Nov
29
November 29, 2006
Okay, I’m ready for Seattle’s cold snap to be over with. Where’s that Pineapple Express, goddammit? It’s far too shivery for my wimpy mild-climate bones. I tried to get in my car this morning to rescue one of Riley’s shoes from the backseat (side rant: I am ready to medically staple a pair of shoes/socks to his feet and remove them only when he’s outgrown them, because arrggh, it doesn’t matter if they involve elastic, velcro, or laces, he can Houdini his way out of anything in .004 seconds, and then he’s waving his BARE ASS FEET around in freezing temperatures like a DAMN FOOL) and it was frozen shut. My car! Was frozen shut! I’ve never experienced that before and it totally flummoxed me. I came inside and told JB that oh my god I need a new car with anti-freezing locks or something because what if there was an emergency and I absolutely had to drive and my car? Was frozen shut? And he got all lofty and Step Aside Lil Lady, A MAN Is Here To Tell You What’s What, and told me to pour hot water on the locks, like duh.
Well pardon me, but I have spent my driving years living in an area known for banana slugs and damp moss, not witch’s-tit thermometer levels. You need some tips on getting smashed banana slug out of the tread of your hiking boots, I’m your go-to gal, but frozen locks are Nature’s way of telling you to stay at home and wear a fluffy robe, as far as I’m concerned. I don’t care if hot water “works” or not, you don’t go fucking with Nature.
JB just called me to let me know that he found a fabric softener sheet in his shirt after he got to work this morning. “I had felt something itchy for a couple hours,” he explained. Heh. The man might be MacGyver, but clearly he’s no match for a Downy Vanilla & Lavender fabric sheet.
Speaking of MacGyver, JB put up some holiday lights on our house yesterday and they look quite nice. I need to haul the tripod outside at night to get a picture, but they’re basically a line of white lights trimming our roof. I like the simple look, although I maintain that this house is the best thing I’ve ever seen, ever (every time I watch that video, I get choked up towards the end from the sheer awesomeness of all those lights and the music and the effort that went into creating the whole display, I’m not even lying) (also, I am a massive dork). Our neighbors have one of those inflatable plastic globes with shit swirling around inside, you know what I mean? They’re full of “snow” and polar bears and whatever? God, I hate those things. If I were just a little bit more of an awful person I would sneak over at night and shoot it with a BB gun, but then I’d get a lump of coal in my stocking.
Doesn’t “lump of coal in my stocking” sound like some kind of filthy – nevermind.
Well, that little train of thought, which I mercifully cut short to spare you all, has led me to Britney Spears. People! Have you seen Britney’s woefully exposed girl parts, caught on film by multiple paparazzi? I mean, not that I’ve…looked at…Britney’s, um…FINE, I have looked at pictures of Britney’s hoochie. It was right there on Perez Hilton, where all the classy celebrity news can be found.
Why forgo the underwear, is what I want to know. I mean, seriously. If you’re going to wear a dress with a hem that ends around the bottom of your ass cheeks, and you’re going to get in and out of cars with approximately ten thousand photographers documenting your every move, then come on. Break out the granny panties. Otherwise your personal Bubble Yum is going to get published all over the internet and comments like this will get posted:
“yo that clam chowder shot you gave the world was crazy it looked like k-fed beat that like it was his trailerpark step son”
Which is officially the only funny comment I’ve seen on Perez Hilton, but if we are only going to get one, at least it’s a blue-ribbon winner.
Enough about Britney’s inexplicable plummet from the comeback-kid pedestal that was so readily offered to her. Back to the weather! (All Vaginas and Weather, All the Time, that’s MY blog motto.)
It’s icy and cold around my house but there’s not much snow on the ground, unlike my mother and aunt’s house in Port Angeles. Check out their neck of the woods:
If my car is going to be Frozen! Shut! there should at least be some pretty wintertime scenery around here, by god. But no, just clumps of slick patches here and there, and a lot of birds who are pissed off because JB made me take the birdfeeder down (stupid rats). The chickadees and junkoes are lining the fence and cocking their little heads at the living room windows, probably planning a mass pecking attack.
By the way, JB’s mom got a video for Riley of various birds flying around, it’s called “Beepers, Tweeters, and Peckers”. Heh. Peckers.
All right, I’m clearly just rambling now, so let’s wrap this up with a picture of a toddler throwing himself on the bed like a total freak:
This boy is going to be Trouble, I just know it. I’m going to find him perched on the roof someday, wearing a cape.
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I love you now and forever for posting the link to that awesome Christmas house. Someone sent me that last year, but I lost the link and have been heartbroken ever since. But no longer!
Okay, now you have me curious. How *does* one get banana slug out of a hiking boot?
Riley’s bellybutton is the cutest. thing. ever. And we’ve tried tights under pants in an attempt to keep Jacob’s feet toasty, and that seems to work pretty well.
(Also, as others have already mentioned, Us Maine Rednecks use a hairdryer to unfreeze the lock.)
Best. Picture. Of Riley. EVER.
Hair dryers do unfreeze locks. Even down here in Hell-A, I have had to unfreeze my lock. Only once, but still. My door was frozen shut that day, too.
And back on the subject of Riley, my baby brother did, indeed, leap off of our house and break his leg. For the second time. No cape, though. Coz cowboys don’t wear capes to ride the range and vanquish injuns, man. That’d be uncool. Shuh.
cool blog!
cool blog!
nice photos of this blog