Ask and Ye Shall Recieve

My Dad and I went to see Thriller at Kingsbury Hall-

"Steph, I want one of those creepy girls to come hiss at me, but I don't think you can ask for that sort of thing."

" No Dad, Probably not."

I did let him have the aisle seat though, and he was hissed at several times.



There is some mushiness here. You have been appropriately advised.

Two years and one day ago today, the spouseman and I got engaged.

I nearly ruined it, but spouseman was insistent.

Here is a terrible photo of both of us. I would like to entitle it, "All because two pratically under-age people fell in love." See. I told you, there would be mush.

I would like you to observe a few things. Most notably, my lesbian hair, (why, why,why,) my claw hand, and my spouse's very cute eyes, which one relative thought looked "too asian," and later asked me if there were a way "to make his eyes not do that."

I am glad I said yes. I enjoy my spouse.


holy cow.

My parents are still not home. It feels like they have been gone FOREVER.

In the meantime, I have been doing an excellent job of not engaging in crazy. I have done such a good job, that I have expanded my efforts of not engaging to a whole new level. It is called not engaging in crazy mentally. You know, like when you read something entirely inaccurate in the paper or on a blog, and you are desperate leave a comment/write the editor because the statement is SO ridiculous. That is mentally engaging in crazy, and I'm not doing it.

'Tis a shame though, because last week I picked up the opinion section of an old Tribune and found these two little gems:

Gem 1: Someone praising Sarah Pallin for not having "elite verbiage." Um. Verbiage? That sounds fancy. Definitely too fancy for our world leaders.

Gem 2: "What is the difference between Obama's economic plan and socialism: Answer? NOTHING."

bahahaha. I LOVE IT WHEN PEOPLE SPEAK IN RIDDLES!!!!!!! The more inaccurate the better.

Do you know what I don't love? Politics. I know. Shocker. But in all honesty, if the world just elected me World Dominator and we never had to live through an election year again, I would be perfectly content.

The only reason I talk about politics is because I think they are important. In the visiting-the-dentist kind of way. It is usually unpleasant, but I figure being relatively informed/engaged/having healthy teeth is worth it.

The worst thing about politics are all the histrionics. Look people. Obama is not a socialist. It is not a bad thing to have a good vocabulary, and intelligence is not automatically a synonym for elitism. On the other hand, I can tell you with a fair amount of confidence that McCain isn't an evil murder bent on killing your kids in Iraq. And despite my annoyance with one Tina Fey look-alike, I really don't think her environmental policy involves standing on the north pole with a hair dryer in an attempt to speed up global warming.

So let us all not engage with crazy. We only have a few more weeks until this darn election is over. And if you promise not to tell me Obama is a socialist, I promise not to tell you that McCain is already dead and secretly a zombie and probably not legally eligible to run for president anyways.


deal or no deal.

For me, a man wearing seven's jeans, bought at full price, is a deal-breaker.

because that is a lot of sushi/rent.

but it's okay if you have different standards. i guess.


update update

I previously posted about my current responsibilities

However, my sister recently broke-up with her boyfriend, so the odds of her getting pregnant (which I would say were pretty slim anyway, she's a good girl,) are suddenly very low.

This does not pacify my mother, who called to mention that she had left a large sum of cash hidden in the house in case of an emergency.

me: Mom, that is a lot of cash, what do you think is going to happen?

Mom: Oh, I dunno, an emergency?

me: Like what?

Mom: Like you have to bail someone out of jail?

um. okay.

Is there something my mom is trying to tell me? Like my sisters are suddenly sexually active? That they got involved with the mob after I got married, and they are fleeing to Germany to throw off a loan shark? What is it?


not quite the same as "always say a prayer"

I live in my grandmother's house. She is on a mission in the butt-crack of nowhere, and I am now the "Keeper of the Vinyl*."

She has those Vinyl-lettering on wooden boards things all over the house.

Always Say A Prayer

If It Gets Too Hard To Stand, Kneel

As For Me and My House We Will Serve the Lord

The Only Idol I Worship Is Martha Stewart.

No. Not the last one. I made that up.

I've never been into the little wooden sign thing. I'm not against them specifically, but I really just don't need lots of vinyl to remind me to pray. That is what I use caffeine for.

BUT. IF I did ever decide to get a vinyl sign with words it would say this:


I think this sign would actually help me with my life. You see, I always have the problem of assuming that most people are relatively normal and can be reasoned with. I am wrong. Which is the wording a Vinyl sign would have if Le Spouse were in charge of picking a sign for me, but he isn't. **

Here are the people I will not engage with.

1. Anyone, including relatives, who say the words community organizer with the same spite I usually reserve for the words anti-Semite and pedophile. Even if you don't like Obama, it is never a bad thing to try and be engaged in helping your community.

2. Anyone, including relatives, that try and engage me in a political discussion in front of my very conservative extended family. They do not want to discuss things reasonably. They want to make me feel bad.

3. Any customer at my cafe over the age of 70. Even if you did tell me you wanted mustard on your sandwich, I will not engage. I will make you a new sandwich.***

4. Comment McCommenster. Will always think I am a complete ADD crackhead, even though I keep telling her I'm just ADD, I gave up the crack years ago.

I. Will. Not. Engage.

* Is that how you spell vinyl? It looks wrong. Mean Commenter Person, DO NOT RESPOND TO THIS QUERY.

**NO, he wouldn't really. If Le Spouse were in charge of picking a sign for me it would be all, "I love you forever, muffin, but you are totally wrong on this subject, you know it, I know it, but you are just to stubborn to admit it. I still love you, please don't throw that can of diet coke at me, LOVES." Again, he is not in charge.

*** No, I won't. I will just take your sandwich apart, spray some mustard on it, rearrange it so that it looks different, add a new toothpick, and send it back out. That is called NOT ENGAGING.



"Just make sure no one jumps off the roof or gets pregnant."

According to my mother, these are my responsibilities next week when my parents take off to Germany with my brothers for two weeks. Leaving me (and Spouseman*) with 2 teenage girls.

*If Spouseman even has any traces of masculinity left after this little estrogen stint, I will a), be grateful, and b), be very surprised.


my brother is better than yours.

My little brother, Clark, of "smartest mom in the ward fame," is now 11 years old. Today he came home from school with a poster he made earlier in the year as a "getting to know you" activity.

Here is what the poster said:


Loves- baseball, volleyball, skiing.

Hates- John Mccain, Bees

Fears- Global Warming, Bush administration

Wishes- NO (underlined) more wars

Enjoys- Golfing, Math

Admirs (supposed to be "admires") Barack Obama, Al Gore.

This is how Clark introduced himself to his class on the first day of school. Whether you agree with the politics of an 11 year old or not, you have to admit it is impressive.

My brother is better than yours


they were right.

Every year, around the time school starts, Time, and Newsweek magazine run little mini-articles about how you shouldn't feed your A.D.D. kids stuff with MSG, caffeine, sugar, or artificial coloring in it because it exacerbates their "attention difficulties*" I've always found these articles kind of stupid, because frankly, you probably shouldn't be feeding your kids that kind of stuff excessively anyway.

On Saturday, when spouseman was at the Priesthood session, I decided to pick up some Chinese take-out because spouseman doesn't like Chinese and he wasn't there to feed me and the firemen that came to my house twice last week** said I shouldn't cook anymore, so it was takeout time.

I got my MSG laden goodness, cracked open a diet coke, ate a couple sour patch kids, and maybe also had some ice cream.

Fast forward twenty minutes later to when I was bouncing and shaking and incapable of forming a sentence that didn't sound like "hey Dan how was priesthood did you know grey's anayomy christina meredith look at this cute shirt i found in the back i think i need new shoes are you hungry wanna go on a walk look at that over there wow I'm feeling weird maybe i should take a walk pushing daisies is back"

Now I'm not the hyperactive type. I'm more the zone out type of A.D.D. I'm also not Sarah Palin being interviewed by Katie Couric so I really shouldn't have been having this sort of problem.

Conclusion? Time and Newsweek are right. Absofrickinlutely right. And my husband, bless him, is a very very lucky man.

almost forgot my asteriks

* "attention difficulties" is the p.c. way to say "not listening in class, ever."

** yeah. For real.


to my first love

An ode to a dear friend, my beloved Michael.


Ever since my parents gave you to me for a high school graduation gift, I knew we were going to have a long and beautiful relationship. An even better relationship than the one I had with the first laptop my parents gave me for graduation, which died a slow and painful death after being submerged under water for a long period of time.*

Anyway, Michael, you have always been there for me. When I needed to stalk someone via facebook or blogspot. When I needed to read Dooce even though my mom thought she was "inappropriate." Last Sunday, when I beat my father at Celebrity Gossip Trivia, I knew I owed my win to you, and all the hours we spent together browsing celebrity gossip sites.

When I lived in England, and was constantly freezing, I would sleep with you every night, curled around you lovingly as you began to overheat just enough to keep me warm.

It pains me to see you succumb to your addiction to viruses and bugs that make you slow. I know you are jealous of my relationship with your half-cousin, the internet, but that is no reason to make the internet not work. Can't we all just get along? After all we have been through?

I know I have done things to hurt you, darling, and I really am sorry about the diet coke spills on the keyboard, and for not replacing the missing keys that make capitalizing things, as well as typing the letter "d" much easier.

But I fear this is a parting of the ways, Michael. You refuse to function for more than 3 minutes. Sometimes, you cannot be convinced to wake-up at all. Spouseman has tempted me with promises of a new laptop, and even though I know he is just bribing me because he is jealous of our love and wants to get rid of you, I know that it is the right thing to do.


Sleep well, friend.

* so not my fault