Pink

Something about the color pink is so scrumptious to me. It goes beyond the normal, "What's your favorite color?" feeling. I mean, I love the color pink. I want to look at it, own it, lick it, squeeze it, touch it and eat it. I see a pink something, anything, and I can imaging myself rolling in it or rolling on it.
The little girl clothing section of any store is a problem. I don't necessarily want to buy the pink dresses, but I want to feel them. Just the pink ones.
Pink stationary is almost more exciting to me than Valentine's Day. Truthfully, when I see pink stationary, I want to lick it. I would love to have a room dedicated to all pink paper. Tissue, wrapping, writing and card stock. All kinds, every kind, as long as it is pink. In all shades and patterns. Just pink.
I feel happy when I think of myself in my pretend pink paper room, with pretty pink wallpaper and a comfy pink chair, with pink sheer drapes fluttering in the breeze, sipping pink lemon aid and writing with a pink ink pen! Serious JOY. The butterfly kind of happiness.
There is one thing above all, that drives my love of pink to beyond normalcy. Pink sugar cookies. Oh...My...gosh. Words cannot describe the love I have for the fluffy, pink, frosted bits of heaven. I want plates of them. Tier upon tier, layer upon layer of beautiful pink frosted cookies! I think the smell of pink is a frosted sugar cookie. And the best part is, I get to EAT them! I see the pink, I enjoy the wondrous pink color, I smell the sugary pink scent and then I get to lick it!
yes.. yes.... Yes....Yes.. YES!YES! That is seriously what I am thinking while I eat one.
Oh, how I love the pink sugar cookies. Thank you Valentine's Day.

Man Up!

My husband is a deep sleeper. He is a sleeper of the deepest kind. He is as close to being dead, but still breathing there is. I actually think he goes so far under, you could perform wisdom tooth extraction and he would happily doze.

It doesn't cause too many concerns but I worry some. I worry when I think what would happen in the case of a home invasion robbery. It would be up to me to defend the family, while Sleeping Beauty dreams. The other concern I have is when I leave for work at 0400 and he is the parent in charge.

This is why Kyler and I are exploring some, shall we say, unusual ideas.

We have decided either a shock collar or a Tazer are options on the table. We don't want to be cruel, but we feel in emergent cases, when we need to rouse Dustin quickly, these would be the most effective tools. Dustin doesn't so much hate the idea, as he is afraid of the idea. He thinks it might permanently disable him or cause some lasting neurological affect. He thinks it might hurt. I'm not buying that excuse.

The police use them. We use them on dogs. In most cases, it's not likely you would DIE from it. I say MAN UP! A little jolt; a little tingle around the neck. And really, he would be asleep for the entire first part of it.

Oh No You Didn't

My brother does not enjoy my latest posts. Although he is by no means a conservative, he apparently is quite sensitive to certain topics. I guess he didn't enjoy my choice of analogies and hair pondering.

I appreciate all comments, whether they be lovers or haters of my thoughts. I do not hold grudges against people who share their opinions. Although your birthday gift may seem shabby this year, it is certainly not because you hated on my blog. I still love you.

And so I have decided, I will completely avoid topics involving anal sex or prostitution. Anything to do with masturbation and porn are completely off limits, and I solomly promise, I will not discuss anything related to lesbians.

You have my word.

Afros' Belong On Your Head

Laser hair removal. Some need it, others abuse it.

I believe, overall, humans have a love hate relationship with hair. Men pay for hair plugs to be shoved into their scalp, mourn fallen hair on the pillow and resort to comb overs as camouflage, while women wax, shave and pluck hair from their bodies to be rid of the ugly strays.
This younger generation of men, are also unnaturally concerned with their nether regions and have taken up the task of shaving legs and "man-scaping" their privates. (For the record,I do not approve.)

The "Brazilian" , which balds your privates, is no longer for strippers only. Regular house wifes, college students and business men are all signing up for that "bald as a bowling ball" look. An obvious abuse of the laser invention!

Let's face it, some people should be court ordered to have laser hair removal; others are needlessly burning every last hair follicle they can.

My first case in point is a friend I'll call Amber. Amber has this idea that when she wears her hair in a pony tail, the back of her neck looks manly and hair-ish. Because of this, she is forking out the big bucks to have the back of her neck tidied up. Who actually studies that back of their own neck?? And why would you think wispy hairs at the nape of your neck are manly? A clear abuse of the laser!

Now on the other hand.....
My sister-in law(Neva), her Grandmother and Aunt decided to go swimming at the family recreation center. While Neva and Grandma quickly changed into their suits and got into the pool, dear Auntie lingered behind. Neva and Grandma were frolicking in the pool when Auntie emerged from the locker room, thus giving them a perfect eagle's eye view of Aunties bikini line. To Neva and Grandmas horrification, Auntie had apparently never heard of a razer and had no problem letting her hair whip in the wind. If you still do not have the visual.....it was like an afro of the crotch, with a ball cap shoved on top. Bushy, thick and only a small hat trying to smash that mess down. Clearly, dear Auntie was in desperate need of the laser treatment!

In cases where the public suffers, something must be done. I believe a charity should be started and money donated to help. We must open free laser clinics! "Operation Pubic hair" is needed around the world . (I had to) The slogan should be..."Afros' Belong On Your Head".

And in cases of abuse....a twelve step program ,where Amber could get the help she needs.

Words Cannot Describe...

Holy mac(pause)aroli.....
Need I say more?
I believe that sums it up.

What Have I done?

Have you ever done something and the next day thought, "What have I done"?

Actually, I know most everyone has done that exact thing... but when they were in their teens or twenties. At almost forty, you are supposed to know what you are doing. You should be in control of your actions and most definitely in control of your life. So why, I ask myself, am I sitting here thinking..."Oh no, what have I done"?

I was like the virgin on prom night. My date wanted to 'do it', and I couldn't stand the PRESSURE. The peer pressure. I caved in. I put out. I gave it away. And now I am left thinking..Yikes! What did I just do?

Ok, so here it is.
I applied for a terribly involved job, that has driven the last two people to the brink of insanity.

So back to the virgin analogy. Now I am wondering if I am pregnant. In other words, did I get the job??
Ok, so if I am pregnant, do I keep it? I don't really want it. Is it possible to give the job offer up for adoption? I mean, I did the deed, I was the one who put out, so am I really stuck with the consequences? Can I, at this point, exercise my right to choose and..... abort? (That was a bit graphic, sorry).

I am just saying, at my age, I should have know better. I just got caught up in the moment; the excitement of...A NEW JOB. And now here I sit, wondering, what are my parents going to say, and why was I such a tramp?

Wii Have a Problem

Wii have a problem. Need I say more?
The two male children I live with (Dustin and Kyler) have begun to show signs of addiction. Dustin is experiencing an unnatural need to engage in conversations involving the word
nun- chuck and Kyler is suffering from achy shoulders and stiff elbows (elbows apparently can get stiff).
Although I feel superior to actually hopping, jumping and looking like an idiot while playing an actual game, I have a slight compulsion to create mini Wii people. Mini Wii people whom have resemblances to family and friends. Therein lies my problem. I feel happily guilty analyzing each facial feature and exploiting the imperfections of people I love. I feel exhilaration creating a miniature, bald brother and a slightly pinched and angry looking sister. I have mastered the double chin effect for my own personal Wii and the wrinkled, no- eye look, for my dear old grandmother. (I show no mercy) .
I can artistically portray the bulbous nosed and meager lipped friend,whilst capturing the joyous retardness of a young neighbor child.
I know it sounds mean. That's why it's a problem.