Passenger Seat Hell

*If you eventually read this son, I'm sorry. I just couldn't hold the angst in any longer so I'm putting out to the universe.

He's completed the 'Instruction' part of the Driver's Training School. Now he's on to the actual 'Driver's Training' and that's all well and good, as long as I don't have to play the role of 'Instructor.' I know he wants to practice... I know he needs to practice... It's just the Practicing that's got me all tied up in knots.

It's become obvious that I just don't have what it takes to sit silently and let the learning take it's course. I'm a control freak... Doesn't he know that... A Control FREAK! So when he stops a half-mile short of the stop sign, I want to say, "Why are you stopping HERE, a half-mile from the stop sign?" And when he turns a corner while shuffling his hands along the steering wheel, I want to say, "Haven't you EVER paid attention to how Dad and I steer when we drive?"... Or when he creeps down the road with a line of cars stacked up behind him... Or when he took that turn too fast... Or that other turn too slow?... Or when he made that turn yesterday going the wrong way on the divided street and then yelled at me because I told him to go left without pointing out the street was in fact divided, even though this surely wasn't the first time he'd been on that street, how was I to know it was the first time he'd actually been paying attention?

I try to relax and not pay too much attention, even sit back and close my eyes, you know? I mean, I doubt he's at the point where he's going to hit anyone, but he's definitely at the point where he's most certainly annoying 99% of the other drivers on the road. But he's gotta learn, right? He's gotta learn. And I have to just stick a pin in it, in order to keep myself from going off... But DAMN, it's not easy for a Control Freak like me.

*Shaking head* Nope, it sure aint easy, for a Control Freak like me.

Black or White

I graduated from high school in 1982, Michael Jackson's music is so deeply buried into my psyche, I could measure many of the events of my life, by each of his hits.

• MTV

• Listening to 'Off The Wall' while babysitting.

• Dances

• Video Premieres

• Receiving the Thriller album from my husband on our first Christmas together.

• That time I was shopping with my husbands college buddy and I talked him into buying that stupid Thriller jacket.

• Laughing about just how BAD Michael Jackson could possibly be?

• The thrill I got sharing Michael Jackson's music with my son.

• Trying to explain to my kids how a black man became a white man, and why.

• Questioning guilt or innocence.

A boy who never grew up? A man who loved children more than he should have? A wacko? A freak? A black man? A white man? A misunderstood celebrity, whose life was manipulated by the media? All I know is, I feel a sadness, like a thread from the fabric of my life has been pulled loose... And yet, I criticize myself for... for what? For suddenly caring about the life of Michael Jackson.

Those annoying Rat Bastards with bushy tails

We're bird people... BIRD people I tell you!

We're definitely NOT squirrel people!

However, the squirrels are pretty thick headed and haven't managed to figure that out yet.

Our dog Anna has made that clear by chasing them off the deck.
We've made it clear by building squirrel tossing contraptions, only to have them wait in line for the E-ticket experience thrill ride.
We've shot them with water pistols, which I think they quite enjoy.
And now?
Now I've taken to throwing rocks at them. Oh CALM DOWN! Not rocks really, more like pebbles... And believe me, this really is a fairly benign squirrel deterrent, mostly because I've got the throwing arm of a 2 yr. old. (Yes, there's a reason I was always picked last for team sports, in gym class.)

Yesterday however, I ACTUALLY pelted one of the bastards. Well, pelted might be too strong a word. I hit him.... in the leg.... with a stone.... and he merely looked at me, with those little rat bastard beady eyes, as if to say, "Really?" and just stood there.

Today, they're double teaming the feeder... And just to cement the fact I've fallen into the deep side of crazy, I've begun talking to the little shits. Our exchange this morning went something like this:

Squirrel on feeder: "Hey beyotch, look at me, I'm eatin' all yur seeds!"

*Okay, the squirrel isn't really talking to me... I haven't gone that far 'round the bend, BUT if he could talk, that's what he'd be saying... I'm quite sure of it.

Me: *giving him the evil eye* "Oh no you don't, you rat bastard!"

Squirrel: "Whatcha gonna do 'bout it bitch?"

*I run to grab more pebbles out of the planter that contains the dusty fake plant in the corner of the family room... Opening screen door with all the dexterity of a highly trained ninja... Um, I mean a spastic clown... I stumble out onto the deck... Squirrel fakes right and with the nimbleness only a squirrel can possess, jumps off the deck onto the stairs and sits on the bottom step below, while his tag-team, rat bastard, friend bounds from under the deck below.*

Me: "Now I've got ya, right where I want ya!"

*I begin lobbing stones in the squirrels general direction... Sure, I mean to pummel them, but my uncooperative throwing arm makes this task nearly impossible.*

As I 'try' to hit my mark the squirrel, sitting comfortably on the bottom step looks up at me as if to say: "Yo bitch, you're not really serious are you?... 'Cause even if I ate ALL your seeds and my ass grew to the size of the backside of a barn, you still couldn't hit it!"

You know, I don't want to kill 'em or anything. I just want them to leave my bird feeders alone... But it's 'Game On' now you rat bastards, 'cause I will NOT be mocked by a squirrel.

Tale of 2 Cameras

On Saturday my husband, Nature Girl and myself took another trip to our favorite photo op place on earth, Valley Garden Park. It's down right impossible to get crappy pics in a place SO beautiful... Right?

Well, unless you have a crap ass camera like my Canon Power Shot S3IS. Seriously, this camera has just made me sad for so long now. It's been rather lackluster in it's ability to capture deep rich color (even after going back and forth on factory settings vs. manual settings), it hasn't performed at all well on automatic focus and the most frustrating of all, macro mode was for shit! Instead of automatically adjusting it's focus in macro, I had to move back and forth until I managed some semblance of focus. Then I would just push the button and pray my bad eyesight was able to compensate for a reasonably decent shot. Good thing it's digital or I would've been wasting reams of film, because I would blow through a dozen shots just to get one half-way good one.

For example, here's a pic I tried to shoot ten times and it's still blurry. Sadly, those flowers were actually blue!

This next shot either myself or my husband took.

I think it turned out reasonably well but you can't imagine how much fudging it took to capture it. 'Fudging' AND a lot of whining on my part. After every pic, either myself or my husband shot, I'd turn to him and say, "See, see what I mean? It's crap, this camera is just CRAP!" Poor guy, I'm such a bitch. However, this is the first time he's ever really tried to work with the camera and even my husband, he of the 'Old School All Manual 35mm Club' seemed surprised with the photo quality. He made a few snarky comments about how 'if I'd only read the manual, I probably wouldn't be having such a hard time' which I chose to ignore. When we returned home that afternoon and loaded the pics on my laptop he seemed surprised that even the pictures he took sucked. That's when he sat down for awhile with both my crap ass camera and it's bore me to tears manual.

On Sunday, my husband informed me he was taking a trip to the Big Box Electronic Store to procure a new hard drive for one of our computers who, by the sound of it, is threatening to give up the ghost. He asked me if I needed anything while he was there. Under my breath I muttered, "Yeah, a new camera." Imagine my surprise when he returned home with this:10X optical zoon, 9 mega-pixels and look at that 'sweet' 3" viewing screen. It only takes 2 AA batteries as opposed to my old behemoths 4 and it's so compact it fits neatly in my purse. I know this camera is fantastic because it's the same one 'Nature Girl' uses. We purchased hers last year for her 15th birthday, so she has a little older model, still, they're pretty much the same, except for my bigger LCD, but her eyesight is still 20/20 so she'll just have to deal.

Yesterday, 'Nature Girl' and I went on a little photo safari to 'Howard's Pond' right after I purchased a carrying case for my new baby. Check out 'this' macro:

This little orange flower was amidst a sea of tiny white flowers, the only one of his kind. Roughly an 1/8" in size, it makes me so happy that he 'dared to be different!' I quite simply love him!

On these next few picks I was struggling with the breeze (which I won't complain about as it served to keep us cool) and fighting the palsy in my hands. Can you see the little bug in the middle of the 'Queen Anne's Lace?'

And look at this one, it's like a little phallyic firework celebration.

I wondered if these berries were edible? They weren't too terribly far away from where the homeless campsite stood, but I wasn't willing to risk searching one of the campers out in order to ask.

And then look who we found... Doh!, a Deer, a female Deer! Now this is a testament to the 10x optical zoom because she wasn't going to let us get too close AND this was a very low light situation.

Gosh I love my new camera!... And Surprises... AND My Husband, Especially My Husband (and not just because he brings me presents.)

Want to buy a magazine?

So Saturday my son answers the door and of course, tells me it's someone for me....
*yeah right, thanks a lot... Why not Dad, he's right over there.*

So, not having had a shower yet and looking like shit, I go to the door, where our trusty watch dog Anna is keeping the stranger at bay.

"HI, My name is Troy! How are you today? I don't think we've met, I live in the neighborhood and your neighbor Dave ..."

*I'm thinking, Dave who, I don't know any Dave? and 'Troy' noticing the perplexed look on my face, begins to describe 'Dave'* "

...Yeah Dave, really tall guy with red hair."

*Still no clue... Later come to the conclusion there is no 'Dave'*

Troy starts up again, "Anyway, 'Dave' just purchased some magazines... You see, I'm selling magazines to earn my way to Holland with my soccer team... Have you ever heard of the (some random name I've never heard of)... No? I met another guy in the neighborhood who plays and knows of us, but anyway... Part of why I'm here today, is to build communication skills, how am I doing?"

*blink, blink,...* "Um good."

Troy smiles enthusiastically and says, "Alright, high five!" and raises his hand.

*I lamely give him a high five.*

Troy continues his spiel about his desire to play soccer in Holland. I'm thinking to myself, "Hey dipshit, I'd like to play soccer in Holland too! and I don't even play soccer... But I've got a damn near better chance of putting money towards my own trip to Holland, before I'd give you any." But I didn't say that... Instead I chatted him up.

"So..." I said, "Let me ask you something...., if you really want to get to Holland so badly, why don't you just get a real job which I'm sure will pay you much better than this magazine gig?"

Troy prattled on about team effort and people skills so I asked him my next question... "Yes, but isn't the majority of the money for the magazines going to the publishers?" That's when he whipped out his little black 'wallet' with the carefully folded and laminated list of available magazines. Then he showed me a price break down of how much of the money from each magazine sale goes towards his trip and his lodging while in 'Holland'.

Troy explained that nearly the entire amount of my subscription price for 'Off Road Magazine' a $38 value for a 1 yr. subscription is broken down to $18 for air fare and $16 for lodging. He then pointed out that the publisher made their money on the shipping cost of the magazine, which was $15 (!!!).

"So let me get this straight Troy, I pay $53 for a magazine I neither want, nor need, so you can kick a ball around Holland?" *No, I didn't really say that, but you know I was thinking it, along with, What the HELL makes him think I'm even remotely interested in Off Road ANYTHING??? Oh, it's because I haven't taken a shower yet.... Yeah, I'll bet that's it.*

What I did say to Troy was that I just didn't need ANOTHER magazine. So Troy stepped it up a notch.

"While I understand 'You' might not be interested in any magazines, we have a program where you can purchase books for The Children's Hospital."

I sighed and said, "Troy, I already donate to St. Jude's and I hope with that money, if they need books and magazines for the kids, they will be able to purchase them."

Then Troy informed me about the magazine program for the men & woman serving overseas... And believe it or not, his brother in Fallujah!

*Yeah Troy, SO sorry about your 'Brother'... Sure hope he makes it home 'Safely'... But he won't be seeing any magazines from me.*

That's when I decided to end my conversation with Troy and said, "I'm really not interested, I've got my own kid getting ready for college... but hey, good luck with that trip to Holland."

Troy thanked me for my time but then added one last request. "Say, you wouldn't have something cold to drink, would you?"

*Now, let me break in here a moment and say this... I know what you're thinking, "You didn't really break down and give this smarmy character a drink, did you... DID YOU?" In my defense, I'm the type of gal who in the winter will run out with a cup of hot chocolate for the trash men or a cold soda in the summer for the mailman... I don't like to see people suffer from extremes... And while the weather was 'Anything' but extreme on Saturday, how was I to know that 'Troy' wasn't parched from all his door to door salesmanship?*

So I told him I had a Diet Pepsi and you know what the little prick said? "You got anything other than diet?"

I know, I should've slammed the door right then and there and in hindsight that's EXACTLY what I would've done but instead I said, "No, that's all I have." I certainly wasn't going to give him that last Ginger Ale in the fridge *small victory for me!*

My husband was a little miffed I gave up one of his sodas and proceeded to inform me that the 'asking for a soda thing' is a sales trick. "Even if you don't make the sale, try to walk away with Something... is an important sales technique." he said.

I just saw it as a huge victory that I wasn't roped into buying a magazine. 'Cause lord knows I've been down that road before... Or I should say, I've opened that door before.

Whack A Rug

It's clean-up week at the kids school. They actually finished out the year last Friday but this year, as with every other year they've been at the school, they're going in for clean-up week.

However, one thing is a little different this year. This year, they've decided on their own to go in and help out. In years past, I've told them they had to go because it was their responsibility and their duty as students of the school. Yeah, I'm such a drill sergeant. But then, yesterday the boy said, "You know, I think I might just stay home today." His sister glowered at him and he looked to me. I think I handled it pretty well when I said, "Well, I think you have to ask yourself why you're bothering to go in at all." Then I looked at my daughter and said, "I think the same question applies to you also." She said, "Because it's my school and it's my responsibility to help clean it up... And it's nice really, going in and helping out, scrubbing a wall and watching it come clean and being with friends." The boy didn't say anything more than, "Yeah, I'm going in today."

When I picked them up yesterday, late afternoon, amidst a hellacious thunderstorm, they were full of smiles. They told me they spent the day "Whacking rugs" (I think that's beating rugs, but call it what you will.) My daughter explained how they tossed each rug over the deck railing and 'whacked' one side, turned it over and 'whacked' the other side. She said, "You wouldn't believe the dust and dirt that came out!" (Oh yes, I would!) Then my son cracked me up with this observation:

"Whack a Rug, it's like Whack a Mole, only way easier, more repetitive, but less satisfying."

On The Move...

For the past several nights I've had dreams I'm moving... Not, Moving... In the sense I'm gettin' down with the groove, but Moving... In the sense I'm packing boxes and that's a lot, A LOT of work! I tend to wake up more exhausted than when I went to sleep.

The other night in my dream I was so DONE with packing boxes and all the drudgery of it, I just broke down sobbing to my husband... I was sobbing so hard, I woke myself up as a result. Now, I don't know about moving like SOME people know about moving... I'm looking at you Stacie... But I'm well aware of just how much work is involved.

We moved 20 yrs. ago from California to the East Coast and while that move wasn't a great deal of physical work (the company paid for packers and movers.), the mental anguish of putting all your possessions, including your car, on a truck to be driven all the way across the U.S. leaves one a bit nervous... Crate up your 2 beloved dogs and stick 'em in a cargo hold on the plane that's taking you to your destination? Even more nervous... Hoping there are no glitches with the closing on the new house you're moving to? Stomach cramp inducing nervousness... And on top of all that my husband was starting a new job! Me? I just wanted to get pregnant, which worked by the way.... So yeah, that move was pretty intense.

It'll be 6 yrs. in September since our BIG move from Delaware (a mere 28 mile move.) I call that one the BIG MOVE because we did it mostly ourselves... There were no 'packers'... Which in a way is good because I really didn't need anyone boxing up my bedroom trashcan again, with the trash still inside... Oh those packers, they're a goofy bunch! No, this time we did all the packing ourselves and because there was so much shit to pack, the majority of the work was mine. Oh, and in case we haven't meant, I'd like to introduce you to my control freak tendencies via how to prepare to move your shit:

The new house gets mapped. Each room in the new house is assigned a code initial or initials: K=Kitchen
MB=Master
Bedroom B=Basement
etc.

Each initial is color coded (brightly colored index cards in all the colors of the rainbow worked well for this.)

The items in each room are boxed up and labeled with their correct color and code.

Before the movers arrive at the new house a large piece of paper is taped to the doorway of each room (my husband said the giant letter G attached to the entrance of the Garage was a little over the top as he was sure the movers knew which room was the garage.) The map of the house is also posted where the movers can plainly see it.

This method worked perfectly. Everything was in its place. I just wished I'd labeled what was IN the boxes a little better because that 1/2 hour we spent trying to find the dog leash when she really needed to go out, was the only emotional breakdown I had throughout the entire moving experience.

So why the dreams about moving? I know I've kvetched about the roach thing and the woodpecker thing but seriously??? I haven't considered moving as a result... Not really... And in this housing market? No Way!

So last night I dreamed I was getting rid of furniture. I had a woman interested in buying a couch I used to own years ago... Damn, it was an ugly couch! And this woman really wanted my old ugly couch. She was telling me that it would exactly match the wallpaper in her home but she was worried about how much I was asking for the couch and if she could afford it. I felt SO sorry for this woman and her obvious lack of taste that I just told her the couch was free... "Yes, FREE... Please go ahead, you love it, it'll match your home, it's yours!" And then I spent another 10 minutes telling her how to clean it up (Upholstery cleaner, a scrub brush, set it out in the sun to bleach it back to its original gleaming white....) Poor lady.

So I ask you, what the hell is that all about?
I consulted the online Dream Dictionary and here's their interpretation, which I think is a bit to simplified and I'm doubtful has anything to do with why I'm dreaming about this stuff:
Moving
To dream that you are moving away, signifies your desire or need for change. It may also mean an end to a situation or relationship; you are moving on. Alternatively, it indicates your determination and issues regarding dependence/independence.

Selling
To dream that you are selling something, indicates that you are undergoing changes in your waking life. You may be experiencing difficulties in letting go or parting with something.�Learn to compromise. Alternatively, the dream may be a pun that you are "selling" yourself short.

24

Saturday, June 6, 11:17am: Daughter finds large roach on the curtains of the basement sliding glass door.

Saturday, June 6, 11:18am: Daughter sends large roach off to meet his maker and disposes of remains via mock burial at sea, ie. down the commode.

Saturday, June 6, 11:19am: Daughter tells mother about roach removal and mother wonders if this might be the very roach from Wednesday's vacuum fiasco.

Saturday, June 6, 11:47am: Mother and daughter enter basement to find not one, but TWO smaller roaches climbing the back wall of the basement.

Saturday 11:47:36am: Daughter acquires wad of tissue from the bathroom whilst Mother tries not to slip into hysteria. Daughter kills first roach with a right cuff to the thorax However, while swiping the second roach she miscalculates and second roach takes flight. Mother tries not to scream.

Saturday, June 6, 11:48am: Mother sees second roach on the carpet, a yard away from her feet... Because Mother is wearing shoes (this time) she screams as she gathers up the nerve to crush the second roach. Mother jumps upon the roach who is no match for her superior size and weight.

Saturday, June 6, 11:48:26am: Daughter lets out a cheer to encourage her Mother for her bravery at besting the second roach. Daughter dispenses of both roach corpses with another burial at sea.

Saturday, June 6, 11:56am: Mother and Daughter share bonding time together deciding where to place each of the dozen roach motels the Mother purchased the day before.

Saturday, June 6: All is well, no more roaches are spotted.

Sunday, June 7, 5:42am: Mother and Father are rudely awakened by that effing woodpecker banging on the rain gutter outside their bedroom window..... Again.

Anybody want to buy a house?

Now What?

The consensus is the roach is still alive... In my vacuum... Which remains sitting idly in the same place I left it two days ago.

I'm putting this question out there to the universe.... Now What?

Until you people can come up with an answer OR just come to my house and take care of the problem FOR me... Here are a few topical funnies I found... Because you know, it's always good to try to find the humor in a horrific situation.




This last one is my personal favorite:

Brrrrrrr!

Does it feel somehow... Colder to you folks?
I'd swear I feel a chill in the air.
Because I'm quite sure hell froze over.

Remember at the end of last school year when I posted this open letter to my kids?
Well the note seemed to work and the summer went pretty well actually.
As with any 'challenge or change' that takes place, situations tend to ebb and flow. Sometimes the trash gets taken out without asking and sometimes attitude and surliness reigns.

Today though... Today I'm just shaking my head... Shaking my head AND smiling.
'Computer Boy'... Yeah, that kid I gave birth to who was mostly terrified of anything dirty... The kid that in pre-school when asked to finger paint, would come home with a large piece of paper with a happy face drawn on with pencil. The kid who on 'paint with pudding day' completed a work of art which consisted of 5 small finger-tip dots. Which was the best his teacher could get him to commit to. The same boy who, to this very day, goes through more anti-bacterial hand sanitizer than the entire nursing staff at the local hospital.... Anyway, that boy woke at 6:30am this morning to assist in planting seedlings at the CSA (Community Sponsored Agriculture) site, a group of friends from his school are starting. My husband and I were shocked when he came home last week wet and dirty after planting for hours in the rain. When 'Nature Girl' said she didn't know what the big deal was I looked at her, mouth agape and said, "Big deal? Why that would be like you rolling around in raw chicken!" (she has a terrible squeamishness for raw meat or half eaten food left on a plate... I highly doubt she'll ever make it as a waitress... But then there's this thing with the son, so who knows?)

So if the whole 'Boy waking up at dawn' thing didn't knock the earth of its axis a little... As I was doing my hair and make-up this morning, I heard the clattering of dishes in the kitchen downstairs. Yes, 'Nature Girl' was down there, completely of her own volition, emptying the dishwasher and loading it with the breakfast dishes in the sink??????

It's colder right?

Roaches - WTF?

I work pretty hard at keeping a clean house... Really, I DO!

So explain to me WHY.... GOD oh WHY, do I keep running across roaches?

Now, it's not like I've found a nest of them or anything like that... Just One..... at...... a...... time. Maybe once a month or every two months and sometimes once every couple of weeks. Which is good, I suppose... or is it bad? I don't know! What I DO know is it's freakin' me the hell out! And maybe there little appearances are becoming more frequent but ANYTHING is TOO FREQUENT in my book.

For instance, about a month ago I opened a cabinet in the kitchen to see one scurry across a plate... A PLATE... A PLATE I EAT OFF OF!!!! Well, that did it... I had to empty the entire shelf of plates and run them ALL through the dishwasher. Have I EVER seen ANY roaches on or near the food in this house... NO! Is that a good thing?... Well, YES! But what exactly are they after? Their favorite spot appears to be the basement where there isn't any food BUT there is the water near the sump pump and since they're sometimes referred to as 'Water Bugs' does that mean all they want is WATER? Then why don't they just swim around in the sump pump... I won't have to see them... Hell, I won't even look in there... They can have their own Beach Party Bingo if they want, I won't care, really I won't! Unless they send one of their party-goers out for snacks.

So there I was yesterday going into the guest bedroom (in the basement) to locate a box. Lo and behold when I picked up the box a roach came scurrying out of it! So I did what any perfectly sane woman who's terrified of large bugs would do... I threw the box across the room, it landed on one of the beds and I watched with horror as it crawled on, near, under, the bedding (both beds still unmade from 2 weeks ago when son's friend stayed over.) Now a much braver woman would've stripped the beds right then and there... I on the other hand, am a giant bug fearing wuss and waited to inform 'Nature Girl' of the abomination when she got home. Did she take care of it? Well OBVIOUSLY NO! Because today I went back into the guest bedroom to acquire some packing material for yesterday's said box. I cautiously entered the room, calling out to any unsuspecting roaches... "If you're in here, please go away, please don't jump out and scare me, please let me get what I need in peace.... Puhhhlleeeeaaaasssee!" The bravest part of that whole exchange was I was barefoot. So if I WERE to run into a roach, I was seriously up shit's creek without a paddle (if you know what I mean.) Fortunately, all was clear and I got what I needed... HOWEVER, when I went back toward the bedroom, there upon the wall, above my reach, was a roach SO BIG he might as well have been smoking a cigar and wearing a hat. I knew I couldn't just leave him there because if I were to turn my back on that guy, he'd surely sneak up behind me and eat my face off before I could utter a scream.

So I ran to the other side of the basement and began to form a plan. Okay, I thought, how 'bout if I trap him in this lidded container? No, that won't work, he's too high, I can't reach that far and what if he jumps at me?... Even worse, what if he jumps ON ME? *skin crawling, shaking nervously* Think! Think! Think!....... OOoooo, I know, the vaccuum! So I ran upstairs and grabbed the behemouth and her ugly step-sister (canister vac and wand) and made my way down to the basement. Fortunately or not... he was still there... So I carefully plugged in the vacuum. Extended the wand as FAAaaaarrrrrr as it could go, flipped the switch and stuck the nozzle over the offending visitor. While I'd like to say he went quickly into that dark tube, it didn't quite happen as swiftly as I'd hoped... He put up a fight, lost a couple of legs... And at last was gone. I waited for the sound of his body being munched into little tiny pieces but never heard what I was hoping for. Then I feared he might just be clinging to the inside of the tube and waiting to crawl back out and attack me. So I quickly put the wand back into the motorized brush and began to run over every large piece of carpet debris I could find... Because I figured if he WAS clinging to the inside of that tube, I was gonna knock his ass into that canister. I thought, if he's not dead yet, he could damn well suffocate in that bag of hair and dirt and dust. I think I ran over a paper-clip, a button, paper scraps, a screw and all manner of crap. Then I turned off the vacuum and left it right there in the middle of the floor for 'Nature Girl' to put away when she gets home...

Because SHE shoul've taken care of that nasty bastard last night!

UPDATE: 'Nature Girl' doesn't think the roach died after being sucked up in the vacuum. She says a roach can live through a holocaust, so it could very well survive in a vacuum bag. Unless I crush it with a shoe, she says it will live on. Now SHE won't touch the vacuum and I won't touch the vacuum and NOW I'm having horrifying visions, regarding a giant cockroach covered in debris, waking me in the middle of the night, with a vacuum nozzle pointed at my head.

So what do you think... Did or could the roach survive?

Thoughts on the MTV Movie Awards

The following are thoughts I had while watching the MTV Movie Awards with my kids.

• OMG Robert Pattinson is SO cute!

(C'mon, I'm certainly not the OLDEST woman to be thinking that same thought!)

• OMG How creepy is it that my DAUGHTER is thinking the same exact thing?

(Get a grip and tame that inner cougar.)

• Andy Samberg is funny... Andy Samberg WITHOUT his pants on is not funny.

• You know, Andy Samberg can make a fart joke and it just falls flat with me but then he flashes that little boy grin and it's just like listening to an 8 yr. old kid do something inappropriate and then look all innocent... You just want to laugh and hug 'em... However if you laugh and tell him he's cute, he'll more than likely grow up just like Andy Samberg... But instead of being a successful comedian he'll probably be getting the shit kicked out of him at a neighborhood bar.

• Kristin Stewart is always grabbing her hair, that must be a nervous habit and it's really annoying.

• I might enjoy Eminem more if I could understand the lyrics to this rap. Seriously MTV, audio is a rather important part of a music channel. Wait, Oh, that's right you don't feature music anymore do you?

• The fact that Twilight is winning all these awards is making my daughter SO happy and thus it's making me very happy too!

• I'm really curious what the folks at MTV think about the fact that their voting/viewing audience is comprised of mostly pre-pubescent girls?

• WHY, WHY, WHY MTV... did we HAVE to watch that guy jacking off with the golden popcorn award? Are you not aware that I'm watching this show with my KIDS? And what about ALL those pre-pubescent girls?

• Thinking maybe this is WHY MTV pushes the envelope on taste. Perhaps this is their method for weeding out the Hannah Montana fans.

• Sacha Baron Cohen with his butt cheeks hanging out? Yeah, seen it before with Howard Stern... How freakin' original MTV and then trying to make us believe that Eminem was all pissed about it... Have you NO original ideas?

• Amy Poehler, come back to SNL... I miss you!

• I wonder how pissed the people are over at 'Harry Potter' that the viewing audience is FAR more interested in seeing the clip from 'New Moon'?

• Jim Carrey, still pretty damn funny and hey, even HE wants Robert Pattinson.

• I rather enjoy this parody of the Oscar's with the presentation of the award for Ben Stiller but I'm getting a little sick of Keifer Sutherland playing his bit so far over the top... Tone it down dude, you're supposed to be going for laughs and instead you're just annoying the hell out of me.

Fortunately my kids are old enough I didn't have to acknowledge the inappropriateness that popped up every now and then during the show. It is however a very unpleasant and awkward situation to witness a guy pretending to jack-off to a popcorn statue while you're sitting between you 19 yr. old son and your 16 yr. old daughter.

Thanks for the memories MTV*


*that's sarcasm folks.