Why should I give you the satisfaction of never hearing from me again? March 19, 2009

Is this any less annoying than the Gangsta Name Generator?

Planning a comeback.  Check back soon!

Look what I’ve found! A moment to write you. September 28, 2008

I’m hoping this week won’t be so ridiculously busy & I can find a brief moment to catch y’all up on what it is I’ve been up to [starting with long-since-past vacation ... gawd!]  Wish me luck.

Utilizing the invaluable Gangsta Name Generator  tool [good for keeping it sorta real],

I found that who we have here are, “Butt-Jugglin Train Jumpa [left] & Sweet Indian”. 

So, word to your mother.

Outness,

Fly-ass Ass Grabba

[Question of the day:  What's your gangsta name?]

I’m sorry for not communicating, but sometimes it’s very hard to write on a moving planet September 25, 2008

Today, this rock.  Tomorrow, world domination.

Please, don’t feed the bears September 4, 2008

I’m not sure when she turned on us.  But Mom was a

real bear the first morning we went to the mountains.

I can’t do it now [it's 12:45 a.m. y'all!], but I haven’t forgotten & totally still plan to post, “Vacation:  A Photo Blog”  [Isn't that what I planned to call it?]  So tomorrow.  Yeah.  Tomorrow.

Until then, send up nice thoughts for me, because you guys … work is kickin’ my butt! 

But not as much as Gatlinburg kicked Harold’s.

So, I’m left to ponder whether this is normal, or whether my 

husband has taken the first difficult steps towards full-blown dementia.

And also, his shorts are not as short as they appear  :::shiver:::

Long weekend! August 29, 2008

Remember to let yourself relax this Labor Day before letting yourself go this winter!

Have fun & be safe!

I’m all over the place in this one August 25, 2008

I’m sorry it’s been a while since my last post, but we’ve been busy beavers over here.  And that is because following vacation [which, incidentally, I plan to post about photo-essay style at a later time, and that time being when I find the time to upload my pictures to the computer]. 

And speaking of photos, I would be remiss not to share this awesome deal from Walgreens with you:

Here’s hoping that comes across as a clickable link.  

Do you ever get startled by a glare in your glasses?  Ha!  Like, out of the corner of your eye you’ll see a flash of light that looks like something just shot past you & you’re all, “Whoa!  What the heck was that?”  No?  Maybe its just these stupid BIFOCALS.  Whatever.

I could look this up, because I’m researchy like that, but in an attempt to save time, do y’all have any suggestions for rawhides that don’t become soggy throat plugs when chewed?   Because my dogs lives are at stake here.

 

I think she’s talking about me. 

Is anyone else sad that summer’s almost over?  This is my summer of decent TAN [well, by pale white-girl standards anyway].  Why must you end?  And back to school.  Ugh!  Back to school means HOMEWORK and homework equals stress.  Because homework results in grades.  Grades that are important and for a 15 year old … also future-determining!  Ack.  Plus it also means that instead of leisurely morning routines [because said beautiful children are still sleeping during leisurely morning routine], that mornings will now entail assuring that 15 year old is up, dressed halfway presentable & out the door by 6:20 [I repeat, "Ack"] and that 8 year old is up, dressed, fed, has teeth brushed, that backpack contains all necessary papers, permission slips and chapstick and is on the bus BEFORE finalizing self to get out the door in a timely manner to arrive at job-with-added-responsibilities at an acceptable hour. 

[Shoot!  Look at the time.  It's 1:25 a.m. I have to get to bed.]

I’ll be back soon with more on these topics AND Vacation:  A Photo Essay.  Until then, back to school, we spit on you.  And then, we sing John Mayer.

Thing I love … at least today July 24, 2008

Vivanno, yum!

I pulled up to the window & asked, “Is the Vivanno …”  “Delicious”, she interrupted.  “Yes, yes it is.”  “Oh, well thats good, actually, I was going to ask if it had a boatload of calories?”  “OH, NO!”, she answered emphatically.  “Just the opposite, it has 16 grams of protein, 5 grams of fiber and less than 270 calories!”  That’s very informative, woman who clearly enjoys ALOT of the products that she sells, [namely the expresso!]  “Ok, yes please.”

 

I ordered the Banana Chocolate Vivanno.

Here’s the scoop:

• One whole – real! – banana [didn't think to ask if it was organic or not]
• Whey protein [16 grams] and fiber powder [5 grams]
• Choice of milk [default is 2%]
• Real bittersweet cocoa
• Ice
• Portion controlled [default is Grande, and always has less than 270 calories]

My verdict.  Yum!  It’s thinner than a shake or a smoothie but it tastes GOOD.  Not gritty at all [which I was worried about since they add powder] and it has a mild flavor of both the chocolate AND the banana … not overwhelmingly chocolate-y, which I was also kind of afraid of since it said, ‘bittersweet’. 

Some might argue that it tastes sortof like a Slimfast shake.  But I’ve always like those too. 

Try one & let me know what y’all think.

The funniest thing about some people July 22, 2008

… is that they have no sense of humor.

Did you think I forgot? July 8, 2008

[9:33 a.m.]

About you?  Well, I haven’t.  I’ve just been remarkably busy & unable to find the time to trot out any daily musings, helpful bits or humorous nuggets.  I’m sorry.  I feel so neglectful.  Please don’t forget about me.  You’re still my sunshine.

I can quickly tell you that I have a TON going on & I know I have stories to tell [do I ever NOT?]  So, oh, ok, I know what I can do.  I’ll pop on today & update when I have a spare minute or a story hits me that I need to tell y’all about!  This means you’ll have to scoll down each time you visit today to see if I’ve added anything new.  Oh, & if you think of something I need to share — comment & remind me.  I have only had one cup of coffee, after all.

Installment #2 [2:19 p.m.]

See.  I told you I’d come back!  Oh, my gosh you guys I am feeling completely overwhelmed! 

[Crap.  I'll be back.]

Installment #3 [3:01 p.m.]

[... and also I forgot my glasses at home today so my vision isn't so good right now.  In case you wondered why I'm squinting.]

Ok, talk fast, Layni.  Someone could walk up & need something at any moment.  At WORK no less.  The nerve of some people.  Ok.  So first of all I need to mention that my 20 year high school reunion is this Saturday.  20 years y’all!  When did that happen?  It still seems like just yesterday that I was cruising to school in my friend Jennifer’s Camero [which, if I'm not mistaken, was 'totally bitchin'], pegging my pants at the bottom AND wearing them at boob-level [What?  That's not slimming?], all the while marching proudly with the band.  That’s how I rolled. 

But, you know, it wasn’t all bad jeans and frump.  I mean, frump stayed, and then somewhere along the line I decided that it would be a good idea to wear my father’s clothes.  Specifically, the clothes that did not even begin to fit me, even in my imagination.  So I stole pretty much all of the poor man’s dress shirts, which I then wore buttoned alllll the way to my chin.  Of course, they were enormous on me, so the result was a visually unsettling triangle effect, and either the shirt ballooned around me, tentlike, or I tried to stuff eight yards of starched cotton down into my jeans, which made me look like I was pregnant in both the front and back of my body.  And I remember doing this intentionally, all the time, yet as far as I know, I have never suffered a head injury.  I wish I had a picture of this phenomenon.

Anyway, I’m going on Saturday to see all of my high school pals and reminisce about ‘that one time at band camp’ and whatnot.  I just hope noone remembers my Hammer Pants. 

Remember how I told you guys I would update all day?  Well, I maybe meant another day.  [Sigh]  Sadly, I need to do work now.  But next time [possibly this evening] I will fill y’all in on:

1.) The dangers of fireworks.

2.) How the term, “Lights.  Camera.  Ashton!” is seriously affecting my social life.

and

3.) Show you [with pictures!] how Northsiders do a parade.

Until then.  Don’t you be talking about my big 80’s hair.  I wasn’t alone in that.

I’ve always been a Goonie! June 2, 2008

In his most recent blog entry, John! had the following words of wisdom [along with a fun flashback] for us all.

John writes:

Go back into the annals of beloved ’80s films, and you’d be hard pressed to find a movie closer to the hearts of thirty-somethings than The Goonies.  I’ll spare you the synopsis, as you most likely already know it, but if you don’t, no need to worry – you’ve seen 20 other movies like it in its time. The template: nerdy but affable underdog(s) suffer unrelenting ridicule by jocks in varsity letter jackets but ultimately have their comeuppance, usually stealing a smoking hot girlfriend or two in the process.

   In the case of The Goonies, a band of awkward, socially outcast kids set off to find a buried treasure, narrowly averting almost certain death and outrunning, among others, a popular high school jock named Troy.  Troy is one of  the classic cinematic archetypes of the 1980s; the jock. He’s good looking, rocks a period-relative badass Mustang convertible, and he’s a total prick.  All we can do from the moment Troy enters the frame is to wait with baited breath to see Troy lose and the Goonies win. 

And in that end, back in 1985 when the underdogs had their day, (and their bag of jewels), and the final credits rolled and we called our parents for a ride home, we realized something fantastic: It’s true, we weren’t Troy. But for the first time, thanks to The Goonies, we no longer wanted to be Troy. It was okay to be us, thank you very much.

   Cut to present day.

   What happened to the better part of a generation that once walked out of their local theater rooting for the Mikeys and Chunks and Datas of the world? They’ve turned into Troys. Troys who can’t accept the differences in others and condemn the things they don’t understand. Finger-pointing, shit-talking Troys.

   Ask yourself: with whom do you identify more these days, Troy or the Goonies? And if you’re reading this and you happen to be an Internet shit-talker, could it be because you think I’m Troy?  Because honest to God, I’ve always fancied myself a Goonie; the underdog who toppled over the narrow-minded naysayers and walked away with a treasure.

   So maybe this whole thing is one big misunderstanding and it turns out we don’t need to go down as a generation remembered as having spent the ’00s wearing our asses like hats after all. Maybe it will turn out that we needed a little time to figure out that in the end we’re all just a bunch of Goonies.

   JM

Yes!  I AM A GOONIE [to exactly noone's surprise]  Look!  Just one more thing John & I have in common.  I’m a Goonie.  He’s a Goonie.  Coincidence?  I say destiny.

Beware of booty traps.  You mean boobie traps?  That’s what I said, booty traps.  God, these guys!