The Mini Van Soap Box

A while ago, Meg from Mind of a Mad Woman, tagged me. And by a while ago - I mean a while ago. I would like to say it took me this long to get to it because I had important things to do. IMPORTANT THINGS, I say. But, in truth, I didn't. I just didn't do it. I'm a horrible horrible blog friend. I probably won't send her a birthday card either. I'm going to R.S.V.P to her barbecue and then not come. I'm going to tell her blog layout looks great, when in fact it makes her blog look fat.

See? Horrible Horrible blog friend.

Regardless, here goes.
_________________________________________________________________

1) What is your favorite food?

Currently my favorite food is everything that I can not have. I stole a, (a, one, singular, uno) Pringle from my daughter last night and thought that my tongue was going to have an orgasm. For a brief moment I was tempted to smother her with a couch pillow, steal the rest of her chips and run from the room before my husband could stop me….from, you know, killing my daughter over a chip.

2) What is your favorite color?

European Unladen Swallow….(points for anyone who knows what the hell I’m talking about)

3) Hair –

Um…Yes?

I’m not entirely sure what this is. Is someone asking me about my favorite hair? Or if, in fact, I have hair. Or if I do, in fact, have hair, what color it is? I’m very confused by this question. So, I suppose I’ll answer all of that. Yes, I have hair. I have a lot of it, as a matter of fact. I have hair in places where I don’t want hair. I am paying someone a couple thousand dollars to get rid of that hair. I’ll let you know how that goes. Oh, and the hair, all of it, is brown. Except when it’s gray.

4) Recent DVD watched –

P.S. I Love You.

Not good. Don’t do it. I warned you.

5) Guilty Pleasure TV Show –

Yikes. I think it would probably be easier to tell you what Guilty Pleasure TV Show I don’t watch. Yes, that would be MUCH easier. I’ll let you know when I can actually come up with one.

Oh! I don’t watch Meerkat Manor. Pretty much everything else is fair game. Sadly, I’m sure if I tuned into just one of those meerkat shows I would start a season pass. I’m that sick.

6) If I was a tree, what kind of tree would I be?

Again, who came up with these questions? I would be a tree with brown and gray hair holding a Tivo remote, bitch slapping small children with my heavy limbs so I can steal their calorie filled treats?

_________________________________________________________________

And no, your blog does not make you look fat. It's rather flattering.

In honor of Harvey Korman.
Harvey Korman
February 1927 - May 2008

I loved the Carol Burnett show. Tim, Carol, Harvey and that other lady who I can't remember the name of. My most favorite shows were the ones where the actors themselves couldn't stop laughing. I saw a behind the scenes once with the whole crew, years after the show was over, and Carol said that Tim's favorite thing to do was to get Harvey to break character.

As seen in this footage.

With the exception of one year that I wanted to "be on my own" - I have always lived in, or around, this town. In 1979, when we first moved here from Texas, it was a very small town. One traffic light and the local High's on the street corner, where my friend and I would buy Slim Jim's and Grape Nehi on Saturday mornings.

Things have changed a great deal over the last 30 years. We certainly have a lot more than just one traffic light, and the annual summer festival now entertains close to 90,000 people each year. Part of me misses the small town feel, however, I've enjoyed watching the town grow - and it certainly does offer more options.

Personally, I think there is a value in living in the same place for the majority of your life.

Unfortunately, there is a major down fall. You never really get the the option to "start fresh". And I've learned that some people have very long memories.

Try to remember just a handful of all the stupid things you have done in the last 30 years. Embarrassing, right? Now realize that you are NOT the only one that remembers all those things. And God forbid an old high school friend of yours gets married....and the people you did all those stupid things in front of are there.

And they want to rehash the "good ol' days".

"Oh My Gosh Kerrie!! Do you remember when you were the lead in the Spring Musical and your character was supposed to have a flat chest? Do you remember having to wrap your big melons in ace bandages to make them seem smaller?"

"Hey Kerrie - Do you still wear two socks on each foot because you think your ankles are too skinny?"

"hahahhaa - Hey do you remember when you drank half a bottle of Jack at the cast party and threw up on my water bed?"

"Remember how you were such a freakin' drama queen and you flipped out in the middle of rehearsal and called our teacher a bitch and stormed out?"

Good times ... good times.

Yes, I remember all those things. I have thought from time to time that I would like to go to my 20 year reunion just to show people that I'm not a basket case anymore. However, I see most of those people at the festival, so I can probably save the $100 bucks on the new dress.

For the record I don't double up my socks anymore - I enjoy the fact that any part of my body is skinny.

I certainly don't wrap my boobs in ace bandages - but rather revel in their size. It's hoping that people will pay attention to those and not the size of my ever expanding stomach.

In addition - I hate Jack Daniels. But I think the above mentioned vomit episode is the reason behind that.

Most importantly though, my drama teacher never liked me.

I suppose for the most part, I've ignored them. There have been little indications here and there over the last 4 or 5 years - but there always seemed to be a rational way of brushing them off.

A gray hair here. A little wider there.

Unfortunately, it's painfully clear - I'm getting older, and there isn't a damn thing I can do about.

Sure, I can color the gray hair. I can work out and eat right - but it's the MIND of the older person that is surprising me.

I'm starting to TALK like an older person - I'm starting to THINK like an older person. When did this happen?? Maybe when I had my daughter, the change started. Maybe the change is so gradual, that you barely notice until the transformation is complete.

While part of my brain would still like to believe that I'm at least a little bit hip....the simple truth is that I am not. I have absolutely NO idea what channel MTV is - and even if I found it - I would have no idea what the hell they were talking about. I have no earthly clue why it's apparently so cool to have your pants hanging down around your knees. And I really couldn't care less who Jessica Simpson is dating or why Britney Spears doesn't wear underwear.

Lately I've found myself saying:

"Crazy Kid Drivers!"

"Holy Shit - Did you know how much sodium is in this??"

However, the most painful sign of them all was last Tuesday, while trying to buy a pair of shoes for a friends wedding.

There was a time, in the not so distant past, that I could walk around all day in a sexy pair of 3 inch heels, and then dance the night away in the same pair. Apparently no more.

I looked like Bambi trying to walk for the very first time. I found myself muttering to other patrons - "when did stiletto's come back into style" "Can ANYONE walk in these things?"

"What asshole Italian designed this shoe? Does he hate feet or just women?"

I ended up buying a pair of sensible Anne Klein low heel pumps. I'll probably still be in traction for days.

Speaking of signs...

You ever see those street signs that say "SLOW : Children At Play"? I was driving to the gym the other day and saw one of those...However, all it said was "SLOW CHILDREN". No graphic. No punctuation. Just "SLOW CHILDREN", all in caps.

I got this image of every child in the neighborhood was stuck in some space time continuum, walking around in slow motion. Or a place where all the happiness had been sucked out of the air and children walked around all day just looking at their feet.

Yea, these are the things I think about....

I had an entirely different post ready to go up - but I decided to save it for another day so I could throw my two cents in on something else. At the risk of alienating some readers - and probably being one of 4 million people who are going to be blogging about this today....I'll keep this short.

I tivo American Idol. I've been, for the most part, a faithful watcher since the beginning. However, over the last few years, the fast forward button on my clicker has gotten more abuse than usual.

What is, and should be, a competition for the best singer/performer - has turned into hours of blatant, over the top product placement and general pimping of - cars, wireless service, beverages, Itunes and horrible movies that no one would ever go see (Seriously - The Love Guru??)

My husband actually asked me yesterday..."Why do you tivo the whole thing - and then fast forward through most of the show? Why not just read EW.com tomorrow and see what happened".

A fair question - mostly because I DO fast forward through most of it. But I'm actually still interested in who performed and HOW they performed, and with the exception of Paula, what the judges had to say. I like to make an informed decision on who I think should be the American Idol.

By the time the show got to the final 12 you could almost already tell who was going to win. The judges and producers were clearing pushing for Young David (17 yrs old), even going as far as praising a "wonderful performance" when he forgot and botched lyrics. Throw on top of the fact all the teeny boppers in the country voting for this kid every week...He was a shoo in for the finale.

I was very pleased to see Not So Young David make the finale as well. Personally, he was my choice all along - and no doubt an album or download that I will buy.

Color me very surprised when the Not So Young David actually won. Very rarely do my choices actually win. He was surprised as well....he was also overwhelmed, honored and gracious. Bastard made me cry over American Idol.

Both are onto great careers, that I can be sure of. Young David has some work to do - getting a bit more comfortable with the stage and himself, (and possibly emancipating himself from his father) but will no doubt be picked up by someone (if not already). Not to mention, I don't think that kid is going to have ANY problems finding a date for prom next year.

I have the rest of the year off. American Idol does not come back again until January of 2009. I can only hope that the drop in ratings that they had this year, apparently due to everyone doing what I do and recording to watch later, will teach the Powers That Be that the viewing public isn't as stupid as they think we are.

And do me a favor - if you plan on seeing The Love Guru....let me know how long it took for your eyes to start bleeding.

I was given the most blessed opportunity to take some Mommy R&R these last couple of days. In fact, as I write this, I am staring out of someone else's window at a long row of multi-colored beach houses on the edge of the North Carolina Outer Banks beach. I only have one more evening until real life creeps back in, and 6:00 am will find me heading back home to work, family and chores.

The phone call from my friend came at a perfect time - and wonderfully with no strings attached. She's between breaks at school and was in a much needed vacation. She was going to go with or without me - but threw the option out there if I wanted to come and veg for a while. In addition - It wasn't going to cost me a thing.

Surprisingly, my husband was supportive of it, so off I went for three days to lay in the sun, drink some beers and get in some good, long over due, girl bonding.

One thing has struck me the most over the last few days.

She doesn't irritate me.

That may sound strange - however, if you only understood how very different the two of us are...You would think that at SOME point in time - we would have to call a time out and walk away.

She's a non-drinking, non-smoking, sunscreen fanatic, organic eating vegetarian, every dish must be washed perfectly before putting into the dishwasher, can not sleep until the entire jigsaw is put together, tree hugger.

I am a drinking, smoking, sun worshiping carnivore. I believe that dishwashers are here for a reason and I don't give a shit if the puzzle is done or not.

Her life is consumed with her career, getting her masters, and her dogs.

My life is consumed with my daughter & her schedule, my family and my house.

For 11 years we have been best friends - and at no time have either of us been able to figure out why the two of us stand the test of time - while others fade away.

We can only assume that opposites attract. I would like to think that we complement each other - and occasionally bring each other back from the edge of neurosis. Not once did she judge me when I couldn't find my husband and daughter for TWO WHOLE HOURS, and was convinced that they were dead. Nor did she even bat an eye when I needed to figure out how to finish off the rest of the beer before we left, because throwing beer away is just plain wrong.

She's currently checking the dishes that I previously washed to make sure that they are suitable for the dishwasher, then she will sit down to make a list of the things that need to be done in the next five hours.

So, here's a toast to my best friend. Lord knows why we stay together.

What do you think the equation is?

We have a neighborhood cat. I'm not entirely sure who the cat actually belongs to - or where he comes from - or even if, in fact, he is a he. Maybe he's a she. Regardless, there is a black and white neighborhood cat. I don't feed him or anything - but he does make his way into my yard from time to time. Clearly, as I've stated before, it's very easy for small animals to make their way into my backyard. I certainly don't condone this behavior, mainly because I don't want cat shit in my backyard - so I'll shoo him out every so often. If he was providing some service while being in my backyard - I would probably let him stay. Maybe if he was eating the rabbits, or warding off the groundhog - but no, the only thing he does is roll in the grass and look through my windows.

Little Peeping Tom Cat.

Anyway, he was in my driveway this morning. Just sitting. Staring at me. Not moving. Even when I backed the car up a little. Even when I leaned out of the window and "psssssttt.....MOVE!". Nope. Ain't moving. Like one of those stupid 'non-blinking' contests. Except in this game, he's a cat....and I have a minivan.

No, I didn't run him over. But I was tempted. Because here's the thing.

I hate cats.

It's a very complex emotion. Probably dating back to my mother's cat who's sole joy in life was to make my sister and I bleed. I'll tell you about her another time - other than to say that my mother says she was a pure Siamese - but I'll put money that there was some Puma or Cougar in her family tree.

So, a childhood fear of being eaten by my own cat, and the fact that I am deathly allergic to them, all feed into my hatred of all things cat.

In my early twenties, I was living alone and had decided I wanted a pet. It would have been unfair of me to have gotten a dog - I just didn't have the space or the time for that large of a responsibility. As cats are generally pretty self sufficient - it was by far the best option. However, given the reasons above - I couldn't deal with the cat hair. Eureka! A hairless cat was the way to go.

Until I researched them and realized that THIS is what they look like.









That thing would scare the shit out of me. It looks like Gollum from Lord of the Rings.

"Wake Up My Precious....Prrreeccciiious....Kitty Needs Fish Carcass"

My older sister, Big B, is about 5 years older than I am. Despite the age difference, she and I have always been close. She always let me hang with her and her friends when she was in high school....let me come visit her in college - even took me to a college party where she let me tell everyone that I was a freshman marketing major. She was so cool - she even held my hair back for me when I spent the rest of the night blowing chunks in her dorm room after drinking two wine coolers. Sisters don't get more awesome than that.

Given all that - the years since, the husbands, kids, and despite the fact that we have barely lived in the same state since 1992....Rarely does a week go by that we don't talk.

However, given the age that we live - very few of those conversations actually happen on a phone. In fact, we could both be on a permanent helium high or walking around talking into Peter Framptons voice box and no one would be the wiser.

Almost all of our conversations happen over IM. It started in the very beginning, when AOL was the coolest shit since the Commodore 64 and hearing your computer from the other side of the room, make that horrible "BlaBleep" sound, was always a little party.

It works well on all sorts of fronts. First and foremost - neither of our houses are especially quiet. With two husband, three kids, and an entire zoo of animals between us - quick phone conversations are just not possible. The IM allows us to say what we what/need, and then walk away.

Anyway, about a million years ago, Big B accidentally sprayed her keyboard with ant poison.

Don't ask - Stupid shit like that runs rampant in my family.

I hadn't thought about it in years...but while cleaning out my computer I found that I had actually saved the conversation.

Big B says: sorry fabout the typing- my keyboafrd is broken, fand it types fan "f" with every "a"
Big B says: very afnnoying
Kid says: it's ok. I figured something was wrong......or you were wasted. ;)
Big B says: heheh
Big B says: only 7 here.
Big B says: fanywfay.. so how afr ehtings? I refally cfan't stfay on.
Big B says: I smell fand TJ will be home soon. Wfannfa go shower or wipe my pits or somehting
Kid says: Sorry....it's taking me a minute to respond I'm trying to figure out what your saying. :) Things are fine. Just about to head to bed.
Big B says: OH, fand everytime I use the exclfamfation mfark, I get fa money symbol fas well.
Kid says: Get a new keyboard!!! If I WAS drunk - I wouldn't understand anything you were saying!
Big B says: This typing is falmost comicafl, factuaflly...
Kid says: falmost comicafl factually.
Big B says: I'm gonnaf safve this for him to refad!$
Kid says: I'm laughing so hard right now.
Big B says: me too.
Kid says: fact u a fly.
Big B says: " I'm gonnaf safve this for him to refad!$" whfat the hell doeafs THFAT mefan?
Kid says: LOLOLOLOL
Big B says: im crying
Kid says: refad.
Big B says: afnd everytime i rafise me farms to wipe my teafrs, i smell my pitts fand thfat mfakes me cry more
Big B says: rafise my ffarms...
Kid says: raise your farms!!!!!! LOLLOLOLO
Big B says: wafs i trying to mfake fa point?
Kid says: stop it. stop it. i'm crying.
Big B says: fa little lafughter is good for you.
Kid says: it's like German meets the priest from Princess Bride.
Big B says: hafhfahfahafhfahfa
Kid says: haf
Big B says: it's like german meets the preist for Princess Bride." I like thfat$! Exfactky$!
Big B says: FAFAFAFAAFHHHH$!
Kid says: LOLOLOL
Big B says: I hafve to go tfake fa shower now before my mfan gets home.
Kid says: Ok. I'll talk to you later.
Kid says: Get a new keyboard!
Big B says: I love you$!
Kid says: I love you too.
Big B says: Yeafh$! Isprfayed afnd poison on this one
Big B says: I didn't mefan to. I wfas trying to get fa plfauge of afnts on my desk, fand kindfa got it on the keybofard. It hfasn;t recovered...
Big B says: OK$! I will tfalk to you lfater!$ I fam safving this for TJ!$

You'll have to excuse the excessive use of "LOL"....but it was back when excessive LOL'ing was ROTFL super cool - and I was nothing if not super cool back then.

I'm sure that this is probably only funny to my sister and I...but I think it's a freakin' riot.

If nothing else - you can use it as a Public Service Announcement.

Don't spray ant poison on your keyboard....If you do, someone may save it and post it on the internet one day.

I have recently broken up with someone. Due to these hard financial times we are in - I had to sit down and have a long talk with Starbucks.

I gently explained that it wasn't him, but me. Which, in fact, is bullshit.

It's entirely him. Like a overpriced whore on every street corner - whispering in my ear that $5.00 for a freakin' cup of coffee isn't all that bad. "Go ahead Kerrie...", he sweetly says, "have the special of the day. What's an extra two bucks when you know you want it. No, those calories don't count at all."

It's over. I'm not looking back.

Unless it's a Sunday morning and we're driving around town.
Or if a friend of mine buys.
Or if someone gives me a gift card.
Or if I'm having a really bad day.

But other than that. Starbucks is dead to me.

Because of that, I am now getting my morning caffeine fix from the grocery store. Large breakfast blend coffee and a bagel costs me $2.13. Not bad, huh?

The bagel is stale and the coffee tastes like crap - but I will continue to do this on principal alone.

So this morning, during my regular morning adventure into the local Bloom, I notice the woman in front of me with 3 children, one baby and two under the age of four, buying 3 gallons of milk, formula, bread, eggs and bologna. I remember thinking "It must be hard to manage three children. She must be very tired".

She bought all of her items with this strange looking coupon thing. I could only assume it was a food stamp of some kind. I thought again "Wow, that must be REALLY hard to manage. Down on her luck with three children and still buying things that are (for the most part) good for her kids. Milk, bread, eggs...formula."

She finished purchasing her items, rallied her children and headed out.

As I paid for my shit coffee and three day old bagel I saw a flash out of the corner of my eye.

Food Stamp Mother of three was stuffing 20 dollar bills into the lottery ticket machine.

4 times.

Seriously??? No - really! Seriously??

I think I've mentioned before that I have Tuesdays off of work. Each of us in the office took a hit in 'cutting hours' - and while initially it was hard...I've become quite used to, and thankful, for the day. It enables me to do all the wife and mom things that need to be done during the course of a week.

Unfortunately, today did not grant me such luxury as a day off....but the day off - with company.

For sick and disease related issues - the spawn was kicked out of school - and had to accompany me all all errands today. Errands that HAD to happen. Boring errands.....long errands....But none the less, errands that had to be done.

So, here we are...excited to go on an adventure. We're showered and dressed....let's pee one more time...and off we go.

For anyone that's met my daughter, and those that have not, in public - she's an angel. There is rarely a time that someone will not laugh at us and tell us that we're silly when we can her the devil...."She's so well behaved....She's so sweet....She's so pretty!"

You silly silly people. That's how she sucks you in.

Today we experienced not 1, not 2....but 9 different, hell raising, full on scream, watch how many different colors my face can turn, I can peel paint off the walls, temper tantrums.

And let me tell you....If I had given in on all of these 'episodes'....I would have left the mall with:

A 12 foot stuffed bear dressed like a cop, a four pound chocolate chip cookie, a black lace teddy from Victoria's Secret, the "M" book in a set of Encyclopedias, a 75 dollar cigar, a lithograph of a bizarre looking man playing saxophone, a size 6 beaded evening gown, an entire surround sound system for the house and one of those ridiculously sized 120 pound bottles of Chanel at the perfume counter.

Now.....My mother has told me many times that I was a sweet child. (I'm talking about being a child...not a teenager where we are all crazy)

So, this isn't Karma, right?

I'm being punished for some other horrendous act that I may have done.

Here's the catch....The last tantrum was in 7-11.....Because I wouldn't' let her steal a cup.

Life mirrors blogging?

_________________________________________________________________

Sidenote: A lllooonngg time ago, I signed up on humor blogs.com....I am currently rated 688. Which in a nutshell means I suck. Click here and let's see if I can at least get in the top 500.

There was a time when I was younger, that money was tight. This isn't by any means the point of this post, but serves simply as background to the information that I'm going to share.

I was far too busy/lazy when I was 17 to....you know, get a job and help out at all. So...I did what any normal 17 year old would do and helped where I could.

I stole things.

Now, now, now....Before you close the window because you think I have no morals and am a horrible person - let me explain.

I took things that were already available to me. I never actually TOOK something from a store or from some Mom & Pop shop trying to make a buck with their mini-mart. It was simply, if I was at dinner with a friend and there were sugar packets on the table...I would take some. If I was using a public restroom - I would stuff my purse with a few extra twirls of my wrist. If a friend of mine was having a party at a hotel - I would take all the shampoo and soap.

Personally, I don't think this is stealing. I think this is taking something that TECHNICALLY I already paid for. Who's to say that I don't need 12 sugars in my tea? Maybe I DO wash my hands 37 times a day. And maybe, just maybe, I pooped 12 times in that Target bathroom to warrant the roll of toilet paper in my purse?

Interestingly enough.....In my senior year of high school I got the opportunity to go on a choir competition trip to Disney World. On the first day of practice, all us girls are leaving our hotel, where there just happens to be a housekeeping cart. Without even THINKING, I said...."Ohhhh, toilet paper!" I grabbed two rolls.

Anyway, regardless of my actions - right or wrong - it happened.

So, here's the funny part. There are currently 27 packets of sweet & low at the bottom of my purse.

Am I still pocketing packets of sweetener and not even realizing?

So, this is my prediction.....

Upon my death - my daughter is going to find 27 shoe boxes full of sweet 'n low in my closet.

That will by my legacy. The crazy lady that steals shit from Denny's.

Time to 'fess up. What have you taken?