Somebody Didn't Like My Christmas Card

Have you ever snorted Crystal Light? Not like doing lines of it or anything crazy like that, you know, on accident. Good lord, that could be a substitute for waterboarding. It might be worse than inhaling powdered sugar. Oh the agony.

So I'm making my Crystal Light pink lemonade last night as Josh and I are about to sit down and finally watch The King's Speech (I've been hoarding that Netflix dvd since July). I tear open my single serve packet and there's a pink powder explosion straight up my nose. I cough, I gag, I wheeze... I'm practically dying but apparently the king is giving a really good speech and my near-death experience goes completely unnoticed.

Once I compose myself, I make my way back to the couch and explain how I've just snorted Crystal Light and Josh replies, "On purpose?" Yes, on purpose. I figured why take the time to mix it... I'll just snort it real quick and then gargle this water... you know, save a step or two. Then the movie ends and he says, "It's over?" And I guess it wasn't that great of a speech after all.

In other news, remember this year's Christmas card?

Well, it just so happens SOMEBODY didn't like it. As in, disliked it so much, they complained to several of my family members about it. I won't name names since it's very possible I'm related to this person (I am) and I definitely don't need to make the holidays any more awkward (or do I?)

Do you know why this somebody didn't like it? Could it be the fact that I put my goofy pet's faces on a card meant to commemorate the birth of baby Jesus? Or the fact that it's terribly photoshopped? Nope. Apparently, it's because my cat's head is too big. And this mystery person was incredibly put off by this. Seriously... that's the reason you're gonna knock my card? Because my cat's head is disproportionately large? That's your ONLY complaint about it? How about "you mangled his whiskers" or "come on, cat's don't wear bow ties, that's totally unrealistic."

Perhaps this somebody will be happier with a professionally made card next year. Actually, I think I've got one in mind. It's from one of my favorite places ever: bluntcard.com

Found here

Hopefully that man's head is the right size for his body because I'd really like to make sure next year's card is less offensive.

New Year's Resolution

I finally figured out my New Year's Resolution... It was easy, all I had to do was go through this year's New Year's Eve photos and OH LORD HE TOOK VIDEO TOO...

Next year, I resolve not to be caught on video singing "Moves Like Jagger" in a chef's hat. That is all.

Five Things I Learned This Weekend

I knew Five Things I Learned This Weekend would return sooner or later and here it is.

1. There Are Nuts For Pants And There Are Nuts For Cookies - They Are Not The Same

So I was way late to the Christmas party this year.  So late that the outdoor Christmas lights are still sitting on the living room floor. So late that we sent our Christmas cards out on Friday - if you didn't get one, I apologize on behalf of the US Postal service, it was clearly lost in transit. This is what you missed:

So late that I didn't even think about Christmas cookies until Saturday night. But then I listened to the She & Him holiday album and that was all the motivation I needed to make some liquor filled cookies - really, are there any other kinds?

Brandy and Rum balls were the plan and the husband was in charge of the nut grinding. I figured he had more experience with nuts than me and should probably just handle that part. Whoops.

NUTS EVERYWHERE!

Husband: Uh oh
Me: What?
Husband: The cap fell off - there are nuts all over my pants.
Me to brain: Don't make nut jokes, he's probably really upset and thinks he ruined the cookies. Be nice, I know it's hard for you but just try, ok? No nut jokes.
Me: It's ok, we'll just vacuum them up.  We've got extra nuts.
Husband: Can't you just use the ones from my pants?
Instantly I regretted promising my brain that there would be no nut jokes... and yet I still resisted.
Me: No, I'm not going to scrape the nuts off your pants and put them in the cookies.
And then I vacuumed up his nuts.


2. I Am The God Of Present Wrapping

Censored - while highly unlikely, this might be for you.

...with duct tape and empty beer boxes.

Do I get a duct tape award for this or something?

3. Owning A Dog Means Being OK With Random Body Parts Strewn About the House

Those are an antler, a hoof and a leg bone, there are pig tails in the pantry and at one point there was also a bull penis. Let's think about this. For some reason, I am completely ok with pieces of dead animal laying all over my house including genitalia. It's like I'm living in a house of horrors. If an animal were somehow to die in my house, I'm fairly certain I wouldn't even realize it wasn't supposed to be there... maybe once it started to smell but even then I'm not so sure.  Have you ever been around a dog chewing on animal parts? They don't smell very good. And if you feed them liver treats? Prepare to be gassed out of your home. It's like chemical warfare. I kid you not - doggy swamp-ass.


4. Blisters Are Contagious - Can you believe that the hubby and I blistered ourselves on the same night, in almost the same spot, at nearly the exact same moment? He was moving logs in the fireplace and I was taking a pizza out of the oven. If that doesn't scream soul mates, I don't know what does. Destiny!

5. Gnome Luck Only Lasts For One Year - Then You Have To Find A New Gnome

I am the proud owner of a Green Bay Packers gnome. My little green and gold good luck charm was a Christmas gift from my mom last year, right after the Packers lost their last game (12/19 to the Patriots). My gnome helped lead the Packers to 19 straight victories for an entire year. For a year, my gnome and I were inseparable.

My gnome was with me at the Packers playoff victory in Atlanta. As a matter of fact, so was my gnome's twin brother.

Yes, we parked next to complete strangers with the same lucky gnome.

My gnome flew across the country, encased in styrofoam and in my checked bag, to Los Angeles, where we watched the Superbowl and he got tipsy with our besties.

My gnome traveled to Charlotte to see if Cam was really all that.

Then my gnome went back to the Dome to witness another Packers victory in person. Person? Gnomen?

And when my gnome wasn't traveling with me, he was perched atop our mantle, watching over us from above.

My gnome was undefeated...

The beautiful victor and his brat

until Sunday. Almost one year to the day of the Packers last loss, my gnome's luck ran out. The Packers, who were on their way to a perfect season, lost. My gnome's reputation was tarnished, sullied, irreparable. I'm not really sure what to think now. Is he still my "lucky" gnome or am I forced to find a replacement gnome? I'm starting to believe that lucky gnomes only have a one year lifespan. Also, I think my gnome was only an Offensive gnome because he didn't really contribute to the D much at all this year.  Here's to hoping the next little guy's luck is more evenly distributed or maybe I'll keep this guy but he better start stepping up his game.

Other Uses For An E-collar

We've reached Day 2 1/2 of Olive's E-collar entrapment (due to a mystery skin infection). She is NOT enjoying her plastic prison BUT, in these few short days, she has taught us that there are many other uses for the cone of shame.

1. Battering Ram - This was either a futile attempt at escape or she's still learning the spacial ramifications of having a plastic cone around her head. Last night, while out for her evening poo, she got the zoomies and ran head first into the fence, thereby cracking the cone in half. This, my friends, is probably what duct tape was invented for.

I only have myself to blame

2. Sandblaster - I'm fairly certain I'm going to need to repaint our entire house.  Every turn she makes is right into a wall, leading to quite a bit of paint scraping. The trim on the backdoor was already in need of some touch-ups but Olive's inability to understand the size of her plasti-head has moved this way up on the project list.  She's also gotten her head stuck in the fireplace.

3. Weight Control System - CAN'T - REACH - THE - FOOD!

Get in my belly!

4. Megaphone - You thought she barked loud before?  She sounds like crazy cheerleader mom now.

5. Beer Funnel - Thanks to my buddy, Clinty, for this suggestion. You just pour in your PBR (if you're a hipster) or Stella (if you think you're a beer snob but are really unknowingly sipping on the Pabst of Europe) and drink away.

***WARNING*** Do not try if you have a problem with hair in your drink. Actually you probably shouldn't drink out of any glass in our house if you're afraid of finding hair in your drink. I shed quite profusely and so do my animals.

6. Pathetic Face Amplifier - Sad faces look so much more ridiculous encased in plastic...

I... remember... freedom.  It... was... glorious.

I imagine you could say the same thing about Carbonite.  Han Solo wasn't looking so hot in that either.

7. Costume - Hello... who's going to be a Victrola for Halloween next year? Or perhaps a Dilophosaurus... yes, I know they don't really look like the spitter dinos from Jurassic Park but for my purposes they absolutely do.  Movies are just like real life; you will not convince me otherwise. Or maybe a cocktail glass?  Her name is already Olive so I'll just teach her to walk on her hind legs and she can go as a dirty martini.

I'd rather you just put the antlers back on my head and call me Olive the Other Reindeer again.  That might be less humiliating.

8. Jai alai Scoop - Properly known as a xistera (who knew? Thanks, wikipedia). She is SOOO good at catching tennis balls now.

Seriously?

We've got one more day to go before we attempt the cone-removal procedure. She's started the countdown... well, maybe she hasn't but we have. We haven't taught her how to count yet. Though I'm pretty sure if she understood math, she'd have spent all of this time scratching her days in captivity into the wall next to her crate.

Playing Dr.

Lots of stuff going on right now... been hard to keep up.  Had to share though that we're about to head to the veterinarian during the Packers game... yes, that is how much we love our dog.  Oh and she makes one pathetic patient.

Maybe you could wrap this better. I honestly just look like I don't know how to put on socks.

Don't look at me, I'm hideous.

Don't know what's wrong just yet besides nasty, swollen puss-paw.  In other news, someone is REALLY excited about Christmas.

Nothing like emergency vet bills right before Christmas.

***Update***  We've got a Conehead.

Might cancel Directv and just mount her on the house.  Though I'm not sure she comes with Sunday Ticket.

How Can You Hate a Cat in a Sweater?

Now that I've got a wall full of frames, I can start thinking about what I'd like to put in them.  Right now they're filled with black & white photos - mostly from our wedding.  And that's great but there's so much other awesome stuff out there.

Take this cat in a holiday sweater for example.  He's pretty much inspiring me to do an entire wall of Christmas pictures.

I will call him Sweater-Puss.  Found Here

I obviously need him... but guess who thinks I don't? This guy:

This man hates cats in sweaters.  Clearly he has no sense of humor.

If I can't have Sweater-Puss, I think I need to check out some other frame-able options:

Found here

YES! This is totally appropriate (well maybe not the fighting, crying and guilt but booze... that's spot on) - especially for those of us who have family who imbibe in a few too many Old-Fashioneds every year. This is exactly how last year's Christmas dinner conversation began this way:

Anonymous Family Member (name removed to protect the innocent): "Dinner's almost ready, I just need someone to toss my salad."  

Does anyone else's holiday dinner include salad-tossing?  Or is it just mine?

Or how about the year before, when I told my entire family about that one time I drank too many gin & tonics and ended up locking myself in the bathroom, slipping in the tub and ripping the whole shower curtain down on myself. Grandpa's response was, "And that's my granddaughter." Pretty sure he was just expressing his pride. 

Or maybe I really need this one:

Found here

I know, I know... I be hatin' on Dollar stores.  Yes, you can score sweet deals on cleaning products and wrapping paper and canned wieners... but it's totally obvious when your office secret santa spends his entire gift limit there or in Target's everything's-a-dollar bins.  I mean, come on, at least get me the reindeer that poops jelly beans... never mind, don't get me that, I actually already have one. 

Or how about this guy:

Found Here

Are zombies still cool?  Or passé like ninjas and pirates?  I hope still cool because I think this Zombie Santa really pops.  I hate when I jump on a trend when it's on its way out.

Gosh, I feel all holiday-spirity now.  And I'm pretty sure that after hubby sees my alternatives to Sweater-Puss, my St. Nick stocking is going to be filled with one really awesome photo of a cat in a Christmas sweater.  And if I don't happen to get Sweater-Puss?  I'm putting this up instead:

Santa Hubby

Balls

So when is it acceptable to start a fight with an 80 year old man?  Is it after he builds a soccer field in the residential lot behind yours with the soccer goal against your fence? Or after teenagers start kicking the balls over and climbing your fence to retrieve them?  Or after that soccer field starts getting used by adults who kick the soccer balls into your fence, breaking the boards?  Yeah, that's what's been happening and now there's a big damn hole in our fence for our dog to escape through.

Let's rewind a bit.  I first tried to address the situation with Old Man by phone months ago:

Me: "I am concerned about adults using the "soccer field" you put behind our house.  They are kicking the ball into our fence and trespassing on our property (this part wouldn't be such a big deal if we hadn't already been robbed).  Also, they are going to damage our fence... and it's annoying to have loud soccer games behind our house every single night."

Old Man: "Well the soccer field is only for the kids in my organization and I don't know why you want to spend time outside anyway.  You should just enjoy your air conditioning inside like I do."

Me: "We bought a house with a yard because we like outside and the soccer field is being used by more than just your kids.  This is a problem."

Old Man: "Well you had kudzu growing on your fence. It harbors rats and snakes.  Who do you think cut that down for you when we built the soccer field?"

Me: "Super... didn't realize kudzu harbors rats..."

Old Man: "Really?  Where are you from?"

Me: "Wisconsin"

Old Man: "Really?  But people from there are usually so nice."

I'm pretty sure Old Man just inferred that I was a bitch.  This was going nowhere.

Me: "Could you take the nets down when you're not playing?"

Old Man: "That's too much work"

Me: "Could you put up signs with rules that state this field is only for kids?  I'll even let you post them on the back of our fence."

Old Man: "The state of the economy has made things difficult - signs are expensive."

Me: "I'll pay for the signs."

Old Man: "I did put up signs but someone ripped them down."

Me: "See!  Clearly this is a problem - now the people are ripping down the signs."

So then I decided to make some signs of my own.  Here is sign #1:

But some people didn't think that was effective enough so I made this one:

Unfortunately, I didn't get a chance to hang either sign before today's destructive events happened. But I totally think people would have appreciated our concern for their balls.

Fast forward to today's broken fence.  Here's what things are looking like:

Clearly broken

This is the spot Olive can escape from.  Hubby nailed the broken piece back to the fence.

So how do we deal with this?  Well, hubby walks around back to have a conversation with the folks who busted our fence.  I don't do so well with civilized conversation.  Instead I run out of the house, barefoot, like a raging maniac.  RAWRRRR - WHO'S GONNA FIX MY FENCE SO MY DOG DOESN'T ESCAPE???  I'm 5 foot 3 inches of FURY. 5 foot 3 inches behind a 6 foot fence. But once I climb up that fence I'm like 6'5 and totally intimidating... in my mind. To the people I'm yelling at, I'm just 5 foot 3 inches of crazy.  I'm like an insane robot with only two settings.  

Setting 1 - Terrified of confrontation. Afraid to order pizza. Scared of the bank teller.  STRANGER DANGER!

Setting 2 - Raging monster.  The only thing scarier would be a cross between Cthulhu and an angry narwhal.

How do the soccer players respond to my craziness?  "Don't you have like some maintenance man to come fix it or something?" Seriously? Sure, let me just call the property manager and get him to come out and fix this. Oh wait, that's me... cause this is my house and not an apartment complex. Ugh.

So we assess the damage and between our fence and our neighbor's, we've got seven broken boards.  This is where we call Old Man again and ask him to come out so we can figure out how to get our fence repaired.  Here's what happens next:

Old Man to Soccer Players: "You're not supposed to be here.  You're ruining this for the children"

Soccer Players: "Well, how are we supposed to know we can't play here?  There are no signs" 

Bam.  That's what I said.

Old Man: "This field is for the children of my organization"

One Soccer player: "But I used to play for your organization"

Bahahaha.

Hubby: "Let's talk about fixing the boards"

Neighbor: "Yeah, we don't want people going all Pele on our fences"

Old Man: "Well this board just looks rotten"

Side note: Our fence was built less than 10 years ago.  The boards are perfectly unrotten.

Hubby:  "Our fence is not rotten.  It's broken from soccer ball impact."

Old Man: "I was relaxing at home, enjoying a movie on my couch and I didn't want to have to come up here and deal with this."

Baaahhhh!  This is hopeless!  Anyway, Old Man got out his insurance information while I held the dog back from her newfound escape route.  Then we nailed a temporary board over the hole in the fence and are now crossing our fingers that they will actually repair the damage.

Later, husband and I argued about discussed how we both responded to the situation. I was ready to grab the nearest sharp object and defend my property to the death.  Hubby just wanted to use his words. His response was probably more socially acceptable but I still believe mine would have been more effective.  

Oh and I didn't fix my messed up lamp but here's the other shit I made this week.  It's a picture wall. 

So I had this bare wall:

And I hated that the thermostat was all up in your face in the dining area.  Also, I had a ton of frames that were left over from our wedding that we had used for our table numbers.  I bought all of the frames from Goodwill for almost nothing and then antiqued them.  I figured I could use them again later and voila, here we are... using them again.

First I cut up my Anthropologie catalog (fear not, they always send me two... I totally circled the iPod victrola for my Christmas list in the other one) and used the pages as placeholders for the frames.  I cut them to the exact size and then marked where the hanger was so I could nail right through the sheets and then just tear them down.  Also, I numbered them all so I knew which was which.  Fortunately, most of my frames already had numbers in them since they used to be table numbers.

Then I arranged everything the way I thought I wanted it on the floor.

Ugly Box... heh heh.

Oh and the dog did not help at all.

Then I translated that to the wall. This way I could try different placements without putting holes in the wall.

And then when I decided I like the arrangement, I nailed straight through the paper, ripped it down and then hung the frames.  And it looked like this:

And I like it.  I want to add a few more frames and fill in some small spaces with some other meaningful things but I think it's a good start... and it totally hides the thermostat.

Here's a close up of a couple of my favorite photos:

Yes, we did take our wedding photos with the Bronze Fonz and the Klements Racing Sausages. This is why the hubby puts up with me.