Posted by: glenda | August 17, 2008

My First Crush was sitting in Skyline!

Yes I looked good tonight – hair was right, makeup good, glow of fitting in a pair of jeans  8 sizes smaller than a year ago all over my face, the delight of a girls night out fueling my enthusiastic demenour.  I shall glory in the fun and amusment of running into him after 20 years and how perfect it topped the evening out with BFF Rose, who remembers the teenage Glennda’s infatuation for him and is the only one who could appreciate the scenerio’s hummorous potential.  I was 15 again for a split second – long enough to giggle and drop the menu.  Thankfully I was quickly returned to my reality – a fantastic husband, our 4 wonderful monsters, 20 years of maturity and perspective, and the best BFF who showed me a great time tonight.  Thanks Rose!

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Posted by: glenda | July 9, 2008

This turns me on . . . (housewife porn)

            

Posted by: glenda | June 14, 2008

I Love the 80’s

 Hey . . . Hey Chris . . . Chris. . . Chris Martin . . . Hey you,

Mr.  Paltrow!

. . . ya hi. . . um. . . ya . . . Adam

Ant called, He wants his wordrobe back!

Posted by: glenda | June 14, 2008

Seriously?

So these thoughts have occured to me in the last few days

 

While watching VH1’s Me Myself & I, a doc about the Pinball Wizzard (elton john) the glittery one revealed that he actually enjoyed the sexual side of his short lived heterosexual marriage to some German girl.  Seriously? 

  These two are back together.  Doing it for the kids I bet!  Seriously?

 

The girls think he is the greatest father/manager/exploiter and wish him the best Father’s Day ever!  Seriously?  He is creepy, too aware of his daughter’s sex lives/bra sizes, and in general a bit incestuous in his demenor.

  We all have hobbies. – I like to collect Christmas ornaments – they come in lots of shapes and sizes and colors, I look around to find them from countries across the globe, and occassionally I have made them myself,  Angie and I are so much more alike than I thought.  Seriously?

Does she realize that the genes for the flat chest and offensive nose are still in her genetic code and that that brand new daughter might get the short end of the DNA stick?  Seriously?

Posted by: glenda | May 21, 2008

She’s a Frigin’ Genius

My BFF Rose is a FRIGGIN’ GENIUS!  I have gone almost a year without a dishwasher because the damn thing wouldn’t start and just flashed its boogy little clean light at me and as other mothers/housewives will know, “non essential” applience repair comes very last in budget after everything including croc decorations.  Needless to say I was unwilling to pay the 180 to have the guy out to fix what I knew in my heart must be a reset issue.  I tried to open the front up about 6 months ago to push what I was sure would be a reset button (because my instincts are inatelly 1980’s – button ya right).  I stopped when the groning plastic frightened me.  Yesterday during one of our triweekly long phone conversations I was bemoaning the plight of hand washing my dishes and it occured to the smartest woman in the world to just look up the make and model of my machine and see if there was any advice for repair/reset.  Alas, the folks at fixya.com had the answer and after a few push this button then that button combinations and two minutes of breathless anticipation, the little guy purred back into the land of the functional and I was freed from the drudgery of hand washing dishes (remember 1 have 5 children 4 kids and a husband who don’t like to use paper plates and cups ).  So to the great minds of history add Cacklin Rose to the likes of Einstein and Bell, Brazier and Eddison etc…  I say a heartfelt THANK YOU to my BFF/resident super brain trust for the internet search idea and for doing the typing too.

Through the half conscious/ half drowsy heavly lidded eyes of my morning self, I came to some very interesting and at times life afferming truths found only in a.m. pre-school Nick Jr. programing.  Unlike BFF Rose, we don’t have the tivo gods at our house, so we are at the mercy of the programing geniuses at Nick for our daily “mommy still can’t face doing anything” time.

We start our mornings with Spongebob, whom I do genuinly enjoy.  I do think squidword is homosexual with his whole clarunet thing, and his large penis nose, but I laugh to myself.  Spongebob is that type show that sticks in enough stuff for mom to be amused – like the powerpuff girls ( not a Nick Jr show).  After my show is over, we move into the repeated Dora/Diago loop.  Dora’s “abuelo” is clearly a Colombian drug lord in drag.  Her voice is deeper thatn that Oak Ridge Boy’s guy and Dora is always bringing her “packages”.  Dora’s rarely present parents are clearly shielded from child protective services because of their kinship to the drug king. How do you say kick back corruption and deraliction of duty in Spanish?  Who in good faith would send/ allow their kid to travel all over what seems a sketchy neighborhood (full of cranky crocodiles and moulten marshmellow lava mountains) pursued always by Swiper ( code for fence man of hot goods) with only a monkey named “boots” to chaperone?  I think he may double as a pimp when Dora needs to bring back a little extra cash.  This morning it was revealed that Dora has twin baby siblings.  I remember no pregnancy and very special episode of Dora the Explorer to explain this life changing event.  I suspect baby brokering.  Seriously with many Latin American nations tighting up their adoption systems ( as the threat of Brangelina constantly looms) those little suckers can be tricky to get.  And we don’t  see the “twins” again, perhaps gone on to their for real homes?  While in the care of the ever negligent Madre et Padre de Dora, they accidently roled away in their stroller during the night.  Nobody seemed frantic about the situation, as a real parent would be waking up to find their children gone.  No, the Dora family et al joyously sing and dance and swing from vines as they take their own merry time catching up with the tikes.  No police are called, they keep it in the family with Diego and Abuela showing up (in night clothes) to help, No Media is alerted to help in the search and get the community involved.  Very suspicious!  When found nobody suggests they take them to the ER to check for possible injury, no investigation into how this happened is launched.  Its all great that the parents suck and Dora sings us out with the promise of more unsupervised fun in about 30 minutes.  Here is the life affirming thing for me – even though I slip in and out of wake mode while my three year old sits behind my legs on the couch watching her shows, I have never allowed her to wonder about the countryside with a monkey, a talking backpack, and a map to hopefully entertain herself near snakes, crocs, spiders, and natural disasters.  I am a good mom after all!

Don’t get me started on Yo Gabba Gabba – lets just say sex toys   or  Ni -Hi Ki Lan – I may be a xenaphobe but I fear the communist threat still and Max is gonna find out in a few years that Ruby isn’t his sister but his mother ( just like Bobby “Somewhere beyond the Sea” Darin did). 

 

 

Posted by: glenda | May 1, 2008

Californication Dreaming

So Rose is correct in her assiertation that your dreams are really not that interesting to others.  It is true and normally I would adhere to her philosophy.  But.  Sometimes a dream comes along that is so real, so vivid, so detailed that it sticks with you for the day.  Makes you think about it over and over, makes you wonder what you ate before bed that inspired such a dream.  I had one of those the other day, and since it’s my blog, I’m gonna tell you all about it and hope that you can psycoanalize me and tell me what it ment.

So, scene opens Playboy mansion and I am the new 4th “girl next door”. ( mind you I am not thin, blonde at the momment, or inclined tobe attracted to my great grandfather’s contemporaries- but it is dream world and I didn’t have the sense that I would have to do the Cialis Cha Cha with Heff – so I was safe).

It is one of those theme parties that Brigid loves sooooo much.  Clearly it must have been my idea because it is a preppy/republican convention theme.  Pink and green polo’s abound.  Golf is the favorite party game.  Button down shirts, chinos, and penny loafers everywhere.  It is too cute, but I get the sense that I am an undercover “girl next door” and that I may have betrayed my covert position by pushing the conservative theme.                              

                                  My Favorite female spys

 Of course the other “girls” Holly, Brigid, and Kendra have skanked up their interpritations of appropriate costumes and there is plenty of mammory tissue and crotch floss to feast the eyes upon.  Regardless, the party continues and at some point Kendra (  her super hero moniker would be “deer in the headlights girl” ) is insulted by something I said about/toHolly.  I am sure I have not done this inbtentionally, but when Brigid chimes in that it may have been a little harsh on my part, I am kissing ass to assure Holly I was misunderstood, cause you do NOT want to piss off the Queen Bee.  I have the sense that Heff is a bit perturbed by my actions and will that jepordize my secret mission inside the formitable Heff Skank clan? Oh no.  I will eventually get back at that simpleton Kendra, but more on that in a minute. ( this is where I sing to myself her theme music ” ’tis a gift to be simple ’tis a gift to be . . .”)

Flash forward to bed time, which to my relief if not in Heff’s room, but rather in a well decorated connecting room sort of dorm arrangement.  As I was shown the rooms, the mansion butler assured me the rooms for my son and daughter had been freshly painted with eco friendly non petrolium based wall paints.  Why they were there I haven’t a clue, what kind of secret operative takes her kids to work with her I don’t know.  Clearly I suck at my job.  After that very brief diversion, I return focus to the room where Holly will be sleeping, as she is getting into the fresh peach colored sheets.  OMG she is stung by a scorpion.  I rush to her aid and as Heff reaches her side, I am appling a tournacate just above the bite to, as I tell everyone milling around, STOP THE PROGRESSION OF VENOM INTO THE REST OF HER BLOOD STREAM.  Quickly I tell Brigid Realboobs to CALL 911 NOW.  Heff stands around useless but concerned about his one true love.  And here is were Kendra gets hers – I order simpleton to CATCH THE SCORPION IN A GLASS, because the doctors at the regional snake and venomous animal clinic will need to evaluate the size and species of scorpion to accuratly treat the befelled Holly.  Apparently I am sending her to a vet, I don’t know.  Kendra has to catch a scorpion that already bit Holly ( not the first time she has had Holly’s sloppy seconds I laugh to myself) and I secretly glee in her dangerous job. HE HE HE.   Heff is impressed at my calm and skill in the situation and more than alittle grateful that I have saved the soon to be next former Mrs. Hefner ( cause she is totally gonna Anna Nichole/ Howard Marshell it when Heff is in geriatric diapers). Unfortunatlly for whatever rogue governmnet agency or forgien power I work with, I have blown my cover, they all see me for the spy I am, and are disappointed and feel used ( which is a feeling none of those girls has ever had I am sure).  Heff reminds them that the important thing is that Holly has been saved and he lets me leave without being killed?!  And I swear I then saw Brigid and Kendra roll their eyes. 

So no more sourkraut before bed for sure, but what does all this mean? 

 

Posted by: glenda | March 21, 2008

Good Friday Indeed!

Yes Jesus had a worse day than I am having.  I will offer this all up for his suffering, but I will still bitch and moan.

I hate coloring eggs because nobody ever gets the colors, hues, stickers, dodads etc..that he or she wants.  Tears and lamintations will follow of course.

All 4 children home with just me is stupid.  I can’t be everything to everyone at every moment.  This is a bad omen for summer, for sure.  Wish I could afford those amusment park passes.  May have to whore myself for them, not above that.

When ever one of them does something that may in some remote way possible messup just a little the work/desire/plan of another and thus elicite bitching and complaining I loose it.  One bloody drop of green egg dye in that has dripped from the copper catcher into the blue dye is not the end of the frigin world people.  So when I grab your pissy little mouth and tell you to shut it, don’t run to your room, slam the door, and cry just loud enough for all the blessed world to hear.  You should have expected some response after I ignored it the first 12 times.  Please bitch and moan some more because I have only had 4 tylenol this morning to deal with the headache you have given me.

And no, I don’t want to play Clue or battleship today.  I really want to go through my drawers and get rid of all the clothing I no longer can or should wear.  I want to be left alone for the length of a pee.  I want you to be able to amuse yourself for a little while with all the toys and such that I have bought over the years – money so well spent. 

My husband will be on vacation for the coming week, do you think he will rise to the occasion and keep this pack of delightful children entertained for some portion of each day.  Ya I don’t either. 

Oh wait, my 7 yr old just offered to sort through a drawer with me.  Ya, I guess I love them.

Posted by: glenda | March 18, 2008

Modern Math

Is it just me or has math become a more involved, accesorised, game trick involved process for the grade school set? 

I am no math whiz by any stretch of the imagination, but it seems to me if I (number challenged enough to drop algebra II in high school) could figure most of it out without a million little fancy do-ups than why muddy the waters for todays kids.

My 4th grader is working on fractions.  She is equally math challenged and History blessed as I, but she has to get through it.  She has 15 “strips” of number things that are suposed to help with determining which fraction is larger, a red and blue “loop” move for conversions, and some idiodic saying/poem for multiplying and dividing them out.  Well, she can’t find a red pen to save her soul- so gasp we did it all in pencil – her comment “this makes it faster”.  Her “strips” are lord knows where – some in bag, some at school, some eaten by the toddler, whatever – so I show her how to cross multiply and check and how this is just the opposite of that  etc.. – her observation – “why not just say that in the first place” and “oh I get it”.

I’m just saying, why make it harder for Me her?

Posted by: glenda | March 15, 2008

Rash Rash Eveywhere I Look Rash

So I am hyper allergic to poison ivy, summac, poison lilac, several “harmless” weeds, and basically everything that grows out of the ground that isn’t normally picked and sold at the florist shop.  I also have a yard that is quickly returning to its natural state of forest and a husband equally allergic to yard work.  I have had about 5 major allergic reactions that have gone into the blood stream and incapactitated me for weeks each time.  I have been told , really warned and threatened by my doctor not to do yard work.  I generally don’t do anything beyond planting a few marigolds in the spring.  I have warned the neighbors not to burn anythjing like that because if inhaled I could possibly die before getting to the ER. I have a dozen huge vines of poison something growing up the side of my house.  The old lady up the street is afraid it will grow over my chimminy and sufficate us, so I decided I would wait until I was sure it was to cold for the vine to be harmful and then pull it down.  We had a blizzard recently with cold air and 12inches of snow covering the groiund.  Perfect time to deal wiht the vines right.  I dressed in jeans sweat shirt long gloves and a coat and pulled a few of them down.  I imediatly came in and washed and changed just for good measure.  All should be fine right.  NO!  I wake up 2 days later, and it has begun – the raised fluid filled boils are forming on my right arm.  The itch its biting at my willpower to not tear at them.  I had to call my doctors emergency line.  Then I had to first explain that I had done some yard work something I have been forbiden to do.  Then I have to tell him it has exploded all over my arm despite my precotions and the snow on the ground.  I am officially the only time he has had to treat poison summac during the winter!  I am a medical mystery to him and if I ever do yard work again he is dropping me as a patient.  My life sucks.

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