If I were any more relaxed, I'd be comatose

'Sup?

I hope you all had a lovely weekend. Mine was good; I did absolutely nothing, and it was everything I hoped it could be.

Saturday was a rainy day, which suited us just fine. We made some eggs and watched cartoons, and I'm not exaggerating when I say that I didn't get out of my pajamas until after noon. When I did change my clothes, it was just to put on fresh pjs after my shower, so I still wasn't exactly setting the world on fire.

What can I say? I needed to decompress! Last week was not terrible for me, but it ended with a bit of a whimper. Friday was just one of those days - I managed to say the wrong thing, say the right thing the wrong way, and generally say entirely too much to just about everyone - and I felt a little kicked around by the time I got home. There's really only one thing to do when life gets to you and you're feeling like that kitten hanging from a tree limb, and that's hide out until you feel better. So I did.



On Sunday I was a little bit more energetic, but not much. I took the boys out to run errands. They both desperately needed haircuts. M was starting to go back into Peter Tork territory with his perfectly round shaggy bowl cut, and D had an honest-to-god rat tail forming at the base of his neck. As you know, we CANNOT HAVE THAT, so it was off to StuporCuts.

M was not thrilled, but he did eventually stop wriggling enough for the girl to cut his hair. When I showed this picture to Jim, he nailed the expression on M's face: "Smell-the-fart acting!" He said, and he was right.



He looks like a totally different kid now! I can't decide if he looks older or younger after the Bowl-ectomy.



And that, kids, is all I've got. For those of you who always comment on how fabulous it must be to be La Bev, what with my concert-going, my girls' nights, and my binge drinking cocktail sipping soirees... remember that most of my weekends are more like this one. In other words, I'm boring too, I just hide it well.

One last thing before I go. If you're not watching Nurse Jackie on Showtime, you should be. This show is wickedly funny and has these fantastic, terrifically-flawed but somehow still likable characters. It's just all kinds of awesome - funny, sad, shocking, eye-opening. For anyone who wonders if doctors and nurses actually do fall victim to addictions, here's a little story for you before I stick a fork in this crappy post and call it done.

My friend K is an RN. She moved to Phoenix, AZ several years ago and got a job at a hospital there. On her second day on the job, she walked into the staff bathroom and found another nurse on the floor of one of the stalls. She ran to help her and found that the nurse had been shooting up heroin in the bathroom at work, and had OD'ed. My friend had to attempt CPR on this young nurse who had just DIED while injecting drugs at work. She didn't live, and K got a very unexpected and unpleasant welcome to her new town.

Oddly enough, she still lives there. Go figure.

So yeah, it happens. Nurse Jackie just makes crazy-wrong subject matter like addiction, secrets, and infidelity kind of funny and touching; and that, folks, is good television.

Quick Story & a Game

Last night I was sitting on the couch around 11:30, sleepily flipping channels. Jim was sitting over at his computer when I noticed him checking me out in that way. I ignored him.

A minute later, he gives me one of his classic, oh-so-smooth & charming pick-up lines, "So, uh... ya wanna fool around?"

So romantic.

I looked at him like he'd sprouted a second head. The look on my face must have said it all - I was wearing elastic-waist shorts and a baggy, faded t-shirt, my hair was in a messy knot on top of my head, bangs held back by the glamorous and tres chic bobby pin, glasses on, and I was presently chewing on a handful of Tums (shut up). Sex KITTEN, that's me!

I just don't "get" men sometimes.

ANYWHOOOOOO. Let's play a GAME!

Ok, let's play a little game of "Bang, Marry, or Smack." This is a variation on the Howard Stern "Fuck, Marry, Kill," game, but just slightly nicer because, well, I'm slightly nicer than Howard. I think.

Here are your choices, and the rules are simple - of these three celebs, who would you bang, who would you marry, and who would you smack upside de heyd?

For the Men: Julia Louis-Dreyfus, Mariah Carey and Kate Winslet. Go!




For the ladies: Bill Murray, Russell Crow, and Christian Bale. Go!



Don't forget to tell me why, and feel free to do the same gender options if you're so inclined. The OOBH is a judgement-free zone. :)

Quick! What springs to mind --

when you see this picture?




Hmmmm?


Oh, and hey - I stumbled across some terrible boobs yesterday on WWTDD, and because I love you all so much, I took the time to link to the worst (NSFW) ones.



That was cruel of me. I'm sorry! I shall make it up to you:



Ahhhhhhh.

I'm not especially religious, but this picture of True Blood's Alexander Skarsgard makes me believe in a higher power. < drooooooool >

Ok, I need to get a grip, clearly, but it's HUMP DAY! So get humpin'! Hope you all have a lovely day, and may Skarsgod be with you.

Google me hard! (ETA)

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Estrogen-Fest

Guys, you've been warned. I'm gonna get straight-up girlified on yo' asses today.

On Saturday my friend Laurie and I did a surprise day of beauty for our friend Jill, who just turned 40. Her husband was having a party for her, so we wanted her to look extra sessy for her big night.

We started off with some delicious Italian food and a Spider-tini. Um, ew, what? Yeah - Jill's first glass came with a noticeable chip out of the rim, so back it went just in case the glass was, you know, IN her drink. The fresh drink came out, and just as she was about to take a sip she noticed a teeeeeeeny tiny dead spider nestled in the frothy goodness of her beverage. YUCK! Back it went, and Laurie and I nodded knowingly to each other, thinking, "Hey, free round!"

Except not. Hrumph!

After lunch, we swung by the store to pick up some vino to enjoy at the salon while Jill got gussied up.

BEFORE:

AFTER:


Then it was back to Laurie's extensive closet to get Jill pushed up, sucked in, and outfitted. I even helped myself to an outfit while I was there, and Laurie did my make-up.

Laurie confessed that she thinks I'm "conservative" with my cleavage showing (Hahahahahaha, right?!) and with my make-up. Huh. So I put myself in her hands, and this was the result. Oh, and it was - no lie - 100 humid degrees in her bathroom so I was literally a HOT MESS by the time we got in the car.

We went to Jill's party, and it was fun. Jill was having a good time for sure, and she rocked her new look! We had some tequila drinks and I managed to keep from getting too silly (read: keep my Laurie's clothes on), and we had a good time reconnecting with some friends we hadn't seen in a while. Sadly, no one got naked, and to my knowledge, nothing got broken. BOO.

I will be eating nothing but lettuce and water for the next few days to make up for all the wine, pasta, jalapeno Doritos, and miscellaneous crap that I consumed all weekend. Lettuce, water, and maybe sugar-free gum for dessert. Yeah, that's the ticket.

Week in Review

Hello, lovelies! It has been quite a week, huh? What have we learned? Let's review.

Manscaping is alive, well, and taking things to a whole 'notha level. Oh, and there are a LOT more pubic hair styles than I ever imagined possible (read the comments).

Kate posted a new blog entry recently, and somehow many of us missed it and she only got a measly five comments. ::snicker::

Sorry I missed one, Kate! (air kisses... you know I love to stalk you!) Actually, that goes for all of you -- I've missed some of your latest offerings, but it doesn't mean I don't love you like a rock. Give me time. I'll catch up eventually.

Any picture is better when you add a squirrel to it.

Steven Tyler got old and now looks like an elderly Nicole Richie.

Someone we know hit 100 Followers this week (actually, he hit 102, but what am I, some kind of smarty-pants scientist type for whom numbers are of any importance? Uh, nooooooo.). He did a kick-ass post in which he actually had something nice to say about each one of us. Wow. And I thought MY job was boring.

Oh, and people who know me in person, please back me up: I do NOT have Boston accent, right? Sheesh. I'm from VERMONT, people. Not Massachussetts (NNTAWWT). Don't make me vlog!

Mala is good at diving. Who knew?

She also makes amazingly realistic dolphin sounds. Coincidence? I think not!

You're never too old to enjoy being dragged behind a motor boat on a tube.

Today I am sore in places where I didn't even know I had muscles.

Belly Flops even look painful.




Spending good times with good friends sure beats working! Oh, and (500) Days of Summer was cute, but doesn't live up to the hype, IMO.

In related news, my girl crush on Zooey Deschanel now goes to "11."




It's back to the grind now, with school starting for the kids next week, the hubster going back to work (he's a teacher, FYI), and me having to actually work my full four days/week (don't hate!) from now until the holidays. No more well-rested Bev. Boooooo.

Oh well, sleep is totally overrated, am I right?

This weekend should be interesting. Jillinator's big 40th birthday bash is tomorrow night, and I have a feeling things might get a little unruly. We all know that she's a (not so) secret Superfreak, so I'm looking forward to seeing what goes down at her adults-only party. At the least, shit's getting broken. At the most, there will be nudity (not mine). Rest assured, I am bringing my camera, and... say it with me:

THAT'S GOING ON THE BLOG!

kiss kiss!

Eat these. You'll like them.

AKA: A whole lotta random goin' on.

I'm off frolicking in the sun and surf today, but what kind of blogger would I be if I didn't leave you with a few piping-hot noggin nuggets to enjoy in my absence? Not a bevtastic blogger, that's for sure.

Nuggets are best served with a stiff drink. Bottoms up!
(Pervs... don't think I don't know what you're thinking, 'cuz I do.)

Nugget #1

The unthinkable has happened. My mother requested my friendship on Facebook yesterday. Oh, the horror! The shame! The guilt! I couldn't very well ignore her, could I? I couldn't pull the whole, "Oh, I never got a request. How strange!" line with the woman who gave me life, could I? Could I?!

No. No, I could not.



So I let her into my inner-sanctum. Now she will know that her 2nd born is a zany little perv who enjoys witty banter about extremely unlady-like subject matter. Sex, drugs, and rock n' rolllllll, mama! Aren't you glad you sent me to the good schools to get edumacated?

I have taken measures to ensure the safety of my blog, however. The day she discovers the OOBH is the day I pull up my stakes and relocate this circus tent, with all of you lovable freaks inside. I'll do it! Don't test me.

Nugget #2

The other day I was reading Dlisted and my kid came up and looked over my shoulder at the screen. He saw this picture, and this is the conversation that transpired as a result:


D: "What is that?"
Me: (laughing) "You mean who is that?"
D: (looking doubtful) "Um, ok. Who is that?"
Me: "That's Rosie O'Donnell. She's on TV."
D: "Ugh. Why?"




Good question, son, and keenly-observed. Yes, you may have a Popsicle now.

Bev's Noggin Nuggets, served fresh (semi-)daily. Bon appetit!
Sorry, no refunds.

Things I'm terrible at (but do anyway)

There are a bunch of things that I'm admittedly horrible at doing, yet I enjoy them so I do them anyway. I don't have any desire or wherewith all to improve in these areas; I am completely at peace with my mediocrity. As Mark says in Garden State, "I'm okay with being unimpressive. I sleep better."

So, here's the list, fresh out of my noggin. See? It's still steaming.

Singing

I love to sing. I love music, I love lyrics, and I love Karaoke. Yeah, I have no problems getting up in front of a crowd and wowing them with my incompetence, all in the name of a good time. My voice is... not strong, in fact I tend to lose it easily. I also "can't carry a tune in a bucket," as my dad used to say (with love!). Another ingredient in this recipe of suck is the fact that when I have had a few drinks, I suddenly think I'm P!nk or Joan Jett. I commit! I shake a tail feather, and I belt it out, all the while thinking that I sound pretty damn good, and hell, I know the words so why not sing?

Dancing

I love to dance. I can't hear certain songs without grooving a bit, and I love to car-dance (not in a Tawny Kitaen kind of way) and chair dance (not in a stripper kind of way, ok... sometimes). I mean, just because I'm forced to sit down does not mean that I can't bust a move.

Yet again, when alcohol is involved, shit is getting broken. I'm all about the hips/shoulder shimmy, and yeah... I make crazy Bev-faces too. Shocking, I know. I rock the "white man's overbite" from time to time, and at some point in the evening you know I'll be doing the robot. It's my go-to move.

In short, I probably look like a total ass, but I have fun. So suck it. :)

Photoshop

Every once in a while, I like to mess around with Photoshop for kicks. I know how to do a few things, but am kind of a jack of all tools (HEH!), master of none. Case in point - I made this one years ago when Mala and I used to play around on MySpace all the time:


Why? Because I felt like it, that's why, and it made me laugh. In fact, I still laugh whenever I see it! Should I quit My Crap Job and pursue an exciting career in graphic design? Hell no! But I love me some Photoshop.

So there it is: proof that you don't have to excel at something to find it amusing. Proof that sometimes making an ass of yourself can be fun for all involved. Further proof that I have no shame.

My weekend, by any other name...

would still have been boring. I've had a case of the Lazies lately. Well, a worse case than usual, since I'm never exactly a ball o' fire when it comes to, ya know, doing stuff.



On Friday night we had my visiting ILs over to the house for dinner. I found an even BETTER deal on lobsters than we got last week - $3.99/lb! - so we had surf & turf and all the fixin's. I made waaaaay too much. After dinner, we even got the parental units to play Rock Band with us, which was pretty hilarious. They didn't know any of the songs but they gave it the ol' college try, and before too long MIL was warbling along to "Carry on my Wayward Son" and FIL was banging his gong, er, beating his skins... um, playing the drums.

Apparently my BILs and their now-wives had been telling tales out of school about what a rock star I am, but I wasn't feeling particularly crazy (read: drunk) so I kept things tasteful for them. They don't get to see "That Bev." I got my Bowie on, and I wowed them with a stirring rendition of Weezer's "Buddy Holly," but I decided not to go all Boston, Who, or even Bon Jovi on them. Breakin' them in easy, don'tcha know.

On Saturday, we sat around the house for quite a while. Jim finally motivated and took the little dude over to the lake, and eventually Danny and I followed them over for a swim. It was hotter than a titch's wit in a brass bra (what?), but the water was delightful and we just can't keep the boys out of it. Jim and I even took a canoe ride for the first time in years. Actually, the last time I was in our canoe was right before I got pregnant with Danny; it was a long weekend camping/canoeing trip that we took with some friends down a river up in Maine. We used to go every year, but then we got old and had kids. Pbbbbbbtthhht.

It was lovely in the canoe. Jim did most of the work, and I just lay back, dangled a hand in the water, and admired the view. Very relaxing, depsite my husband's repeated requests for me to flash him some boobage. Men. (FWIW, you know I did)

Saturday night we just stayed home and had pizza, then watched The Wrestler after the kids went to bed. Well, I watched it; J was exhausted from paddling my butt around the lake all day, so he slept through it. I liked it a lot, even though it was quite sad. I especially loved the scenes of them on the boardwalk and inside the abandoned Convention Center in Asbury Park, NJ, which is where my favorite Grandmother lived for years. My sister and I would go visit her in the summer, and those are some of my fondest childhood memories. The gorgeous ocean, the mini golf, the merry-go-round (my dad was tall enough to catch the brass ring for a free ride), the giant lollipop I'd get even though it cut my tongue up... GOOD EFFING TIMES!

On Sunday we were even lazier, and just stayed home. It was over 100 degrees out, which in my book makes it too hot to move. So we didn't.

Later on, we took the kids out (in their pjs) for ice cream, picked up some dinner, and came home in time to watch a damn fine episode of True Blood. HELLO - Eric and Sookie hookin-up! Yeah, baby. It's about time... you know I'm Team Eric, all the way.

Funny story - in the car on the ride home, the kids were a little sugared-up and a lot noisy. D started doing something that ordinarilly would make me absolutely insane with annoyance, but I was all mellow and full of 'scream so I went with it. D started yelling, pretty loudly, just like this:

"Aaaaaaagh!"
"Aaaaaaagh!"
"Aaaaaaagh!"


Then M joined in.
"Aaaaaaagh!"
"Aaaaaaagh!"
"Aaaaaaagh!"

Jim and I were looking at each other, and it was just so crazy and loud that I realized I couldn't beat them (but I wanted to), so I joined them.

"Aaaaaaagh!"
"Aaaaaaagh!"

Then Jim joined in.

"Aaaaaaagh!"
"Aaaaaaagh!"
"Aaaaaaagh!"
"Aaaaaaagh!"

Until we were all laughing. If I didn't laugh, I'd kill them, because I'm an amazing mother.

The End.

If you don't TELL them that you're nuts...

... HOW WILL THEY KNOW?!

It's Friday! Yay!

I only worked two days this week, so that rocked. My crazy cat lady coworker (AIR HORN!) worked her three days while I was out, so I didn't even have to see her ALL week. It was everything I hoped it could be, and more. As usual, she did a bunch of ridiculous tasks around the office to somehow try to prove her worth, then detailed them all on a note for me in her loopy, crazy-as-fuck, i's dotted with circles, dingy old lady script. If I had a scanner here at work, I'd totally scan it for you, but instead I'll just tell you what she said. Just make sure that you add the silent "because you didn't do it" to everything she says, since she is a passive-aggressive asshat. My comments are in italics.

Enjoy.

*~*~*~*~*~*~**~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~
Bev,

1. I had to change your password encryption to xxxxxxxx.
Ok, that's reasonable, but how 'bout you just stay the fuck away from my desk and computer instead, biznatch?

2. Straightened up closet some. The deposit receipt books are in the box on the shelf in order of year. They probably can go to storage next time someone goes over.
Thanks, idiot. I guess you haven't noticed that we stopped using those over a year go because it's all online now. You keep at it, though! I know how you love to alphabetize, which is odd because you suck at filing.

3. The phones that were in my window are in a gray plastic bag in the closet.
Nicely done. It takes real skill to bag up some old phones that have been sitting next to your desk for 6 months. You go, girl. Oh, and thanks for making sure I knew what color the bag was. That's important.

4. I dusted the window sills etc and found 4 spiders in corner behind lamp - yikes!
Wait, how many spiders? Four? But I could have sworn I put 7 over there. Huh.

5. AMP stationery is in cabinet by my desk - 2nd shelf - just the loose stuff. It does NOT have "Advanced Advisor Group" printed on it.
That's where it has always been, but thanks for the reminder. Oh, and I'm sure our clients are really gonna wonder why that new line of text isn't on their envelopes under the name of the company. How ever will they know who it's from?!

6. Only 1 full box of envelopes left - see attached. (paper clipped to the note is an envelope, in case I forgot what they look like or something)
She seems to be forgetting that she's in charge of ordering stationery. It's actually one of the few things she can be trusted to do correctly. She can't even answer the phones without disconnecting people.

Hope you had a great few days off. See you Monday.
Signed,
Crazy Cat Lady Who Needs a Reason To Live So I Work Here Because My Boss Is Too Nice To Fire Me, Even Though He Clearly Wants To

*~*~*~*~*~*~**~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~

Hmmm, maybe you had to be there. Whatever, I laughed, and I thought you might, too.

Have a nice weekend, everyone!

Happy Blogaversary to me!

Because I suck at life, I missed my own one-year blogaversary. I kept thinking that I first sat down and started spilling on 8/15/08, but apparently, it was 8/12/08. OOOOPS.

Without further ado, let's commence to celebrating, shall we?

What's a party without cake?



and dancing?



and booze?



and strippers?



Yeah, baby! That's how we do it up in my 'hood! WOOOOOT!

All kidding aside, it has been quite a year. I've lost a lot in the past 12 months, but gained as well. I've made a lot of friends here: my bloggy buddies. Forty of you like me enough to put your cute little pictures up on my "Followers" list, and I appreciate every single one of you for that. Your comments make me laugh, make me teary, and always, always make my day. I can't imagine not sharing my life with you all, and not sharing yours through your blogs, comments, and emails.

I never could have imagined how important you'd all become to me when I sat down on a hot summer evening a year ago and started to pull things out of my ass head to present to the nameless, faceless blogosphere. Thank you all for reading. The Bev loves you all. :)

Now come over here and give me some sugar!

Golden Boy?

My Seinfeld peeps know what I'm talkin' about:



We all have that one article of clothing that we reach for first, the one that's comfortable and fits just right and just feels perfect.

Last night I pulled out a favorite t-shirt of mine that I'd pretty much retired a few years ago. It's an XL purple tie-dye that I bought at the natural food store when I was a mere pup of 15 years old. I remember that day so well; it was Springtime, and one of the first warm days of the year. My friend D and I walked down the steep hill from school into town and did a little window shopping, and that shirt just caught my eye. I bought it in the only size they had, which meant that it was far too large to wear out and about. It became my favorite sleep shirt.

About two years later, we had a house fire, and my entire house and all of our belongings burned to the ground. As we sifted through the wreckage, I came across the mangled remains of our washer and dryer, and on a whim I opened the washer to reveal a wet load of laundry still twisted up inside the machine. From that random assortment of clothing, I plucked my Golden Boy, my Purple Power tie-dye.

< insert angelic choir here >

It was the only garment of mine that survived the fire, and I quickly put it back into rotation as my go-to comfy shirt and sleep tee. When I went to college, Purple Power went with me. When I lived in the (co-ed) dorms, I specifically remember getting whistled at while wearing this t-shirt on several occasions. It hits me somewhere mid-thigh, and is baggy enough to show some clavicle up top, but otherwise was suitably modest for walking from my room to the ladies' bathroom, I thought.

Somewhere in my twenties, Purple Power started to get a little ragged. Small holes appeared here and there, and a large rip started under the right armpit. I did not let those blemishes dissuade me from wearing it, and as Jerry says in the clip above, you cannot show preferential treatment to the favorite shirt. Wash, rinse, repeat!

I wore it during hospital stays. I wore it on the night before my wedding. I wore it on those tough nights when the baby wakes you several times a night, needing something and everything and nothing.

One day, a few years ago, the hole under the arm became so gaping that I knew it was time to say goodbye. I folded it neatly and put it on the bottom of my pajama drawer. I didn't dwell on it. I moved on. Purple Power would be there when I needed it, and that was enough.

I'm not sure why, but when I needed it again was last night. As I scrounged through my drawer for something to wear to bed, my fingers brushed against the familiar and well-worn cotton, and I pulled it out and put it on without hesitation. It slipped over my shoulders and grazed my hips just so, and suddenly that gaping hole didn't seem so bad after all. Maybe I'll even stitch it up, despite my lack of enthusiasm for such tedious and domestic tasks as sewing.

Here I am at 6:30 this morning, wearing my Purple Power tee. Yeah, I wear glasses in the AM and no, I hadn't brushed my teeth or hair yet. Deal.



I don't know whether it's because of the shirt or not, but I woke up this morning with words in my head that weren't there before. I wrote them down, and I like them. I think I'll keep doing it. I think this shirt is magical.

Ah, youth

Since I'm now smack-dab in the middle of my thirties, I am thinking more and more about aging, both physically and emotionally. If you've been reading my blog for a while, you know that my motto is that growing older is mandatory, but you can be immature forever. That is to say, I believe that you're only as old as you feel.

When my grandmother was ninety, she told me that in her head, she was the same person she'd always been. It was hard for her to believe when she looked in the mirror that the old woman staring back at her was actually her. The body ages, but who you are at your core never changes, from the time that you're a little child in diapers to the time that you're an old person... also in diapers. Of course, soon after that conversation, Grandma's dementia worsened and she started calling me Doris and getting dressed and ready for church in the middle of the night, every night. But whatever.

I've never had a problem with aging, but maybe that's because I wasn't showing any actual signs of aging, physically, until recently. I consider myself lucky to be alive at all considering my reckless and rather misspent youth and a pretty serious health problem that I overcame early on in my adulthood. I'll tell you about that someday, but not today; it's too nice out and I'm just not in the mood to go there. Just know that I've always felt glad to be alive and have welcomed each year with open arms.

Then the gray hairs started popping up along the part in my hair, and I said, "So, what? That's why they invented hair dye!" I started dying my hair about 3 years ago to cover those 3-4 strands that irked me so, but I'd go every 8-10 weeks between hair appointments, because they just weren't that noticeable. Now I go every 6 weeks and the little devils start showing up after a month, but I ignore them. I thought about plucking them but realized I'd quickly go bald or have a 2" wide part if I kept that up, so I decided against it.

Then came the "smile lines." I know we are our own worst critics, and my friends kindly tell me that my fine lines are hardly noticeable unless you get up very close to me, but... they're totally there. Not just the lines around my eyes, but two very distinct ones on my forehead, a result of having the same general hairstyle for my entire life. I even experimented with full bangs to hide those little lines, but it wasn't for me. I'm a creature of habit, and I just can't do it.

Now, I have been moisturizing faithfully for my entire adult life, I wear sunscreen, and I purposely wear giant sunglasses with UV protection. However, I love sunshine, I love laughing, and my mixed pedigree of all-fair-skinned nationalities pretty much dictates that I will not go through life unblemished. But I try. I cover up, I seek shade. My next step is a burka, and I WILL ROCK IT.

Yes, I'm getting older. My body bears the scars of a lifetime of love, laughter, and hardship. I'm grateful to it for all that it has done for me, including bearing two healthy and robust children who have contributed to the graying of my hair more than anything else.

The good news is that I still feel young, and I intend to keep it that way. I still love a good time, I still love getting out and seeing new things, I still love hitting water slides with the kids and being able to race them to the car. Oh, and lately I keep getting carded when I buy alcohol, which totally rocks! Last night I got carded at a restaurant, and all last week I got carded every time I bought a bottle of wine or beer for my husband. Clearly, these teenaged waitresses and store clerks weren't leaning in close to peer at my fine lines, and that makes me very, very happy.



"We don't need no badges! I don't have to show you any stinkin' badges!"
(that quote is for Cary, who loves that movie.)

Gotta run... the sun is shining and I am going to take my boys out and do something fun. Wrinkles be damned!

This weekend I...

Fill in the blank! I want to hear about your weekends. Speak.

As for mine, I'll keep it brief because I am tired of talking about my fabulous life. Ha ha. No really.

I already told you about the Lobstah-Fest on Friday night, so moving on to Saturday.... We went to my good friend Laurie's house for her daughter's 8th birthday party, and we all really enjoyed ourselves! They had one of those enormous inflatable water things set up, so I basically didn't see my son for most of the day. It was awesome. What?



The gorgeous Laurie!










The Birthday GIRL!











I think I need therapy to deal with the fact that I see boobs everywhere. Seriously, give me an ink blot, and I will see boobies, I guarantee it.

Please don't tell me you don't see a boob here?




On Sunday we went over to the lake near our house, where my in-laws have rented a cabin for the next two weeks. Yes, I said two weeks. *sigh* I'm sure I'll be blogging about how irritated I am by them in 3...2...1.... Whatever, I'm tired now. I give myself till about Thursday of this week before I get annoyed. Oops, too late!




Danny caught his first fish! We released that little guy, and he went on to catch 2 more much larger ones, but I didn't have my camera handy for those.




Then my husband clenched every muscle he has to show me why he's still a catch, too. Holla! This picture is totally dedicated to Kate, who has made it clear that she wants to see Jim naked. ;-)






Couple of random quotes that struck me funny:
"Dude, your iPod is horny today."
Heh... when isn't it?

"His little pecker is broken."
It was a bird, and my kid meant "beak." HEEE!

SO there it is. My weekend, in a nutshell. ("Help! I'm in a nutshell!")

Now, tell me about yours. I mean it!