ZOMGSNOWPACOLYPSE!!!!!!

Okay.  I've determined in my 35 years on this planet that I *may* have more common sense than the average spider monkey, but sweet Jeebus, this takes the cake.

Our beloved school system cancelled school today, and cited this rationale (I'm quoting this from their FB post): "All schools are closed today, Friday, January 13, 2012. While main roads are passable, there are potentially dangerous conditions on side roads, subdivisions and on school campuses."  POTENTIALLY.  Not "This is the Superintendent, and I actually got my ass out of bed this morning to check shit out, and it sucks", but "there's the slightest chance that somewhere in the county, the roads suck, so have fun with your kids today, and hey, sorry that they're going to bitch all day because today was their pizza party for good behavior in the lunchroom, so have a great four-day weekend with your kids being complete dicks."

Now, it is possible that in some areas it might be a little slick, considering the four hours of rain we had before it started snowing, but it is certainly not a "OMG GET OUT OF MY WAY I NEED BOTTLED WATER AND CANDLES AND CANNED FOOD AND BLANKETS AND SPACE HEATERS!!!!!" kind of situation.  In fact, the grass isn't even covered with snow.  There's not enough to make a decent snowball, much less a snowman.  Oh, and did I mention the high for today is above freezing and the sun is out?

Yeah.

Welcome to Barnum and Bailey's! I mean, my house.

So as you all know, my little family consists of me and The Hubs, The Preteen, and Captain Awesome.  And a West Highland White Terrier, Roxie:

This is her "I can't believe you brought home another
fucking dog" face. She's probably also contemplating
how to kill me and/or Sampson in our sleep. 

And a Bull Mastiff, Sampson:

He looks very cute and calm in this picture.  It doesn't
last long.  And he's probably put on a good 10 lbs
and four inches since then.  He's going to be a hoss.
A big, dumb, hoss. Who army crawls because he's
that lazy.  And hates the outdoors.  "You want me to go
OUT? Whatev.  Carry me, human."

Let me describe to you exactly what is going on in my house at this exact moment.  The Preteen just walked out the door to get the bus, Captain Awesome is doing the coo-coo bird dance with Jack on Jack's Big Music Show (YES, the TV is on already.  Don't judge.)  Roxie is trying to show Sampson (who easily doubles her in size) that she rules his shit, and he ain't picking up on it too quickly.  So there's some snarling, and barking, and yipping, and whining, and oh, now Roxie is running down the hall and Sampson is galloping.  Seriously, he gallops.  And he tries to hump her constantly.  He's not fixed yet, but she is, so we won't have any mutant dumb galloping fuzzballs running around, but I really don't want to answer "Mom, WHY IS SAMPSON DOING THAT???"  Quinn just shoved three pieces of cereal bar in his mouth, turned on the light, the ceiling fan, and dumped the crumbs off his plate onto the floor, and is now licking the plate and going "ahhh", like it was a hugely refreshing drink.

I'm going to vacuum in about 3.5 minutes, and although I'm certainly not talented enough (yet) to blog and vac at the same time, this is what's going to happen. Quinn will chase me with the vacuum trying to sit on it, the dogs will chase me trying to attack the vacuum, because obviously it is this alien being trying to abduct me, or something.  The rest of the time will be me, yelling at all three to get the hell out of the way, and if "ALL Y'ALL DIDN'T LIVE HERE I WOULDN'T HAVE TO DO THIS 2174981 TIMES A DAY!"  Then, I'll nuke the coffee that has gotten cold, contemplate the meaning of life, and wish we had a bottle of Bailey's in the fridge.

Thank You, Captain Obvious.

I just received (like 15 minutes ago) an email from X employer, thanking me for applying, but the position has been filled.

I applied October 11, 2011.  Three months ago.  I kind of assumed I didn't get an interview.  Derp.

Facebook Conversations: The Storage Wars Edition

Someday, Barry, you'll hit the
motherlode. Besides, you rock
a bowling shirt much better
than Charlie Sheen, so that's
WINNING.

It all started with a seemingly harmless statement about how I want Barry from Storage Wars to come over for dinner and drinks. I absolutely love Barry.  He's an eccentric old perv who finds the most random shit, never makes money, and is just fantastic.  He also has these ridiculously awesome skeleton gloves he wears to go through the storage units.  Anyway, the conversation started about Barry, but it soon led to the other characters, namely...

Dickhead Dave.  YUUUP.  

Dave.  Whom I like to call "Dickhead Dave", because he's a raging asshole who will run up the price on a unit just because he can.  And his "YUUUUUUUUUUUP" that he says to bid?  Makes me want to poke my own eyes out with bamboo skewers, and poke him in the face with a cattle prod.  People who are asshats just because they can be should be put in the town square and have shit thrown at them.  And when I say shit, I don't mean stuff, I mean shit.  Great big balls of shit.  "LEARN SOME HUMILITY, ASSHOLE!" *splat*

Maybe you'll find a man-bra in a storage unit
one of these days, Darrell.  THAT's the wow
factor for ya.

The absolute best part of the conversation was about this guy. Darrell.  Darrell is an intense guy who - you know, I know nothing about Darrell except he NEVER wears sleeves, could really benefit from a good waxing, and as my friend Court pointed out, has a massive set of MOOBS. Please, tell me that I wasn't the only person who had never heard of man boobs referred to as moobs before!?  I thought I was going to pee - not only because Darrell totally has moobs - which are bigger than my boobs, just sayin' - but because moobs is my new favorite word.  Ever.  In fact, Storage Wars is now named "Moob Time" in our house.  It's never going to get old.


All joking aside, I fricking love this show.  If it weren't for A&E, I really don't think I'd feel any sort of normal.  Thank you, A&E, for airing Hoarders to make me clean my house, Storage Wars to remind me that I have enough shit of my own to go buying other people's crap, Billy the Exterminator to make me thankful I don't live in fucking Louisiana, and Beyond Scared Straight for parenting tips.

Can Deluded Kelly come out and play?

Oh you guys.  OH YOU GUYS.  I did something that I'm really questioning after sleeping on it.  Well, not sleeping ON it, duh.  Sleeping on my laptop wouldn't exactly be comfortable.  I registered for a 5K.  And not only that, another 5K, and TWO, yes TWO half marathons.

I think I need to pee in a cup.  ME?  Ms. "I can come up with any excuse not to exercise to include but not limited to alien invasion" is going to "DO A 5K"????

Yep, I'm gonna.  On February 18, there is a fundraiser here in town that has a serious 5K, a walk/run, and a family walk/run.  Since The Hubs is going to be off out of state doing things that the Army tells him to for the Army, The Preteen is going to walk it with me, and Captain Awesome will be strapped into a stroller, enjoying himself immenseily, as long as there is milk and chocolate Teddy Grahams for him to nosh on.  (Speaking of, that's practically the only thing I can get him to eat lately, but I suppose it could be worse.)  So really, I'm doing that one solo.

On March 31, there is a 5K down the road a piece that I'm going to attempt to run the majority of the way.  I'm starting Couch to 5K today, and the timing is right for me to be able to run the 3.1 miles by then.  And if I don't run the whole thing I'm not going to beat myself up.  I mean, really - I worked out 5 days last week, the first time since senior year track practice.  I'll just be fucking proud I finished!

Then.  AND THEN.  Oh shit.  On April 7?  The Hubs and I are attempting a half marathon down in Lynchburg - the Jack Daniels 13.1.  Seriously, I just want the t-shirt.  I hope to run/jog 3.1 of it, and walk the rest.  There's a four hour time limit.  I got this shit.

Even worse?  Better?  I don't fucking know - On April 28, I just got talked into the Nashville Rock and Run for St. Judes.  Evidently I'm "a pussy" if I don't.  Well fuck THAT.  Challenge ACCEPTED.

AND THEN... In October, I plan on doing a half with my gal pals Katrina and Courtney in Kansas City.  The three of us were in the Alpha Phi house at Washburn University together, and not only are we sisters in that sense, I would very much choose them to be my sisters, period.  They make me laugh until I pee, and then laugh at me for peeing.  They're awesome that way.

Any running tips, playlist suggestions, motivation would be greatly appreciated.  I'm going to try to do this without any major injury, as we know how graceful I am.  Thank GOD there's no flights of stairs involved.  Otherwise, I'd totally need my money back.

As if the new CROP of gray hairs wasn't enough...

Okay, so Happy New Year, resolution time, blah blah whatever - I took a challenge to be healthier.  I figured if it was something I had to fork over a little bit of cash for and I get a t-shirt (YESSSS!), I'm in.  So I have committed to 120 minutes of exercise per week, and some other little goodies (if you want to check it out, you can at http://dolifemovement.com.  It's a way to get healthier both physically and mentally, and who doesn't need that at any time of the year, right?  Right.

Anyway, I think I've mentioned before that exercise and I are not friends, hence the size of my heiney.  I've never gotten the OMGTHEENDORPHINSILOVETOWORKOUTZOMG crap that people "talk" about.  I say "talk" because I think they're full of shit, and that feeling is the dizzies you get right before you pass out.  But now that I'm a parent, and a role model (I still choke a little bit trying to say that), I need to get my proverbial shit together so that my kids don't become molded to the couch with playstation controllers stuck to their grubby little hands.

That being said, I've exercised four days in a row, and this is what I've learned:

1. It's not that bad if you can something you can tolerate.  I don't mind the stationary bike, because I can read at the same time.  I don't mind the treadmill, because I can catch up on the ol' DVR while doing that.  Kind of.  I'm not the best at multitasking in that way, but I need more than music to focus on while putting myself through this torture working on a better me.
2. I freaking REEK.  I really need to cut down on the amount of garlic I cook with.  Holy shit.
3. I. Am. Old.  As in, I'm pretty sure my muscles have atrophied in certain spots.  I attempted yoga last night, and I think I dislocated a hip.

So, if you're looking for me today, you'll find me in the recliner, with ice packs on my hips, abs, and shoulders - actually, I'll just fill the bathtub with ice and be in there.  With my laptop, shopping for a walk-in bathtub, a home-health aide, and ordering reading glasses, denture adhesive, and a bunch of polyester and elastic so I can start making my age-appropriate pants.

Happy Friday. :)

Good Tidings of Comfort = Projectile Vomiting

Happy New Year, y'all!  The last couple of weeks have been kind of a blur, nothing much interesting went on other than we were all attacked by the plague flu, which decided to strike on Christmas Eve.  Nothing like projectile vomiting to celebrate the birth of Christ.

This whole holiday season was full of last minute decisions.  Upon realizing that we would rather be waterboarded rather than to take the four of us plus now two dogs in a Honda CR-V for 12ish hours, we traded vehicles kind of spur of the moment.  I now drive a bus Ford Expedition.  2007.  Rad.  I now need new cool sunglasses and a cool haircut to go with my "I can take the entire neighborhood to soccer practice" mobile.  It is roomy, which is good, because Sampson (our mastiff) will soon take up the entire backseat.  By himself.

Not to be outdone, The Hubs decided he was ready for an upgrade from the ol' Neon (it's okay if you want to laugh.  I've laughed at that poor car for almost five years.) to a mid-life crisis Mustang.  It's pretty sharp and ridiculous all in one.

Anyway, we made it to Kansas just fine, spent our retirement in gas, but got to have Christmas with my family.  Captain Awesome was anything but awesome on Christmas Eve, whiny and crabby, and a complete pain in the rear end.  He didn't want to eat, didn't want to drink, didn't want presents, his diaper was dry, so he sat on my mom's lap, just kind of being an asshole the entire time.  So we do presents (which was awesome, I was completely surprised by everything I opened this year - well, except what I wrapped for myself...lol) and I take the little guy to take a bath (which usually perks him up) and get him in his jammies.  We're snuggling, watching some cartoons, and lo!  Projectile ravioli!  Seriously, it went a good three feet.  I was kind of impressed.  Well, four bouts of puking later, he finally slept for about four hours straight, and was just completely zombified the rest of the trip.  Poor kiddo.  The Hubs and my bro had it, too.  I didn't get hit with it until after we got back, and about two days after I started feeling better, Violet got nailed with it.

BUT!  JOY OF JOYS!  School started today - finally - and we're all back to being healthy.  Kind of.  Little guy has a fever, but his breath is so disgusting, I'm pretty sure he's getting ready for one of his last teeth to come in.  That, and he's chewing on one of the dog's rawhide sticks like it's a life source, so I'm just going to chalk it up to teeth.  I reeeeeeeeeeally needed him to take like a 7 hour nap this afternoon, but we don't always get what we want, says the Rolling Stones, so Mr. Cranky Pants and I have been hanging out the majority of the day, getting nothing done, because he refuses to leave my side/get off my lap.

I hope everyone had a great holiday!  2012 started with the pukes, so there's nowhere to go but up, right?  RIGHT?