You thought it was funny to log onto my blog and post a fake letter to the Redskins, from “me”. And although the idea of writing a heated letter to them after they received a spankin from the Cowboys was a good idea, the act of posing as someone else on their own blog is a horrible act… usually punishable by a hand-breaking, Mafia Style (smashed in a grand piano lid). But we don’t have a grand piano… and even if we did, I obviously couldn’t break your hand.
Because then you would have a valid excuse for not doing your math homework… instead of the fake excuses you use now.
But seriously, joy of my loins, stay off of mommy’s blog. Or you’ll be grounded from Christmas.
Hi, it’s Suzanne. Oh, don’t act like you don’t know me. I have been a Skins fan since I was a tiny kid… when Art Monk was a god. My whole family loved the Skins, even though none of us went so far as to dress up like a pig in drag. (We were sane fans.)
I now live in Utah, instead of Maryland. My chances to see Redskins games are now pretty few and far between. So, please — please — if you could every now and then pull a win out of your butts — especially when it really counts – I’d appreciate it. If you could spank the Cowboys when you have the opportunity… well, that would be rad. Because I was embarrassed today. Seriously. I’m eating crow at my house tonight for dinner; I’m melting some cheese on it so it tastes better and pretending it’s chicken. But it’s crow. We all know it’s crow.
My son (who has become quite the blogger these last few days) logged into my blog as me and put up a fake post saying “Dear Redskins, I am your worst fan ever.” And although that was awful and you should never make a fake post on someone else’s blog, the fact that you lost like pansies and gave him the ammo to do it, makes me freakin mad.
You get two chances a year, dudes. Make it good every now and then, okay??
I heard this song on the radio last night on my drive home from Salt Lake (where I saw “Wristcutters: A Love Story” with Diana). Supposedly these guys don’t have a CD out yet, only a myspace page. But the song is great. One thing: can anyone tell me what the movie in the video is? I don’t recognize it.
I snapped the clasp on my chest shield and tried out the gun on my hand; the smooth plastic felt cool and deadly. Ok, not really deadly, but cool. Our laser tag trainer called out the rules and instructions while a group of young kids (gathered for a birthday party at Laser Assault) snapped their chest shields into place.
“You guys are the red team,” she said, pointing to everyone on our side of the room. I looked down at the name tag on my chest shield; it said my laser tag name was “Jet”, and then my red light flashed on. Jon smiled at me as his red light came on, and his teeth looked florescent yellow under the black lights of the waiting room. His chest plate said “Nova”. Also on the red team: a 10 year old boy, two 7 year old girls, and a 7 year old boy.
The laser tag instructor then pointed to the 3 boys standing on the other side of the waiting room. “You guys are the green team.” Their green lights flashed on and their little 10 year old chests swelled with pride. Then she pointed to me and said, ”You, your chest shield is on backwards.” The green team laughed at me because I was an obvious noob. Jon, however, corrected them by saying, “Guys, she is REALLY good at laser tag, so everyone shoot at HER!”
The laser tag instructor opened the door to the large, dark, indoor arena and said “Go!” What followed was 10 minutes of pure adrenaline pumping action… and embarrassment. ”Let’s go, red team!” Jon yelled, and four short little red lights followed him into the maze. (Little kids love him.) He had become the alpha leader (because he was the tallest and oldest… by 25 years). Me, however… I went rogue. I wasn’t going to follow Jon — I mean, “Nova” — around, hoping he would protect me. I was out to frag me some cocky green team. I ran up a few ramps until I got to a good vantage point, a bridge overlooking the maze below. From there, I started picking off green lights. And since I was wide open on a bridge high in the room, they started picking off me, too. And they were really taking to heart the words Jon had spoken “She’s really good. Shoot at HER.” I wound around the room, shooting and ducking, and laughing and giggling like a little kid. It was so fun.
In the end, we exited the arena and went out into the lobby to check the stats on the screen. The green team won, despite being out-numbered 6 to 3. Jon was right behind them in points. And guess who took the most hits? Huh? Take a guess? Yeah, that would be me. But in my defense, half of the red team were sandwiched behind Jon in a kid-train throughout most of the game; it would have been really tough to hit them. At least, that’s what I tell myself at night, when I think of how I was schooled at laser tag by three 10 year old little punks.
This weekend I’m going to the arcade to brush up on my fragging skills…
With a blogger Dad and a blogger Mom, you know it had to happen. Jachin launched his blog last night. Please check it out and comment… he’ll be on cloud 9 for a month.
(awesome picture of Grant removed at Grant’s request)
Nice guy, family friend, recently got a raise, one of my most loyal blog readers… and apparently he really liked penguins at one point.
My husband chatted me this morning telling me that Grant said that he was going to stop checking my blog because of my current lack of posting.
/cry
I know that there are a lot of “Grants” out there; readers who are losing interest because I’ve been lazy or otherwise busy doing non-posting things. To you Grants I would say: Do not forsake me and my blog! Every blog goes through a rough patch… that’s no reason to give up and look elsewhere. Blogs are just like marriages; you have to be in for the long haul and sometimes it’s ugly… or in my blog’s case, just boring.
Perhaps I’ll commit to that insane NaBloPoMo that my fellow bloggers have done to spice up the readership. *sigh* Who was I kidding with the “novel in a month” anyway?
(stick around, Grant, I may have something for ya)
Every morning Zoe and I have the same painful, screeching process for her crazy, beautiful hair. Wash it, condition it, slather leave-on cream in it, soak it with detangling spray, and then go to work with the brush. Her hair is very tangly, even with all of the products and she screams bloody murder like I am actually pulling her hair out by the roots, even though I try to be quite gentle.
My poor grandma did her best to take care of the children last week while Jon and I were gone, but my children really tried to get away with everything they could. This included Zoe’s hair. She gave my grandma such a hard time that my grandma gave up after the first day… which is why I came home from our trip last night to find my daughter looking like a stray cocker spaniel with mange.
4 days of no brushing except for the superficial top layer of hair, with the underneath part looking like blonde dreadlocks. I looked at Zoe and said, “How bad of a time did you give Grammy about your hair?” She gave me a look that said “Really bad”. But the joke was on Zoe, because this morning we had to get her showered and ready for school — including her hair — and I’m not a softie like Grammy. I’m not going to lie; there was a lot of screaming.
Other than the complete lack of hair brushing, they also got away with the following things: too much video game time, incomplete homework stuffed under the bed, lacky piano practices, reading time spent on books far below their reading levels and containing the words “butt” and “fart” much too often… and I’m pretty sure they also brushed their teeth with Sprite and Pop Rocks, convincing Grammy that the popping, effervescent carbon dioxide action kills plaque between the teeth on contact.
The irony is that when Jachin went to my grandma and told her that he was out of money in his lunch account and only got a roll and milk for lunch until he brought in more money, she didn’t believe him. She said that he was trying to trick her into giving him money.
Jachin had a stale, white roll and milk for lunch for two days.
Maybe the next time we leave for a week, my instructions to Grammy need to be a little more detailed. Or else Zoe’s hair needs to be chopped short and Jachin’s homework and lunch money stapled to his forehead.
Alrighty, folks. Here I am. Back. And not dead. While everyone else has been excitedly sucked up into the posting frenzy that is “NaBloPoMo”, I have been staunchly ignoring my blog altogether. What? I have a blog? Are you sure?
Oh yeah, I guess I do. And what have I been doing in the last 10 days (not that I just counted or anything) of non-posting? Well, first I decided to take part in the lesser-known “NaNoWriMo”, which is National Novel Writing Month. November 1st thru the 30th. 30 days to crank out 175 pages of the great American novel… or in my case, the great American YA/Fantasy novel. So I did that for a couple of days. Outlining, brainstorming, character profiles, the works. And now I have 7 great , awesome, average pages of incomprehensible YA fantasy drivel. The 12-18 year old demographic is cheering everywhere… or maybe that’s just in my mind. Probably.
And as if beginning to realize my dream of becoming the next JK Rowling weren’t enough (interject insane laughing here), Jon and I left on Wednesday for a kid-free vacation to St. George. It. Was. Great. And yes, it is fun to put periods. after. every. single. word. to. stress. an. idea.
Jon and I hung out by the pool and worked out in the resort gym (next to the 70 year olds, because, hello, it’s St. George; Utah’s premier retirement city… in the freakin dry, dead desert, where geriatric joints don’t ache as much). We also: played laser tag with a group of 10 year olds, saw an improv comedy show, went to four movies (more on those later, for sure), shopped at the outlet malls, visited an old historic house that was set up for a polygamist family, ate some World Famous pie, ate some World Famous frozen yogurt (there’s a lot of “World Famous” stuff in this little town you’ve never heard of), played pool, watched the BYU game in a sweet sports grill called Iggy’s, and a few other things. I collected enough blog fodder in that one trip to last me for months. For right now, though, I kind of just want to crash in my own bed.
But to recap: wrote 7 pages of crap, went on a kid-free trip, saw 4 movies (just a hint: I love Lars), went shopping, got schooled at laser tag by a bunch of punk 10 year olds, got schooled at pool by my husband. There was a lot of “schooling” going on. And shopping.
Last night Jon and I went up to Salt Lake for the first Jazz home game of the season. It was noise-maker night, so everyone was given a loud, clacky thing that doubled as a sign. It was very, very loud inside of the Energy Solutions Arena… AND I’M STILL YELLING THIS MORNING!
Here is me being excited to be out of the house, on a date with my husband:
Yes, that picture is totally staged. See how there is no one around me cheering? That’s because they realize that there is nothing super-exciting about a timeout. Me on the other hand? I LOVE timeouts! WOOOO! I’m out of the house on a date!! And timeouts rule!!
Here is a picture of Jon being ticked off because the Jazz are sucking it up, big time:
Also, it’s possible that the girl with her feet propped up beside him had very smelly toes. The picture of Jon snarling is NOT staged. He really was irritated. Plus, the Jazz lost, so I also have pictures of Jon swearing, punching things, throwing his noise-maker at a panhandler, and kicking a statue of Karl Malone.
The two dudes sitting on the other side of me got drunk. The dude beside me kept swearing loudly, spitting as he yelled, and smacking his noise-maker right next to my ear. He was really into it. At one point he dropped the F-bomb at 110 decibels in my left ear and then turned to me, touched my arm tenderly and said with boozy breath, “Sorry, I meant to say ‘heck’.” And who says chivalry is dead? Nevertheless, I kind of hope they aren’t fellow season ticket holders…
