tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-10983990348274719192024-03-13T23:26:11.483-07:00Not Blessed MamaA Blog for Mamas who like to keep it realAnonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/11853178747718782705noreply@blogger.comBlogger169125tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1098399034827471919.post-57235173951496890312013-05-10T10:44:00.000-07:002013-05-10T10:56:15.660-07:00This Mother's Day, DITFYLet me tell you about my first Mother's Day. I was pretty young, about 22, and I lived in a city where I had no friends or family. Not a one. Everyone I knew (besides my husband) lived 2 hours away. We lived in a little room in a boarding house. Spawn#1 was about a month old. So there I was, lonely and alone and young and hormonal and sleep deprived and my first Mother's Day rolls around. I didn't know what to expect, but I did expect something to happen.<br />
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It did. </div>
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My husband woke up bright and early and went outside to wash his car. Which took (literally) about 5 hours. Then he ran to the store and got himself salmon and steak for dinner. And then he cooked it. And the whole house stunk of salmon and I hate salmon and then I cried. </div>
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A lot. </div>
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Subsequent Mother's Days have been better. Or mediocre. One memorable year husband walked into the master disaster playroom, intending to clean it, and walked back out after about 30 seconds. That year wasn't so great. And now, after experiencing 12 years of Mother's Days, I have come to a conclusion. I'm going to share it with you. </div>
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Being a mom is hard work. Really hard work. Like the hardest thing I've ever done. And I think it's lovely and wonderful to spend a day thanking and pampering all mamas to show a little appreciation. A lot of money doesn't have to be spent- but <u>something</u> needs to happen. Something nice. And you know what I say about that? This Mother's Day, DITFY. Do It The Fuck Yourself.</div>
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Why sit around waiting for someone to make you happy? Why silently hope someone gets you that purse you've been eyeing? Why just hope you'll have enough quiet to snag a much needed nap? <i>Do It The Fuck Yourself. </i>Get the kids out of the house and enjoy some peace. Order that pair of shoes you've been watching. I've made an appointment for me and my girl to get a mani-pedi this Sunday, then I'm gonna take my boys and stuff my face with pancakes. You need to do whatever's gonna make you happy- you deserve it, and you should make it happen. </div>
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And Happy Fucking Mother's Day!</div>
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<i>PLEASE NOTE: This is intended solely as advice for mamas. If you have a mama, do not tell her to DITFY. That would not be appropriate. Tell your mama you want to give her a wonderful day and then do what she asks of you. Thank you. </i></div>
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Anonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/11853178747718782705noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1098399034827471919.post-50091464409698328822013-05-02T20:24:00.000-07:002013-05-02T20:24:40.862-07:00I Have A Hello Kitty KitchenI'm going to tell you a story.<br />
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Once, there was a girl. (Yes, it was me, obviously.) This girl loved Hello Kitty. She loved going to the Sanrio store and browsing all the shelves of tiny packaged little erasers and notepads and stickers and pencil boxes and gum and everything that was cute and pink in the world. But damn, that Hello Kitty shit was expensive. This girl did not get very much of it. So one day, this girl was having a birthday party. And in this girl's class was another little girl who was kind of mean and unpleasant. BUT this rather unpleasant girl always brought really nice Hello Kitty gifts to birthday parties. So in a moment of weakness, this girl invited the mean girl to her birthday party, just to get a nice Hello Kitty gift. And when this girl opened her gift from the mean girl, there was a box of crayons and a notepad and a small plastic garbage can inside. That were not Hello Kitty.<br />
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The moral of the story? Kids are assholes. Also, always buy your kids what they want or they will turn into 34 year old women with Hello Kitty kitchens.<br />
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The Hello Kitty kitchen started out with an innocent toaster. My mom bought it for me years ago. Then things just slowly started spiraling out of control. Finally I figured what the hell- this is a Hello Kitty kitchen.<br />
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This mug is one of the few HK things I've purchased for myself. My mom has bought most of it. </div>
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Trying to make up for my horribly deprived childhood, I suppose. </div>
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These are the HK appliances I use regularly- toaster, popcorn popper, waffle maker, </div>
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toaster oven and rice cooker. </div>
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I dug these out of storage- cotton candy maker, mixer and another popcorn popper. </div>
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The sandwich maker is missing in action. </div>
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(Oh and I had the cute HK microwave from Target but it didn't work.)</div>
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That's a cereal dispenser filled with cat food. It crunched up all the cereal when it dispensed it. </div>
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Bubble gum machine is up on top. </div>
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My lovely friend <a href="https://twitter.com/bleueyedmonster" target="_blank">Tracy</a> of <a href="https://www.facebook.com/BleuMamaDesigns?fref=ts" target="_blank">Bleu Mama Designs</a> made me this adorable fan, featuring my favorite colors. All of the kitty heads are hand painted! She really makes lovely stuff. This is hanging above my back door- way out of reach of the Spawn.<br />
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And that's it! My Hello Kitty kitchen. Yes, I may have problems. But at least it's easy to </div>
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buy me a Christmas gift.</div>
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<br />Anonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/11853178747718782705noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1098399034827471919.post-22490781963993391192013-04-12T12:12:00.003-07:002013-04-12T17:11:42.993-07:00I Commissioned A Painting Of My Guinea PigsI love that I can write that- it just feels representative of my life. <i>I Commissioned A Painting Of My Guinea Pigs. </i>I mean, why wouldn't I?<br />
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One day I was chatting with my pal <a href="https://twitter.com/ItsADomeLife" target="_blank">It's A Dome Life</a> (I'm sorry Lillian, I always name everyone their Twitter handles. It's a sickness.) and I rather jokingly mentioned that I wanted a painting of my guinea pigs with rainbows and unicorns. Lillian, not realizing what a bumbling fool I was (or maybe she did and considers it endearing), was all HECK YEAH! I decided to tone down my request a little, if we were doing this for reals- I said no unicorns. Which I kind of regret, because I think Lillian could have pulled it off. She's amazing!<br />
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After sending some pictures and patiently waiting, I got a big package in the mail. The kids ripped it open like the rabid wild animals they are. And lo and behold- my very first commissioned piece of art!<br />
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The kids and I are beyond thrilled with our painting. We have it up on the fireplace, right next to the guinea cage. I hadn't realized how much our baby Rainbow had grown- she's in the middle. She looks so different! Pretty soon she'll be a big fat guinea sausage like her older sisters. </div>
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Lillian paints everything- houses, people, animals, flowers, mermaids! I highly recommend you go check out her <a href="http://itsadomelife.com/" target="_blank">website</a> or her <a href="https://twitter.com/ItsADomeLife" target="_blank">Twitter</a> or her <a href="https://www.facebook.com/pages/Its-a-Dome-Life/203144843081219?fref=ts" target="_blank">Facebook</a>- not only because she's talented and creative, but because she is just a funny, charming, sweet and delightful person. </div>
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<i>This is totally not a sponsored post. Lillian just rocks. </i></div>
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<br />Anonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/11853178747718782705noreply@blogger.com8tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1098399034827471919.post-15232196421229392112013-03-27T10:05:00.000-07:002013-04-12T17:16:14.785-07:00The First Love Letter I Ever Wrote To A Woman: Dear Brittany HowardDear Brittany,<br />
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Is it okay if I call you Brittany? I assume so, since I am here writing you a love letter and all and I don't see the need for formalities. I have been in love with you and the <a href="http://www.alabamashakes.com/home" target="_blank">Alabama Shakes</a> ever since I first heard you on the radio. It was soulful, and real and moving and rockin' and everything you'd ever want in a song (that was the masterpiece that is <a href="http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=Le-3MIBxQTw" target="_blank">Hold On</a>). Your voice- it moved me. It reminded me of Janis Joplin, and as a friend once said- Janis was awesome because she was just such a <i>badassmotherfucker</i>.<br />
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A few months ago a friend mentioned that she didn't know what kind of music I liked, so I went searching for a link to send her. I found one, and I saw you for the first time. And I'll tell you- this is kind of weird, I know- but when I saw you, I felt elated.<br />
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Now don't get me wrong here. I don't hate Taylor Swift, or that other Britney, or Carrie Underwood or Call Me Maybe girl or any of those other washboard abbed made-up to perfection musical personas that are popular right now. I really don't hate them- more power to them. But here's what I hate- <i>that's all there is. </i>With the exception of Adele, and isn't there that whole "exception that makes the rule" thing?<br />
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<i> </i>You see Brittany, I have a daughter. A beautiful, healthy, perfect, smart, energetic daughter. She's wonderful. She's got the world at her feet and I'm excited to see where it takes her. And you wanna know the fucked up thing? The most fucked up thing EVER is that she thinks she needs to be on a diet.<br />
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Look at that girl. She couldn't be lovelier. And she's got a strong body that climbs trees and does cartwheels<i> </i>and swings on monkey bars and roller skates and takes her everywhere she wants to go. I mean, she couldn't be any more amazing- and she got this horrid disgusting idea of being on a diet. AT 8 YEARS OLD. It makes me want to tear my hair out and bang on walls and Hulk smash all the electronic devices in our house with a hammer. Because she has not gotten that shitty idea at home. I am a plus sized woman and I make sure to be confident in myself and teach my kids that being a good person is what matters the most. But it doesn't look like it's enough.<br />
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So thank you, Brittany. Thank you for being you. Thank you for being a kick ass woman who isn't a Hollywood cookie cutter stereotype. Thank you for giving my daughter someone she can look up to who won't give her self-esteem issues about not having a 6 pack. And finally, thank you for the music that stirs my soul. I am truly happy you are in this world.<br />
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<br />Anonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/11853178747718782705noreply@blogger.com6tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1098399034827471919.post-9846392163752216492012-12-11T18:46:00.000-08:002012-12-11T19:56:20.326-08:00It's Not you, It's Me- But For Reals This TimeAlmost two years ago, I had my heart broken.<br />
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I hate to talk about it. It killed me. I was like Bella in Twilight when Edward left her and she was all ridiculously mopey every day, but at least I had the decency to hold it all inside. A friend I really loved, someone I had been friends with for many years, dumped me. She decided I wasn't right for her- and it broke me. It shattered my heart into a million pieces. I couldn't believe the pain- and it lingered, that bastard. It was months and months before I could think about her and not get tears in my eyes and that aching hole back in my chest. <br />
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And I didn't want to tell anyone. I didn't want to seem weak and ridiculous. I didn't want my other friends to think they weren't important to me. I didn't want to feel the pain all of the time. I just tried to lock it away, and hide it, and deal with it. Which meant crying at night and feeling utterly alone and broken, but, you know. It was what I could do.<br />
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Why am I telling you all this now, you may be wondering? My friend encouraged me to start blogging. She even came up with the name of this blog for me. And slowly, I just couldn't deal with my little blog anymore. My dear, sweet little blog that I always loved. That I nurtured and grew and was <i>mine, </i>I just wasn't interested anymore. I limped along for as long as I could, posting infrequently and giving a half-hearted effort. And then about 5 months ago, I just quit. And guess what?<br />
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<i>I MISSED YOU!</i><br />
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I missed you so bad. I wanted to come back and write for you and chat with you and make you smile. I wanted to come back to my little piece of the internet- my corner, where I could do and say what I wanted and it was special because it was <i>you and me. </i>In this small, silly space. And it was hard, but I'm back. Because I love you. Did you know that? I really do. Every comment, every click- I cherish them. <br />
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And I'd like to thank my bloggy friends for supporting me, and for never giving up on me... <a href="http://www.mymamihood.com/" target="_blank">My Mamihood</a>, <a href="http://debiehive.blogspot.com/" target="_blank">DeBie Hive</a>, <a href="http://www.mollyfield.com/" target="_blank">Grass Oil</a>, <a href="http://itsadomelife.com/" target="_blank">It's A Dome Life</a>, <a href="http://worldsworstmoms.com/" target="_blank">World's Worst Moms,</a> <a href="http://www.renegademothering.com/" target="_blank">Renegade Mothering,</a> <a href="https://twitter.com/onechunkymama" target="_blank">One Chunky Mama</a>, and all of the other lovely people that I adore who now hate me for forgetting them.<br />
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<br />Anonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/11853178747718782705noreply@blogger.com21tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1098399034827471919.post-24613325149787954912012-07-26T17:17:00.001-07:002012-07-26T18:23:45.679-07:00Not Blessed Mama's Unwanted and Unsolicited Product Review: Do You Have $3?I swear that this is the best three dollars I EVER SPENT IN MY WHOLE ENTIRE LIFE.<br />
<br />
So- water balloons. My Spawn love water balloons, of course. Who doesn't? I don't. I freaking hate water balloons. They take 5 hours to blow up and the kids pop them all in 30 seconds. They always break when you try to force them on the faucet. My fat little fingers get sore trying to tie them. I just really, really hate them. They're way more of a hassle than they're worth. My kids just have to go without. And I don't even give a shit.<br />
<br />
Until about a month ago. When I bought the most amazing thing that 3 dollars could ever buy. This. This glorious piece of plastic- The Kaos Tie Not Water Balloon Filler.<br />
<br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-3fgNb3-vBsI/UBHbbw5HAOI/AAAAAAAAAoM/84V4SBkZPAQ/s1600/tie+knot+water+balloon+filler.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="320" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-3fgNb3-vBsI/UBHbbw5HAOI/AAAAAAAAAoM/84V4SBkZPAQ/s320/tie+knot+water+balloon+filler.JPG" width="249" /></a></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><br />
</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;">This thing is genius. IT'S GENIUS. You stick it on your garden hose, stick a balloon on it, fill up the balloon and twist it around the contraption- <i>then you pull it off and the balloon is tied. </i>It's tied. If you don't think this is amazing, let me tell you: the first day we got this, my 5 year old sat still for over half an hour and filled up a whole tub of water balloons himself. By himself. Quietly, with no supervision from me. All 3 of my Spawn have been using this thing all the time- they love it. They have water balloon fights with the neighborhood kids and have an awesome time- and best of all, leave me alone while they do it. That alone is worth way more than three bucks. I got mine at Wal-Mart. They're available on-line, but they're more expensive. </div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"><br />
</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;">We've had this over a month now and it's still going strong. I can't believe that a tiny piece of plastic has brought me such joy. Well, I can believe it- but it only cost $3 and I didn't have to lock the bathroom door. So it's a win.</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"><br />
</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;">GO BUY THIS!!!</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"><br />
</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-T9YliRaCdBY/UBHdnUD4OLI/AAAAAAAAAoU/hrEF7ck0Lpw/s1600/tieknot.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-T9YliRaCdBY/UBHdnUD4OLI/AAAAAAAAAoU/hrEF7ck0Lpw/s1600/tieknot.JPG" /></a></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"><br />
</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"><i>I am not affiliated with Kaos and their fine water balloon products. But if I did see them, I'd probably kiss them on the mouth. This stupid thing is that goddamn awesome. I am telling you!</i></div>Anonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/11853178747718782705noreply@blogger.com11tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1098399034827471919.post-74268054613711486162012-07-13T10:53:00.000-07:002012-07-13T10:53:11.494-07:00Chuck E. Cheese Is Not The Evil Hellhole You Think It IsI'm always seeing parents complain about how much they hate Chuck E. Cheese. And I'll tell you a little secret- <i>we love it there. </i>Totally love it. Even I do. We usually go every year for birthdays (sometimes even mine), so I'm an old pro now. I'm going to share my tips for making CEC actually enjoyable.<br />
<br />
<b>1. NEVER GO ON A WEEKNIGHT OR WEEKEND (or holiday). </b>And when I say never, I mean never never never never ever ever ever. CEC on a weekend <i>is</i> a massive hellhole. One Friday night we tried to go and couldn't even get in the door. We always go on a weekday, and we go as early as possible. Check your location's hours- ours opens at 9. And guess what? When we go that early on a weekday, IT'S EMPTY. There's never been more than 10 people that early. Often, we've had the whole place to ourselves. Also, check out how late your CEC is open. Ours can be open as late as 10- and one weeknight we did go around 7:30-8, and it was manageable.<br />
<br />
<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-mzGVK6-47uM/UABaKSLmN-I/AAAAAAAAAoA/d5uNaOhU7KA/s1600/007.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="320" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-mzGVK6-47uM/UABaKSLmN-I/AAAAAAAAAoA/d5uNaOhU7KA/s320/007.JPG" width="239" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">That one other kid in the background? She was with us. </td></tr>
</tbody></table><b>2. Get your paperwork in order. </b>Damn that CEC pizza is expensive (and it's not even that good). A few days before your trip, sign up for the mailing list to receive some great coupons. The mailing list coupons are always better than what you can print out from the website (and your first set of coupons is usually extra great), but I would never encourage you to sign up with multiple e-mails to get the best deal. I would never do that. Make sure you enter your child's birthdate- they'll get free stuff for their birthday, and you can use more than one coupon at a time. There's also usually a game on the CEC website you can play to get tickets for prizes- do this for all your children! Have no shame. Walk proudly through that door with your fistful of coupons. They'll get your money one way or another. You might as well get the best deals possible. <div><br />
</div><div><b>3. Plan your strategy. </b>Ok, you've got your coupons. You've picked a time when you don't think it will be too crowded. Now- are you eating there? Do you have coupons for pizza? Will you be buying soda, or bringing water bottles? Are you bringing snacks and skipping meal time? (I could never do this- the kids love that mediocre pizza. I always plan to eat there, and I get either the cinnamon or apple dessert pizza or the salad bar. French fries are an inexpensive option but aren't very good.) How much money do you want to spend? Do your kids have socks to go in the play equipment? Are you wearing something with pockets to hold tokens and tickets?</div><div><br />
</div><div>AND YOU ARE READY. I have gifted you with all of the knowledge from my many years of experience at Chuck E. Cheese. I know it seems like a lot for a silly CEC trip, but just keep these tips in the back of your mind. I promise that you and your kids can actually have some fun, and it won't even cost you your sanity. </div><div><br />
</div><div><i>I don't think I need to say that Chuck E. is not affiliated with this post. I doubt they'd like the name of their establishment paired with "hellhole" in a blog post. </i></div><div><br />
<br />
<br />
</div>Anonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/11853178747718782705noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1098399034827471919.post-24655281388531629642012-07-07T12:06:00.000-07:002012-07-07T12:06:47.877-07:00Damn Those Bath SaltsI'm sure you've all heard of the horrific bath salt related attacks lately. And you may have heard that some people are joking that bath salts are the precursor to the zombie apocalypse. Which is silly, of course. But last night as I was laying in bed, I started to think- what if this was it? What if this really was the start of zombie attacks? What if our world became like The Walking Dead and we had to steal food and hide and protect ourselves from flesh eating monsters? How would I take care of my kids? How would I get enough food? What would I use to protect the windows? Would we need to go in the attic? And what if we ran out of food? What if we had no where to go and I felt like I was running out of options? And I really started to get upset thinking about it all.<br />
<br />
Obviously, I have a problem.<br />
<br />
My paranoia used to be much worse. When Spawn#1 was just 2 years old, I was laying down for a nap with him. I heard a train whistle, reasonably close by- and I thought, what if there are circus animals on that train? What if that train crashed and the animals escaped and a tiger was in my backyard? What if a tiger was in my laundry room? How would I protect my Spawn? And on, and on. Because really, isn't it totally rational to be mentally prepared for circus animal or bath salt zombie attacks?<br />
<br />
You may think I'm joking, but I'm totally serious. I go through these crazy scenarios in my head, and make a plan of action and decide what I would need to do to protect my kids. Driving over bridges, going to the zoo. Intruders breaking into the house, going on rides at the fair, falling over the railing on the second floor of the mall. I need to be ready for the worst possibility. Why? I don't know.<br />
<br />
My contingency plans are fewer and farther in between these days. I think that I'm just too busy to let my brain idle. Which is good- while they've never limited or impacted our lives, I'm sane enough to realize that this kind of thinking is not exactly... normal. Once, when I casually mentioned a thought to my sister about a bridge we were driving over, she went quiet and looked at me with wide eyes. I'm sane, ok- just not normal.<br />
<br />
So, are you worried about the upcoming bath salt zombpocalypse? Or do you have some prescription drugs to share with me? Leave your thoughts in the comments below.<br />
<br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-hpAOul44INU/T_iFqOYjLbI/AAAAAAAAAn0/Sn1A1FM-ERA/s1600/bathsalts.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="310" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-hpAOul44INU/T_iFqOYjLbI/AAAAAAAAAn0/Sn1A1FM-ERA/s320/bathsalts.jpg" width="320" /></a></div>Anonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/11853178747718782705noreply@blogger.com14tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1098399034827471919.post-29225827637678511542012-06-21T17:17:00.000-07:002012-06-21T17:17:23.240-07:00Not Blessed Mama Presents: Truth In Advertising<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;">Whenever I see a stupid product, commercial or advertisement, I always wish that a mom had worked with the company. Moms should be employed in every advertising agency and board room in this country- because a mom would not put up with that bullshit. </div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"><br />
</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;">There would be no toys that have more packaging than actual pieces. There would be no cute commercials about menstrual products- because nothing about menstruation is cute, <i>and a mom would not put up with that bullshit. </i>There would be no Sarah Jessica Parker selling hair dye (because she doesn't use it), there would be no popcorn insisting that it was whole grain (because that's stupid), there would be no shoes with wheels (because they're just irritating)- and yup, you guessed why. Because a mom would not put up with that bullshit. If Not Blessed Mama worked in advertising, she would spread the truth. Here are some samples that I'm putting in my resume. </div><br />
<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-_8ExyHdjPtk/T-OxXmFT_5I/AAAAAAAAAm8/VWz959YoX8U/s1600/pads+copy.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="391" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-_8ExyHdjPtk/T-OxXmFT_5I/AAAAAAAAAm8/VWz959YoX8U/s400/pads+copy.jpg" width="400" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><a href="http://www.facebook.com/notblessedmama" target="_blank">The "whore of a period" inspiration came from my Facebook Page.</a><br />
<br />
</td></tr>
</tbody></table> _______________________________________________________________________<br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-O3eRaY4AiNo/T-OxT1KJiyI/AAAAAAAAAm0/XWM7_SUgVdA/s1600/condoms+copy.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="266" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-O3eRaY4AiNo/T-OxT1KJiyI/AAAAAAAAAm0/XWM7_SUgVdA/s320/condoms+copy.jpg" width="320" /></a></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"> ______________________________________________________________________</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-txNQauK8UOI/T-Ox5o2Y4zI/AAAAAAAAAnE/5ckPvDoqJQo/s1600/baby+einstein+copy.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="400" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-txNQauK8UOI/T-Ox5o2Y4zI/AAAAAAAAAnE/5ckPvDoqJQo/s400/baby+einstein+copy.jpg" width="397" /></a></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"> ______________________________________________________________________</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-tuLAMx03XHo/T-O4grclNxI/AAAAAAAAAno/PIKHJyqYbXM/s1600/hotwheels+copy.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="380" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-tuLAMx03XHo/T-O4grclNxI/AAAAAAAAAno/PIKHJyqYbXM/s640/hotwheels+copy.jpg" width="640" /></a></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"> _______________________________________________________________________</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-I8_d11e2jiE/T-OySCSrVhI/AAAAAAAAAnU/s7APyi5pXyQ/s1600/wine+copy.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="400" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-I8_d11e2jiE/T-OySCSrVhI/AAAAAAAAAnU/s7APyi5pXyQ/s400/wine+copy.jpg" width="263" /></a></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"> _______________________________________________________________________</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><br />
</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-oTgA-M_pLUc/T-OyYidA-vI/AAAAAAAAAnc/YKTZ6cyOGMs/s1600/tp+copy.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="293" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-oTgA-M_pLUc/T-OyYidA-vI/AAAAAAAAAnc/YKTZ6cyOGMs/s400/tp+copy.jpg" width="400" /></a></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><br />
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</div>Anonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/11853178747718782705noreply@blogger.com25tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1098399034827471919.post-12252704281860278552012-06-14T12:18:00.000-07:002012-06-14T12:18:34.202-07:00Not Blessed Mama Cooks, Sometimes: Roasted ArtichokesYou guys know I hate cooking. Hate is a strong word- but it's totally accurate. I've been cleaning all day, feeding children, dragging them places and doing errands and shopping and EVERYTHING and at the end of the day, slaving over a hot stove is not what I'm looking forward to. If I had the money, we'd be eating out all the time. I can't even lie and say I'm cooking at home to be healthier- it would be take-out every night if I could afford that shit.<br />
<br />
WHEW! Anyway, I do cook, because my family needs to eat. Simple is best- tasty is good too. Not too long ago, I saw people mentioning roasted artichokes on Twitter. I googled a few recipes and tried it out- and oh my goodness, those things are freaking delicious. We've had them every week for about a month now. My daughter loves them- she loves them so much, she asked if we could make them and put them on my blog. She's such a sweetheart. Here they are!<br />
<br />
These taste better if you have a little girl with dirty fingernails helping you- just FYI.<br />
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Grab some artichokes- chop off the top (about an inch) and then the stem, so they sit flat.<br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-1u_9ZN2U6LE/T9o0hY053HI/AAAAAAAAAlo/OimaXBTHV08/s1600/017.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="320" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-1u_9ZN2U6LE/T9o0hY053HI/AAAAAAAAAlo/OimaXBTHV08/s320/017.JPG" width="239" /></a></div><br />
Drizzle some olive oil on a square of foil and put your artichoke on it. Peel the leaves open a bit if you can. The artichokes in the picture have flat leaves instead of being curled and pokey at the tip- these do not work as well, in my opinion. It's hard to get the leaves open, and the leaves were still tough and the heart was mushy at the end of the cooking time.<br />
<br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-MvZMI5_4jPg/T9o1EEcp6GI/AAAAAAAAAlw/VeSzI-z0frk/s1600/020.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="320" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-MvZMI5_4jPg/T9o1EEcp6GI/AAAAAAAAAlw/VeSzI-z0frk/s320/020.JPG" width="239" /></a></div><br />
Drizzle some olive oil over the top of the artichoke. Then do the same with lemon juice.<br />
<br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-Md3d1HLRWjM/T9o1l3d_DmI/AAAAAAAAAl4/XkgN_Cp_B1I/s1600/021.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="320" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-Md3d1HLRWjM/T9o1l3d_DmI/AAAAAAAAAl4/XkgN_Cp_B1I/s320/021.JPG" width="239" /></a></div><br />
Then spoon a bunch of crushed garlic over the top. Stick it down in between the leaves. Some recipes call for whole garlic cloves. I much prefer the crushed garlic because then you can eat the tasty bits with your artichoke leaves.<br />
<br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-RSG7tyaCAM4/T9o2BOU5UNI/AAAAAAAAAmE/tCK9YX8Z7Rw/s1600/022.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="320" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-RSG7tyaCAM4/T9o2BOU5UNI/AAAAAAAAAmE/tCK9YX8Z7Rw/s320/022.JPG" width="239" /></a></div><br />
Throw on some salt and pepper, wrap 'em up tight, then stick those babies in a 425 degree over for about an hour and fifteen minutes. You can test one by pulling a leaf off and checking if it's tender enough. I haven't tried these on the barbecue yet, but I think they'd do great. <br />
<br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-dxWupjuStKQ/T9o29Wo0CAI/AAAAAAAAAmM/xtnmPH6i0hY/s1600/023.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="320" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-dxWupjuStKQ/T9o29Wo0CAI/AAAAAAAAAmM/xtnmPH6i0hY/s320/023.JPG" width="239" /></a></div><br />
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Then eat! This is what the roasted artichoke looks like- nice and dark green and oh so tasty. (And this is the one with the pokey leaves.)<br />
<br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-je3OCazH_Cs/T9o3EXO-j3I/AAAAAAAAAmU/estoKkOVITk/s1600/005.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="320" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-je3OCazH_Cs/T9o3EXO-j3I/AAAAAAAAAmU/estoKkOVITk/s320/005.JPG" width="239" /></a></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><br />
</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;">My husband, daughter and I have all fallen in love with these artichokes. Spawn#2 ate 3 the other night! I let her eat the leaves, and she gives me the hearts. I hope you give these a try- they're so easy to make and cannot be messed up (obviously, or I wouldn't be making them). </div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"><br />
</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-D-sv4rewJrk/T9o3lKGDGHI/AAAAAAAAAmg/PK7g9bzkPiY/s1600/004.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="320" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-D-sv4rewJrk/T9o3lKGDGHI/AAAAAAAAAmg/PK7g9bzkPiY/s320/004.JPG" width="239" /></a></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"><br />
</div>And here's the little Chef making Hello Kitty waffles. I love that girl!<br />
<br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-DNffTY-fAbk/T9o4FpbK20I/AAAAAAAAAmo/iTWem6nP9JQ/s1600/029.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="320" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-DNffTY-fAbk/T9o4FpbK20I/AAAAAAAAAmo/iTWem6nP9JQ/s320/029.JPG" width="294" /></a></div>Anonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/11853178747718782705noreply@blogger.com4tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1098399034827471919.post-9131467764887133762012-05-21T14:03:00.000-07:002012-05-21T14:03:48.766-07:00Tattooed Mamas FTW<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><br />
</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">I got my first tattoo when I was 18 or 19. I was still living at home and had to pay my sister $5 to not tell my parents. And now, my parents have way more tattoos than I do. Tattoos have totally gone mainstream.</div><br />
And am I bemoaning that fact? Am I a tattoo snob? Hell no! I love tattoos, on any and everyone. They're beautiful, meaningful, make a statement and are personal. Sure, there are a hell of a lot of crappy ones out there (hello, <a href="http://ugliesttattoos.failblog.org/" target="_blank">Ugliest Tattoos</a>) but I think they are a great thing.<br />
<br />
I know, I know. You don't think a tattoo will look good on your skin when you're 70 (psst... nothing will look good at 70, sorry). You don't like any image enough to have it permanently on your skin. There are lots of reasons people always give to not tattoo- but here's the thing:<br />
<br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-Oj0feldYWE8/T7qWq3nheiI/AAAAAAAAAj0/QpEzrw0b1aY/s1600/318651_10150363735214871_785664870_7941869_543564354_n.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="236" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-Oj0feldYWE8/T7qWq3nheiI/AAAAAAAAAj0/QpEzrw0b1aY/s320/318651_10150363735214871_785664870_7941869_543564354_n.jpg" width="320" /></a></div><br />
So, without further ado, here are my tattoos.<br />
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<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-kyTFouBeJjI/T7qmMY6ZZsI/AAAAAAAAAkA/_RFwIb0QfxE/s1600/014.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="238" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-kyTFouBeJjI/T7qmMY6ZZsI/AAAAAAAAAkA/_RFwIb0QfxE/s320/014.JPG" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><i>Shoulder, left</i></td></tr>
</tbody></table><table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-myMmBDKDsIk/T7qorSw1N1I/AAAAAAAAAko/CIRd_Wo2bLU/s1600/sister.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="320" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-myMmBDKDsIk/T7qorSw1N1I/AAAAAAAAAko/CIRd_Wo2bLU/s320/sister.jpg" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><i>Left ankle.</i></td></tr>
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</div><table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-_GUTGRl7omA/T7qnij3JgdI/AAAAAAAAAkI/R6AjZBWXnIw/s1600/flower.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="320" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-_GUTGRl7omA/T7qnij3JgdI/AAAAAAAAAkI/R6AjZBWXnIw/s320/flower.jpg" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><i>Chest, right (cover up of my first 2 tattoos)<br />
<br />
<div style="text-align: left;"><br />
</div></i></td></tr>
</tbody></table><br />
<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-jYjhiHClsZ8/T7qo5fh5XLI/AAAAAAAAAkw/6ElTm0P6yEU/s1600/love.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="320" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-jYjhiHClsZ8/T7qo5fh5XLI/AAAAAAAAAkw/6ElTm0P6yEU/s320/love.jpg" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><i>Shoulder, right. </i></td></tr>
</tbody></table>And if you're not on Twitter, you are fortunate to have missed my hours long whiny #tattootweet fest as I got my Mother's Day present. I H.A.T.E. getting tattoos- it hurts. If you haven't gotten one, it feels like exactly what it is- a needle stabbing you a million times and being dragged over your skin. It's not fun. Thank you so much to my Twitter pals for keeping me company. I really appreciated it!<br />
<br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-0zIJz6dLMsM/T7qsENZsNmI/AAAAAAAAAk8/7aFsqc6FuhQ/s1600/001.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="320" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-0zIJz6dLMsM/T7qsENZsNmI/AAAAAAAAAk8/7aFsqc6FuhQ/s320/001.JPG" width="235" /></a></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-G-VEETJpeqk/T7qsNfEs_iI/AAAAAAAAAlE/BOLMFiu80wM/s1600/002.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="320" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-G-VEETJpeqk/T7qsNfEs_iI/AAAAAAAAAlE/BOLMFiu80wM/s320/002.JPG" width="235" /></a></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-44Filb_zQpE/T7qsa5tzUMI/AAAAAAAAAlM/t_mbubCI9iM/s1600/003.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="320" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-44Filb_zQpE/T7qsa5tzUMI/AAAAAAAAAlM/t_mbubCI9iM/s320/003.JPG" width="238" /></a></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-_9DItFvtFp8/T7qsrv4gl9I/AAAAAAAAAlU/vMBh3yvye3Q/s1600/004.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="320" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-_9DItFvtFp8/T7qsrv4gl9I/AAAAAAAAAlU/vMBh3yvye3Q/s320/004.JPG" width="238" /></a></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><br />
</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-ngD94j_JIGo/T7qszNDZvMI/AAAAAAAAAlc/gKZVEhKXWnM/s1600/006.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="320" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-ngD94j_JIGo/T7qszNDZvMI/AAAAAAAAAlc/gKZVEhKXWnM/s320/006.JPG" width="238" /></a></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><br />
</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;">So, what about you? Do you tattoo? I'd love to see- leave your links in the comments below!</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><br />
</div>Anonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/11853178747718782705noreply@blogger.com14tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1098399034827471919.post-62167071687684378792012-05-11T16:43:00.000-07:002012-05-11T16:43:21.328-07:00What I Want For Mother's Day? Not What You ThinkI've been thinking (fantasizing) for a while about what I want for Mother's Day. Sadly, since we homeschool, my kids won't be coming home with any adorable hand print cards or flower shaped coupon books. Not Blessed Dad usually doesn't drop the ball, but he's a dude. Sunday morning he'll go get me some flowers from the grocery store, or ask me what I want to do. I remember one year he went into the playroom to clean it, and came out after about 5 minutes- looking bewildered and frightened. He tries (usually), but you know- he's a dude.<br />
<div><br />
</div><div>Of course, I want all the normal things moms want for Mother's Day. A tricked out mini-van, a clean house, flowers and candy and a meal I don't have to cook. I want all of those things too. But I realized there were other things I wanted more....</div><div><br />
</div><div>I don't want to make any macaroni and cheese. I don't want to wipe popsicle off the floor. I don't want to referee any fights. I don't want to say any of these phrases: Speak nicely, be kind, touch nicely, no hitting, please share, be gentle, or let me help you. I don't want to do any laundry, get anyone clean underwear, or find any missing flip flops. I don't want to brush anyone's hair. I don't want to hear "Moooooooooooooommmmmmm" five million times. I don't want anyone to treat my gut like a bounce house.</div><div><br />
</div><div>I guess it all boils down to what I want most of all. For Mother's Day, I DON'T WANT TO BE A MOM.</div><div><br />
</div><div>Hold on, hold on. Don't get me wrong. My kids are the sun, moon and stars to me. They're my life, and that's the way I like it. I treasure them- but god dammit, I just need to get away from them. I need to be me for a little while. I need quiet, I need peace, I need to be treated like an adult. I want to do what I want to do- and I don't even know what that is, but it's definitely not watching My Little Pony or pushing someone on a swing for a gazillion hours. Just for a day.</div><div><br />
</div><div>So children, I love you more than anything. But please, for Mother's Day- GTFO. </div><div><br />
</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-PGnuSZmN0O0/T62haIkKg2I/AAAAAAAAAjo/xWIqXqVOghg/s1600/005.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="238" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-PGnuSZmN0O0/T62haIkKg2I/AAAAAAAAAjo/xWIqXqVOghg/s320/005.JPG" width="320" /></a></div><div><br />
</div><div style="text-align: center;"><i>Am I a horrible mom for thinking this? What do YOU want for Mother's Day?</i></div>Anonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/11853178747718782705noreply@blogger.com21tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1098399034827471919.post-7065752461305057782012-05-04T15:35:00.003-07:002012-05-04T22:16:53.256-07:00But They Look So Normal... (Or, Homeschooling)While at the dentist the other day, the hygienist asked Spawn#2 if her brothers were at school. *Insert pregnant pause where Spawn#2 looks at me for guidance in how to answer.* "We homeschool," I smoothly replied.<br />
<br />
Double take. That second look where the hygienist tries to see how she could miss that we were some of those weird homeschoolers. The kid looks normal! We're wearing jeans and flip flops. No crosses in sight. She just can't believe her eyes.<br />
<br />
I gotta tell you, I don't think I'll ever quit loving that moment. That moment when we reveal our dirty little secret to someone, and watch them think- BUT THEY LOOK SO NORMAL!<br />
<br />
And yup, we are... uh, normal. Well, our weirdness doesn't come from homeschooling. But I digress.<br />
<br />
Your friendly neighborhood Not Blessed Mama is here to break it down for you. Want to know about crazy homeschoolers? I'm here for you. Here are some questions I've been asked recently:<br />
<br />
1. <i>Are all of your kids friends homeschoolers too?</i> Not all, but a lot. We like to do stuff during the week, during the day. Everything's less crowded and more awesome.<br />
<br />
2. <i>What do you do for school? S</i>ome people like to do a "classroom at home" approach. Some people unschool and never do any workbooks at all. We're in the middle. We belong to a charter to get funds for supplies and classes, and we're supervised by a teacher. But I chose what to teach, when and how.<br />
<br />
3. <i>What do you do for a living? </i>THIS. This is my job- I've stayed home since Spawn#3 was born 11 years ago. A post on how to afford staying home is coming up in the near future (read: how to be broke all the time).<br />
<br />
4. <i>How do you manage being with the kids all the time? </i>Sometimes, I don't. Yesterday I locked myself in the bathroom and pretended to poop so I could have quiet for 5 minutes. I sat and read a book on the toilet until I could manage to look at the kids again.<br />
<br />
5. <i>Why do you homeschool? Do your kids have special needs? </i>I've gotta admit, this one threw me for a loop. I homeschool for many reasons- so many, it would be hard to list. But my kids are just normal ol' kids, and I decided that homeschooling would be the best choice for us.<br />
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6. <i>Do you homeschool to keep your kids sheltered? </i>Uh, my kids have been around the block. No sheltering going on here. Spawn#3 was able to spell ass when he was 3 years old. (He's special.)<br />
<br />
And there you have it! I hope that gives you a little bit more insight into the confusing, murky world of homeschooling. If you have more questions, leave them in the comments below. I'd be happy to answer <strike>in the least sarcastic way possible.</strike><br />
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<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-7_XSQGCXQ6s/T6RY2nKD_5I/AAAAAAAAAjQ/YwN1aBF0Vb8/s1600/017.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="320" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-7_XSQGCXQ6s/T6RY2nKD_5I/AAAAAAAAAjQ/YwN1aBF0Vb8/s320/017.JPG" width="239" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Some paper we made for a presentation. Whee, learning is fun!</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
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Hey, want to read more homeschooling propaganda? Check out my friend's new blog- <a href="http://thehomeschoolingatheist.blogspot.com/" target="_blank">The Homeschooling Atheist!</a>Anonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/11853178747718782705noreply@blogger.com16tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1098399034827471919.post-65427391476134602122012-04-17T13:40:00.000-07:002012-04-17T13:40:04.381-07:00Clorox, Spiderman, and The BathroomBathrooms are so important to mothers.<div><br />
</div><div>Are you laughing at me already? I'm serious! Think about all the time we spend in there- cleaning, potty training, pretending to poop so that we can have an excuse to lock the door for 5 minutes. It's such an important place, it deserves to be capitalized. The Bathroom. </div><div><br />
</div><div>I could fill a novel with bathroom stories- easily. I think I posted once about how Spawn#3 tested the limits of my sanity by filling the toilet bowl with glitter, toys and the kitchen (bathroom?) sink. That was pretty horrendous. But one of the funniest things my rotten kid ever did in the bathroom had to do with Spiderman- and it was before I blogged, so I didn't take a picture (dang!). You'll have to make do with this artist's rendering- </div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/--szlRCW1JLE/T43QT8QpKwI/AAAAAAAAAi8/Q26LPtrygs4/s1600/051.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="320" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/--szlRCW1JLE/T43QT8QpKwI/AAAAAAAAAi8/Q26LPtrygs4/s320/051.JPG" width="239" /></a></div><div><br />
</div><div><br />
</div><div>Yes, my <i>adorable </i>angelic child covered the whole, entire bathroom with a can of Spiderman "web". It was EVERYWHERE. It's too bad that our bathroom didn't have a blue theme, because the garlands hanging from the ceiling were really quite festive. The smell wanted to make you pass out, of course. But at least it didn't smell like pee in there. For once. </div><div><br />
</div><div>I left up a little reminder of the silly string incident- right there up by the air vent. Because I haven't had 3 spare minutes in the past 2 years to drag a chair in there and get it off of the ceiling.</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-B4yJQ2ygMYA/T43Qg0lithI/AAAAAAAAAjE/xpkVJyBSf2Y/s1600/049.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="239" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-B4yJQ2ygMYA/T43Qg0lithI/AAAAAAAAAjE/xpkVJyBSf2Y/s320/049.JPG" width="320" /></a></div><div><br />
</div><div>And while I could regale you with my bathroom stories for no reason, I actually have a point today (stop looking so surprised). The people over at Clorox, along with Sherri Shephard, have created <a href="http://thecloroxlounge.com/?utm_source=SocialMoms&utm_medium=Blog&utm_campaign=social_mom_Lounge" target="_blank">The Clorox Lounge</a>. It's a site designed to share a little humor about the bathroom and to give you a laugh. There's currently a<a href="http://thecloroxlounge.com/custom/LCS" target="_blank"> Last Comic Sitting</a> competition, where you can vote for which Mom and Dad comics tickle your funny bone. If you're more of a Facebook person, check 'em out over there. </div><div><pre style="white-space: pre-wrap; word-wrap: break-word;"><iframe allowtransparency="true" frameborder="0" scrolling="no" src="http://www.facebook.com/plugins/likebox.php?href=http%3A%2F%2Fwww.facebook.com%2Fodetothecommode&width=292&height=62&colorscheme=light&show_faces=false&border_color&stream=false&header=true" style="border: none; height: 62px; overflow: hidden; width: 292px;"></iframe></pre><pre style="white-space: pre-wrap; word-wrap: break-word;"></pre><pre style="white-space: pre-wrap; word-wrap: break-word;"><i>*Guess what guys! Someone actually compensated me for writing something! Hilarious, huh? </i></pre><pre style="white-space: pre-wrap; word-wrap: break-word;"><i><span class="c3" style="background-color: #f7f7f7; font-family: 'Lucida Grande', 'Lucida Sans Unicode', Verdana, Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif; font-size: 12px; margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-top: 0px; padding-bottom: 0px; padding-left: 0px; padding-right: 0px; padding-top: 0px; white-space: normal;">I wrote this blog p</span><span style="background-color: #f7f7f7; font-family: 'Lucida Grande', 'Lucida Sans Unicode', Verdana, Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif; font-size: 12px; margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-top: 0px; padding-bottom: 0px; padding-left: 0px; padding-right: 0px; padding-top: 0px; white-space: normal;">ost while participating in the SocialMoms and Clorox</span><span class="c15" style="background-color: #f7f7f7; font-family: 'Lucida Grande', 'Lucida Sans Unicode', Verdana, Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif; font-size: 12px; margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-top: 0px; padding-bottom: 0px; padding-left: 0px; padding-right: 0px; padding-top: 0px; white-space: normal;">®</span><span style="background-color: #f7f7f7; font-family: 'Lucida Grande', 'Lucida Sans Unicode', Verdana, Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif; font-size: 12px; margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-top: 0px; padding-bottom: 0px; padding-left: 0px; padding-right: 0px; padding-top: 0px; white-space: normal;"> blogging program, to earn My SocialMoms Rewards Points. The opinions and ideas expressed here are my own. To read more posts on this topic</span><span style="background-color: #f7f7f7; font-family: 'Lucida Grande', 'Lucida Sans Unicode', Verdana, Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif; font-size: 12px; margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-top: 0px; padding-bottom: 0px; padding-left: 0px; padding-right: 0px; padding-top: 0px; white-space: normal;">,<a href="http://www.blogger.com/goog_1745435292"> </a></span><span class="c6" style="background-color: #f7f7f7; font-family: 'Lucida Grande', 'Lucida Sans Unicode', Verdana, Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif; font-size: 12px; margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-top: 0px; padding-bottom: 0px; padding-left: 0px; padding-right: 0px; padding-top: 0px; white-space: normal;"><a href="http://thecloroxlounge.socialmoms.com/" target="_blank">click here</a></span><span style="background-color: #f7f7f7; font-family: 'Lucida Grande', 'Lucida Sans Unicode', Verdana, Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif; font-size: 12px; margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-top: 0px; padding-bottom: 0px; padding-left: 0px; padding-right: 0px; padding-top: 0px; white-space: normal;">.</span></i>
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</div>Anonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/11853178747718782705noreply@blogger.com7tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1098399034827471919.post-19565738589946071812012-04-02T11:50:00.001-07:002012-06-23T01:17:11.116-07:00Not Blessed Mama's Unwanted and Unsolicited Product Review: Zenni OpticalI've been wearing glasses since I was in the 7th grade. That's *cough* a long time.<br />
<br />
And I've always, always gotten my glasses from an optometrist- or Wal-Mart, or Sears, or whatever. Until recently, when I saw someone I followed on <a href="http://www.twitter.com/notblessedmama" target="_blank">Twitter</a> (do you follow me on Twitter?) talking about <a href="http://www.zennioptical.com/" target="_blank">Zenni Optical</a>. They're an on-line prescription glasses retailer. I'd heard about such sites before, but I'd never had any experience with them (or even known anyone who did). After I checked out their site, I knew I wanted to order from them. Glasses starting at $6.95? Wow.<br />
<br />
I went and got an eye exam, and the optometrist huffed and puffed a little when I asked for my pupillary distance- but I got it. Zenni was even having a buy 2, get 1 free sale- so I ordered 3 pairs of glasses. I figured that if I was disappointed, at least I was only out $30. And oh my, oh my, oh my. I am in love!<br />
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<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-_BFJbOK4XKo/T3i_YWM8dRI/AAAAAAAAAik/77EWX6A4BHI/s1600/glasses.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="320" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-_BFJbOK4XKo/T3i_YWM8dRI/AAAAAAAAAik/77EWX6A4BHI/s320/glasses.jpg" width="240" /></a></div><br />
Do you see those glasses? Black and white frames, with a tiny silver skull and crossbones on each side. And they were<a href="http://www.zennioptical.com/?q=269830" target="_blank"> ten bucks!!</a> Never in my life have I been able to order a fun, funky, silly pair of glasses like this- because glasses are freaking expensive. Usually just one pair is close to a hundred bucks. If you're lucky, you can find a pair for $38-50, but the frames are never nice and it's a limited selection.<br />
<br />
Zenni Optical has revolutionized the way I buy eye glasses. That sounds dramatic, I know. But you have no idea how hard it was for me in the 90's, when everyone was wearing their cool sunglasses with the colored lenses. I was lucky if I even had a pair of prescription sunglasses, let alone one with sweet blue lenses. And now, because of Zenni optical, I can get any kind of glasses I want, for an amazing price- and colored or tinted lenses are only $5 more. I also got a pair of sunglasses I love- for $12!<br />
<br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-7NhMPHh4ItA/T3jCawMMqoI/AAAAAAAAAis/HFCs8Nh72NY/s1600/009.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="320" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-7NhMPHh4ItA/T3jCawMMqoI/AAAAAAAAAis/HFCs8Nh72NY/s320/009.JPG" width="279" /></a></div><br />
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This is the last pair I got- the picture's not the best. But it makes me laugh, because this is me getting drunk at my husband's company party and taking a picture of myself in the bathroom. Good times. <br />
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<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-_VOQkTQOLlU/T3jCsNC_v6I/AAAAAAAAAi0/9UWUrZYZUog/s1600/010.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="320" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-_VOQkTQOLlU/T3jCsNC_v6I/AAAAAAAAAi0/9UWUrZYZUog/s320/010.JPG" width="240" /></a></div><br />
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I couldn't be happier with my purchase from Zenni. I've been checking them out on Facebook and Twitter, and I'm not alone. I can tell they care about their customers and work to make people happy. I absolutely cannot wait to order my next pair of awesome glasses with Zenni. They've got a customer for life in me!<br />
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<i>As always, I have not been paid to write this. Or even received any free shit. But jeeze, how could they not? Look at this glowing review I wrote for them, free of charge! I love you Zenni!</i><br />
<i><br />
</i><br />
<i style="font-weight: bold;">UPDATE: </i>It's been a little over 2 months and I am still head over heels in love with my Zenni's. I wear them every day and they are holding up perfectly. I can't wait to order again!Anonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/11853178747718782705noreply@blogger.com8tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1098399034827471919.post-85394536071299228522012-03-15T13:31:00.000-07:002012-03-15T13:31:49.982-07:00The Saw. And, I'm WeirdIt's no secret that I think I'm hilarious. I'm always cracking myself up. Being ridiculous is my gift in life, my talent. And I'm always telling my husband how lucky he is that he has such a funny wife.<br />
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Usually I'm telling Not Blessed Dad that I'm hilarious after I've done something particularly stupid. It's a little game I play- I like to see what kind of reaction I can get out of him when I'm being absurd. One of my faves used to be putting random food scraps in his toilet to see what they would puff up to be, and what he would say. I don't know what I was expecting- him to ask me if an alien came and took a dump at our house? Sadly, the only thing he ever said was, "Who put crumbs in my toilet?". DISAPPOINTING.<br />
<br />
Last night I decided that I needed to finally finish putting the molding around our fireplace. At 9:30 at night- because, like I said, I'm ridiculous. After poking around in the garage and not finding anything sharp, I texted my husband.<br />
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<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-RZlzmySGv_E/T2JPkFOBLsI/AAAAAAAAAiY/r5ERbYxRUuc/s1600/saw.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="400" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-RZlzmySGv_E/T2JPkFOBLsI/AAAAAAAAAiY/r5ERbYxRUuc/s400/saw.JPG" width="302" /></a></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><br />
</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"><i>Me: </i>I need a saw.</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"><i>Him: </i>There's one by the side of the house. The kids put it there. By the gate close to the garbage can.</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"><i>Me: </i>I can't believe you didn't ask me what I needed it for. What's wrong with you???</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"><i>Him: </i>Well, why would I ask that. <i>(20 minutes later, after I don't respond.) </i>Well I'm going to sleep.</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"><br />
</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;">If someone asked you for a saw at 9:40 at night, wouldn't you ask them what the hell they were doing? What else could it be besides sawing up dead bodies? And keep in mind that Not Blessed Dad works out of town now and is gone all week. Leaving me alone to homeschool our 3 precious (?) children by myself. And I ask for a saw late at night, and he says he's going to bed. Sheesh. </div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"><br />
</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;">I obviously need to up my game. </div>Anonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/11853178747718782705noreply@blogger.com6tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1098399034827471919.post-70369572071701624172012-03-01T15:20:00.000-08:002012-03-01T15:20:46.787-08:00How I Traumatize My Children- San Francisco EditionI love San Francisco. It's diverse, interesting, crazy, fun. There's a ton to do. Last week we took the kids for a little overnight trip there. Not only do you get to see beautiful sights like this-<br />
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<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-yUp40H8UtEs/T07psiK8z3I/AAAAAAAAAhQ/akpKp6-CxSU/s1600/045.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="298" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-yUp40H8UtEs/T07psiK8z3I/AAAAAAAAAhQ/akpKp6-CxSU/s400/045.JPG" width="400" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Visiting the sea lions at Pier 39. </td></tr>
</tbody></table><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><br />
</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;">You get to see weird, crazy ass shit like this- </div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-T-np5ZKalJE/T0_9xWDwS-I/AAAAAAAAAhg/K09byP5-J_w/s1600/022.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="320" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-T-np5ZKalJE/T0_9xWDwS-I/AAAAAAAAAhg/K09byP5-J_w/s320/022.JPG" width="239" /></a></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><br />
</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"><span style="font-family: inherit;">This is Laffing Sal at <span style="background-color: #ffffcc; font-size: 19px;"><a href="http://museemecaniquesf.com/index.php" target="_blank">Musée Mécanique</a>. </span><span style="background-color: #ffffcc;"><span style="font-family: inherit;">She's </span></span><span style="background-color: #ffffcc;"><span style="font-family: inherit;">a giant, 7 foot tall freakish clown that has been scaring (delighting?) children since the 30's. Laffing Sal is just the tip of the iceberg though. Onto my very favorite thing at this arcade....</span></span></span></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"><span style="font-family: inherit;"><span style="background-color: #ffffcc;"><span style="font-family: inherit;"><br />
</span></span></span></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"><span style="font-family: inherit;"><span style="background-color: #ffffcc;"><span style="font-family: inherit;">THE DEATH MACHINES. </span></span></span></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"><span style="font-family: inherit;"><span style="background-color: #ffffcc;"><span style="font-family: inherit;"><br />
</span></span></span></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-yQDXVDBd3uo/T0__matYs0I/AAAAAAAAAho/jGs8NJyj30k/s1600/027.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="298" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-yQDXVDBd3uo/T0__matYs0I/AAAAAAAAAho/jGs8NJyj30k/s400/027.JPG" width="400" /></a></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"><span style="font-family: inherit;"><span style="background-color: #ffffcc;"><span style="font-family: inherit;"><br />
</span></span></span></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"><span style="font-family: inherit;"><span style="background-color: #ffffcc;"><span style="font-family: inherit;">This was a memorable one. "The French Execution- The Bell will Toll, the Curtain rises- & you will see the Culprit pay the Penalty!" Which, of course, is getting your head chopped off. </span></span></span></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"><span style="font-family: inherit;"><span style="background-color: #ffffcc;"><span style="font-family: inherit;"><br />
</span></span></span></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-FY4uMgwEQ0Q/T1AAKt_Po2I/AAAAAAAAAhw/VZIwDD5cxpA/s1600/025.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="400" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-FY4uMgwEQ0Q/T1AAKt_Po2I/AAAAAAAAAhw/VZIwDD5cxpA/s400/025.JPG" width="298" /></a></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"><span style="font-family: inherit;"><span style="background-color: #ffffcc;"><span style="font-family: inherit;"><br />
</span></span></span></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;">There were a handful of these, and of course I dragged the kids around to every one- laughing my head off.</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"><br />
</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-AOpms0Y_wDo/T1AAdM17mqI/AAAAAAAAAh4/PWyYE8WBy5g/s1600/032.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="400" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-AOpms0Y_wDo/T1AAdM17mqI/AAAAAAAAAh4/PWyYE8WBy5g/s400/032.JPG" width="298" /></a></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"><br />
</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><span style="text-align: left;">This one was a nice change of pace- simply labeled "Execution". It had a hanging instead of a guillotine. </span></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"><br />
</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-3jmGxBy7PBg/T1ABnabHpbI/AAAAAAAAAiA/XsQVJCVJ5qg/s1600/034.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="400" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-3jmGxBy7PBg/T1ABnabHpbI/AAAAAAAAAiA/XsQVJCVJ5qg/s400/034.JPG" width="298" /></a></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><br />
</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;">The kids were really getting weirded out by these machines. I thought all those violent video games turned children into little serial killers and sadists? I feel really mis-led. </div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"><br />
</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;">Of course there were other things besides the murder machines- there were gumballs. </div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"><br />
</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-t2UV69FnUzw/T1ADBnnGo-I/AAAAAAAAAiI/VsKCSXGbeNY/s1600/040.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="400" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-t2UV69FnUzw/T1ADBnnGo-I/AAAAAAAAAiI/VsKCSXGbeNY/s400/040.JPG" width="298" /></a></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"><br />
</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"><br />
</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;">If you are taking a trip to the Bay area, definitely stop by this lovely little arcade/museum and traumatize your children. It makes for great family memories! </div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"><br />
</div>Anonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/11853178747718782705noreply@blogger.com3tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1098399034827471919.post-20541720149612768922012-02-24T16:28:00.001-08:002012-02-24T16:29:23.725-08:00I'm Back- And With A Giveaway Too!I haven't really talked about it much, but I get offered lots of <i>opportunities</i> for you, my dear readers. Lots of pictures from upcoming movies, coloring pages, invitations to Twitter parties. You'd be amazed at all of the companies that would allow me to spend my time and energy and blog promoting their product for free. It's so generous of them! Although recently an on-line clothing store offered up a 5% coupon for their website. That one was hard to pass up.<br />
<br />
But finally, I have the chance to offer you guys something cool. Something useful! There's a new application <a href="http://bit.ly/Aw2Jzh" target="_blank">on Facebook called Sneakpeeq</a>. To sum it up, it's like a social daily deal application (although the deals last a few days). Sneakpeeq offers deals on lots of different items. I've been checking them out lately, and I've seen gorgeous jewelry, Say Yes to Carrots products, art, housewares, chocolates! And the cool folks at Sneakpeeq have offered me a $25 gift certificate to give away. Yeay! Free stuff!<br />
<br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-IV8T7zsdI4E/T0fzAirRthI/AAAAAAAAAhI/EW13ln6xCFY/s1600/sneakpeeq25.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="204" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-IV8T7zsdI4E/T0fzAirRthI/AAAAAAAAAhI/EW13ln6xCFY/s320/sneakpeeq25.JPG" width="320" /></a></div><br />
<br />
Here's the catch: NOTHING. You just have to join Sneakpeeq through this link:<br />
<br />
<div style="text-align: center;"><span style="color: #cc0000;"><b><i><a href="http://bit.ly/Aw2Jzh" target="_blank">CLICK HERE TO JOIN SNEAKPEEQ ON FACEBOOK!</a></i></b></span></div><div style="text-align: center;"><span style="color: #cc0000;"><b><br />
</b></span></div><div style="text-align: left;">You do have to be new to Sneakpeeq to be eligible to win (and in the US), but that's it. On March 2nd Sneakpeeq will send me the e-mail addresses of everyone who has joined, and I'll pick a winner at random. </div><div style="text-align: left;"><br />
</div><div style="text-align: left;">And just for <a href="http://bit.ly/Aw2Jzh" target="_blank">joining Sneakpeeq through this link</a>, you'll get a 20% off coupon. I've been having fun peeking at all the deals and earning rewards and special offers. I really do think you'll enjoy Sneakpeeq if you check it out!</div><div style="text-align: left;"><br />
</div><div style="text-align: left;"><i>Sneakpeeq has provided a $25 gift certificate for me to give away. They have not offered me anything else to buy my affections. I'm just doing it because I love you, and because I think they're super cool. </i></div>Anonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/11853178747718782705noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1098399034827471919.post-47808129421190466942012-01-26T10:45:00.000-08:002012-01-26T10:45:17.199-08:00Not Blessed Mama's Unwanted and Unsolicited Product Review: Moon DoughI hated Moon Dough before I even bought it.<br />
<br />
I hated Moon Dough when I bought it.<br />
<br />
I hated Moon Dough as I opened the package and gave it to my kids.<br />
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And then, I started to not hate Moon Dough. I actually started to like it.<br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-8wUAJNkCmFY/TyGWKUEFwVI/AAAAAAAAAg8/dKQMGQoJG4k/s1600/moon+dough.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="252" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-8wUAJNkCmFY/TyGWKUEFwVI/AAAAAAAAAg8/dKQMGQoJG4k/s320/moon+dough.JPG" width="320" /></a></div><span style="text-align: center;"><br />
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<span style="text-align: center;"><br />
</span><br />
<div style="text-align: -webkit-auto;"><span style="text-align: center;">Everyone despises Play-Doh for reasons known. I myself reviewed what a shitty product </span><a href="http://notblessedmama.blogspot.com/2010/06/nbm-toy-review-aqua-sand.html" style="text-align: center;">Aqua Sand</a><span style="text-align: center;"> was. Moon Sand was another horrid idea that I should have reviewed, and I figured Moon Dough was going to follow in their footsteps. I reluctantly bought it because it was one of four items on Spawn#3's Christmas list. How could I say no?</span></div><br />
We got Moon Dough out and started making the popcorn. Amazingly enough, it was actually forming little popcorn nuggets that popped out of the maker. I assumed they'd fall apart when you touched them, like Moon Sand, but they held their shape. I still knew clean up would be a whore though- it's why everyone hates this stuff.<br />
<br />
AND THEN SOMETHING AMAZING HAPPENED.<br />
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I'm not going to show you a picture of what the kids did to the carpet in their room, but I will tell you it was u-g-l-y. It was bad. But I'd rather savor my 30 minutes of quiet, kid-busy time then harass them about Moon Dough. I accepted my fate and got ready to scrape Moon Dough out of the carpet fibers- and the damn stuff doesn't stick. It wiped right up. And here's the other thing- <i>it doesn't dry out. </i>IT DOESN'T DRY OUT AND IT DOESN'T STICK TO THE CARPET. Play-Doh, Moon Dough is kicking your ass. Big time.<br />
<br />
It's true, it's true. I love Moon Dough. You can't be as detailed with it as Play-Doh, but did you read that I said it doesn't stick to the carpet? I just vacuumed the dust right up. I still can't get over it. If you think Moon Dough not sticking to the carpet is nothing to be excited over, you are on the wrong blog and you need to quit judging me.<br />
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<i>As always, this is not a paid advertisement or product review, because no one will give me anything. Whatever, companies. Whatever. </i>Anonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/11853178747718782705noreply@blogger.com4tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1098399034827471919.post-40202689104345937652012-01-20T11:22:00.000-08:002012-01-20T11:22:53.423-08:00Not Blessed Mama Cooks, Sometimes: Jamba Juice Copycat RecipeThis is Spawn#3. He doesn't eat anything.<br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-amQwxCBdUNw/Txm3RdnGaKI/AAAAAAAAAgs/rzJoGCpQoyU/s1600/021.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="320" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-amQwxCBdUNw/Txm3RdnGaKI/AAAAAAAAAgs/rzJoGCpQoyU/s320/021.JPG" width="238" /></a></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><br />
</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;">Waffles have to be toasted exactly the right way. Pizza can't have cheese on it, unless it's from 2 specific places. The list goes on and on. I suppose I shouldn't have been surprised that he would never drink my yummy fruit smoothies. </div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"><br />
</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;">BUT, he would drink Jamba Juice. Citrus Squeeze, to be specific. I searched out the ingredients and read a bunch of copycat recipes, and this is what I came up with. Turns out the secret was orange sherbet. </div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"><br />
</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"><u>Jamba Juice Citrus Squeeze: no banana, substitute strawberry</u></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;">- 1 cup orange juice (I usually add a splash more than a cup)</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;">- 1/2 cup pineapple juice</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;">- 1 (scant) cup ice</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;">-1 (heaping) cup frozen strawberries (toss a banana in there if you are so inclined- we all hate banana)</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;">-1 (scant) cup orange sherbet</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"><br />
</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;">Blend away, and enjoy! It kind of depresses me to add the orange sherbet, but there's no way Spawn#3 would ever touch a strawberry, so<i> </i><span style="background-color: white; font-family: sans-serif; font-size: 13px; line-height: 19px;"><i>C'est la vie.</i> </span></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"><span style="background-color: white; font-family: sans-serif; font-size: 13px; line-height: 19px;"><br />
</span></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"><span style="background-color: white; font-family: sans-serif; font-size: 13px; line-height: 19px;"><span id="goog_724695451"></span><span id="goog_724695452"></span></span></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"><span style="background-color: white; font-family: sans-serif; font-size: 13px; line-height: 19px;"><br />
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-l3KKXppcugM/Txm-rH1C7bI/AAAAAAAAAg0/V8T02LYWb5k/s1600/smoothie.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="320" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-l3KKXppcugM/Txm-rH1C7bI/AAAAAAAAAg0/V8T02LYWb5k/s320/smoothie.jpg" width="239" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><i>Will your smoothie look like a glowing cup of molten lava?<br />
Only if you take a pic of it at night with the flash on.</i></td></tr>
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</div>Anonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/11853178747718782705noreply@blogger.com3tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1098399034827471919.post-41012611645223361412012-01-06T10:49:00.000-08:002012-01-06T10:49:04.830-08:00The Weirdos Who Read My BlogNot <i>you guys. </i>You guys are great! I'm talking about the random keyword searches that wind up on my blog. Sometimes there's some crazy stuff in there. Let's take a look, shall we? It's been a while.<br />
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As always, one of my biggest searches is for my review of the infinitely charming <a href="http://notblessedmama.blogspot.com/2011/05/not-blessed-mamas-unwanted-and_10.html">Go The Fuck To Sleep Book</a>. And, the search is usually <i>go the f to sleep, </i>with many variations.<i> </i>Pretty sad that one of my most popular posts is simply me talking about how much I love someone else's great idea, but I'll take it.<br />
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It was nice to see lots of searches for my <a href="http://notblessedmama.blogspot.com/2011/12/atheists-are-not-ruining-christmas.html">Christmas</a> <a href="http://notblessedmama.blogspot.com/2011/12/so-its-christmas.html">posts</a>. <i>Walmart Christmas Village, atheist christmas tree, atheists ruin hanukkah, atheists ruining christmas, cute nativity scene, what to tell children about christmas atheist. </i>I'm actually super proud of my antique Victorian <a href="http://notblessedmama.blogspot.com/2011/12/so-its-christmas.html">Walmart Christmas Village.</a> It's so whoreanus, it's beautiful.<br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-UCRnm3me5ak/TwdBukJ1qvI/AAAAAAAAAgg/Db-E8owAv1o/s1600/IMG_2456.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="237" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-UCRnm3me5ak/TwdBukJ1qvI/AAAAAAAAAgg/Db-E8owAv1o/s320/IMG_2456.JPG" width="320" /></a></div><br />
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It seems that I have actually done something useful for once! I wrote about how I loved the <a href="http://notblessedmama.blogspot.com/2011/11/not-blessed-mamas-unwanted-and.html">Biosphere Living Ecosystem</a>, and got lots of <i>shrimp sphere </i>related searches. And I do love it- how could you not love animals that don't die??<br />
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And finally, my favorite searches- the random ass crazy shit. <i>Genie pig, mama on hidden, jack sparrow smile, porno foto mamasai, poor people living in landfill, how much to rely on the net, био сфера, cat drawings for kids, </i>and <i>bras for large breasted women nooo. </i>I've gotta say that one of the best parts of blogging is seeing all this wacky stuff. But I love my readers- crazy and all! <i> </i>Anonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/11853178747718782705noreply@blogger.com6tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1098399034827471919.post-61767660381277171802011-12-22T10:57:00.000-08:002011-12-22T10:57:45.432-08:00So, It's Christmas.I'm not quite sure how it happened, but Christmas is indeed this weekend. I must have been sucked into a time warp this year because SERIOUSLY HOW IS IT CHRISTMAS???<div><br />
</div><div>I have to say, I've been delighted lately that people have wound up on my blog searching for my antique Victorian Wal-Mart Christmas village. It's one of my favorite decorations. </div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-TznAYPcC9Ew/TvN5-dQOrCI/AAAAAAAAAfg/ndcFtyv8iL8/s1600/030.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="239" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-TznAYPcC9Ew/TvN5-dQOrCI/AAAAAAAAAfg/ndcFtyv8iL8/s320/030.JPG" width="320" /></a></div><div><br />
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</div><div>My daughter set the table with our Christmas dishes. She's such a sweetheart. The only time the table has been set in the last 3 years was because of her. </div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-MJQqykm5zrI/TvN6d9OJgsI/AAAAAAAAAfs/K0E51lxEUuU/s1600/027.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="239" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-MJQqykm5zrI/TvN6d9OJgsI/AAAAAAAAAfs/K0E51lxEUuU/s320/027.JPG" width="320" /></a></div><div><br />
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</div><div>We made gingerbread people. And I'm such a good mom, I sat on my hands and let the Spawn do what they wanted instead of trying to recreate the beautiful creation on the box. </div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-RFnuJ2UHB9A/TvN63yUQHoI/AAAAAAAAAf4/q2m_-1DWd8Q/s1600/021.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="239" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-RFnuJ2UHB9A/TvN63yUQHoI/AAAAAAAAAf4/q2m_-1DWd8Q/s320/021.JPG" width="320" /></a></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><br />
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</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;">And we got a real tree this year! Fortunately the kids wanted to decorate it, because I was exhausted after wrangling that thing into it's stand. Serious, do you know how much real trees weigh? Then it left a massive trail of needles after I dragged it into the house. Totally worth it though.</div><table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><i>What? The lights are out on the bottom half? SHUT UP.</i></td></tr>
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</div><div>And here is the Spawn's Christmas picture. I always order pictures and never send out cards, so here ya go. </div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-pUJLzAdtt64/TvN7sC5aADI/AAAAAAAAAgQ/3l-jNZrCyYw/s1600/christmas.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="239" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-pUJLzAdtt64/TvN7sC5aADI/AAAAAAAAAgQ/3l-jNZrCyYw/s320/christmas.jpg" width="320" /></a></div><div><br />
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</div><div>From the Not Blessed Family to yours, I hope you all have a wonderful holiday season. </div><div><br />
</div>Anonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/11853178747718782705noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1098399034827471919.post-36053567356060446952011-12-12T14:59:00.000-08:002011-12-12T14:59:50.509-08:00For Donna<i>This post is sponsored by The American Cancer Society.</i><br />
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You guys know I'm not too crazy about sponsored posts or product reviews. I don't like having to say what someone else wants just for money or free items. I'm sure I would if Mike's Hard Lemonade contacted me, or some other cool company (Disneyland? Hello?), but the opportunity just hasn't come along.<br />
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Until I saw this.<a href="http://www.cancer.org/"> The American Cancer Society </a>is asking for help to get their message out- and how could I refuse? And when I read about this topic, I thought of <a href="http://www.chicagonow.com/mary-tyler-mom/2011/09/donnas-cancer-story-day-1-month-1/">Donna</a>.<br />
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I don't know Donna- I've never met her, and I never will. Sweet Donna's life was lost to an agressive brain tumor, and I only know her beautiful story because her mom (<a href="http://www.chicagonow.com/mary-tyler-mom/donnas-cancer-story-2/">Mary Tyler Mom</a>) shared it on-line. In honor of Children's Cancer Awareness Month (back in September), she wrote a post every day about Donna's 31 months of treatment. I read them all. I cried, many times. It was heart wrenching- but I couldn't stop. I had to- for Donna.<br />
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So today, I dedicate this post to Donna and all of the children worldwide who fight this terrible disease. I can't imagine anything worse than losing a child- I can't imagine anything more impossible than eloquently sharing that story on-line with others. For all of the Donnas in the world, please watch this video. Sweet Donna, you don't know how much I wished you could have had more birthdays.<br />
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<script src="http://video.unrulymedia.com/wildfire_60661179.js" type="text/javascript">
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</i>Anonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/11853178747718782705noreply@blogger.com5tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1098399034827471919.post-19617397015435383252011-12-09T10:52:00.000-08:002011-12-09T12:00:45.190-08:00Atheists Are Not Ruining ChristmasSo, let me tell you my friends, straight from the horse's mouth (did I just call myself a horse?): I am an atheist,and I am not trying to ruin your Christmas. My computer didn't even burst into flames when I wrote that.<br />
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On Facebook and Twitter lately, the anti-atheist sentiment has been making the rounds. I know you've seen them- rants about how people are trying to take the Christ out of CHRISTmas. Complaints about how stores can't say "Merry Christmas" anymore. An urge to take a stand against the godless heathens who are ruining the season.<br />
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Not Blessed Mama is here to tell you that Atheists Don't Hate Christmas. You can have Christ all you want. I would never presume to tell you otherwise. I don't give a crap if a store says Merry Christmas, Happy Holidays, Happy Hanukkah or Happy Kwanzaa. It makes no difference to me. AT ALL. I would also never be so rude as to post a status complaining about your religious preferences, but that's a whole different story.<br />
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As a matter of fact, I love the Christmas season. I love trees and lights and cookies and presents and yummy food and making my loved ones happy. And no, I don't participate in the religious side of Christmas- but that is no one's business but mine. Just like anyone else's choice to celebrate Christ is their business.<br />
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I know I am always imploring you to think about the children (the children! think of the children!) but this season I have a different request: <i>Won't anyone think of the atheists? </i>Leave atheists alone this Christmas. I promise I'll do the same for you.<br />
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<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-fsDi2UogY9w/TuJYY_2YKhI/AAAAAAAAAfE/r34w2ZlreN8/s1600/781.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="248" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-fsDi2UogY9w/TuJYY_2YKhI/AAAAAAAAAfE/r34w2ZlreN8/s320/781.jpg" width="320" /></a></div>Anonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/11853178747718782705noreply@blogger.com4tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1098399034827471919.post-58601768949144647752011-12-02T11:37:00.000-08:002011-12-02T11:37:25.194-08:00Ligers: Do Not F*** With Them<i>This post has been stewing in my brain for a while. I tried to kill it, but it was too strong (duh- it's about ligers). The following blog post contains graphic language. Readers be advised.</i><br />
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The other night, in an effort to postpone bedtime, my oldest Spawn asked me what the largest cat in the world was. He meant housecat, but what popped up in my Google images was Hercules- the Liger.<br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-y52psq-g18U/Ttkna0UHViI/AAAAAAAAAec/JNqiD2pE7Ng/s1600/ligerstanding.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="320" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-y52psq-g18U/Ttkna0UHViI/AAAAAAAAAec/JNqiD2pE7Ng/s320/ligerstanding.JPG" width="221" /></a></div><br />
Isn't he gorgeous? Soft, beautiful, majestic. Don't you just wanna go snuggle him?<br />
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And sit on him?<br />
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And take glamour shots with him?<br />
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><i>Wtf is going on here?</i></td></tr>
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Well, I have bad news. This is a public service announcement from Not Blessed Mama, and it feels kind of ridiculous that I even have to say it:<br />
<div style="text-align: center;"><b>Do not fuck with ligers.</b></div><div style="text-align: left;"><b><br />
</b></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-SUjCxe2ZWJI/Ttkn0LKfH9I/AAAAAAAAAe8/DdlddzTCR-M/s1600/ligerleash.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="240" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-SUjCxe2ZWJI/Ttkn0LKfH9I/AAAAAAAAAe8/DdlddzTCR-M/s320/ligerleash.JPG" width="320" /></a></div><div style="text-align: left;"><b><br />
</b></div><div style="text-align: left;">Please, please, someone tell me why these people are dragging a liger around like a goddamn golden retriever on a leash. I know that people train lions and tigers. Do I think it's a good idea? Um, no (related: see Sea World and killer whales). What I think is even LESS of a good idea is dragging around a monster, mammoth, freak of nature hybrid cat. These damn things can grow up to around a thousand pounds and ten feet long! </div><div style="text-align: left;"><br />
</div><div style="text-align: left;">Do you know what that liger is thinking? "I'm bored. I'm bored. I want to eat you. And you. I'm bored. I'll eat those children. I'm bored. Oh, milk. I'm bored. I'm gonna chomp on your head." And that's pretty much it. Please, please, you crazy lunatics: do not fuck with ligers. They're not a dog. If you want a dog, I will personally bring you a dog. Keep it away from your liger, because your liger will bite it in half and call it an appetizer. </div><div style="text-align: left;"><br />
</div><div style="text-align: left;">And now that I think about it, I feel like I maybe should just tell mankind in general: stop fucking around with massive wild animal predators that are bigger than you and like eating flesh. Again, not quite sure why I have to say this, but apparently it needs to be said. You're welcome. it's what I do. </div><div style="text-align: left;"><br />
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</div>Anonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/11853178747718782705noreply@blogger.com2