Haiku Friday: The super-fit edition

It's time to get tough,
so this little piggy says,
"Wii, Wii, Wii, Wii!" WHEEEEEEEEEEE!

Yup, I have taken the plunge. My Wii Fit arrived Wednesday, and Miss Roo-girl and I unpacked it yesterday. (Although we need to buy a new controller because the rat dogs ate the old one.)

Anyway, wish me luck, cuz I'm really a wuss when inanimate objects start telling me I'm old and fat.

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Have you entered my fabulous giveaway yet? Go -->here<-- if you haven't. I promise you'll like it!

Golden ... and randomly honest

Sometimes there's a moment of selfish satisfaction when you blog -- like when someone says something REALLY nice about you and your writing.

I must humbly report that the very very lovely Tink of Pickled Beef announced her annual Golden Spork Awards last week and bequeathed me with ...

*insert trumpet fanfare here*

The Savory" Spork Award -- "Best all around. I can't go a day without checking these blogs."

This is my second Spork Award. Last year I got one for being beautiful (best-looking blog), but this one? This one puts a stupid smile on my face.

Thanks, Tink. I can't go a day without checking yours either!!

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Songbird of Songbird's Crazy World, who really does have the best name ever (check my actual email address if you doubt that!!), tagged me with this:

The honorees are to: A) first list 10 honest things about yourself -- and make it interesting, even if you have to dig deep! B) pass the award on to 7 bloggers that you feel embody the spirit of the Honest Scrap.

Honest, huh? Like indepth conversations about body parts and corn aren't brutally honest?

Ok, whatever. Here we go:

1. I actually fretted about what should go in the no. 1 spot. That's just sad.

2. I have the worst eating habits on the planet. Given a choice between something healthy and something not (chocolate??? mmmmmmmmmm), I will invariably pick the unhealthy. I believe ice cream is an appropriate dinner.

3. I never, ever, ever tuck shirts into my pants. And I prefer to wear my t-shirts, etc., loose and baggy. Body-image issues much?

4. I'm messy. Somehow the neat-and-tidy gene completely passed me by. My desk is messy, my room is messy, my car is messy (I view my vehicle as an extension of my purse, if that tells you anything). But hey, at least I'm cute. That counts for something, doesn't it? Doesn't it????

5. I cried when I got the invitation to my 30th high school reunion because my life didn't turn out ANYTHING like I had thought it would. Two failed marriages, financial ruin, on my own with four kids. Then, at the end of that year, I met this guy in a bar ...

6. Making this list is harder than it looks.

7. I really am not an animal person. So can someone please explain how I end up living with two rat dogs, three turtles, a rat, a snake (!!!!!!!!!!!) and countless fish, including Jack?

8. My boss (the highest-up one, not the one who supervises me on a day-to-day basis) once told me that I was a problem employee and should "fundamentally change" my personality or look for a new job.

Turns out the problem wasn't me, but a behind-the-scenes, lying rabble-rouser. That boss has since left the building, but not the company. The mere hint of his return is enough to send me sniveling under my desk in the fetal position.

9. I'm hypersensitive and I hold grudges. So if you insult me, or otherwise bruise my feelings, I'm likely to remember it for a long time. Which is not to say that I don't get over things, but I fret about them forever (see no. 8).

10. If the mama ain't happy, ain't NOBODY happy. This goes double in my house.
Ask anyone!

I know I'm supposed to tag people, but I don't always play by the rules. (Wait, is that No. 11?)

Anyway, if you want to bare all, then go for it.

I'm interested to see what you have to say.

No lie.

Pssssssst ...

Did you enter my giveaway yet?

Why not?????

Dream a little dream ... and fantasize a little more

I blame her.

Because, at least in my bloggy circles, she started it with THIS.

Which led me to this website, where all my dreams (heh heh heh) could come true. And then she got into the act. And so did she -- and then her and her, too.

And my fantasies overwhelmed me.

Quite honestly, I am not an extrovert, although I do play one on the internet. I am much better (and always have been) at expressing myself through the written word, rather than verbally.

Accordingly, though, I have been known to talk about ... um ... marital aids. Most specifically (ahem) lubricants. Wonderhubby's and my escapades with a certain his-n-hers lube is legendary.

But perusing this site of marital wonders has sent my imagination into overdrive and made my heart go pitter-pat.

You see, I am totally cheating on my boyfriend.

You know my boyfriend, don't you? My boyfriend Buzz? Yes, that Buzz. To infinity and beyond ...?

Yeah, well, this little beauty has been calling my name.

Is she not lovely? Smooth lines. Delicate of color. *swoon*

So when Drew from Eden Fantasys knocked on my internet door and wanted to do a giveaway on my blog, I was all in favor.

Because I am all about the sharing of things that make my heart race.

So, Miss Lily is available to one of you, my lucky readers. To enter, please leave a comment on this post. Make sure you leave a valid email address so I can contact you when you win!

You want an extra entry? Subscribe to my blog in a reader, and leave a comment saying that you did.

You want one more? Twitter it and leave the permalink to the tweet in the comments.

You want a fourth? Plurk it and leave the link to the plurk.

However you do it, comments will be open until 11:59 p.m. PST on Feb. 1. And then my friend Mr. Random Number Generator will pick a winner.

And my lover can be yours ...

She loves me, she loves me not ...

It's all in a day's work when it comes to raising teenage girls.

Come visit me at Mid-Century Modern Moms.

Weekly Winners: January 18-24

Hey, sucker:

This thing is growing out of our lemon tree. It needs to go away!!!

The evolution of cheer eyes:

How they look on competition day

How they look after all is said and done ... and after a shower.
It takes ages to get that stuff off.

What happens when your daughter gets sick of having her picture taken:

Don't do it. Mom!!! I said DON'T DO IT!!!!

I mean it! Stop it! Don't chase me with the camera!
I DON'T WANT YOU TO TAKE MY PICTURE!!!!!!!!

Talk to the hand, cuz the face don't give a damn.

*SLAM!*

Go --->here<--- for more artistic weekly winners from photobloggers who have better luck with their subjects than I did this week.

Haiku Friday: the where's my muse edition

This week's been quiet
on the planet of Janet.
The words just won't come.

I'm drowning in my
own issues and work dramas
with nothing to say.

However ... it's weird
that I can still prattle on
in five-seven-five.

The Drama King has
requested a family meal.
Perhaps that will help.

Cuz there's nothing like
dinner with my family
to jumpstart my muse.

So perhaps next week
we will break bread together.
Anyone for corn?

Birthday dinner: without the birthday and without the family

Hard to believe, but Wonderhubby is capable of having a birthday-equivalent dinner.

All. by. his. lonesome.

Well, I was there, but really the conversation was allll him.

It was after this past weekend's cheer competition. The Roo-girl was going home on the team bus, and we were attempting to sneak in a little dinner out.

Like date night.

Only not.

I really was minding my own business. Kinda literally, I guess, since I had excused myself to go to the bathroom just after our salads had arrived (you know, when you gotta go, you gotta go -- even when you don't like to go when you're out).

Anyway, I came back to the table, and my loving spouse spoke these words:

"You know, the thing about penises ..."

*blink blink blink*

Um, what about penises??? (And if I thought my Google hits were weird before ...)

"Well ... it's not about ... well ... unless you're a two-pump chump. You know -- like 'Uh... Uh... Ohhhhhh ... (pause) Good night.' "

It's a good thing I hadn't started eating that salad yet, because truly, choking on spinach leaves is SO unattractive.

And no, I really don't know what prompted this monologue. I really don't.

Gotta love him, though.

The drive to drive

My children have been off-the-chart weird about learning to operate a motor vehicle. Neither Drummer Man or the Drama King got their license until well after the age of 18 (driving age here is 16).

Z-man turns 20 in August -- and STILL doesn't drive. Not because he didn't give it a the old college try, because he did.

But because he scared the holy crap out of himself ... and me ... and even his instructor.

(Continued at Mid-Century Modern Moms)

Weekly Winners: January 11-17

We spent a lot of time on the cheer competition mats this week, so my winners mostly feature the Roo-girl in the air. (I didn't start breathing after she was down on the ground!)

Daylight moon:

Straight out of the camera ...

Girls in waiting:

A mat-full of cheerleaders as they wait for results is a colorful moment

A cutie patootie:


My shining star:

Go --->here<--- for more weekly winners.

How the heck did you get HERE????

Ok, I've been trying to ignore some of the weird-ass Google searches that have landed people on the Janet planet, but this time I have been pushed over the edge.

Now, I know that I am not getting the pervy searchs that some people get. But, really, people!!!! I'm very, very disturbed!

See if you don't agree:

aftereffects of intestinal surgery: um, well, I don't think this was really what you were looking for. Seriously.

poops on floor in grocery shake out leg: Ok, really. I'm mean, REALLY. I know it came up at our dinner table, but ... oh please, tell me this is not as common as it seems to be.

maya angelou, you only do what you know best: In a year and a half of blogging, I can promise you that I have never once mentioned or quoted Maya Angelou. Until now.

what to wear to eight grade graduation: Just ask my daughter. She's a pro.

the cutest college boy on the planet: Aww, I think he's cute too!

kids crystal light snorting: Ok, I admit I do say *snort* occasionally ... but I swear I never had anything go up my nose. And Crystal Light? Ew.

janet um body work: Janet UM body work???? Huh???

l[ght boxes: That was, indeed, the search. However, I'm still not sure what sound the letter "[" makes.

janet wet herself: Oh, man. I thought no one saw!

its 10 am in the morning do you know where your children are music: I frequently don't know where my children are, but I NEVER know where my children are MUSIC. Especially at 10 a.m. in the morning (although I admit I ALWAYS know at 10 a.m. at night).

pickles: I swear on the lives of my unborn grandchildren that I am not of childbearing age anymore. No pickle cravings.

chicka chicka tang tang walla walla bing bang: Someone needs to brush up on their "Witch Doctor" lyrics. This is waaaaay off.

i tinkled in my pants blog: Ok, I'm beginning to get a complex about this stuff.

i'm 15 she's 10?: No. No. No. Not now. Not ever. If you're 15 (or, frankly, anything but 10), step AWAY from the 10-year-old girls.

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Seriously, people, this is weird -- and disturbing -- stuff. Perhaps I start writing about hearts and flowers and unicorns, and leave the body fluids to someone else.

Nah.

Haiku Friday: teenage conspiracy theories

Did you take my shorts?
Cuz they aren't in the dryer
where I had left them.

Everybody takes
my stuff and I never know
where anything is.

Was it you? Or you?
Maybe it was you. Or YOU.
It sure wasn't me.

I hate that no one
ever leaves my stuff alone.
*foot stamp plus door slam*

Oh. I found my shorts.
I guess they were put away
into my dresser.

How was I supposed
to know that they were in there?
Jeez, Mom, just calm down!

Stupid is as stupid does

There's an old, bad -- and very politically incorrect -- joke that goes something like this:

Why don't they have ice cubes in (insert name of some sovereign nation that you think is stupid)?

Because the lady with the recipe died.

Actually, that's a little insight into what it is like in my office these days. It's been ... um ... interesting as the dust settles and the responsibilities of those who were laid off this time are redistributed among those who remain.

I, for example, am getting some web-related jobs. This is both good and bad. Good because new skills are always valuable for some kind of new career. Bad because it feels so ghoulish.

But the stupidity of what was done is absolutely legion:

A major piece of office equipment malfunctioned on Monday. No one did anything about it and it was still not working Tuesday morning. This particular piece of equipment is reasonably vital to the smooth operation of my job, so we asked around that morning to see who could fix it.

It seems that the only person who really knew how to deal with that piece of equipment had been laid off the week before.

The only guy who knew how to bail had been let go, and now the ship was sinking and we had no bucket.

Brilliant.

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Apparently, my head is not completely in the game because I'm 48 hours late (not unusual) for something called Delurking Day.

It's a day set aside for people who read but never comment (lurk lurk lurk) to come out of the woodwork and make their presence known.

So I have a favor to ask. Make my crappy week a little brighter by delurking and leaving a little how-de-do in the comments.

I know you people are out there. I can hear you breathing.

I've even taken off the word verification, just to make it easier.

I promise I don't bite. I'd just like to be able to say hi.

Wooden you love to be a fly on the wall?

Wonderhubby was surfing the 'net. He does that a lot now that we have not-exactly-matching laptops (mine's a Mac, though, so it's better!!!!).

It's defensive surfing though. What the heck else is he going to do while I blog, Plurk or whip some butt at Word Twist?

Anyway, he likes to share what he finds. Occasionally he takes online news quizzes, and we share answers. It's quite preshus, really.

Which brings us to Saturday night. An evening of football playoffs and parallel play on the 'puters.

"Jenny McCarthy ..." he mused aloud. "Isn't that ... uh ... I can't think of his name. But isn't that ... oh yeah, Paul McCartney's wife -- the one who got all that money?"

"No, that's Heather Mills," I answered. "And anyway, her last name would have been McCartney, not McCarthy."

"Oh, right," he said, bypassing Ms. McCarthy and moving on to another page.

He looked up at me, quizzically. "I wonder if she's Charlie McCarthy's granddaughter ..."

All I could do was stare at him -- and then burst out laughing.

Wonderhubby looked a little sheepish.

"Except for he's a puppet, isn't he?"

After which I spoke the words he lives to hear:

"Oh man, I am SO blogging that."

There's no crying in cheerleading. Oh, wait. Yes there is...

Do you have a teenage daughter?

Do you like roller coasters?

Because those things go together like a horse and carriage.

Can I just say ... the Roo-girl is confusing the heck out of me these days. Make no mistake, I love her to death and am enjoying her newly pleasant disposition.

But it is not ever thus, and much of our trauma drama these days is cheer-related.

(Continued at Mid-Century Modern Moms)

Weekly Winners: January 4-10

Tricolor trees:

I was driving to work and actually stopped my car
to get out and shoot this photo.
The colors in the trees and the contrast were incredible.

It's basketball season:

Did she make the basket?
I don't remember!! Heh

Basketball needs cheerleaders too:


Ponytails:


Pocohantas:

When she was little, she called that movie "Cocobabas."
We still use that name to this day.

If you go --->here<--- you will find more Weekly Winners, the brainchild of the lovely Lotus, Sarcastic Mom extraordinaire. Last year, she held a contest for those of us who participate faithfully in Weekly Winners ... and I won one of her prizes!!! In fact, I won a blog redesign from Catapult Web Development!!!! I am super-duper excited.

So watch this space for new and improved developments!! And more exclamation points!!!!!!!

Ah, she knows me so well

So if you have been following along, you know that I have had a pretty lousy work week.

Dipping into the rum balls is one thing, but by Thursday night, I really was mentally hurtin'. Miss Roo was studying at a friend's house, and when I picked her up, we stopped at the local pharmacy for assorted needed supplies.

And wine coolers.

We all know that I'm a total lightweight. This has been documented elsewhere.

And it struck the Roo-girl as hilarious when I headed straight for the liquor department. She even helped me pick out a flavor. (Hey, pomegranate-berry ... can't be bad, right? Or ... maybe ... ah, whatever.)

Anyway, when we got home, we each went to our separate corners. She took a bowl of ice cream to her room. I took my wine cooler and climbed into bed with my laptop.

*insert appropriate time-passing music here while I drank deeply of the nectar of Bartles and Jaymes*

My cell phone rang at some point. I knew it was Roo because it was about the time she usually calls me to ask me to tuck her in.

(Yes, she has been asking me to "come say goodnight" for several weeks now. Whatever made me hate 14?? Oh, wait. Now I remember. Heh.)

My phone was actually buried in the bedcovers. I could hear it, but I couldn't find it. I stopped trying and just wandered down to her room instead. Meanwhile, I could hear my phone start to ring a second time.

"Sheesh," I snapped as I entered her room. "Stop calling. I'm here."

"Ooohhhhh," she said, looking me straight in the eye.

"ANGRY drunk!!!!"

Bwahahahahahahaha.

Yep. That's me.

Haiku Friday: the how-drunk-can-I-get? edition

After yesterday's
hell, I needed a stiff drink.
Alas, there was none.

So when all else fails,
and there's no booze to be found,
GO FOR THE RUM BALLS!!!!!

Compliments of my dear friend Kaytabug, who sent this
lovely -- and extremely delicious -- care package.
(There was fudge, too, but you can't get high from fudge,
unless it's ... uh ... funny fudge).
Love you, K!!

Time out *updated*

I was all set to write something funny about the ups and downs (heh) of a cheerleader's emotional state, but then I found out we were having layoffs again today.

This will be the third month in a row that the powers-that-be have used staff cuts to try to solve the problems they created with bad decisions and poor planning.

I don't feel very funny right now.

*update*

Seven people were let go today. I was not one of them.

Except in a weird sort of way, it would have been a relief to just get it over with.

In the meantime, I am looking for work.

Anyone?

I hear the quadriceps singing

Ah, that's not entirely fair.

I hear the quadriceps SCREAMING.

I'm sore. Did I mention that I'm sore?

I had a brain cloud over the weekend and agreed to a (free) hour with a personal trainer at the gym.

My motives were pure. I had been pretty much a slug since my vacation in November, and, with the start of the new year, I figured I should get my sorry (and ever-expanding) ass back into the gym.

ASAP.

I was also bored. I had been doing some classes -- mat pilates, water aerobics, "low-and-sculpt" (whatever that means) -- and thought maybe I could progress to a big-girl workout on actual machines.

So when the trainers started contacting members and offering complimentary sessions, I bit.

I was clear when I met with the woman, though, that I really wasn't interested in more one-on-one sessions but that my primary goal was to figure out some of the machines and get some sort of routine going.

Two hours later -- yes, you read that correctly, two hours -- I hobbled out of the gym and went home. My head was full of nonsense that I knew I would never remember.

Nor did I care to.

I present to you the "workout" that I was given -- 10 minutes on the treadmill followed by repetitions on more muscle-specific machines than I thought actually existed.

Each machine required an adjustment. A seat. A foot pad. A cable height. Appropriate weights.

Shoot me.

I'm a simple woman with a simple attention span. After six machines, I was a little confused.

After 10, I was looking at the trainer a little funny.

When we got to 14, I was distracted by something shiny and forgot everything she told me.

And yet she had "just one more" to show me.

Yes. Fifteen machines, all with multiple adjustments and a different number of reps and weight.

But never fear, Janet, she told me. "I wrote it all down for you."

I present to you ... exhibit A: my official exercise routine.


You really can't make this crap up.

And yeah, I'm going back to water aerobics.

Technology bytes

At 14, the Roo-girl is a product of the technology generation.

She can Google something into the ground. She can play computer games. She puts me to shame with what she can do with Facebook and a cell phone.

However.

Because she has grown up with all kinds of fancy shortcuts, there are things she can't do.

(Continued at Mid-Century Modern Moms)

Weekly Winners: December 28 (2008) to January 3 (2009)

Pear butt:


The Pippi Longstocking look:


Before ...


... and after:

Yes, I took pictures of the ball drop on television. I'm weird.

And then she celebrates:


A look to the future:

This spoke to me, considering the new job traumas of this week,
as a way of looking ahead to a new career or a fresh start.

Go --->here<--- for more weekly winners.

Haiku Friday: the more 2009 edition

A tick of the clock
and another year begins.
What will this one bring?

Another chance to
start again and do it
much better this time.

Perhaps a new job
that pays well and satisfies.
I can dream, can't I?

New beginnings

It's 2009!

The last year we're supposed to say "two-thousand and (single-digit number of your choosing)" before we shift over into the much-less syllabic "twenty-ten," etc., etc., etc.

And to all my blog buddies, I wish a year of happiness, health, wealth and peace.