This BLOGGER is Driving Me Crazy
Say it with me: "This BLOGGER is driving me crazy!" Like Jerry,
George, Elaine, and Kramer all tried saying: "These pretzels are
making me thirsty!" Everybody add a personal touch. There. Now
I feel better.
I've been trying to get to BLOGGER since 1:15 this afternoon.
Well, not continuously, because that would mean I have no life,
wouldn't it? So I gave up after about 15 minutes of finagling, and
went to Television Without Pity to read old ER recaps. Which
still means I don't have a life.
The boys and I went to town for a few groceries and the daily
Sonic Cherry Diet Coke. Swimming in the Mansion pool went
swimmingly, and lunch was had by all. Then I settled down in
my dark, cool, basement lair for a little blog time. But noooo!
I tried again around 3:00. Nope. I gave up and watched some
Maury. It was cheating boyfriends caught on tape. Too much
drama. I made an appointment to get our girl poopie spayed.
She's really not gonna like me now. We'll do the boy when we
can catch him. I filled out #1 son's summer College For Kids
registration. 4 days late. I'm sure they'll let him in. He wants
to take Boats, Planes, and Trains. I hope it's not like that John
Candy movie.
I made supper. I drove back to town to mail that pesky College
For Kids app. I also took along a piece of leftover pizza, and a
pair of shorts for my Hillbilly Mama to repair. She is a wizard
with a needle. I bought gas, Powerball, and some scratch-off
tickets. I'm still Even Steven. We won exactly what was spent
on the tickets. When you're hot, you're hot, baby!
About those shorts. #1 son put them on this morning, fresh out
of the Wal*Mart bag. They are like black mesh basketball shorts,
reversible to plain gray. He wore the gray side, because it matched
the shirt I laid out. While at Save-A-Lot, he bought a Twix bar.
Only my son could make a melty mess of a Twix bar. They are
usually not so crumbly. He sat in it. He wallowed in it. When we
stopped for him to get the mail, he climbed out and looked at his
seat.
"Oopsie! Looks like I got some chocolate on the seat, Mumsey."
I don't know why he calls me that. I don't particularly like it. I
told him to get a tissue and wipe it up. "Oooh. It's liquid." I gave
him some Sonic ice (that stuff is fantastic) and told him to scrub
it some more. #2 boy popped his head over the seat and said,
"Hey! It looks like poooooop!" It did.
As #1 was bending over to get the mail, prancing around like a
schoolgirl because there's a bird on a nest at the back of the box
and it usually flies out and startles him, I saw his shorts. Up in the
crotchy-leggy part, he had a blob of melted Twix. "Hey! I can
see where you soiled yourself!" He protested that he didn't really
soil himself as you would imagine from the expression "soil
yourself". When we got home, he jumped out and started trying
to look at his own butt. He grabbed on the shorts and pulled
them around, and ripped out the stitching on part of the butt.
Fie on you, Wal*Mart! Can't you get better craftmanship out
of your underage overseas sweatshop labor? I expect more for
my $5 shorts. Anyhoo, not only did he soil himself, he split his
pants. Though he would argue, "Not like splitting my pants!"
All this exictement, and uncooperative BLOGGER too! What
a life Hillbilly Mom leads! And now, I must go watch a new
ghostly scary show on the SCI-FI channel, in place of where
Ghosthunters used to be on the schedule.
Don't hate me because I'm OH SO PRETTY. Hate me because
I'm Even Steven.
George, Elaine, and Kramer all tried saying: "These pretzels are
making me thirsty!" Everybody add a personal touch. There. Now
I feel better.
I've been trying to get to BLOGGER since 1:15 this afternoon.
Well, not continuously, because that would mean I have no life,
wouldn't it? So I gave up after about 15 minutes of finagling, and
went to Television Without Pity to read old ER recaps. Which
still means I don't have a life.
The boys and I went to town for a few groceries and the daily
Sonic Cherry Diet Coke. Swimming in the Mansion pool went
swimmingly, and lunch was had by all. Then I settled down in
my dark, cool, basement lair for a little blog time. But noooo!
I tried again around 3:00. Nope. I gave up and watched some
Maury. It was cheating boyfriends caught on tape. Too much
drama. I made an appointment to get our girl poopie spayed.
She's really not gonna like me now. We'll do the boy when we
can catch him. I filled out #1 son's summer College For Kids
registration. 4 days late. I'm sure they'll let him in. He wants
to take Boats, Planes, and Trains. I hope it's not like that John
Candy movie.
I made supper. I drove back to town to mail that pesky College
For Kids app. I also took along a piece of leftover pizza, and a
pair of shorts for my Hillbilly Mama to repair. She is a wizard
with a needle. I bought gas, Powerball, and some scratch-off
tickets. I'm still Even Steven. We won exactly what was spent
on the tickets. When you're hot, you're hot, baby!
About those shorts. #1 son put them on this morning, fresh out
of the Wal*Mart bag. They are like black mesh basketball shorts,
reversible to plain gray. He wore the gray side, because it matched
the shirt I laid out. While at Save-A-Lot, he bought a Twix bar.
Only my son could make a melty mess of a Twix bar. They are
usually not so crumbly. He sat in it. He wallowed in it. When we
stopped for him to get the mail, he climbed out and looked at his
seat.
"Oopsie! Looks like I got some chocolate on the seat, Mumsey."
I don't know why he calls me that. I don't particularly like it. I
told him to get a tissue and wipe it up. "Oooh. It's liquid." I gave
him some Sonic ice (that stuff is fantastic) and told him to scrub
it some more. #2 boy popped his head over the seat and said,
"Hey! It looks like poooooop!" It did.
As #1 was bending over to get the mail, prancing around like a
schoolgirl because there's a bird on a nest at the back of the box
and it usually flies out and startles him, I saw his shorts. Up in the
crotchy-leggy part, he had a blob of melted Twix. "Hey! I can
see where you soiled yourself!" He protested that he didn't really
soil himself as you would imagine from the expression "soil
yourself". When we got home, he jumped out and started trying
to look at his own butt. He grabbed on the shorts and pulled
them around, and ripped out the stitching on part of the butt.
Fie on you, Wal*Mart! Can't you get better craftmanship out
of your underage overseas sweatshop labor? I expect more for
my $5 shorts. Anyhoo, not only did he soil himself, he split his
pants. Though he would argue, "Not like splitting my pants!"
All this exictement, and uncooperative BLOGGER too! What
a life Hillbilly Mom leads! And now, I must go watch a new
ghostly scary show on the SCI-FI channel, in place of where
Ghosthunters used to be on the schedule.
Don't hate me because I'm OH SO PRETTY. Hate me because
I'm Even Steven.
posted by Hillbilly Mom at 7:34 PM
3 Comments:
#1's shorts debacle makes me think of ol' SpongeBob. "I ripped my payants!" I love that one. But not as much as "The Hash Slinging Slasher".
I have no life either.
I watched the SciFi thing last night, too. We caught the last half of Ghost Hunters first. Last week during the finale, Abby got so scared she didn't want to go to bed. I told her that I'd let her watch this week but if she balked on bed there'd be no more ghost huntin' for her, nosiree. But I didn't let them watch the Waverly thing...it looked too creepy on the previews.
But personally I think the creepieness ended there. I mean, yeah, there were things that were eerie, but nothing like the commercials eluded to. I hate when that happens. I watched from 8 to 9, then snoozed from 9 to 9:45, picked back up the last 15 and really didn't feel like I missed much.
Did I mention I have no life?
Oh yeah, forgot to mention that I was in a near panicked state yesterday because I couldn't get to Blogger and I still hadn't posted my urban legend for BB2!! And I haven't been able to comment for days either. What's up with that? Hopefully it'll cooperate today. I mean, I don't like it when my free blogging host doesn't give me what I don't pay for.
Diva,
That Waverly Sanatorium show was not so much creepy as it was sad. Sad to think what those people went through. And sad to see those kids out in the snow with no shirts.
Glad you made it with your Urban Legend. I might be waving buh bye if I am booted from the Cyberhouse this week.
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