Ever feel like your life is like a video?  This is mine:  http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=ri8fQ-7eVAY&feature=related. 

It’s never enough.

So, I got bored.  Decided to try and figure out why my hard drive was so full.  Found a bunch of programs that said I hadn’t accessed them in a while.  Deleted them.  Now I don’t have sound on my computer. 

Ooops.  So now I’m sitting here, waiting for “Nick Burns, Your Company’s Computer Guy“.

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=05TD61-5a58

I know you know them, Nelson.  Put your answers in the comments section, people.

Name the song and the band:

1. Martin, maybe one day you’ll find true love.
2. They want to touch me- I never let them.
3. He looked like 65 when he died.
4. Oh God can’t you keep it down?
5. Your love is so edible to me.
6. I’m sick of the Hoover.
7. I got the feeling I was not alone!
8. I’m black and blue, baby I love you.
9. They do it over there, but they don’t do it here.
10. They beat him up until the teardrops start.
11. Soul Boy, let’s hit the town.
12. At night I get drunk and fly around.
13. Touch the hurt and don’t let go.
14. She drove a Plymouth Satellite.
15. I’ll say you let me be your friend.
16. The only real difference is in the people you meet.
17. I said wot d’ya want.
18. I thought I saw Lauren Bacall.
19. Disappointed and I don’t know why.
20. Hit me slowly, hit me quick.

Sometimes I don’t watch start watching a new T.V. show I’ve seen advertised, because I can’t afford the committment in my life at that time.  I can tell, before having even viewed one episode, that I will be obsessively hooked.  Sometimes the decision is made for me, as we only have basic cable, not any of the movie channels like HBO, etc.

Once in awhile, I’ll happen upon re-runs and I don’t have the strength to fight it anymore.  I’ll end up as hooked as I knew I’d be, and them have to watch everything I can find.   My most recent weakness has become ‘The Closer’.   (Don’t hold the fact against her that she’s married to Kevin Bacon, and that her love interest was once married to Terri Hatcher- this show is fucking incredible.)

Well, last night, I fell again.  Hard.  I knew seeing the advertising for this show when it started out on Showtime that it would be indescribably delicious.  However, I didn’t have Showtime, so it didn’t really matter.  Seems my friends over at CBS decided to run the show on network primetime for me starting last night.  And I am in love.

His name is Dexter.   He works for the police department as a blood spatter expert.  And he’s a serial killer.  He cuts people up.  While they are conscious.  But really, it’s okay, because he only kills the people that deserve it. 

But it’s so much cooler than that.  He has no feelings.  Good or bad.   His sister is the only person that loves him (which he recognizes as a nice thing), and he thinks if he were capable of feeling love, he’d probably love her, too.  So he goes through his live, ’pretending’ to be social, as he knows this is what society expects.  It is so amazing I can’t even describe it. 

Looks like my Sunday nights at 10pm are booked now.  I heart Dexter.  Delicious.

From my daughter:

I’m going to grow big and tall… like a trashcan!

You’re the one who’s making us naughty.

Mommy, you don’t like my attitude (said while crying, because I told her I didn’t like her attitude)

No one cares about me when I’m naughty.

From my son:

Charlie good boy, Momma, right? 

I like your one eye, Dad.

Baby perro! (his invented curse word, translation “baby dog”)

I like your boobs, Mom.

You don’t eat poop, Mom.  That would be silly.

My daughter asked me if I was vain.  She’s five. 

I thought about it seriously and answered “Yes, sometimes I am.  Are you vain?”  “Yes,” she responded.  Hmm.  I don’t know what’s going on here, but I don’t like it.  They learn about the seven deadly sins in Kindergarten??  I asked for an explanation.  “What does vain mean, honey?”

“Vain is when you think you’re pretty.”  We always tell her she’s smart and pretty.  I didn’t want her to think that was a bad thing.  So I tried to explain it was more along the lines of being conceited about it.  “When were you vain, honey?”  “Yesterday, when my hair was parted on the side with a barrette.” 

It was a new hair style we tried for the first time.  She looked super cute and she knew it.  And you know what?  I’m okay with that.

The notation of “blam!” within any posting is the sound of me blowing my brains out.

Charlie just turned three.  I had trouble breast feeding both kids, so he got a taste of it for about two weeks before we went formula full time.  Apparently, two weeks is enough to literally “get a taste of it” for life. 

Pretty much since he’s moved from the stage of baby blob (cry, eat, poop, sleep) to that of an alert, functioning toddler, he’s had a thing for boobs.  Especially my boobs.  He likes to put his hand in my shirt and feel me up.  When I demand “Hey, you don’t put your hands in my shirt!”, he looks at me, smiles that devilish smile and says “What!?”, as if it’s no big deal.  Does he do this to the daycare lady, too?

Yesterday morning, when I got him up out of bed and carried him downstairs, he told me in a very clear and earnest voice, “I like your boobs, Mom.” 

Watch out, ladies.

This is my friend I call Gaylord.  She is a whore.  You can tell by the photo.  I used to work with her and a sassy gal named Churl, who has the ability to injure herself in the oddest ways (go ahead, tell them how you “fell” on your toothbrush and poked a hole in your mouth.  While sober.)

Anyway, they taunted me by saying they were going to send me something, something so cool that I seriously laid in bed at night with anticipation.  Then the mail came today.  An envelope.  Suspiciously with no return address.  And guess what they sent to me?

They sent me their PUBIC hair.  They spent weeks growing it and combing it out.  Churl told me she even used hair glaze on hers to give it shine.  Gaylord even threw in her crabs for free.  Documentation of the mission is above.

I miss working with them.  A lot. 

I am not a pretty barfer.  I woke up with the stomach flu at 5am Friday, and preceded to barf for the next two hours straight.  Now I suspect that very few people looks glamourous when they are puking, but I turn into some sort of monster.

My nose begins to run, buckets of snot, and I involuntary start to cry.  Sometimes, there’s even an “issue” down there, but since several of you are my friends and reading this, I refuse to elaborate any further.  It’s as if God has a button that says “Let ‘er rip”, and apparently up in heaven, rip means puke, cry, snot, piss and shit (so much for not elaborting).

The first (and the last) time my daughter saw me barf, I terrified her, and she immediately started to cry.  Who was that monster hovering over the toilet bowl, that kind of looked like Mommy, but not so much?

So now when I barf have to act like it’s all cool.  And believe me, it isn’t cool.  I disguise the sound with the fan in the bathroom and running the water.  I say “Mommy is going to cough for a few minutes.”  She looks at me with suspicion- she’s no fool.  So I try and bribe her.  “Okay, if you go downstairs and be good and stay until I come down, I’ll give you a thousand dollars.”  She bargains with a counter offer – “Can I have some chips?”  “Okay.”  She’s going to be a lawyer just like her Daddy.

 p.s. world’s greatest Web site ever: http://www.ihasabucket.com/