Not to be cruel...

...but take the time some night to watch a documentary on PBS.

Study the talking heads in it closely.

And then let it dawn on you: this is how they chose to look, knowing they were going to be on TV.

It's a Pavlovian reflex

We were channel surfing Sunday afternoon and happened to find Rocky.

(Which is funny because the night before we were looking for the movie The Mask on Netflix, and joked about making sure that we didn't accidentally watch Mask, because the evening would take a very different turn.)

(I just realized that was a pretty big jump between those two thoughts, but I trust you're all with me. If not, ask me to re-enact the final scenes from Mask for you sometime. I'm guaranteed to burst into tears, or your money back!)

Anyhow, we started watching, and Rocky was punching slabs of meat, and Adrian was suddenly wearing eyeliner, and all of a sudden I heard those trumpets start, and Rocky started running through the streets of Philadelphia, and I'll be damned if I didn't get goosebumps! Even after all these years, it is a basic human instinct to get teary/inspired by seeing that big palooka run up those steps!

The most shocking part, though, is that shortly after that scene, Sam leaned over and whispered:

"I've never actually seen this movie."

How is that even possible?

How can a dude with a vowel at the end of his name NOT have seen Rocky? 

That's like my friend T, who is Austrian and he's never seen The Sound Of Music!

It just doesn't make any sense. 

OR perhaps I just assume that everyone was also raised on--and bases all of his or her life experiences in--a pop culture framework.

No. 

No, it's definitely them that are weird.

The kid's got a way with words...

The same child who so eloquently explained her headstand skillz the other day has struck again.

While vigorously bopping along to ABBA, she exclaimed:

"It feels like my brain is on vacation!"

Doesn't that just perfectly sum up a person's love for ABBA?


In other news, speaking of brains being on vacation, I'm a spaz and looked at the counter wrong. Unless 900 people read the blog yesterday, we still have a ways to go until we hit 20 000. So if you DID go out and get a tattoo, you need to amend it to commemorating the 19 100th viewing.  I'll pay for the laser surgery, if necessary.

Here's the thing about slow cookers...

...I love the fact that they do the heavy lifting for you. I love sitting at work and realizing that dinner is cooking and kind of feeling like I'm pulling a fast one on someone.

And then you come home, and the whole house smells delicious...

But here's the thing...then you get out of the shower the next day, and start to towel off, and wonder why the towel smells like beef.

In fact, now that I think of it, I had a very loving encounter with a big dog yesterday. Perhaps it wasn't just my sparkling personality that he was attracted to...


In other news, I think we'll pass the 20 000 mark today. I say we all go out and get a commemorative tattoo for the occasion. Thanks youse guyses!

How shall I use this extra time?

FIVE fifty-eight? Why do both clocks in here say FIVE fifty-eight, when it's supposed to be SIX fifty-eight? (full minute of staring looking back and forth at both clocks) Awww MAAAN....

Now I feel a lot of pressure to use this time wisely.

But I thnk we all know it will be frittered away surfing the net.

Or I could spend it sitting here pondering the meaning of life.

I should psych myself up for it the way S did the other day:

She sugggested something and I said, 'Good idea, S!'

S: (arms in the air like she'd just won a race) Yeah! THINKING! Wooo!

Canada's Worst Cook?

I made a dinner last night that turned out so weird, after two bites I stood up and said, "Okay, what kind of sandwiches would you like?"

Is this anatomically possible?

I never would've guessed, but it appears that all of my 'get up and go' is located in my butt.

This must be the case, because as soon as my butt hit the couch, my get up and go suffocated and died and now the stew that was going to be prepared and put in the slow cooker tonight is just not gonna happen.

Flurg.

S'true

First, some context:

I know I'm late to the party with these videos, but I just saw them last week, and they made me laugh. 

I laughed because it's true, women do say some silly things that men would never say. But surely I'm self-aware and mature enough to not exclaim pointless things like "I had SUCH a good sleep!"

But last night as I was crossing the room to get into bed I said, earnestly:

"I don't think I drank enough water today."

DH's laughing response from under the covers:

"...Shit girls say..."

Dang.

A childhood dream come true

The best thing about dancing to Boogie Wonderland in Just Dance 3 is that it makes me feel exactly like I'm performing a routine with the Solid Gold dancers on the Fiesta deck of The Love Boat.

EXACTLY.

Best description ever

I asked how gymnastics went today at school.

E said she was doing some head stands.  I was very impressed.

"Except, I don't stay up too long. Like, you know in cartoons, where someone runs off a cliff, and they hang there for a second, and then they drop? Yeah, it was just like that."

Is there a future in that?

I can only assume that these girls are going to grow up to be genius inventors, because every day they discover new and innovative ways to annoy each other.

She's probably right

The other night we were watching AFV, and after one of the videos, one of the girls said, "Mommy, people with big butts..."

And I perked up, ready to cut in with a 'don't judge people by how they look' talk, but she continued:

"...with big butts...who wear really big white t-shirts....and light blue capri pants....and really big glasses...they're not very attractive."

It was so specific, I really didn't know where to start, so I just let it go.  Plus, she's probably right.

Method to my madness

Turns out there was a reason I left baskets of clothes downstairs for months at a time (and it wasn't laziness or lack of sticktoitiveness).

When I do actually make the effort to wash, dry, fold, and PUT AWAY all of the clothes...they don't actually fit.

So now all of our dresser drawers and closets are bursting at the seams, like some sort of deranged rendition of Be Our Guest.

I'm not convinced that's better

We watched The Incredibles last night, and then ended up talking about our superhero personas (again). I don't think they remember our previous conversation, so I didn't remind them.

E is still focussed on animals (her power will be to talk to animals and to take on certain characteristics -- i.e. running like a cheetah) but her name is actually Kindness Girl. She will shoot people with bullets that turn them into nice people. (Perhaps she could shoot them with stinkin' kindness angels, I don't know...)

K is still focussed on art, I can't remember her name, but whatever she draws will then 'come to life' and help her fight crime.

S is Soccer Girl, with her trademark moves being running and kicking balls at people to knock them out.

And me?

My superpower will be cooking things that poison people.

My children really don't think highly of me, do they?

Gross Moments In Parenting...number 712

As I was brushing my teeth this morning, I had to stop to pull a very long hair off of my toothbrush and out of my mouth.

There really isn't enough Listerine in the world to help me with this one.

It's hard to explain

I was talking to a friend about marriage, trying to explain what's it's like.

"It's difficult to explain a relationship where you promise to be with the person forever. Where you love that person with such complete and heartfelt passion, and yet you equally as passionately and with all your heart want to smother him with a pillow when his snoring wakes you up at 3 am."

Next time, I'll just set $70 on fire

I had a lovely massage last night.

Drove home happy and relaxed.

Opened the door.

"MOMMY, MOMMY, K IS UPSTAIRS FREAKING OUT BECAUSE HER TOOTH IS GOING TO COME OUT AND POP WAS YELLING AND YOU'VE GOT TO GO UP THERE RIGHT NOW!!!"

I couldn't believe the effects of an hour long massage could be undone so quickly.

But the tooth came out (eventually) and we all lived to see another day.

Overheard this morning on the subject of loose teeth:

E: Can you believe you get money just for having a tooth fall out? That's a pretty sweet deal.

Indeed.

Sing-a-longs

The girls are fully into the 'making up songs about everything' phase. Which is both lovely and entertaining.

I can't decide which is my favourite so far:

Them singing "for she's a jolly good felloooowwwww....and so is Frankenstein."

Or them telling us that one of their classmates likes to sing about having 'junk in his trunk' so they took that and ran with it: "I'm here with my car and I got junk in my trunk."

Roll up your sleeves...

...when you're wiping your butt, so you don't get any on your shirt.

File this under 'advice that seems obvious to me, yet I constantly have to repeat to my children.'

Hey!

I forgot to tell you what I got for Christmas!

Every year, B takes the girls to Dollarama to pick out Christmas presents for DH and I.

This year, Pop got work gloves, socks, and a SHAMWOW!

I got knee socks (which is awesome, because I totally love knee socks)(no, really, I do, I realize that kind of sounded sarcastic, but I truly love knee socks), the aforementioned Aretha Franklin slippers (go watch The Blues Brothers so you'll know what I mean)....and K gave me:  ear plugs.

The best was the fact that when I opened them, she gave DH a knowing/accusing look. Actually, if I didn't know better, it may even have been her own version of the Zbornak slow burn.

I was so proud.

I think my warranty expired

Last night I pulled a muscle in my back when I sneezed.

Not after a string of 20 violent sneezes from a brutal cold or anything. Just one little sneeze. Again, looking forward to having to explain that one to the massage therapist.

Also, we went for a walk on NYE, and we were trying to find the girls' classmate's house. We walked along, and the girls all suddenly yelled, "There it is, there's a sign on the house that says ____'s!"

Me: Where?

Everyone (including DH): Right there! With the sign!

Me: Where?

Everyone (while pointing across the street to the house): Right there. With the sign that says _____'s.

Me: Where?

Everyone:  Right. There.

Couldn't see the sign AT ALL. Well, I saw a small rectangle, but that was it.

So yeah, let this be a lesson to you: if you're offered the extended 40+ year warranty on your body, you should definitely take it, because mine is crapping out on me.