Well, at least the gray blends with the blonde...

There are few things more terrifying, more sickening, more gut-wrenching and nerve-wracking, than losing your wallet. You literally want to puke. Your mind obsesses over all the possible places it could be, you retrace your steps over and over, you second-guess yourself, What if I DIDN'T put it on the console, what if I left it on top of the vehicle?, even though you KNOW you really did put it on the console.

You cannot help but catalog and itemize every little thing in there: the bank card, credit cards, drivers license, money (maybe), cheques, stamps, receipts, gift cards, membership cards, pictures of family. And then you prioritize what needs to be done first: cancel credit cards, tell bank about missing debit card, re-order drivers license, cancel cheques, re-order membership cards. But you want to know for sure if finding the wallet is a lost cause before you do all that, because wouldn't it be just your luck to go through that huge ordeal, making all those phone calls, cancelling everything, and then finding the damn thing in your other purse because, oh yeah, you forgot that you used that purse that day.

And if you are lucky enough to find the wallet before going through all that hassle, just the mental anguish and torment of all those hours of worry, wondering if some bad-guy is booking a flight to the Bahamas with your visa at that very moment, is enough to scar you for life and make it so that you never, ever do something so stupid again as to tuck your damn wallet under the carseat while getting the little one out of the vehicle and then forgetting where exactly you laid it down and maybe you left it on the floor and it fell out at the Cobbs parking lot except they said no-one turned in a wallet so maybe you brought it in the house except you've went through every single room, nook and cranny and you've scoured the vehicle five times even though it was night-time when you looked so it was really dark.

And these are all excuses you repeat to yourself so you feel less like a loser when your 11 year old son, upon hearing your end-of-the-rope-completely-frustrated-and-hopeless yell that whoever finds the wallet gets WHATEVER THEY WANT AT DQ!!, rushes out to the vehicle and returns five minutes later with said wallet and a smug smile. "I'll have an Oreo Brownie Explosion, thanks."

WARNING: Your eyes are about to melt (and certain other body parts)... NSFW!! TMI!!

I knew it. I KNEW IT!! Did I not tell y'all that I could see Adam Lambert with a guy or a girl? And here he is, in all his sinfully sexy glory. With a woman. Of course, I want to rip her hair out and scratch her face; I mean, she gets to be naked with MY man, Adam. NAKED. And he's clutching her, um, well, check it out for yourself. I wonder if that chick even knows how lucky she is, and how many Glamberts across the world pray nightly for a chance to be in her shoes. The one pic, where his face is like inches away from "her", can you imagine the magazine people running that concept past Adam and the model? If I was that girl, I'd probably get the giggles or something doing that pose. Oh, who am I kidding, I'd have him in a headlock. Not using my arms. Heh!

(This is from his new spread in Details magazine. Whoever pulled my name for the Xmas gift exchange, Amber I think, here ya go, just get me Adam's new CD -- out Nov. 23rd -- and this magazine, and some batteries (*snicker*) and I'm good.)

I'm not even going to caption each pic, especially the last few. My mind is firmly embedded in the gutter right now and I want to savor it, hah. Besides, the pics pretty much speak for themselves...

Larry, the Drunkest Guy Ever

Just found this online, I cannot believe how drunk this dude is. Seriously.

The little dickens

I'm sitting on the couch with Ryder tonight and he turns to me, pulls down my shirt, showing my bra, and says, "Hell-oh." Gunnar is on the other couch and he sees this, snorts and quickly looks away. Probably traumatized at seeing his mom's busoms (right, Trapper? heh). Then little Ryder shoves his hand down my shirt, curls it around the bottom curve of my breast, then lightly rubs my stomach. I'm shaking with laughter at this point, and squeak out, "What's down there?" And the little brat fires back, quick as a whip, "Spiderwebs!" (Of course, the average person would've heard this as 'biderebb' so I provided translation there, lol)

Immediately made me think of this scene... (and doesn't this bring back memories, Christine?)

Best. Lamebook. Ever...

If you've been watching the news over the last couple days, you know about the "Balloon Boy"...

Jim & Pam: The Wedding!

Oh. My. God. TELL me you watched The Office last night!! If you didn't, there's a great article about it here. Spoilers abound so be forewarned. At the moment I'm unable to find a video clip of the actual wedding on YouTube, the article there talks a little about it, and if you watched last night you know what I mean when I say...

Ohmygod, they did it!! Sooooo friggin' awesome! I was sputtering and pointing to the tv screen, "Look, they're doing the video!" and Hubs was like, "What video?"... *shaking my head*

What was your favorite part of last night's episode? Let me know in the comments. Personally, its a toss-up between that part at the end, and Jim cutting his tie (that teared me up).

Make it a double, please!

My household was just abuzz with activity this morning. So many things going on at once!

The boys meandered their way into the kitchen, twenty minutes after I got them up, in just their undies; I promptly sent them straight back downstairs to get dressed. "You guys know better, c'mon!"

They hemmed and hawed, couldn't decide what they wanted for breakfast; I slapped a box of cereal on the table.

I had to tell them three times to brush their teeth, they just kept dicking around downstairs.

Ardan wanted to wear a new pair of pants that hadn't been hemmed yet; out came the duct tape.

Gunnar hadn't emptied his lunchkit or backpack after school yesterday; I had to stand there, toe tapping, while he got everything sorted out. Only then was I able to pack his lunch.

Finished packing Ard's lunchkit, only to remember that today is hot lunch at the school and they get a KFC chicken burger.

In the midst of all this, Ryder woke up and started banging on his door, "WAKE. UP! WAKE. UP!" So Ardan went to let him out, and out runs Ryderman buck naked! Little bugger figured out how to take off his pajamas! But I was busy making lunches and 'supervising' my slow-ass boys, so I just let Ryder run around in the buff. No worries, right? I mean, after all, he was just playing with toy cars there in the livingroom. Only to see Ryder streak by and there was something on his leg. Peeked my head around the corner and saw a huge pile of steaming crap right there on the carpet. "Are you f*cking kidding me?? Why God, why??" So Ryder went to "jail" (trapped in the bathroom alone until I could clean him up) while I got out the baby wipes and cleaned the carpet. Thank heavens they were just rabbit turds, UGH. Put a diaper on the brat, with a stern warning NOT to take it off, and it was back to the morning madness.

Remembered that Tyler had said the boys were to wear long johns under their pants this morning because of the cold. The boys had to go back downstairs, grumbling all the while.

While they were down there, I yelled a reminder to find their winter boots, mitts and a hat. "But moooo-oo-ooommm, we don't know where our boots are!" I JUST told you that they're in the laundry room! And the mitts and hats are in bins in the cubby room! "But those boots don't fit us anymore!" How do you know, did you actually try them on? "No but they look too small." Well, friggin' try them on because I know for a fact your dad bought those new last year, and he purposely got them a bit big so they'd still fit THIS year! At this point, I realized how stupid it was to carry on a conversation with both parties having to yell at the top of their lungs because they are on different floors. "Okay, well, Ardan's boots fit but mine don't!" What?! Are you sure Gunnar? Okay well, I guess... try to find your hiking boots! What do you mean you don't know where they are? For the love of...!! So Gunnar went to school in runners, Ard in winter boots.

Ardan couldn't find a hat he liked (we only have like, a million winter hats) and decided on the green Grinch hat. Remember those hats? They were from when the boys were like five. So imagine that hat, stretched tightly over Ard's huge melon of a head. But he was adamant on wearing it to school. A great conversation piece, I guess.

Last minute panic as Gunnar couldn't find his school agenda. Frantic searching of the backpack and front entry; Lena found it under a coat. Crisis averted. Then the frantic search for a pen was on, so I could sign my initials.

Finally, finally, the boys were ready. Mitts, hat, lunchkits, agendas, long johns... going over the mental checklist as I do every morning. "Ooohhh poop! Sorry guys, I just noticed your coats aren't warm enough. You need a hoody on underneath." Groans, moans, grumbles as both boys trudged downstairs yet again.

I tell ya, mornings around here. Its enough to drive a woman to drink! Coffee, that is.

Mooooommy, the Skinny Cow

THE SCENE: Suppertime, Monday night. Family is gathered around table, eating.

The two older boy children are discussing what they would like their mom to make for supper the next night.

SON NO.2: "Mom, you know what you should make? Milk!"

All three children chuckle and chortle to imagine that.

MOTHER: "What, do you think I'm a cow?"

She shakes her head and laughs.

SON NO.2: "Yes, you are!"

The mother slowly turns her head toward him.

SON NO.2: "Uh, I mean no! You're pretty! You're the skinniest woman in the world!"

There is a moment of silence, then the mother bursts into laughter.

MOTHER: "Boyo, you just saved your life. Keep that up and girls will fight over who gets to be your girlfriend."

The son smiles and blushes.

END SCENE

Happy 11th Birthday, Gunnar!

You know what's crazy? What seems just surreal to me? That I have an eleven year old son. An ELEVEN year old. I know its cliche, but it really does seem like just yesterday I was an 18 year old punk, bringing this tiny little bean home from the hospital. 18 years old. That's only seven years older than he is now. (Six years from the age when I actually got pregnant, YIKES.)

Gunnar was our little miracle, so sweet and precious, so happy and content, wise beyond his years and smarter than a whip, serious and shy sometimes, exuberant and cheeky the next. How quickly we all adapted to having this wonderful little being in our lives, how quickly he had us wrapped around his chubby little finger.

Hubs and I were given this little boy when we were just kids ourselves, and yet seeing and experiencing life through his eyes, through him, opened us up to what life could be like, as a family. We three grew up together, in a way.

And now my little guy is eleven, not so little anymore. In fact, I've only got a couple inches on him now and we can wear the same shoes (a fact he detests because I keep stealing his flip-flops, haha). And it hits me sometimes, when did this happen? How did he go from being so small and precious to this big kid?

I've been through all the baby stages with him, the toddler years, preschool, elementary. All those first times, first experiences, imprinted forever in my tender, motherly eyes. And now it is on to a new stage -- that of first crushes, first outings with friends (no parents! co-ed! ack!), probably first kisses (not that he'd ever admit to it), peer pressure, more challenging school subjects, more responsibilities and expectations. My boy is only two years away from teenagehood, for crap sakes. I think I'm having a pre-mid-life crisis here, people!!

Now, instead of wanting a new action figure for his birthday, he wants a cell phone. Instead of inviting friends over for a sleepover, he's going out to the movies with a group of kids (girls included, oh mercy). Instead of cartoons, he wants to watch horror movies and music videos. His music tastes are pretty much the same, because he grew up listening to his dad's heavy metal, punk, and rock and my eclectic love for 60s/70s classic rock, 80s pop and 90s grunge; however, he's got his generation's love for hiphop as well.

My kid is growing up into this amazing, well-rounded little individual with his own opinions, likes and dislikes. I'm kind of in awe of him, like, I helped create this person, he's a part of me and yet, he is SO his own person. Wow.