Cookies, Cookies, Cookies!!

Yesterday we picked up this book at the library.





I went off to teach class last night, then stayed and did my class. When I got home, the kitchen was clean and Mollusc had made these:





YUM!

Chop Shop

I need a haircut. Just in the last week or so, my hair suddenly reached the point where I can't stand it anymore. I've been trying to figure out whether I can get 10 inches lopped off (so I can donate) and still pull it back, because I can't stand it in my face either. It seems like a waste to get less off and not donate, so I'm having them whack off 10" regardless. Now I have to surf some sites and figure out if there's any sort of cut I want to aim for. Like they'll look the same on me, anyway. Ha. Maybe I'll just do a Britney.

Prawnie and Fishy are testing today. They know their stuff, but of course Nervous Mama is hoping they don't seize up for the test. :)

Ancora Imparo

I'm teaching myself Latin.

"Wait," you say. "If you already know enough Latin to teach it to yourself, what do you have to learn?"

Ummmm. . .

€

I can make a Euro sign with this keyboard.

That is all.

Willoughby Wallaby Weenis

the elephant went to Venus, Willoughby Wallaby Wuranus, the elephant saw Uranus.

Yeah, we've been having too much fun with that song. I laughed so hard I nearly wrecked the car on the way to the co-op, and I can't even remember what we came up with that set me off.

Tonight's Little Kid class was pandelirium. 23 kids. Oy! Actually, it was fun, and not too crazy. I don't think I screwed anyone up, and I remembered everyone's name, so that's good. :) To be honest, kid names are easy for me; it's the parents' I can never remember. It was also the traditional Monday night DadFest, which it hasn't really been pretty much since I mentioned here how I enjoyed perving at them. So obviously they found my blog and were horrified and made a pact to mostly stay away until now. Bummer.

I also kicked one of the fathers in the butt tonight. I don't know what came over me. It was just a reaction. He put out his hand for a high 5, and thinking it odd, but not wanting to snub him I went for it, so of course he pulled it away (shoulda seen that coming) and my natural reaction was to smack him and kick him in the butt. (lightly! lightly! Not hard. I'm not mean like that.) Yikes. I don't think I offended him, though. I hope not anyway.

I watched PS I Love You last night, which, while being a glorious ManFest (including some full backal nudity) and pretty entertaining, probably did not garner the sympathy from me that it was supposed to for the main character. She was just such a high maintenance, neurotic bitch that I thought her hubby was better off dead. But there were bits that reminded me of my dad (the knowing the end is nigh stuff) so they were a little tear-jerky. Harry Connick Jr.'s character was bloody entertaining, too. ^_^

I got a new book called Garden Spells that I'm loving, and I finished The Camel Club, which was fantastic. The twist on the terrorist attack was brilliant. I'm also listening to Twilight, so I'm finally finding out what all the hoopla is about.

Oh, and the Master taught us a new Black Belt one-step sparring tonight. I can't wait to show MuNKi. It's cool!

The Six Word Memoir Meme

Nothing I could write would be a poignant as Hemingway's 6 word story, which, as legend has it was "For sale: baby shoes, never worn." IMO that's his most brilliant work. (To be honest, I haven't liked any of his wordier stuff.) But since I was tagged by the lovely Claire, I'll give it a crack.

Here goes.

*clears throat*

*cracks knuckles*

*gets sidetracked and cleans the fridge*

(You know, if that was shorter, that would sum up my writing process.)

~~Disgustingly happy family junkie loves creating~~


Oh look! A chicken! (hey that could be another one for me, and only 4 words cuz I might get distracted after that. . .)

Tick, tick, tick, tick

~The "replace all" feature in my word processor makes me feel powerful. Very powerful.

~Sometimes too much power is a bad thing. Such as when I do something like replacing "Amina" with "Chopra" and end up with words like "contChopration."

~I procrastinate writing by looking for new wallpaper for the computer. I tell myself it will be inspiring. Sometimes it is, but not usually for the right reasons.

~My teakettle doesn't whistle; it moans. This has disturbed me for years.

~When I come up with a new idea for a story I putz around on the computer doing all kinds of weird crap (see this post) before I write. I'm not sure if this is pure, unadulterated procrastination, or if the story seed is actually germinating in my brain while I do this.

~I don't feel my age. At all.

~I love the internet. I love being able to hear a song in a film, look it up, and print out the sheet music for free. (I'm generally drawn to the public domain classical stuff.)

~Playing the piano is a great way to procrastinate/germinate. Hunting for new sheet music doubly so.

~I love tax whatever-they're-called checks. It's time for a laptop! :-) (I gave mine to Mollusc for her b-day)

Unh?

I'm not sure when it became cool to trash on boys and men here in the States. I know it's been a long time, but I'm curious about the origins of the tradition. I've pretty much had it with that whole thing. One of Sluggie's friends sent her a YouTube clip from some kid show (a Nick show I think) and it was (from the sounds of it) 2 boys talking (or reading?) about why boys are not stupid. But of course they were being very stupid and disproving their own point. I made her turn it off. Grrrr! You don't see people getting away with calling girls and women stupid, but make it a boy or a man and ha ha ha, there's mirth all around.

I know that boys face a lot of prejudice in school these days, and I'm so glad that Fishy isn't being hampered by that. I'm also grateful that there's no one to pressure me to put him on meds just for acting like a boy so that he can become a nice, quiescent little zombie instead.

That's my deepish thought for the day. Now for something fluffy.

Bras.

Why is it that it's so freakin' hard to find a bra without a life of its own these days? Seriously. Go to any bra section in any store, and see how many bras are living complete little lives with their own phantom boobies right there on the rack. I want bras that do NOT have their own personality -- bras that to NOT ask my boobies to assume their identity. (--tity. ha.) Bras that do not jut out past my boobies and belittle them for not filling the cup. And also bras that do not mould my boobies into weird pyramids in some sort of Egyptian homage sort of thing. Even the wee tiny little A cups have minds of their own. What's up with that?

Oh and by the way, WTF was that terrifying monstrosity next to the strapless bras? I couldn't find a pic online, but suffice it to say that it would have made a nice hump-cozy for a Bactrian camel. If you want to see for yourself, I think you're out of luck, but you might enjoy a Google search for "gigantic strapless bra" just to see the weird crap it pulls up, like Johnny Depp, groomsmen's neckties, strollers, and ice cream drumsticks. Or you can go look at the boobie bags made by Faveo.

We got to play kick the bottle at TKD tonight. (an empty little water bottle suspended from the ceiling) It was great fun, but both my buns need a massage now. Or maybe I just need a "Buttocks Bra."