Move Ya Jag-Off

  A true 'burgher can't stop laughing...  I just had to share this with all of my non-PA peeps.

Bored with Toile and Annoyed With Sentence Starters

You might remember a couple years ago I showed you my garage sale table that I repainted.  I covered the seat cushions with a lovely tea-stained toile. 

Well, I'm in the process of a table make-over.  I'll post pictures soon.  After a few years of wear, the toile is boring and unattractive, and the tabletop itself was a victim of a nasty Sharpie attack.

My uber-talented husband built a new table with his big, masculine hands, and I'm keeping the chairs but freshening them up with some new paint and new seat covers.  I've been browsing for fabrics, but so far nothing has caught my eye.  I'm opting for a sagey-green colored heavy upholstery fabric with some sort of pattern.  I just can't do a solid color.  Spots show too easily, and Lord knows we can be a messy family.  (Like I said, Sharpie attack....)

Well, hopefully over the long Memorial Day weekend between my son's birthday business, Pirate games and picnics 'll get my table finished.

On a totally unrelated matter, I have a tenant that has been irritating the ever-loving snot out of me with her constant repeating of "Well, the thing of it is..."   As in:  "Well, the thing of it is, I have a doctors appointment and I won't be home."  And, "Well, the thing of it is, I never really liked vegetables."  And, "Well, the thing of it is, my car is in the garage and I can't make it to your office today".

To which I must say in the total anonymity of the world wide web:  "The thing of it is, you need to stop starting every sentence this way.  The thing of it is, more often than not it makes absolutely no sense and a group of sentences that should take you 5 second to say ends up taking 15, and in all honesty talking to you for any length of time is about as fun as a pap smear, so make your point and leave me alone."

I'm not bitter or anything.

The Circle of Life

I was born in western Pennsylvania during the 70's, when disco and bell bottoms were in.  I was born the year my beloved America celebrated it's bicentennial. 

I grew up in the 80's.  In the early part of the 80's I watched my Mom jazzercize to her Thriller album and I collected Garbage Pal cards.  I broke my brothers General Lee model car and to this day he hasn't forgiven me. 

I would visit my Grandmother in West Orange, New Jersy and I was scared to death of the big city.

In the late eighties my hair stood up about 4 inches at the top and I listened to Def Leppard and Guns 'N Roses.  I rolled my jeans up at the ankles and wore brightly colored slouch socks.  I answered the phone by saying "Talk to me, Goose".

In the early 90's my hair was still pretty high.  I thought I was going to marry Kip Winger and travel with his band.  I didn't miss an episode of 90210.  I made fun of a classmate who wore a Huey Lewis and the News World Tour '86 tee shirt to school. 

During the mid-90's, I decided to move to New Mexico to pursue my dream of becoming a teacher on the Navajo reservation.  I became a vegetarian and voted for Bill Clinton's re-election.   I considered myself a serious humanitarian.  I thought I was going to marry a handsome Native American that looked like Wind In His Hair with a washboard stomach.  I wanted to move into a traditional hogan and live off the land.

Instead I met Todd.  Todd was an eccentric black cowboy from a town bordered by the Navajo reservation who spoke fluent Spanish and drove a pick-up truck.  He listened to Def Leppard and George Strait and Al Green.  He didn't have long, flowing black hair.  In fact, he hardly had any hair.  But he had somewhat of a washboard stomach.

He collected Star Wars memorabilia from the 70's and 80's.

Todd made me a steak.  After going for nearly 4 years without eating beef, I'd forgotten how good it was.  He convinced me to get cable.  I made him his first pirogi.

In the late 90's, Todd asked me to marry him.  We flew out to Pennsylvania so he could meet my family.  He met my jazzercizing mother and Bill Clinton-hating father.  I gave my brother a replica General Lee model car that I found at Toys R Us. 

We had an impromptu wedding service with no rings to exchange.  I wore blue.  Afterwards we drove to Las Vegas in his pick up truck for a quick honeymoon and listened George Strait CD's most of the way there.  I was madly in love and felt all giddy.

We moved to Phoenix, Arizona and I decided I loved living in the big city.

On September 11th, 2001 Todd and I held hands and cried together because we thought our beloved America was going to be destroyed by evil terrorists.

In 2004, we decided to have a child.  We named him Todd Jr.  Again I fell madly in love. 

Around 2007, I began missing Pennsylvania and my family and we decided that our son should be around his grandparents and family here.  We packed up the Uhaul and headed east.  We listened to Casey Kasem's American Top 40 on the satellite radio most of the way.  We heard several HLATN songs, and sang along with every one of them. 

Fast forward a few years.  Our son is approaching 8.  He listens to Thriller at least once a week.  He collects Star Wars memorabilia from any  decade.  He tries to speak Spanish, and he thinks his Dad's steaks are the best in the world, as long as they are served right along with a pirogi.  Last year we took him to see HLATN in concert after a baseball game.  He thinks Huey Lewis is the epitome of coolness.

My Dad has eased up on Bill Clinton.  My Mom prefers Zumba these days.  My brother still has that General Lee model car.  I eat meat almost daily.  I live in a suburban townhouse and I couldn't live off the land if I tried.

Just the other day Todd and I held hands and cried together because we think our beloved America is going to be destroyed by evil Americans.

I suppose the point I'm trying to make is simply this.  For me my entire life has been one continuing circle, with several repeating factors applicable in different ways.  It doesn't matter how much society and culture changes, it's all one redundant cycle of the same stuff at different times in our lives. 

And just be careful who you make fun of in high school.  That former classmate is a now mega-millionaire software designer.  The last time I saw him be made fun of me because I still haven't fully let go of my high hair.

Larry the Cable Guy Makes Whaaaaat?

Probably one of the last people on this planet whose product I might endorse would be Larry the Cable Guy.  I don't understand why a man whose whole mantra "Git'r Done" is funny. 

This man actually, and quite descriptively, explains without pause how to make a poop lasagna.

There are so very few people I just can't handle hearing on my TV or radio.  He is one of them.

The other day I came across a box of Larry's Beer bread mix.  I am a huge fan of beer bread.  I buy it by the truck loads from Tastefully Simple.  For about $6 a box.  Larry's brand of beer bread was in the Dollar Tree.  That in itself should have said something.  But, being the insanely adventurous girl that I am, I thought I give it a whirl.  I mean, in comparing the ingredient list to that of Tastefully Simple, there is not much difference. 

Can I tell you something?  It wasn't half bad.  I didn't even think of the word "poop" when I tried it.  OK Larry, you got me.  For a dollar.  But I still won't watch your movies.

This Is a Cattle Guard, Mr. Vice-President

Recently I heard a funny story, that you may or may not have heard.  Also, this story may or may not be true, but it is funny nonetheless.

But first, let's clear something up.  This is a cattle guard.  We don't have them in Pennsylvania, I guess here it doesn't matter if cows are running rampant across roads or into our neighbors property.  Of course, here in the big city, we don't have many cows, much less a need for cattle guards.

When I lived in New Mexico and Arizona, we had cattle guards all over.  There was one about 500 yards from the end of our driveway that separated public land from the reservation.  The cattle guard didn't keep the cows out of our yard or from totally destroying my son's favorite plastic rake.  But that's another story for another day.

Recently it has been brought to my attention that our Vice President thought that cattle guards were actually people guarding cattle.  Now, Mr. Biden is from Pennsylvania, so I can understand.  Had I not lived out west, I probably wouldn't have known either.

However, when reviewing grazing policies for western states it was discussed that several cattle guards were to be removed.  Thinking about all of soon-to-be-unemployed, Mr. Biden replied "Before any one is fired, why don't we consider six months of re-training?"

Again, this could likely be just a joke, hopefully our vice-president knows what a cattle guard really is. 

One more totally unrelated thing I'd like to address.  I've been away from blogger for a few weeks.  Every time I have some sort of extended absence they seem to change things around on the blog author's end of things.  They claim it's more maneuverable and easier to set up.  I've been on blogger for four years.  I don't find it easier.  I realize I'm not the most computer savvy yahoo out there.  But I do know what a cattle guard is.