Big Brother is Watching

This is what I imagine my youngest son will be doing in the future. Watching his minions a la 1984 style everywhere they go.
Again, this crazy idea comes to us courtesy of photofunia.

Oh PhotoFunia

O.K. here is the site that will be sucking up all my free time between now and spring break. Wait for it. http://www.photofunia.com/

I cannot stop uploading pictures of myself in the various case scenarios and then slapping the table in pure unadulterated glee when I see the results.

Just try and walk away. You won't be able to do it.

Look it's me....in the backround on the wall (not the kid in the hat).

Sunday, Sunday

Bob Geldof was right about Mondays, they really do suck. But what about Sunday? The whole freaking day is fraught with agonizing anticipation of what comes next thereby destroying whatever theraputic weekend value it ever had. Friday afternoon, now that's what I call a good time frame.
Before my kids developed social lives and opinions (and became mildly annoying I might add) we used to hang out in our pajamas on our last day off and make the occasional trek to some family destination. Now it's just riddled with cub scouts, basketball practices and games, soccer, hockey and sleepovers with friends. It's definately needed as the ultimate buffer day between Saturday and Monday but as a stand alone it really blows. Well, I should probably revise that and say I go to church just in case my mother pops in. Yes mom, every Sunday without fail.

Aftermath

As I sit among the discarded wrappers of a thousand quickly consumed candy bars I can actually hear the seams of my pants begin to split. Damn you Halloween and all your chocolatey goodness. Excuse me while I wipe off my keyboard which is covered in melted Kit Kat.

Happy Halloween!

Tonight we will attend the Mount Pleasant Lamont Street Halloween blow out and then we will collapse, exhaused onto our couch.

It's Almost Here

We love Halloween in this house. Sometimes I wish we had a slightly more House Beautiful approach for decorating during this spooky holiday but I've come to terms with who we are so we are going with the 70's old school version.

A Good Read

Yesterday I took a trip to Barnes and Noble to see what I could find. I had been meaning for months to pick up Malcolm Gladwell's Outliers and was rewarded instantly when I saw it proudly on display first thing. It seemed like a waste of perfectly good free time to head directly to the cashier so I started to browse the aisles. First I found Rob Sacchetto's The Zombie Handbook and nestled it in the crook of my elbow and then I saw Stewart Copeland's Strange Things Happen.
A little history on my relationship with Stewart. When all the girls had their hearts aflutter for frontman Sting, I kept it real by loving the tall rangy drummer. I kept copious amounts of useless information about his drums, his childhood and his food likes and dislikes committed to memory and I seriously went home and threw a chair at the wall when the news of his marriage to Sonja Kristina broke. So what if I was twelve, we had a destiny dammit! Sadly, my imagined coupling with Stewart never materialized and we both marched off in separate directions, but this book of his had me howling with gut busting laughter. Who knew this affable kook was so smart and funny?
I'm currently on page 239 reading a chapter that covers the Police reunion tour, but my new favorite quote of all time came only 20 pages into the book in chapter 4.  In it he says " There is no greater glow of narcissistic validation than receiving my own art. I slay myself - always have and hope I always will."
Now that is some spectacular stuff. Call me Stewart, we need to catch up.