At This Very Moment

This is going to be stream of consciousness post.  And for that, I apologize in advance. In order to publish this quickly I probably won't take the time to proofread my work, nor publish any special drawing interpretation.  Instead, I'll just be lazy and post a picture of me blowing my bubble gum (I rarely do this by the way).  Not chew gum but post current pics of myself on this blog.  I can't help it though, how awesome is that bubble?  I mean, really.


As I sit here waiting on our furnace guy to show up and do our quarterly furnace check I decide to fart around and view some youtube videos.  I like the show "Oddities" on the Discovery Channel.  If you are ever in doubt that there are aliens who live among us, then after watching this show you will be rethinking that stance.

My all time favorite alien is Edgar.
If you have a hard time viewing the embed video below here is the link to the video on youtube.

Isn't he wonderfully creepy? Apparently Edgar is some NYC playwright (likely story) that everyone is supposed to know.  He has his own Wiki page.  He is most eccentric. He speaks like the owner of a dilapidated Victorian home at the end of your street that all the neighborhood kids are scared to pass on their way to school. All kids but me. I love this shit. I know, I know - his voice has pedophile or sexual deviant written all over it. I will pass his house and wave at him while walking on by. I won't go up there, I'm not a complete idiot. But there's no reason to be rude to the guy for being an alien. He's probably just here on this Earth to study human behavior and I refuse to have him report back to his superior that miniature humans are skittish and there would be no problem for hostile takeover.

I am brought out of my daydream and remember that I have a complete stranger getting ready to come into my home. Most people would be a little freaked out after having watched Edgar the Alien. Maybe that is why I am odd. I guess I am missing that part of a person that should be a little skeeved at such things. Truth be told I fear the man coming to my home for no other reason but that I don't know him. It goes against my very soul to open up the door to anyone I don't know. I sit here contemplating how I plan to take down this would be assailant if he tries anything squirrely. Steeler the dog is useless. Oh, he'll bark when the guy knocks or rings the doorbell, you can be certain. As soon as the man walks in the door and even tries to pet the shedding fur ball, Steeler won't growl. No, instead he'll cower and piss all over my hard wood floors. That is why I am forced to lock him up as soon as I know someone is coming into my home. Guard dog, Steeler is not.

My mind starts to wander (as per usual) and I think of this person coming into my home and how he should also be worried about entering someone's home with no clue how this person is going to act.  Even though he does this day in, day out - I can't imagine it would get easier.  There has to be instances where people have called to complain on him and his services, there has got to be occurrences where the person tries something inappropriate with him.  Or maybe not, I over think things and am paranoid about situations. 

My mind wanders further and I start to worry that my house may have a weird smell to this stranger.  Inhabitants of a home don't really realize the smell of their home.  The only time you notice your "Home Scent" is when you have been gone for a few days and then come back.  Your nose memory has cleansed itself.  You truly get the smell as soon as you walk in the door, that could be good or bad.  It's like trying to smell your own breath to see if it smells bad.  You can't do it really.  You can try to put your hands over your mouth like a cup and breathe out and then immediately smell but you don't really get the true affect.  Your breath has to be putrid enough to waft up your nose to really get a clue you have bad stank breath.  Otherwise, if you just have mediocre breath you can't really know unless someone tells you so.

I resort to candles being lit all around my house in hopes of bombarding this stranger's nose with random smells that have nothing to do with the actual scent of my home.  Who the hell actually has apple pie baking at 11:00 am on a Monday?  This isn't 1950 suburbia.  He walks down the stairs to the basement and his nose goes from baked apples to Oriental Amber Wood.  He gets nose confused.  How can one home smell like fruit but minutes later like the backyard of rural China?  Wait, the backyard of rural China may not smell pleasant after all, I'm not sure.  No offense to anyone who may take offense.  For all I know rural Chinese backyards smell wonderful.  Do they?  Please someone let me know because now I am insanely curious.

As for my home, it smells like the silk flower and candle section of a Hobby Lobby and I suppose that's not altogether a bad thing.  But it does feel like I am cheating on life and should let people know the real family that lives here.  But who really does that?  Aliens that's who.  Edgar the Alien is the only one (of few) who let their inner weird out, warts and all.  If only we took the time to go up to Edgar's door, knock and go inside.  We would smell the intoxicating scent of rotten decay and alien farts but you know what, it's truth.

(Don't knock on Edgar the Alien's door, please.  I'm only joking.  He may be a maniac).

Here is Edgar's actual blog.  I foresee a late night in my future filling my head with the awesomeness that is Edgar.  I will never be the same and nor should I be.  Life forever changed by the man down the street in the Victorian home.

Final Question:  What does your home really smell like?  You don't know, do you?  You will tell me some artificial smell, right?

Sweaty T-Shirt Cat Fight

I promised myself when I started this blog that I would try to keep my celeb crushes (and I have a bunch of them) under wraps because deep down I am still that 12 year old brace faced girl with NKOTB posters plastered all over my bedroom walls girl.....but trapped in a 36 year old mom-body.  That should be quite embarrassing for me.

However, I am breaking my promise right now.  I have to yell it from the rooftops that I love ME SOME Robert Pattinson! There it is, you all know now. Make fun if you will - I know crushing on him may put me in "cougar category" but you know what, I.DON'T.CARE. I was only eleven years old when he was born and had not yet had my first menstrual cycle - so, in my mind, I wasn't old enough to birth him. That makes him fair game and I don't feel guilty or like a dirty old lady. 

Where Have all the Hobos Gone?  Indeed.....

I have had many crushes.  Donnie Wahlberg, of course.  I have a story about me camping out for NKOTB tickets only to be inconsolable when he was put in jail in my own home city for setting a hotel room fire.  Then, crying tears of joy to see him walk out on that stage.  Only to be in a rage over some girl swiping his sweaty t-shirt out of my hand (that t-shirt was meant for ME!).  The gamut of emotions I displayed should have put me in a coma for weeks.  A Teen Crush Emotion Coma. 

The very first crush I remember is Ricky Schroeder from Silver Spoons.  I think everyone crushed on him though.  I'll rattle on all the ones I remember;

  • Michael Jackson (Thriller days)
  • Barrett Oliver (Neverending Story, The Secret Garden)
  • C. Thomas Howell (Pony Boy from The Outsiders)
  • Chad Allen (My Two Dads) - I know he's gay and, no, I did NOT see that one coming.  Erm..I just typed that and yes it sounds so dirty.
  • Jeremy Licht (that Valerie Harper show)
  • Christian Slater
  • Keanu Reeves (Point Break - HELLO!)
  • one of those London twins (I don't know which one)
  • Johnny Depp - he is still on, and will always be on, my crush list.  Even when he is 80 years old he will still be hot.  Everyone knows that.  It is written in stone.
  • anyone Winona Ryder dated - minus that Soul Asylum dude
  • anyone Gwyneth Paltrow dated or married
  • Joseph Gordon-Levitt (post 30 Rock) - this is where my cougar-y territory began
  • Shia LaBeouf (after Disney)
  • Andy Samberg (SNL)
  • Dog the Bounty Hunter's son (you know which one I'm speaking of)
  • Peter Dinklage (midget from Game of Thrones) - extreme talent and charisma trump that he is only, like, three feet tall
and so on...

P.S. If you have kept up with any of my past posts you have already been clued in on my love for the Pattz.

FYI:  Husband was not emotionally injured in the making of this post.  Husband is aware of the crazy he married.  Husband has no room to talk considering he has crushed on Britney Spears and Jessica Simpson. Yes, that's right.  Now he loves Jordan from Big Brother.  I guess you see a theme there, right?  Makes me wonder about his type and me being that...type.  

So I ask you - Who is your celebrity crush?

The Crisco Incident

(The following is a true story - unfortunately).

Once upon a time (some years ago), there was a five year old little boy.  That little boy thought it would be a great idea to take a bottle of used cooking oil and pour it all over the dog.  That dog figured the boy was giving it something to eat.  That dog starts licking up the oil that is dripping onto the ground.  

That same dog then upchucks all the oil.  The mom watches (horrified) from the kitchen window once she notices what has transpired.  That mother has to go outside and clean up the oily dog vomit and then hose down the dog.  Hosing down the dog does not get out all the oil from its fur.  She proceeds to shampoo the dog for the next two hours to try to get rid of all the oil in the dogs fur - even then the dog smelled like old french fries for the next two weeks.  

That little boy was in BIG TIME trouble.  

That mother was left exhausted.

What a cruel, cruel joke that humans are made in a way that the young ones (who have no clue) possess boundless amounts of energy and the adults have barely enough energy to keep up with them.  

My question - Has your kid(s) ever caused this kind of mess, or am I just blessed with a special kind of child hellion?

Killer Dirty Sock Army

First off....I think I have fixed all my blogs and got the pictures back on my posts.  It took me two weekends, but I'm done!  Thank the good gourd.  

Thanks everyone for your patience and I want to apologize if any of my old blogs showed up in your Blogger or RSS feeds and confused the hell out of you.  It was my hope that the filler Baby Burns post kept you entertained if you clicked over to my blog.

It took me so long to fix this because I also had to be a wife and mom and not let the house combust from dust or enflare from all the dog hair.  Yesterday, I cleaned our basement and was amazed at the things I found down there.  You see, I don't hang out in our finished basement much.  That is my husband and boys place.  The only time I am down there is when I know it has gotten so dirty I have no choice but to trek down with my vacuum and cleaning supplies.  

By the end of the day I had a small laundry basket filled with dirty clothes.  Why my boys strip down to their underwear when playing on the computer or watching television, I have no clue.  It is a male thing I guess.  Among the dirty clothes were a TON of dirty socks.  I can't tell you how many times I have bought those boys new socks because I never could find any to wash.  Now I know why.  There were socks hiding out everywhere.  It was a virtual dirty sock easter egg hunt.  Just when I thought I had gotten them all, there would be another one peeking out from under a chair or cabinet!

I'm going to have nightmares of an insane dirty sock army climbing the basement steps and killing me in my sleep.  I'm not joking...seriously.  Not really sure why they would want to kill me personally.  Perhaps it is because they don't like to be ignored and forgotten.  They don't want to kill the people who wear them but the people who clean them.  The dirt and sweat and foot smell must be what makes them so insane.  

It MIGHT also have something to do with me being lazy sometimes and when I don't have a paper towel or dusting cloth handy, I have used a dirty sock close by to dust the furniture.  Is that gross?  I guess.  Oh well, I is who I is.  In my mind, Pledge chemicals kill even the grossest germs hiding out in socks.  

 Hobo Girl keeping it real and oblivious to the truth since 1974.

Question: Do you have any weird or embarrassing cleaning routines?

The Baby Burns Show

This is going to be a filler post to give me time for some blog maintenance.  I say maintenance, but really what I'll be doing is replacing all my old pictures in my old blog posts because I am a knucklehead and deleted my Blogger Picasa album and 98% of my blog pictures!   This was even AFTER I was warned NOT to do this. TRAGIC.  

I kept telling myself to not use blogger as a picture storage but I don't listen to that voice.  I ignore and charge on.  Bites me in the ass big time.  SIGH.

All my pictures are now showing a big black box with a white exclamation mark inside.  There is a bright side because, thank goodness I am anal retentive and have all my pictures saved on my laptop or my USB flash stick.  For once one of my annoying personality traits are coming to my rescue.

So, while I am spending my day fixing this shizz and getting drunk to soothe my woes, I will let my youngest son Baby Burns entertain you. (Don't click that link right now if you want to see pictures because you will see none.  Hmph).

Here's how this post will work.  Everything in bold is my title theme and after that is my son's one liner or joke. Enjoy.


He falls on his butt:

"I think I bruised my cocksix."


I tell him that he could dish it out but he couldn't take it. 

"Mom that's ridiculous, we have a dishwasher."


What is your favorite store, I ask him. 

"My favorite store is Toys FOR Us."


I ask him what he wants to go to college and study:

"I plan to go to college and study biography. The study of a person's life."


We are watching Star Wars together.  He says:

"I want one those Star Wars light savers."


He overhears me talking to his father about chicken pox.  He interrupts and replies:

"I have never had the chicken pops."


After watching "Castaway" one night, he says:

"I would have opened all the FedEx boxes if it were me. What if there were sweet tarts in one of those boxes!?"


I overhear him singing:

"She's a barbie girl, in a barbie world. She's fantastic. Her boobs are plastic."
After playing soccer he comes to the sidelines and throws his hands in the air and hollers:
A conversation between us:
Him: Dad used to drive a Sheep.
Me: A Jeep.
Him: You drove a Chrysler.
Me: Yes.
Him: Jesus drove one too.
Me: What?
Him: It was called, Christler.
I walk downstairs and he is sitting there watching the televison show "Law and Order".  He says:
"Law and Order is my favorite show now.  It makes me feel really smart."

Son: Dad, I have a joke for you.  After I ask you a question you have to say the word "addicted".

Dad: Ok, son.

Son: Why do you like chocolate?


Son: Why do you like coffee?


Son: Why do you watch reality tv?


Son: What kept you up last night?


Ha Ha Ha Ha Ha!!


While watching television one morning a commercial for a new and improved easy bake oven came on. He watches it and said that thing is SO COOL Mommy. I asked him if he wanted Santa Claus to bring him one. Both he and his brother both screamed and said NOOOOOOO way!! Those are for girls. To which Baby Burns says:

"I would like one but I want one that is for boys and has flames painted on it.  You make it manlier"
AND FINALLY this gem came out of his mouth last week...
He sits down and is petting our dog, Steeler and says:
"I'm sorry they cut your balls off, Steeler"

Summer Camp Stalker

My youngest son, Baby Burns, went to his first overnight summer camp last week.  He just stayed one week.  I prepared him as best I could.  In his duffel bag there were enough blank letters for him to write us to tell us all about his camp experience.  Prior to last week I also made sure to go over with what to expect and how he can cope with homesickness.  I really thought I had prepared for everything.

What I had not prepared for was how much........

...I missed him!

Terribly missed him - that's how much.

I told my husband that I was entertaining the idea of sneaking over to the camp one night just to check on my baby boy.  Hubby promptly squelched those thoughts with a reminder that I would scare the shit out of all the campers and most likely be arrested on site.

Somehow I managed to last the whole week without sneaking over to the camp.  I emailed him endlessly to the point where he was probably humiliated by my neediness.  I checked the camp website ten times a day to see if there were any picture updates.  When I would see a picture of him posted I right clicked/saved that thing like it was the last picture ever to be taken before the world ended.  Even if his ear was the only thing showing in a picture, I still saved it.  "That's my baby boy's ear! That's his ear!  Aww!" 

The day I received his postcard, I was beside myself with excitement.  You'd think I stumbled across the Dead Sea Scrolls - if the Dead Sea Scrolls were made out of card stock paper and had a ten year old boy's scribbled scrawl over it.  I soaked up every word he gave me.  Those words weren't much, yet, everything:

The last day of camp was finally here and it was time to go pick him up.  The hours went by so slow and it was such an endless wait.  Finally, though, we had arrived at the camp in our car ready to retrieve our little one.  I saw him and he gave me a smirk as if he knew how much I went through the last week with his absence.  

Just like you see in movies (in slow motion) I start jogging towards him. 

The look on his face goes from....


to confused 

to horrified.  

I don't care about his mortification - all I care about is that I HAVE HIM BACK!  Yay! Happy Day!

What the HELL will I do when my boys go off to college?  Quit my job and move to the college and work as the groundskeeper, most likely.
Back to Top