HAPPY HALLOWEEN FROM THE WEENERS!!

"Congratulations Hot Lips..."

I drive by this catering hall everyday on my way to work. It's a small hall - nothing fancy. In front of the brick hall they have a billboard that will usually display salutations/congratulations for whatever event that will be held that day or week. Usually it'll say something like, "Happy 75th Anniversary George and Estelle" or "Wedding Bells Are Ringing For Tony And Marie". Ya know... your usual boring stuff...

So today I drive by the hall and written on the billboard is:

"Happy Retirement Peaches"

I don't know about you, but I think the name Peaches is a rather - how do I put this nicely? - f#$^ed up name. It could be that Peaches's parents were former celebrities who liked to name their offspring after edible items. And if it is just a nickname, I'm curious to know how one gets christened with the nickname of 'Peaches' (and uses it for employment?). Do they like to eat peaches a whole lot? Do they have moles the size of peaches? Or perhaps whoever it is, feels that the name Peaches sounds way more exotic and more mature than the name 'Mary'?

Also, I couldn't help but to wonder to myself what type of job would someone by the name of Peaches retire from. Here are some things that come to mind:

Maybe Peaches picked...well...peaches for a living?

Or maybe Peaches canned peaches... Or maybe Peaches showed her...ummm...'peaches' to horny old guys with the help of a pole and some really tacky music?....

Or maybe Peaches is, in fact, just a simple old lady who was a former librarian, plays bingo on the weekend and is as American as appl...errr...peach pie....

Anyway... Whatever it may be that you are retiring from Peaches, I hope you have a peachy time!

In Memory Of...

Some time in the night of October 22, 2006, C.R.A.P. aka Princess Bowzer aka Porter - amongst other names - was found dead in his cage. The probable cause of death suspected is wet tail.

C.R.A.P. was born in May of 2005 to a recently purchased hamster that was bought from the neighborhood pet store only days before. C.R.A.P. was a freaky looking hamster; with crazy long hair and beady eyes that bulged out of his head. Originally thought to be a she, C.R.A.P. was kept in the same cage as his slutty mother resulting in him impregnating her a short time later and having eight offspring with her. Besides pooping a whole lot and making a mess, C.R.A.P. was a known master escape artist - escaping at least four times - with his final attempt resulting in him being missing from his quarters for well over a month.

He is survived by his whore-mother, a sister (or is it a brother?) and maybe eight children (if they are not dead now...but who knows?). Family is unsure of funeral arrangements at this time. However, it may consist of a burial (being buried in a shoe box in the yard) or other unknown plans (one of those being that he is thrown away in the trash). The family would like donations to be made to the National Wet Tail Society.

It May Not Be Why The World Is All F%^&# Up...

But it still makes me sad...

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http://www.cnn.com/2006/US/10/18/no.tag.ap/index.html
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School bans tag, other chase games

POSTED: 10:52 a.m. EDT, October 18, 2006

Adjust font size:

ATTLEBORO, Massachusetts (AP) -- Tag, you're out!

Officials at an elementary school south of Boston have banned kids from playing tag, touch football and any other unsupervised chase game during recess for fear they'll get hurt and hold the school liable.

Recess is "a time when accidents can happen," said Willett Elementary School Principal Gaylene Heppe, who approved the ban.

While there is no districtwide ban on contact sports during recess, local rules have been cropping up. Several school administrators around Attleboro, a city of about 45,000 residents, took aim at dodgeball a few years ago, saying it was exclusionary and dangerous. (Watch how second-grader Kelsey interpreted the rule -- 1:30)

Elementary schools in Cheyenne, Wyoming, and Spokane, Washington, also recently banned tag during recess. A suburban Charleston, South Carolina, school outlawed all unsupervised contact sports.

"I think that it's unfortunate that kids' lives are micromanaged and there are social skills they'll never develop on their own," said Debbie Laferriere, who has two children at Willett, about 40 miles south of Boston. "Playing tag is just part of being a kid."

Another Willett parent, Celeste D'Elia, said her son feels safer because of the rule. "I've witnessed enough near collisions," she said.

Copyright 2006 The Associated Press. All rights reserved.This material may not be published, broadcast, rewritten, or redistributed.
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Where do we draw the line at being 'protective' of our kids? Sure, ban weapons (that is a given) and even make them go threw metal detectors if you must - that I can understand, but....tag? Kids are kids. Part of being a child is playing and while - yes - there will be times when they *gasp* get hurt, I believe it is all a part of growing up. I'm not saying let them beat each other down... just let them play. Give them an opportunity to be kids.

I guess we can blame lawsuit happy America for this one. To me it all started with that lady who sued McDonalds because she spilt her hot coffee as she was driving (ummmm hello...I guess everyone needs a warning on a cup to say you shouldn't drink steaming hot coffee while driving?) and ended up getting a boatload of money...)

Remember when we used to play dodgeball during recess? Sure the whole idea of someone darting a ball at high speeds towards someone else seemed crazy and every once in a while someone might get hit with the ball - and it would hurt sometimes, but you know what? We survived. And - if I also remember correctly - we didn't take anyone to court about it either.

*sigh*

Tag----You're it!

Rub-A-Dub-Dub...Some Poop In The Tub...

Date: October 15, 2006
Time: Somewhere between 6:30 pm and 7:00 p.m.
Location: The Weener-Boys' Bathroom

The story begins as Mother Weener puts the littlest weener in the bathtub for his nightly bath...

Mason: (Holding up an Elmo figure) Ehhhh?

Me: What do you got there? Is that Elmo? (begins to wave) Hi Elmo!

Mason: (Still holding up Elmo up) Ehhhh?!

Me: Hi Elmo!

Enter the stage right (READ: the bathroom door) the middle weener.

Timmy: Hey mom can we read this Biscuit book together?

Me: Sure...Let me finish giving Mason a bath.

Timmy: (with a huge pout on face) Aww....I want to read it now...PUH-LEASSSE?

Me: (Looks at Timmy's sad look and then at Mason playing in the bathtub.)

Timmy: Come on Mom. Mason is just playing with his Elmo and Ernie boat.

Mason: (holding up an Ernie figure this time) Ehhhh?!

Me: (looking at the orange figure) Who is that? Is that Ernie? (Waving) Hi Ernie!

Timmy: Pleasssse?

Me: (Watches as Mason bangs both Elmo and Ernie together) Alright...I'll watch Mason and read with you. (Begins to sit on the closed toilet) Come sit on my lap.

Timmy: Yay!

Mason: (Holding up both Ernie and Elmo) Ehhhhh? Ehhhhh?

So Timmy and his mother start to read the book in the bathroom as Mason plays in the tub. Every once in a while Mason holds up a toy and says "Ehhhhh?". However, somewhere between all of the "Ehhhhh's" something did not seem right to mother. Mother noticed that Mason - who had a humongous smile on his face - was holding an object she had never had seen before. She couldn't make out what toy that could be, but she did know one thing.... It was brown..

Me: (Bringing the book down to her knees) Hmmmm?

Timmy: Hey I was reading that!

Me: (Thinking out loud to herself) I don't think we have any brown toys for the bathtub....What brown toy...

In mid sentence Mother jumps up and looks inside the tub. Oh the HORROR! Mixed in between Ernie and Elmo were these brown things....brown things that were floating!

Me: (Frantically grabs a towel to get the owner of the turds - who is laughing by the way - out of the tub.) Oh no! Mason pooped in the tub!

Timmy: (With finger in his nose) That is disgusting!

Me: (Points to the door) Timmy! Go get your father...right now!

Scene ends with father coming to take the smallest weener so mother could clean all of the crap - literally - out of the tub.

The End

Nip And Tucked...

Today I am doing something I haven't done - let alone think about - since circa 1992. N0 - I didn't tease my bangs up to the ceiling and spray it with a pound of hairspray...and/or go to a Vanilla Ice concert. Oh and the old blue eye shadow is retired permanently from the Weenermom cosmetic bag. So what is it, you ask?

Okay here it is...I've (literally) sucked it up and I'm wearing my shirt tucked in my pants today. This is a HUGE accomplishment for me because I'm so used to wearing my shirts untucked...It's usually my feeble attempt to hide my muffin top and/or spare tire from the rest of the world. For some unknown reason, today I had gotten a little brave and decided to throw my insecurities (at least this one!) out of the door. To commemorate this milestone, I had one of the weeners (the big one) take a picture. It's a blurry picture, but I think you get the idea.

Okay...okay...so it could be tucked in neater, but give me some slack -- it's been a loooong time since I've tucked one in!

Hmmm...So what insecurity should I kick on it's arse tomorrow? Snake-skin miniskirt? Knee-high boots? - Or - How about me having more than a two minute conversation with the snooty, high society lady at the end of the block and trying to stop myself from wondering if she can see my moustache during the middle of our talk...?

On second thought I better just take it one tucked-in shirt at a time...

WHAT IF...

Britney Spears had a line of baby food? There would no longer be Gerber Babies. However, there would be....

High Cholesterol, Hyper Babies!
(with bad acne problems)

I came across this image on the web and couldn't help but to laugh.

Boogie Pickers Anonymous

I've been informed by my middle son that he is now a reformed boogie picker. (and I'm assuming boogie eater too because if you ain't digging for gold, you sure can't eat/flash it too.) This was our conversation.
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Timmy: Guess what mom.

Me: What?

Timmy: Guess!

Me: What?

Timmy: Come on Mom....Guess!

Me: Okay, you have a girlfriend.

Timmy: Ew Mom....that is gross!

Me: Well, what is it?

Timmy: I haven't picked my nose once today.

Me: Wow! That is great Timmy. Good for you!

Timmy: Yep, I think I just need one more day...

Me: One more day to what?

Timmy: One more day to stop picking my nose...

Me: (a little confused) Oh. And then you can get a girlfriend because girls like boys better when they don't pick their nose.

Timmy: (Unknowingly with finger on - but not in - nose...) Mooom-mmmm...Stop grossing me out! (Proceeds to - unknowingly - put finger in nose...)
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Oh to be a six year old boy and think that girls are grosser than boogies!

Just In Case You Didn't Check Your Calendar

Today is...
So you know what that means, right?

1. A visit to Crystal Lake today is OUT of the question.
2. I will not be having sex in the middle of the woods...today. ;).
3. If any of my deranged relatives visit me donning a hockey mask and a sharp object, I'm running like there is no tomorrow. (This would happen any day...not just today and they don't have to wear a hockey mask either!)
4. I will not be having sex in an abanoned cabin....today. ;)
5. If someone calls me today to inform me that I've been approved a position as a camp counselor - and I have to start TODAY, I think l'm going to decline the position.
6. I will not be having sex at all...today. ;)
7. I will not parade around topless...today. ;)
8. Did I mention I won't be having sex?

Happy Friday The 13th Everyone!

Mason is...

America's Next Top Model

You expect me to work under these conditions? -- Because this the saddest excuse for a background... And what is with the dude with the dry skin and flakey hair? I thought the petting zoo photo shoot was horrible - you know - when they put me next to that smelly old goat, but this takes the cake!

I could've worked anywhere...Paris...Milan...The Kids 'R Us Sales Flyer, but nooooooo....I'm stuck here. This calls for my pouty 'Just take the picture already' look. If they think I'm going to smile for them, they have another thing coming to them.

Did you hear me people? I saiiid...

"I - AM - NOT - GOING - TO - SMILE!"

Where is my agent? I need to talk with my agent!... I'm tired and hungry and I just want this torture to end! I have places to go and things to pull apart!

That's it -- I am outta here... I should've taken that swimsuit job in Hawaii... *sigh* I need to find some dirt to eat....Say this orange ball thingy looks tasty...

Two Weeks Later....

Now this is more like it!

Once Upon A Time...

When I was a little girl, I had a collection of Disney Little Golden Books. I had all of them too; Snow White, Sleeping Beauty, Lady and the Tramp, Pinocchio, Bambi, etc... However, my favorite of all time was Cinderella. I mean - really - what a great story. I just loved the whole idea of an innocent young girl - whose mother died when she was a child and whose father died some time later - leaving her all alone to be the slave of her evil stepmother and ugly stepsisters. Oh wait, but Cinderella wasn't really all alone, was she? Afterall she did have her nice mice friends that she talked/sang/danced with all of the time. Oh and how can I forget Cinderella's Fairy Godmother who turned objects into...well...other objects and turned mice into men (or horses). Ummm...like I said....great story.

So anyway, you all know the rest. Cinderella goes to the ball, hooks up with Prince Charming and before the Prince can get her digits, she leaves him out in the cold. Prince Charming then goes on a mad woman-hunt searching for her. Eventually he finds her. (And Cinderella realizes she's been talking to smelly rodents all this time and calls an exterminator.) In the end Cinderella and the prince get married and they live happily ever after...yadda...yadda...yadda...

Let me tell you this story gave me HIGH expectations.

No...I wasn't expecting my parents to die - leaving me to be the concubine of some evil relative - and I sure as hell wasn't going to start conversing with mice. What I mean is that it gave me high romantic expectations. Even at the age of 12, I wanted to be swooped off of my feet by some -- any really -- cute preppy/skater boy. If a boy liked me, I wanted him to tell me in a "How do I love thee?---Let me count the ways..." sort of way and not in a "Do you want to hang out with me in front of the mall?" way. Remember...I was only 12...

At the age of 14, I realized that none of that romantic crap was ever going to happen to me. -- I was never going to get swooped. -- So when my first real kiss happened by the 7-11 with the boy awkwardly poking his tongue in my mouth - and not passionately by the moon-lit ocean (Should I mention that I lived 3+ hours away from the ocean?) - I was okay with it all. Hey, at least he bought me a Slurpee afterwards. ;) The whole idea of a Fairy Tale romance went out of the door...along with my Prince Charming fantasies.

So out went the Prince and in went Lloyd Dobler... If any of you saw the movie "Say Anything", you'll know what I mean. Let me just say that I would've lost my virginity in the back of Lloyd Dobler's car instead of in a big, fancy castle any day.

*Sigh*