MunchkinMama's Xanga

We've Moved!

Sun, 26 Feb 2006 04:10:40 GMT

[Imagine this is like one of those postcards you get in the mail that make you think "Wow - not a bill!"]

DrenNotes

It's not that we don't love Xangaland anymore; it's that other folks got whiney that they couldn't comment unless they signed up for an account (it's free, people - geez). Plus, the Hubby loves any excuse to buy a new domain.

We want you to come visit us at our new diggs, with room for all to crash. I'll make you cookies and banana bread while Munchkin climbs every mountain . . . or window sill (we're a really happenin' household).

Drooley zerberts from the Munchkin, MunchkinMama, & Co.

Dit Dit Dit DIT DIT DIT!!!!

Fri, 13 Jan 2006 04:15:52 GMT

No, you can't have two bananas at 9:30pm.

Dit Dit Dit DIT DIT DIT!!!!

No, you can't drink 32 oz. of water at 9:30pm.

Dit Dit Dit DIT DIT DIT!!!!

No, you can't have a Great Gran Paula ginger cookie at 9:30pm.

Dit Dit Dit DIT DIT DIT!!!!

No, you can't sit on Mom's lap while she's STILL editing materials at 9:30pm.

Dit Dit Dit DIT DIT DIT!!!!

No, you can't listen to Matchbox 20 loudly at 9:30pm (or ever, for a matter of fact).

Dit Dit Dit DIT DIT DIT!!!!

No, you can't bring about peace on earth and good will towards men at 9:30pm.

Dit Dit Dit DIT DIT DIT!!!!

Yes: you may sit on the cat at 9:30pm.

I look forward to hearing from the cat now. :)

Paula, This One's For You :)

Thu, 12 Jan 2006 03:56:57 GMT

It's National De-Lurking Week: consider yourself informed.

And please, don't let the terrorists win.

:)

Life Is Like A Spatula

Wed, 11 Jan 2006 00:31:58 GMT

Do any of you remember the breath-taking, cinematic genius of a piece UHF? It stars one Mr. Weird Al Yankovic and one budding star Michael Richards.

Tagline: TV as it was meant to be seen. In a movie theater.

Oh, the memorable quotes for those of us who have appreciated its artistic splendor:

Crazy Ernie: If nobody comes down here and buys a car in the next hour, I'm gonna club this baby seal. That's right. I'm gonna club this seal to make a better deal. You know I'll do it, to, cause I'm crazy.

Stanley Spadowski: I'm thinkin' of something orange. Something orange. Give up? It's an orange.
[laughs]
Stanley Spadowski: Ok, now I'm thinkin' of something blue. Something bluuuuuue.

[afterlosing his thumb in a table saw]
Joe Earley: Can you believe this? Would you look at that? Just call me "Mr. Butterfingers." I think it's on the floor somewhere. Is my face red.

There’s also some serious, life-affirming lessons to be learned:

GENDER EQUALITY
Pamela Finklestein: "Broads don't belong in broadcasting"? Is that the kind of professional courtesy you teach your news department?
R.J. Fletcher: Why, that's a terrible thing. I don't know how many time I've told those boys, never call chicks broads.

THE MEANING OF LIFE
Stanley Spadowski: Life is like a mop. Sometimes life gets full of dirt and crud and hairballs and things and you gotta clean it out. You gotta stick it in here and rinse it off and start all over again. And sometimes life sticks to the floor so much that a mop, a mop, it's not good enough. You gotta get down there with like a toothbrush, you know, and you gotta really scrub 'cause you gotta get it off. But if that doesn't work, you can't give up. You gotta stand right up. You gotta run to a window and say, "These floors are dirty as hell, and I'm not gonna take it any more."

And apparently for my son, it has given him direction in life. Now, he has yet to see UHF, but seeing as how it took me three times to get through the movie in high school (we’d always put it in after watching all three star wars movies or an 8 hour tape of Ren and Stimpy, so I’d fall asleep), it must’ve saturated into some part of me that I passed on to him.

Because Munch is going to work at Spatula City:

Sy Greenblum: Hello, this is Sy Greenblum, president of Spatula City. I like the spatulas so much, I bought the company.

All day long Munch has had a facination with spatulas. He drags his Lego container or his toy box or his tool box over to the drawer that houses all the Fun Kitchen Gadgets, stands on his tip toes, opens the drawer, and feels around until he feels something long and metal: every time he drags out a spatula (no, not the bowl-scrappers; the metal pancake-flippers). All around the house he bangs things with the delightful gadget: walls, his toys, the cat.

He took a nap with the spatula. I tried to pry it out of his hands, but there would be no separation.

Bubba wanted to be a flash-light packer; Munch will be a spatula tester.

In honor of my aunt

Tue, 10 Jan 2006 00:57:47 GMT

She may or may not approve, but still - so funny.

I Like Space

Mon, 09 Jan 2006 05:25:33 GMT

Many moons ago, during a time when a MunchkinMama was merely a Munchkin, her and her Munchkin Family of Origin (not to be confused with current MunchkinMama/Hubby/Munch family) embarked on a grand adventure: off to see the ears, the wonderful ears of Mickey. Because the MunchkinMama's Mama is who she is, we did not voyage to the easier-to-get-to Disneyland: that's too low-class. We went all out to DisneyWorld where you can "do Disney right."

We have been to DisneyWorld *multiple* times, whereas my first visit to Disneyland happened a mere three years ago - California flooded, and I severly damaged my foot on the STUPID wooden rollercoaster at Six Flags so that I couldn't walk around Disneyland and had to be wheeled around in a wheelchair wearing a giant blue poncho that got caught in the wheels, but got to cut in front of all the lines (and see secret passages so you could get up front). :)

So, in my opinion, DisneyWorld is a wonderful place: the happiest place on earth.

Except when you take a four year old.

Who "NOT LIKE SPACE! I not GO on space! I not LIKE it there! No, Space, NO! I NO GO ON SPACE!"

So Bubba, don't watch this. When they make a version of the Giant Orange Swing, I'll let ya know.

Experiment

Sat, 07 Jan 2006 18:38:10 GMT

Homo sapien and Felis domesticus co-engaging in a natural state of rest characterized by a reduction in voluntary body movement and decreased awareness of the surroundings

Materials:
– one MunchkinMama
– one Hubby
– one ringworm-free adolescent and apparently deprived of attention cat

Location:
– one MunchkinMama & Hubby bedroom
– specifically, in one full-sized bed

Situation:
The felis domesticus has been locked out The Bedroom due to his bout with The Nasties, one of which included ringworm. The vet has given him the clear signal (not even an asymptomatic carrier), so contamination is no longer a problem.

The felis domesticus has had free reign of the house at night, and as he enters adolescent stage, he is choosing to engage in Activities of Rebellion when no one is around: jumping on counters, jumping on the MunchkinMama’s computer, and causing general mayhem.

The felis domesticus is of a personality that craves attention and can NEVER GET ENOUGH PETTING - PET ME, OH DENSE HUMAN! When the petting activity does not happen to his liking, he gnaws on hands. But the MunchkinMama does not have adequate time to properly pet ALL THE FRICKIN TIME because she has things to do like chasing a young child ALL OVER THE LIBRARY while checking out the fifteen books on hold that all came in at the same time because the library system is out to spite her; and going to the store to ask the pharmacist what will dope up her child as she takes him on a six hour flight, but trying not to look like one of those moms who medicates their children on a whim (that’s for later in life) while the child tries to climb out of the cart multiple times and the pharmacist comments that it must be carrot eating season because the child is so much more orange than the MunchkinMama (this is because for the first time in about a year I fed him carrots yesterday - all good intentions come back to bite you in the butt); and coming home to look at things regarding Alternative Images of the Holy Trinity and a Gender Inclusive Hermeneutic and Exclusion and Embrace (no, the later’s not a parenting book . . . at least that I know of).

Theory:
The felis domesticus now has clearance to be in the Bedroom. If the felis domesticus can sleep with the Homo sapiens, perhaps the felis domesticus will be able to fill his need for PETTING ALL THE TIME PETTING while the Foolish Mortals do not have to exert effort (multitasking in my sleep: sounds sane).

Outcome:
The felis domesticus would not sleep at the foot of the bed, but rather between the pillows of the Foolish Mortals. The Foolish Mortals tossed and turned as the felis domesticus “couldn’t find a comfy position” due to his delicate posterior. The Hubby finally tossed the cat out around four am to much moaning and crying at the door, and the felis domesticus in turn attacked the fish tank filter system.

FAILED.

Upcoming experiment: flying over the ocean with the Munch, aka Destructo ADHD Boy.

Any suggestions?

I Want To Pinch It's WWW Cheeks

Sat, 07 Jan 2006 04:30:22 GMT

The Oregonian ran a very important, mind-bending, life-changing article on the front page of the living section on things that are cute. Apparently it was too contraversial, cause I can't find it online (no, no, senor: it is too cute!).

So instead, I leave you with this website. I always think of Jason's friend's wife who loves Disney and singing and things that are, well . . . cute.

Enjoy. But beward the fuzzy bunnies: they'll get ya every time.

Stink

Fri, 06 Jan 2006 05:00:50 GMT

So in my flurry of "stop by and visit my friend who might be in labor: holy cow, she just had the baby!" events of Saturday, I misheard the baby's true weight.

He was 10lbs *8*oz.

Making it all that much worthier of a feat that she birthed him and could eat a teriyaki dinner later that night.

My hero. :)

Comics; They Ain't Funny No Mo'

Thu, 05 Jan 2006 04:23:57 GMT

To start off, I’d like to thank all for the kind comments, affirmation, hints, and eprops (that’d be you, Uncle Spamadam!): I’m glad to know that my mastery of illusion works over the internet (mwahahaha!).

Today at lunch, I sat down with my food across from my husband, opened up the living section, and began to work on my three star Sudoku. Hitting a wall of not knowing where to place that tricky 3, my eyes wandered, and I began to peruse the neighboring material: newspaper comics. Now, I’ve known this for a while, but I’d like to state for the record:

THEY AREN’T FUNNY.

Not even chuckle-inducing, really. The best I can do is think, “My, how elderly people must enjoy that Pickles” (watch, and my mom will say that it’s really funny. It’s best to keep the grandparents, a.k.a. Costco members and able to purchase the good diaper wipes, happy).

A while back I saw strips of Calvin & Hobbes, but now I find out that it was only featured for the month of December, and now they’ll be rotating mediocre comics until they find one that’s not a snore. This week:

This replaced Calvin & Hobbes?!! You know sometimes it’s better just to watch reruns of an old show (like MASH or Hawaii 5-O) than a new one (like Yes, Dear or Reba).

I mean, seriously:

Okay, this one made me laugh, but it's because I'm in a sad, sad place in my life:

And because I'm feeling generous:

I guess all the good comic folks have gone underground or to Japan where they get to draw angry little comic people in nice pastel colors: nothing says “art” like a Sweden-colored Wolverine (that's pastel blue and yellow for those of you who haven't married into the nation).

Amerixanga: you decide - funny haha, or funny like waves of nausea?