t stuck like that.”
I know, I know… but you should have seen him, really.
And then later.. I was still feeling a bit.. rowdy we’ll say. Kids were kickin my last nerve to the curb and I needed a mental escape. So.. I pour myself the last of a bottle of scotch, crank The Killers, and decide to clean the kitchen. Lots of dishes to do.. but The Killers awesomness is endless so they kept me going. My brain faded into fantasy land where I was bouncing at a concert, rocking out with my bad self. My family watched on…
Eventually, I opted for something a little harder…in music that is. Remember I finished the Scotch.. and no true Scotch-Irish girl will put any other liquor to her lips after that. So I throw on one of my all time favorite bad ass songs, Battleflag by Lo Fidelity Allstars.

Hey mr. policeman
Is it time for getting away
Is it time for driving down the mother fuckin road
And running from your ass today

My kids just look at me.  “Uh, mom.. we totally heard those bad words.” (My last nerve gasps its final breath).

I have no shame.  None.

My deepest apologies, my dear public…

It has been way too long since my last post.  Where on earth have I been?  What has been my problem?  I mean, I even had two weeks off from work for cryin’ out loud!

I have been utterly uninspired.

Sure funny things have happened, and beautiful things have happened.  We had tons of snow, and my kids continued to be hilarious.  We had Christmas… family over.. great food, fun gifts, I even had a birthday.  But nothing has really inspired me to write.

This goes beyond writers block, and I’m gonna blame my dang back for the whole bit.

I have been consumed with back pain.  I have scoliosis in my lower back. I strained it way back in August and it never healed like it usually does, in a couple of weeks of taking it easy.  The pain moved around, from my sciatic to the middle of my back.  It woke me up in the middle of the night with pain that would just make me cry.

Here’s what I tried:

I slept with pillows under my legs…like, uh, 3 huge ones.

I took drugs, muscle relaxants, obscene amounts of aleve, and occasionally pain med, which I don’t enjoy at all because it made me loopy and didn’t help.

I went to the Chiropractor, lots.  Had massage therapy, physical therapy, new chiropractor.  I had X-rays, I even had an MRI.

I spent easily over $1000 trying to get my back to a state of normal again.

I prayed, people prayed for me.

All the while, things still needed done around the house, laundry and dishes, vacuuming, changing sheets, more laundry and more dishes.  Everything that kept my stupid back in a constant state of pain.

So………….I got depressed. I felt totally hopeless. I know many people have such worse pain and health problems, but back pain is a monster of its own.. if you’ve been there you know what I’m talking about.

So it is hard to be funny.  Its hard to be witty and clever.  It is honestly just hard to sit in one spot for a while, and that is why I have not written.  I’m uncomfortable even now.. but my back is getting better finally.

I think it is due to the new Chiropractor.  He has an interesting and very different approach to chiropractic care.  I had my last adjustment today, and if I am totally better in a week I’ll be singing his praises, you’ll hear all about him.

Now.. just because I do have a some humor left in me, here’s a few funny thoughts I’ve had about my back pain.

I need a back amputation.. and then I’ll be put on the back donor waiting list.  Ha, ha, ha.

The new muscle relaxant my Dr. gave me makes me drool and pass out.  I tried to pretend it wasn’t affecting me one night while my in-laws were visiting.  Made a complete ass of myself.  Ha, ha, ha.

Ok.. I promise to get “back” in the game and blog more.

Peace