I am totally ghetto. Totally.

Sometimes, I totally feel like I am reenacting that scene from Office Space. You know the one from the opening credits.



Here I am this little white girl in a Honda with car seats in the back, and, you know, my after market radio with a 12 inch sub and amp. Holla.

I was pulling out of the grocery store parking lot, some ghetto song that I would never play with my kids in the car playing loudly on the radio, when a guy walks out of the store. His pants were practically around his ankles, and I have never seen such a swagger. Although, technically, I think he was walking like that to hold up his pants. As I turned in front of him, I immediately switched the CD on.

"Romeo save me..." I sang along to Jill's Taylor Swift CD at the top of my lungs like a good little girl. That is until I was out of the parking lot.

User error.

My TomTom decided I live in Guam. I can't get it to undecide I live in Guam. For awhile, I lived in Texas. Then boom. Guam. What the hell? I've had this thing for all of three minutes, and already I am screaming at it.

The best part was when Kenny's turned on right away, and mine didn't. So, of course, I called Amazon. They immediately offered to ship a new one. With overnight shipping. I think I might have even said, "I know it isn't user error, because I got the other one to work." Then I sit down to read the manual, and see the part in bold that says, "If the device does not start, press the reset button." User. Error.

It was fun calling Amazon back to admit I am an idiot.

Now I get to call TomTom customer service and ask them how to move back to Texas.

Out of the mouths of babes...

I love when my neighbors' kids come over and tell me about all of the plastic surgery their moms have had. Remind me to coach my child not to tell those stories when I get around to buying myself new boobies.

Oops. And what rules.

A long time ago Sheri tagged me for the one where you are supposed to write six things about yourself. I never did it, because, well, I couldn't come up with six random things you A. cared to know B. I hadn't already told you C. wouldn't embarrass me. So it sat undone. Today, as I walked around the house, I kept finding things that made me say, "Huh, I wonder...?" So I decided, instead of six things about me, I am going to post six unsolved mysteries/things around my home that confuse me/things that make me want to put my kids on leashes.

1. How is that neither one of my children is taller than four feet, yet this morning a new (that's right, this has happened more than once) hand print has appeared in the entry hallway approximately ten feet up?

2. How can a kid get pee on her socks, but not her underwear? And why can't they tell me how the socks "got wet" BEFORE they hand them to me.

3. Why is it that my kid insists on having a hot dog and cheese cubes for breakfast and, then, wants cereal and milk packed in her school lunch? That makes me look like a good mom.

4. How come I am the only person in the house that can see anything? "I've looked everywhere and I can't find my hat/jeans/car keys/backpack." Amazingly, I am always able to find hat/jeans/car keys/backpack in plain sight.

5. Why is it that our dishwasher didn't come with a quiet feature (really, try watching TV with that thing on), yet it came with finger print recognition? I am the only person that can open it. I am assuming this is due to the finger print recognition feature that must be installed on it. Why else would we walk all the way from, let's say, the gameroom upstairs or the bedroom into the kitchen, rinse the cup out, and then not take that one teeny tiny extra step to actually put the cup into the dishwasher? Finger. Print. Recognition. It locks them out.

6. And last. Why when my dog is standing half on the rug half on the wood floor, must she puke on the rug? Really? You couldn't puke on the wood floor where a little paper towels and antibacterial cleaner would do the trick? You even turned your damn little doggie head so that you could better aim onto the rug.

So there you have it. Not six things about me, but six things I just can't figure out around here. Maybe you can solve them. Especially that hand print thing.

Dogs love fish food. But fish don't eat dog food.

One of our dogs has a bad habit of grabbing things off the countertop. We never catch her doing it, but we know which naughty dog is responsible. Anyway, she is particularly fond of the fish food. Many times she has eaten the whole container of fish food. I do mean food inside plus most of the container. She loves to eat the fish food. Problem is, that leaves the poor fish without food. And? This last time Kenny and I kept forgetting to by the fish food. We could not go any longer, even though it was late and we were tired and we just wanted to veg in front of the TV. Instead, we went to CVS for fish food.

After looking around and not seeing any fish food, Kenny goes to the girl at the check out counter. "Do you have any fish food?"

She looks at him. She thinks. "Uh. No. But we have dog and cat food."

"Uh, I am pretty sure my fish won't eat that."

Well, Kenny. I just don't know why. After all, the dog did eat the fish food. Maybe fish really like Pedigree, even if one kibble is bigger than them.

Kids. Sick.

I think my kids know when I make plans. They purposely get sick.

See, I have had a gift for Sheri (okay, actually for Violet..the present isn't for Sheri at all. She would look a little ridiculous in it.) for a LONG time. So long that I had to exchange it, because kids have a nasty habit of growing larger. I was determined to get over to Sheri's house and give her the gift before Violet graduates from high school. Although, if I wait long enough, I could give it to Violet for her first baby.... Anyway, today is the one day I made plans all week. So of course, my kid wakes up with what I am pretty sure is another kidney infection. Yay.

And you know, of course, this ruins my real plans...which involves a certain cupcake bakery near Sheri's house. What? Sheri, you didn't think this trip was all about you, did you?

What? Where's the chicken?

I often do really smart things. Really smart. Like email my mom for her chicken tetrazzini recipe, make myself a grocery list, go to the store, come home, start cooking the meal, and realize I never put CHICKEN on the grocery list.

We had a skillet meal, instead.

It's the thought that counts, right?