Friday, February 29, 2008

Matt or Ben

Although many may think it crass, or juvenile.....Mr. Perfectly and I have had a BLAST with the Sarah Silverman video "I'm f&^$ing Matt Damon". She made it for Jimmy Kimmell--her real life boyfriend who has this 'feud' with Damon........ We've laughed and laughed....primarily because when we happened upon it (we weren't searching for it....Mr. Perfectly found it by accident), it struck us as hysterical that Matt Damon is in the video......I couldn't get the tune out of my brain for a week.

Well, the tune is back.........with a 'revenge' video from Kimmell. I think it's funnier than Silverman''s "I'm f*&%ing Ben Affleck" decide. Go to Mr. Perfectly's blog here and vote....the poll is on the right hand side......we want to know who YOU'D rather do? Matt or Ben......

Thursday, February 28, 2008


I commented on Lawyerish today, and her post made me want to continue my comment to her in MY blog. See, I read everyone’s blogs, and I can totally relate to something, or have a comment, then I want to take the topic into MY blog…but then, what if that’s stealing or plagerism in some way? Sheesh….I need to get over the blog anxiety…..hey, maybe this is touching on an entire new area in the mental health field……blog anxiety……..

Anyway, Mr. Perfectly and I have a secret. An addiction. We’ve been unsure for YEARS how to handle it. It’s shameful, yet we can’t stop. We can’t stop buying condiments.

Yes condiments. Jars of stuff. They have overrun our refrigerator. We have a difficult time storing then getting back to our leftovers, because of all the condiment jars in the way. We have pickles..dill, sweet and bread/butter, salad dressings, sauces, salsas,marinades, olives, butter (that isn’t really a condiment, but still)…oh the butter….horseradish, mustards of all varieties, pickled jalapenos, pickled beets, pickled spicy cauliflower…….it’s NEVER ENDING.

And, do condiments spoil? We can’t seem to weed them out…we may want to USE THEM someday. We have tiny mustard jars from Christmas baskets maybe 6 years ago………Mr. Perfectly doesn’t want to throw them out because we may WANT them sometime……at some point, even MUSTARD has to go bad, doesn’t it? Why is it that we can throw half a stinking CHICKEN away and not blink an eye, but BACK AWAY FROM THE CONDIMENTS is what we hear in our brains when we clean out the fridge…….

Behold the insanity:

Go ahead, blow it up...just SEE what I mean!! I took all of this this from our refrigerator just prove to you, Internet, that we have a serious problem. This is my photography...I rarely take picture. Mr. Perfectly is the photographer in the family...I've already heard about the lid reflection in the tiles, and the fact the camera wasn't straight (heh....straight...who'd a THUNK that someone may see that the countertop looks askew), and the fact the drawer is open.....welcome to my messy world....the world of a tiny, no dishwasher kitchen.

If you want to see a sampling of Mr. Perfectly's photography, go here (if it's wasn't earlier, so try back later...he's really good).

So, tell me, what does one DO for such an addiction? We can't possibly give UP the things we love to slather and add to all of our favorite foods......HELLLLPPPP!!!!

Tuesday, February 26, 2008

Puppy Love

Hi. My name is Buster. I'm approximately 5 years old and I am a prince. I love sitting on my mom's lap, but I try to bite her if she moves me. My favorite place in the world is MY bed. My owners think it's theirs, but it is really mine....alllllll mine. I spread out as much as my 15 lb body will allow. I WILL bite any human, dog or cat that attempts to invade my space. I have everyone bamboozled with my threats, except the dad. He doesn't take my bullshit. I sleep under the covers with my humans. The dad wanted to replace their cozy waterbed with a KING sized bed so he had more room, since I like to stretch out. I hate farts...I find them undignified, and will leave the area if an offending odor invades. Unless it's mine....then I pretend it is THEIR farts....they are just humans. They don't know the difference.

HI...HI....HI...OH HI...CAN YOU SEE ME? HUH? HUH? HUH? I can see you and I want to french you...I want to french EVERYONE......I love tongue kissing......yea I do. I have two speeds.....full speed ahead and off. Nothing in between. If I sit on your lap, I'm sleeping or trying to FRENCH you.......yessiree.....Buster is a bully---but he's a helluva lot of fun to play with....but it's always on HIS terms.....only when he wants to play......I'm gentle, loving and YIPPEE....kinda hyper....I hate the UPS truck and the mailman. They are the bane of my existence. I sit on the back of the couch just WAITING for them to come and I bark my ASS off.....I think the humans really enjoy my protective nature. The harsh barking really makes them feel confident and protected.....Oh, my name is Copper.......can ya tell why? I'll give you THREE COLORING? You guessed right didja guess? are smart. You know how Buster finds farts undignified? He doesn't know what he's doesn't matter who farts around here....I sniff my own never know it COULD'VE been me.........oh, and one more thing...I hump blankets when anyone leaves the house. Even if some of my family is still the same room with me. I know, it's a bit humiliating, but I can't HELP it......Oh, and I'm not fat.....some of the mom's friends that have looked at this photo have said I am a fat doggie, but I'm's just a bad angle.....the mom wanted to show off my Coppery coloring and didn't choose a flattering shot......I'm sort of a Min Pin mix, and what you see is my hindquarter folded up against my belly.........

Um...Yea. As you can clearly see, I'm not a puppy. She would call her post "puppy love". Clearly, I'm a feline. Not a canine. Sheesh. I am Joe Kitty. You can call me Joe. I'm the coolest cat ever. Copper is a pretty cool playmate. I sit up on my hind legs and pretend I'm a GRIZZLY BEAR and swat the crap out of him. I don't have claws, but I'm a GRIZZLY at heart. I eat dog food, and occasionally pee on towels that get left on the floor. Or socks. The baby gate that the dad puts up so the stupid canines won't eat my poop recently got put up incorrectly (yes, the mom did it wrong) and I couldn't get under it. I'm too old, lazy or stupid to JUMP OVER, so we had a bad weekend of peeing on towels and pooping in the bathroom laundry basket. Since the dad found the problem, I've done better. The lady should just get her stuff together and know how to PROPERLY change my litter and to place the gate JUST SO.........huh. I showed them. Since the mom is learning how to put pictures on her blog, this got a little out of hand, don't you think? The dad is a decent photographer, so maybe she'll post more of his photos. He'd probably like that.

A waste of perfectly good space

I'm at it again. I'm trolling blogs and falling in love with SO many of them. I felt like I didn't pull my weight at work, because I want to know everything about all of these invisible new friends of mine.

I'm sort of finding my voice here in the blogging world. I'm having a BALL with the cutsie titles of my posts, but I'm lacking READERSHIP. I'm lacking FAME and 'OHMYGODICAN'TWAITTOREADHERNEXTPOST'. I'm too chicken to say some of the things I really WANT to say, because, what if? What if my employer reads it and I end up 'Dooced'? What if nobody thinks I'm NEARLY as clever as I do? What if they don't understand my play on words? My sarcasm? What if I identify someone that doesn't want to be identified? What if they think I'm fat and won't like me? What if my MOM reads me writing the 'F' word? She doesn't know I have a blog, so at least at this moment, that's an absolutely irrational fear, but STILL. What if all the English hoity toity people out there find me too feeble to even 'BOTHER' with (said with a snobby elitish accent)?

I want to post with reckless abandon about my children, husband, family and friends, but Mr. Perfectly and Perfectly's Dad always tell me to not TALK so much. To keep things like, oh, EVERYTHING a secret from the world......because they may use against us later on.....I'm supposed to be conservative with my thoughts and not tell all our bizness---I'm supposed to maintain decorum, even when there IS none! I want to gossip about stuff that happens, but what happens when the gossipee reads my blog (that they currently don't know I have)?? I want to shout from the rooftops about political topics, but......I work for State Government, and what if they don't agree? Um.....that's like my job......

Oh how I want to be like you, blog world. Give me a shout now and then and tell me if I'm doing ok.

Mortification abounds

I’m so sorry, internet fans (oh, yea….it’s just one…Mr. Perfectly)…but I temporarily lost my blogging groove. Call it laziness, or uninspired, whatever you want. I’ve been online reading a BUNCH of blogs, and I want all of you to be my new BFF’s. I just love getting to know you and reading your clever, witty orations.

Taking a cue from Mamalogues, I’ve been wracking my brain trying to think of embarrassing moments. I can think of many, but none as mortifying as my BFF Jakki’s. It was a fine moment in history that bears looking back on as often as necessary to keep the morification embers alive.

Jakki, at one point in her life especially, ordered A LOT from catalogs—back then online ordering wasn’t in vogue. She received a call from UPS one day, and they’d been trying to deliver a package to her, and had been unable to find someone at home. She directed them to deliver it to her office address. We work for the State of Missouri……STATE. GOVERNMENT. She figured it was something she’d ordered for herself or her son…..possibly a shirt, some cute new outfit.

One day, shortly thereafter, a gal from our mailroom came up to deliver Jakki’s package. As mailroom gal stood there with package in hand, she explained that it is department policy to open ALL packages that arrive in the office. Jakki, without a care in the world, said “sure, that’s fine”. Mailroom Gal: “No, really, we have to open ALL packages”. Confused, Jakki again nodded her understanding of department procedure. Mail gal leaves and Jakki looks at her package. Her package full of ADULT. PLAY. TOYS. AND. VIDEOS.

Her husband (at the time) apparently placed an order, unbeknownst to Ms. Jakki. So, the mailroom IN OUR OFFICE opened a package with a hot pink dildo, French ticklers and some warming body oils. Oh yea, and the video; "Black Beauties".

If she could have melted into the lovely rust colored carpet squares in our office she would have. I still tease her that it was actually LEON in the mailroom that opened the package and send Suzanne up to deliver it. Can you imagine? Hmmmm, wonder what this could be? Oh look, our very own co-worker had SEX TOYS sent to her.....

To date, I've not heard of ANYTHING more mortifying that that. What about YOU? Lett's keep w/ Mamalogues theme here.......embarassing moments in life. Tell me ALL of them.....I want to get to know you!

Oh, and for the record...the story about the sex toys? Yea, it's real. Don't let Jakki tell you otherwise. If she is ever famous, I'll be RICH with the dirt I have on this girl.......