Jessica Simpson's Bosom is the Top Story?

Did you see the headline for the Top Story? “Jessica Simpson finds a bosom buddy…”

Oh. My. Goodness. I don’t know whether to be amused and relieved that there’s nothing more important than Jessica’s bosom in the news at the moment, or annoyed at CNN for leading with such a ridiculous headline. A bit of both, I guess.

And since you’re probably dying to know what the story is about, here’s the blurb:

Jessica Simpson and Dolly Parton have found more to bond over than their blonde locks and country crooning. The famously busty pair found common ground this week over the difficulties of having an ample bosom.

So there you have it. Now you know. You’re welcome.

I have three children: two boys, ages nine and seven, and a girl, age three. Life is busy, and the kids keep me entertained. There’s nothing more fun to watch than three siblings singing, dancing, and laughing together! (It happens on occasion.)

However, lately, the boys have been into telling jokes. Now, I think I have a pretty good sense of humor. (Sometimes, Hubby doesn’t appreciate it, but I’m really quite hilarious.)

They don’t really have a comedy routine, and they don’t have many jokes memorized. No, because that would be boring, I suppose. They prefer to improvise.

So, they have a go-to punchline, and it kills! You’re dying to hear it, aren’t you? Okay. You asked for it:

Knock knock.
Who’s there?
My BUTT!
*snicker*snicker*chuckle*

That’s just one example of how the BUTT punchline can be used. Amazingly, it fits almost any situation, and can be fashioned into an answer for any question!

I would say “let’s hope this phase passes quickly,” but I know it never will. They’ve just taken another step on the road to manhood. I’m so proud!

photo by photosavvy

I hit just about every common surface, including the phone switchboard, bathroom light switches, door handles… My nickname was “Psycho.” You get the idea.

My hubby, knowing about my neuroses (and loving me in spite of them), sent me this link from Gizmodo today. The article, “10 Gadgets that Help you Survive in Cheap Hotel Rooms,” set my geeky and germy-phobic heart strings a-quiver in harmony.

I wish I’d had some of these gadgets in my arsenal back in college. Cheers!

So we told the kids at dinner one night. Had everybody sitting at the table together and everything. He said, “Well, we have some exciting news. We’re all going to move to Colorado!“

It’s difficult to know what thoughts zip through the brains of children at a moment like that. For about two seconds, their eyes and jaws were wide open, and then… the questions.

“Can we bring the Wii? What about the Wii?”

Really? Wow. I guess it takes a looming major life change to expose one’s priorities. I suppose it makes sense that they would be concerned about their Nintendo. We don’t have any pets, due to allergies and asthma. I suppose the Wii is the closest thing they have to a puppy.

And I must tell you that the second thing they asked, after we assured them that the Wii and everything else in the house would be making the trip with us, was whether they could bring their friends. So it’s not like they don’t have any human friends.

It got me to wondering about the popularity of video games among kids these days. When I was a young girl, my favorite things were dolls, horses, a BB gun, and an Easy-Bake Oven. My brother collected Hot Wheels cars and played baseball. Other kids collected baseball cards and action figures.

Few families in my town had cable television back in the late 1970s, and almost nobody had a video game system. Now, lots of families have game consoles or handheld devices. My kids would play constantly if I let them. Does anybody collect baseball cards anymore? I don’t know. My kids don’t.

And before you judge me a terrible mother, you should know that my kids do enjoy playing outdoors and doing non-video game activities (when I make them), like reading, running around, getting dirty, building with Legos, etc. But video games are still their favorite hobby. I’d bet there are lots of other kids who are the same way. What’s it like at your house?

In case that’s too small for you to read, here is what it says.

Perfect for rootbeer floats, sodas, cocktails and more. Three fun colors. Handwash before use. (emphasis added)

You’ve got to be kidding me! Who has the time or inclination to wash a bunch of plastic straws before use?! Sorry, but the most I can manage is a quick rinse with tap water. What am I supposed to do? Get out the pipe cleaners to scrub the skinny tubes?

I guess I’ll be looking for Made in USA bendy straws from now on, and these will go into the craft bin.

I consider myself a country girl at heart. I grew up on a wooded lot in rural Wisconsin, and loved playing outside without worrying about traffic. It was nice to sleep with the windows open, and not hear the noise of the neighbors’ televisions. We had room for a big garden (although we hated it when Dad made us pull weeds), and lots of space to explore and play. The ditches along our road were full of berry bushes, and we picked and ate all we wanted in the summer. I think I’d like to move to a nice, quiet piece of land again someday. But for now, we’re stuck in the ‘burbs, conveniently close to shopping and schools, and a little too close to a few obnoxious neighbors…

However, there are a couple of times each year when the country seems very near, and I am taken back to my childhood in my mind. Today, I opened the windows to let in the fresh breeze, and clear out the last of winter’s stale air. The weather is perfect today. The pear trees are in bloom, the daffodils have finally opened, and my purple and yellow pansies are smiling at the sky.

As the gentle current of air swirls through my house, I take a deep breath. Ahhhh.

Wait. What’s that smell? Oh, I know.

Even though I can’t see any fields from my window, I can smell the aroma of agriculture. Somewhere, some farmer is working today. Perhaps he is turning the soil or spraying on some kind of organic fertilizer (manure?). The odor is faint and dilute, but unmistakably earthy, and somewhat sour.

Should I close my windows? No. I will leave them open. Let in the air. Let in the smell of agriculture; the smell of good, honest, dirty work. It may not be an entirely pleasant smell, but the memories it brings are sweet, indeed.

The point is, with a wonderful husband and three dear children to take care of, and so many truly important codes, passwords, dates, and numbers to remember, why do I still have old, useless bits of trivial information taking up space in my brain? I don’t have room for extra stuff! It makes it really difficult to find what I’m looking for!

For instance, say I’m looking for that very small screwdriver. You know the one I mean? It’s very thin, and it has a standard shaped end, which makes it perfect for unlocking the bathroom door when there’s nobody in there. Oh, yes. This happens sometimes! It’s quite mysterious.

So the first place I look is the kitchen junk drawer. I’m looking for the special little screwdriver, but what do I find? Everything else we’ve stashed in there since we moved into this house! Rubber bands, vegetable seeds, lip balm, marbles, tape, pens and pencils, an old checkbook, super ball, assorted coins, little rocks, and various things with sharp edges that find their way under the fingernails. Ouch! No screwdriver.

Sometimes, that’s how I feel when I’m trying to think of something important, like… my own phone number. Yes, I forgot my phone number. Picture me on the phone, leaving a message for an acquaintance. “So if you could call me back, that would be great. My number is… Four… I’m so sorry, but I’ll have to call you back with my phone number.” I couldn’t believe it. After that, I wrote my number on a sticker and kept it inside the kitchen cupboard, so I would never have to sound so stupid again! (At least not while leaving a phone message.)

I might not feel so bad about having forgotten my phone number, if the data taking its place were actually important, but they’re not. It’s just a bunch of stuff that I’ve stashed in there for the last 35 years. I’ll show you. Let’s give the old noggin a shake and see what falls out…

• High school locker combination (35-9-35)
• Names and colors of all four Wiggles
• First telephone number, from 30 years ago
• Memorized lines from Monty Python and the Holy Grail
• Ex-boyfriend’s birthdate
• Mnemonic phrase for the 12 cranial nerves (On Old Olympus’ Towering Top A Family Very German Viewed Armadillos Hop), but not the actual names of the nerves
• and more…

I’d say my brain is in need of a good sorting out, but I guess that’s life. Maybe I’ll need this stuff someday, like if I’m in a coma, and my family will be sitting around the hospital bed, talking quietly. Some young doctor will say, “Oh, by the way, do you know a good mnemonic for the 12 cranial nerves? I’m having trouble remembering them.” And one of my brilliant relatives will say, “Of course! On Old Olympus’ Towering Top…” And then, I’ll wake up! It could happen.

So, what’s in your intellectual junk drawer? Care to share your most useless bits of trivia with us?

1. Your background and text colors are similar.
2. Your sidebars are way longer than your content column.
3. Your graphics feature seizure-inducing blinkies and glitter text.
4. Your main page plays music automatically.
5. Your sidebar is full of buttons, ads, badges, and awards, of all different shapes and sizes.
6. Your page features automatic audio ads.
7. Your banners or graphics are wider than your columns, and they overflow into the margins, or overlap other elements.
8. First-time visitors have a hard time finding your actual post on the page.
9. You routinely change languages mid-post.
10. More than 10% of your blog is written in leetspeek or lolcatz style.

If your blog contains one of these elements, that doesn’t mean it’s terrible. But if you have lots of these, you might want to consider cleaning things up a bit. This concludes my snark for the day.

I must have the cookies!

Last year, my husband mistakenly brought home some peanut butter sandwich cookies. I wanted Peanut Butter Patties. They are soooo not the same. Peanut Butter Patties are covered in chocolate. The sandwiches are not. The Patties are my favorites!

Coming in a close second are the Thin Mints. When I was a Girl Scout, I think there were lots more Thin Mints per box. Also, each box was much cheaper back then. Yes, the cookies are expensive. Yes, they are not good for me. But I just can’t help it!

This is embarrassing, but I just did a line of Thin Mints. I tried to stop, but I couldn’t, and before I knew it, the whole tube was empty. Darn those Girl Scouts and their tiny, delicious, overpriced cookies!

My husband came down the stairs and was putting on his coat to leave for the office. He said, “Did you see that news story on people who are addicted to the internet?”

I said, “How could I have seen that if I was over here working on the computer?”

I’m hilarious, I know. I admit it; I have an internet dependency.

How addicted are you? How long can you go without checking something online? Days? Hours? Minutes?