Throw Me Somethin', Mister!

Apparently it is a blogging thing to not reveal where you live. I guess it is to prevent all the crazies who I'm sure are reading my blog (not) from deciding to make an unannounced visit. Anywho, it will be almost impossible to completely hide where I live when I announce that we are going to a Mardi Gras parade tonight. I don't live in New Orleans. Don't even live in Louisiana. Before we moved here I really thought that Mardi Gras was exclusive to NO and entailed lots of intoxication and debauchery (whew- where is my spell check?!). Not that I'm completely against a healthy amount of intoxication and debauchery. I'm as into debauchery as the next girl. However, it turns out that this Mardi Gras season is quite the entertaining and family appropriate affair. One I have taken to quite well, if I do say so myself.

Parades start on weekends in January and go right up until Fat Tuesday (Mardi Gras). They're all very family friendly. The one we're going to tonight is one town over and one we haven't been to before. The Scientist and I are loading up the van with our fishies, two more from the neighborhood and several "throw" bags to put the loot in. All but the NO parades are pretty devoid of boobies and most drunks. So, we will go and tailgate on the side of the street in the freezing cold. All for some beads, moon pies and filthy stuffed animals.

I scoff, but the truth is that I get just as wrapped up in it as anyone else. I have caught myself lunging above a child's head for a particularly "good" set of beads. I have been known to hold the smallest fishy up to maximize the cute factor in hopes that the throwers will notice "us" and throw "us" a worthless yet prized plastic dubloon or a plastic cup. Please. One Fish (girl, 7 years old) caught a cup last year from a law inforcement float that was black and said "Meth=Death." Nice. But, you better bet your beads that I was dashing into the street in hopes of getting one of those cheap cups myself. The season apparently makes me lose all sensibility.

Lest this all make me sound like a hopeless redneck, I'll be the first to admit that Mardi Gras does make me a little trashy. But, I'm in good company. I saw the mayor in her suite catching beads across the street from us last year. At a parade this year a friend turned to me and said, "GET READY, this next one is throwing MOON PIES!" And KR, I know you will read this and know I'm talking about you. How are you enjoying that cheap plastic sword you knocked over the 4 year old to get, huh?

So, that's what we're doing tonight. Pictures will follow.

Top Ten Reasons I Have Not Been Blogging

10. I finally have a new dishwasher and have been very busy messing up dishes so I can experience the miracle that is a working machine that actually cleans the dishes. How novel!


9. I've discovered Ina Garten and am obsessed. I would consider being her indentured servant.



8. Five month old + teething = ear infection



7. Those politicians seem to have a debate every blessed night and The Scientist and I can never help making it an event. It's really been tying up my blogging time. If he were going to be here, I'd be tempted to throw a Big Fat Tuesday party. But he's not. See #3.



6. Since I have lots of time on my hands (not), I have decided to "redo" my kitchen cabinets. I'm betting a lot on Minwax Polyshades.

5. Rock of Love 2 has started. I wish I could get as much cosmetic surgery for my kitchen as Frenchy has had done on her face. What?! You're going to PRETEND that you don't watch it? Whaaaatever...

4. It's Mardi Gras Season. Duh...

3. The Scientist is preparing to go on his 1800 trip in the past year. Why is it that all his "business" trips include either a boat or the state of Florida? Just kidding, Mr. Scientist Man. I knew what I was signing up for and if I had to do it over, I would sign up again. And, as we know, there is no way I'd want your stinky, dirty job anyway.

2. In three days I will be an aunt. Again. The Sister is on her second girl and little Annie definitely won't need any more clothes. But, that is not my concern. Doesn't everyone need something (or everything) with their own monogram on it? I believe they do.

1. I'm lazy, lazy, lazy and the fishies are about to be out of school (that Mardi Gras holiday, you know) and we've just been playing. Happy Mardi Gras week!

Knuckle Up...

At dinner last night with my relatively proper in-laws, Two Fish looks at The Scientist and says "Daddy?" After getting the go-ahead "yes?" he proceeded to put his fist out and say in the sort of resonating voice that only a four year old about to say something atrocious can achieve, "Knuckle up, pimp!" Yes, we were in public. Yes, there were lots of people who heard. Yes, they laughed.

My in-laws did not.

Somehow, The Scientist has not learned the same basic truth of parenthood that I have: The degree of inappropriate-ness of a child's comment is in direct proportion to the number of people around and in inverse proportion to how much you wish for them to say that exact thing at that exact moment. If that is giving you some wicked HS algebra flashbacks, let me break it down for you. What he said was really inappropriate, therefore, he had to say it in front of lots of people and in front of his grandparents. Darn you, Mr. Scientist Man..

My MIL delivered a (very appropriate) mini-lecture on the wisdom (not) of teaching children "funny" ((not) things and then expecting them not to repeat them in public. I am not ashamed to say that I piled on the "Darn you, Mr. Scientist Man" pile and contributed some advice of my own. To be completely honest, I'm not sure he heard a word of it. He was still laughing too hard.

Flylady I'm Not

Because if I WAS Flylady, I wouldn't be racing around like a maniac trying to clean my house before my in-laws get here. Now, I LOVE my inlaws. And I'm not saying that because they might read this- they won't. They aren't computer savy enough to work an ipod shuffle, so I'm pretty sure they won't ever see this blog (but just in case you ARE reading this, S and B, I know it's because the Scientist showed it to you and I will be dealing with him LATER). I have digressed. I do love them and know that if they did read this they would tell me not to be silly. No cleaning required for them. But I do suppose that if they have to sleep on the bottom bunk (I'm not kidding, so stop laughing. At least it is a double and not a twin), they would at least like sheets that don't smell like little-boy-too-tired-for-a-bath, yes? And as long as I'm going to the trouble of changing sheets on a bunk bed (crib sheet changes have nothing on bunkbed sheet changes, by the way), I might as well give the bathroom a little once over. And the kitchen floor too- lest they notice that there is more food on the floor than in the fridge.

As I am cleaning, I am thinking fondly of The Most Wonderful Woman In The World and wishing she were here. Mom, I love you dearly and boy, can you clean an oven (even if you refuse to understand that it is S-E-L-F C-L-E-A-N-I-N-G). You can also scrub a fridge within an inch of it's life (a very necessary task for you to do since I am clearly under the delusion that it too, is self-cleaning). But, in this case, I am not talking about you. I'm talking about my blessed and beloved cleaning lady. I do NOT have a cleaning lady life. I stressed this morning about whether or not to pony up the extra $20 to get Two Fish (as in my second fishy- a four year old boy) into an extra day of lunch bunch today so I could sit around and blog about how much I need to clean my house. The moola for The Most Wonderful Woman does not come easily. I will give up shee-shee coffees for her if need be. I only have her for two hours every other week and if she ever went homeless, I would kick one of my children out of their room so that she could live here. Now, the most wonderful thing about her is that she is so trustworthy and I can leave the house and let her work her magic and just come back a few hours later to the fabulous smell that can best be described as "Lemony Delicousness." Really, if she could just make my house smell like that, she could probably sit around and watch The View the whole time I'm gone and I wouldn't even notice that the house was still filthy because it smelled so clean.

So, if I ever get done raising children, perhaps I should make a candle that smells like "My Cleaning Lady Just Came and My House Is An Abode Of Lemony Delicousness." Then I wouldn't ever have to clean again. I'd charge a fortune for them and I bet you'd all be happy to pay it because just smelling it would make you believe that all was well with the world.

If you're confused about who the heck flylady is, just google it and you will be instantly overwhelmed at how dirty and disorganized your house is and how simple she makes it sound to remedy the situation. Clemsongirl, I am OBVIOUSLY not talking about you, so no snarky "I'm so damn organized comments, please..."

Java Jane

Huh. I didn't blog yesterday. I must have been too busy taking care of the jillion of living beings who all seem to need to live in my house. I seem to be much more tolerant these days of the ones who I have actually breastfed and who don't dig through trash or drink from the toilet.

In lighter news, I filled out a questionaire and "qualified" for a free senseo coffee system. Want to try? Here's the link:

http://www.sharesenseo.com/q6/1.jsp;jsessionid=72AFC8876F820DB296504A69180CFD32

Things that make you go hmmmmm

Before I explain the significance of the above picture, I will explain the day that prompted me to post said picture.

Last night I went online and sent a big ol' whoppin' bunch of pictures to a large store that shall not be named (ok- I'll give you a hint- it begins with a W and ends witha T and sells lots and lots of crap). The Scientist went by yesterday to pick up my "one hour" photos. As usual, and to no one's suprise, they were not done. Not even two hours later. So, since I was going to a big ol' scrapathon this morning, I had to go by this morning and get them. Unfortunately, the manager with four brain cells was on duty and I am certain that I lost several of my own during our encounter. She explained to me that I could not get my pictures because SOMEONE'S order (mine) had a "corrupted" file in it and it had completely shut their computer down. When I asked what exactly "corrupted" meant, I received the following response:

"No one knows- not even the tech people."

HUH? How the heck can a "corrupted" file shut down a system and yet no one knows what exactly "corrupted" means?

Thinking that I had misunderstood, I asked her when she thought I might be getting my pictures today. She explained that she would have to delete my whole order because there was "no way" to tell what picture was "corrupted." Realizing that I would not be enjoying a morning of scrapping after all, I just asked for a refund of my money. Actually, there was a good deal of incredulous banter back and forth before I got to the refund part, but I am trying to summarize. Well, you guessed it... she informed me that there was "no way" for her to refund my money.

Several more back-and-forths took place, she started to cry (I'm really not nasty! Really. She was just crazy), I asked to speak with a manager, she said (through tears) that she was the manager, she finally got customer service on the phone, they refunded my money. We parted ways with me asking her to please inform the tech people that if they couldn't fix this problem(or at least figure out what the heck "corrupted" means), then their company would be losing a lot of business. She says (I swear) "Well, the tech people have tried and tried to fix our system. They just can't. You know, no one can know EVERYTHING, right? It's really a computer problem, and when it comes to computers, sometimes it just can't be figured out."

OMG

A strange dog climbed into my van today (I know that sounds sort of kooky, but it's really too long to go into now) and now we have a sort of geriatric Boston Terrier spending the night with us. The Scientist has named him Sean which I actually think is pretty funny. Pray, pray, pray that we put up signs tomorrow and someone claims this dog I need another dog like I need a hole in the head.

So, for Christmas The Scientist and I treated ourselves to a huge, new, king-sized mattress. A few gifts from PB (thanks, Mom and Dad) and I have what I believe is The Most Comfortable Bed ever. The crying baby in the picture has been removed to his own bed and is now sleeping peacefully. The off-center picture on the top has been straightened out. I soooooo deserve a good night's sleep in my delightful, enormous, pillow-topped bed with no dreams of crazy managers with lots of earrings. I hope Sean sleeps well and doesn't whine.


PS- The Scientist just told me that he named our temporary dog after Sean Hornbeck. I can't decide whether it's wrong to laugh at that or not.

Good Blog, Bad Blog

In my recent blogsearching (like REsearching, but different), I've discovered the following:

1) I have no interest in blogs that just give a daily report on the people in the household. Boooor-iiiiiing.

2) I like a blogger who is not afraid to scoff.

3) Men don't blog as well as women (except my Dad, who's every word I hang on. Duh.)

4) I like bloggers in my own age group. I'm afraid this shows a certain prejudice or close-mindedness on my part, but I don't care. (I'm not talking about you, Mom)

5) I would be much happier with my blog if I could figure out how to do a cute background. Do you have to have some sort of Jedi magic to do this?

6) Blogging is sort of like e-dating. You can be anything you want (or are not, as the case may be) on your blog as long as you don't post too many pictures. If you have an 80s hair cut and have on mom-jeans, then I bet that you don't actually stress about which Coach bag to carry or care about when the new Tory Burch shoes are coming out. Not that I do. I don't. But I also try not to write like I do.

7) I could be girlfriends for life just from reading some of these blogs. When I get it together, I'll post more of my favorites.

8) I think blogging could be my adult version of middle school note passing. I think that's why the men I've read don't blog like women do. They didn't "get" passing notes either.

9) IF YOU DON'T EVER POST, YOU SHOULD DELETE YOUR BLOG! This goes out directly to the jerk who is holding my prefered blog name, FishyBusiness, hostage. If you've never posted, then maybe you don't need the name. I'm running post circles around you already and I've only had my sloppy seconds blog name for three days.

10) I have to keep my computer volume turned down when I'm reading blogs. Although it is just precious, and I certainly acknowledge the proficiency required to make a blog sing a song to me when I enter it, I am not always in the mood to listen to whatever song happened to strike the fancy of the blogger in question. (And she steals the "worst run-on-sentence award back from Clemsongirl)

So, that's where we are

Dinner conversation last night:

The Scientist: I saw an advertisement for those Sandals places today. I think after 'Redfish' is weaned, we should go.

Me (wondering why Redfish has to be weaned before we can go): Well, I've heard good things about them. He should be weaned in about 6 months.

Scientist: I mean, I think they take care of everything- transportation, resort, food, drink, everything.

Me (starting to wonder if he's picked up on my Weeds obsession and has started his own business just like the chick on Showtime. That's the only way I can imagine this getting paid for)- Huh. Well, I think some of them are adult-only. I mean, wouldn't they just love us showing up with all our chaos to their exclusive adult-only resort! Do they have family resorts?

Scientist (after a long pause)- I don't know if they have family resorts. I was talking about JUST US going...

Me- Oh.

So, that's sort of where we are. Just when I think I'm getting my groove back, we have an incident like this. It's not that I don't want to go. I do! I do! It just never occurred to me that we could go sans minis. Never crossed my mind.

Today on the schedule: Cleaning my filthy, disgusting kitchen, church, meal planning for next week, gym, church again for the minis. We're not Baptist, but you wouldn't know it from our church schedule today.

And it begins...

For the record, I'm only starting a blog because everyone I know blogs and I'm starting to feel left out. Even my father, blogs, for the love of Pete. I have long maintained that I have nothing to blog about. Nothing. However, since everyone I used to correspond with in my stay-at-home-mommy world has now either gone back to work or is too damn busy blogging, I figured I better find someone else to talk to. Hence, Fishy Busyness.

Why Fishy Busyness? Mostly because fishy business was already taken as a blog name. Much as I am reluctant to admit it, I even tried fishy bizness. I have a deep distain for purposeful misspellings (did I misspell anything in that last sentence? Probably, but it wasn't purposeful). I Do Not shop at stores that use Ks instead of Cs, for example. My favorite (only) carwash in town is named Classy Chasis. I can patronize only because a while back they changed their name from Klassy Chasis. But, I digress. Fishy Busyness seems to fit our lives better anyway. Not too much business going on right now, but lots and lots of busyness. Besides, it seems wonderfully blogworthy to be able to call the minis by fishy names. The 5 month old will definitely be "Red fish." The other two haven't been figured out yet. I'm working on it...

Today on the busyness calendar? One birthday party and a family trip to the gym. Don't laugh. We're trying.