outnumbered 2 to 1

I'm Thinking The Spider Was On Red Bull

2009-06-25T21:42:00.000-07:00

You will not believe what I have done for you. I subjected myself to random spider clips on YouTube and to say that I won't sleep tonight would, perhaps, be underestimating the emotional toll those videos took on me. All for the sake of an illustration.

This evening, we had a spider that was so fast, it was merely a blur but enough of a blur to illicit a scream from the female adult in the house who shall remain nameless. I think this freakishly fast spider had feasted on the sugar crumbs from all the sugary goodness I throw at my kids in the morning resulting in some sort of spider sugar high.

So, after countless spider videos giving me the hebe jibes, here is the closest to how fast our spider was:

Except ours was way faster and I'm thinking much bigger as well.

Real Men Wear Pink and Serve You Food

2009-06-17T05:06:00.000-07:00

Joe has set his sights on some pretty lofty goals as he looks forward to starting school this fall:

Me: So, Joe, you going to be an astronaut when you grow up?

Joe: Nope

Me: A baseball player?

Joe: Nope

Me: What are you going to be?

Joe: A person who gets you food.

P.S. Dear Rit,

When I spent $9.50 in a Laundromat on vacation, doing a quick load of laundry, I anticipated making some mistakes. After all, it was the first time I had seen sun in nine months and my brain was overdosing on serotonin. So it was understandable when I exchanged my crisp ten dollar bill for a pile of tokens.

Tokens?

Who uses tokens at the laundromat? Have we heard about quarters? That currency is accepted universally in other areas not frequented by pubescent preteen boys.

While my kids wandered the arcade, stoked at their good fortune, searching for a game that did not involve sword fighting zombies, hunting deer or trying for that just out of reach stuffed animal, I went about turning my families white unmentionables decidedly pink.

So, when out shopping for an industrial size Oxy Clean to bleach my clothes back to a dignified color, I came across this:
Which was amazing! The easy answer, right?

But since my washing machine is a step up from:
I couldn't do the soak or the 30 minute agitate and ended up with tinted pink whites, more vibrant pink than ever.

So, if you pull the short straw and end up waiting on our table at the restaurant, don't take offense if Joe asks if your undies are pink. Just smile and wave, smile and wave.

Catching Up On Current Events

2009-06-14T19:50:00.000-07:00

So apparently North Korea is threatening a nuclear war. Instead of:

Vice President Joe Biden said "God only knows" what North Korea wants from the latest showdown.

If I were president, I'd be Tweeting and posting pictures of me pretending to hit the big red button.
But not that button. I should probably sew that back on my pants although my muffin top has enjoy some sweet freedom of late.

If I were president I would tweet and post pictures of me and this button:You know, not to send a message to North Korea, just to up my tweet followers.

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Rat Island, Alaska is finally rat free after 229 years. To save you from having to click that link, I'll summarize for you. Apparently, in 1780 a Japanese ship dumped the rodents on the island. Thankfully, it only took $2.5 million dollars and a week and a half of helicopters dumping rat poison on the island, but it looks like it finally worked. So far no sign of life from the rats.

I would loved to sit in that government meeting.
Person 1: Man, we have millions of dollars we have to spend. Any suggestions?

Person 2: A bubble over Fairbanks to keep out the snow?

Person 3: Why don't we finally get rid of the rats on Rat Island? I mean, it's been like 230 years. We should probably look at taking care of that problem.

The most enjoyable part of the article for me was this little gem:

It is too soon to say that Rat Island is definitively rat-free, however. That can only be established after at least two years of monitoring, said Bruce Woods, a spokesman for the Fish and Wildlife Service in Anchorage.

"We don't know that there's not a couple of happy rats hiding away that are going to spring out and repopulate the island," he said.

Mr. Woods, I'm no rat expert but I'm guessing they aren't happy considering you just poisoned their entire family. They may be hiding away but they are mad as hell and I'd watch my back if I were you.

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An umpire ejected an entire crowd during a high school baseball game. While the ump blamed the crowd for unruly behavior, no one else, including the cop called for backup, witnessed any of this unruly behavior.

I've coached kid sports in the past and I've wanted to have the power to eject fans from the games. In fact, I wish I had that super power and could eject people from places all the time.

That check writer who waited to look for her checkbook until her entire grocery cart was rung up? YOU'RE OUTTA HERE!

That committee mom who is full of ideas but no follow through? YOU'RE OUTTA HERE!

That person in front of you going 23 mph in a 30 mph zone? YOU'RE OUTTA HERE!

That rude sales clerk, that large fry that went straight to your hips, your daughter's tween 'tude? YOU'RE OUTTA HERE.

P.S. Dear People of the Internet,

I have found my dream home and if you have been following me for any amount of time, you know we have been looking for years, anxious to dump our P.O.S. on some young couple who will give it the love it deserves. I can't love it anymore. It was such a one sided love. I loved it and then it just peeled paint. I loved it through that and it shed plaster. I loved it through that and it, well, someone else needs to love it now.

But the awesome house which I would like to pack up my air mattress and sleep there tonight (and never come back to this place) is oh so slightly out of our range. Like if I had fallen off a cliff and I was holding on like this:Just barely out of reach. Therefore, I'm looking to make a little cash.

If you are writing the next great American novel but need some proofreading, I'm your girl.
Looking for a great place to advertise? Have you seen my gorgeous sidebars?
Is your newspaper looking for a lighthearted column in these hard times? I'm lighthearted. So lighthearted I get palpitations. Don't let the little umpire blurb scare you off. I keep the crazy down to a minimum usually.
I'm a writer trapped in an engineer body. If your kid is struggling in math, I'm open for tutoring.
Just married or getting married? Just had a baby? Let me write your thank you notes. Do you really want to write those two hundred notes yourself?
Have you been on an amazing vacation? Celebrated a huge milestone? Need a gift for that person who has everything? I'll put together a DVD of your cherished photos set to music.

E-mail me at outnumbered221 @ gmail.com.

I think you would take the same approach if this was in your reach:

LOST? I'm Lost

2009-05-27T06:00:00.000-07:00

I can't tell you the results of my kids at Global Finals because my past self is writing this for my future self.

Speaking of such inane topics, I don't understand LOST.

So much so that I loathe it but watch it week after week with my husband who is as giddy about LOST as I may be over the premier of the Wipeout (what is not to love about people wiping out on huge balls). And, maybe, by the time this is published by my future self, my present self will have all the answers having watched the season finale. But, basing my assumption on my insatiable desire to finally have answers, I'm guessing the finale will be as confusing and vague and generally misleading as the entire series has been to date.

So, based on that, here is my problem with LOST:

Remember the huge island monster/wild pig/big plume of smoke on the island wreaking havoc in the beginning, remember the ominous music? But now, three seasons (or ten who's really keeping track?) later no mention whatsoever. Nope, now it's all about time travel.
Time travel. Really, everyone knows that present John shouldn't be seeing past John. Anyone whose seen Back to the Future understands time travel rules. Hey, I don't make these rules, McFly, I just know if I were to start time traveling, I better follow them.
Speaking of following, is anyone following the story? It's like Mr. Hollywood Big Shot Writer is pulling stuff out of his nether regions and the room of yes-men are right there yelling BRILLIANT! Sure, it's BRILLIANT if you suspend all logic and reasoning.

Because seriously, It. Does. Not. Make. Sense.

Then again, I'm a fan of Phineas and Ferb and perhaps my ten year-old brain can't wrap my mind around the intricacy of a complicated sci-fi mystery show.

Nope. LOST is a load and I challenge anyone to explain to me what is going on.

P.S. On a completely unrelated note, Wipeout premiers tonight on ABC (check listings for times) and no I don't work for them. But man, would I love to!

The Guilt is Killing Me

2009-05-05T14:50:00.000-07:00

I've been missing in action lately and I fear this will continue for some time. My daughters' team won their State competition for Destination Imagination and will be heading off to the Global finals with 12,000 other teams from 40 countries around the world (minus Mexico and Singapore - Thanks Swine Flu!).

So I will be back in June with hopefully lots of hilarious stories about the craziness that I call, mothering.

While I'm away, please read Mrs. Mouthy because she is very hilarious and I share a common interest with her son V, we both spend the day wanting to be ninja turtles.

A Little Cottage in Paradise Has Your Name on It

2009-04-27T10:01:00.000-07:00

Recently, my small town was recognized as the number one Coastal Dream Town. They used phrases like, "Paradise found" and "cultural gem."

BWAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHA

Seriously, I'm thinking someone has naughty pictures of someone else and of all the places that flank water, ours came up as number one.

Or, perhaps when Burger King decorated with the fifty foot Sponge Bob Squarepants balloon, that nudged us out of the tie for last.

Or, maybe the tourist director sent the editors a box of the town's finest exports; brats, beer, crystal meth and weed grown in a subsidized apartment. Because, after indulging on those delicacies, I'm sure anyone would see this is the place to live.

I'm torn about this announcement. On the one hand, I've lost all respect for the national magazine who would actually rank my town with its abandoned strip malls and numerous houses with plywood in lieu of windows as "paradise found" as opposed to say, San Diego, Naples, FL or even Hilton Head. On the other hand, doesn't this raise my home value like, $1.2 million? Honestly, people will be flocking to our city for those "cultural gems" which I'm afraid includes the YMCA spring dance recital.

Whoops. I have to go, there is a police stand off going on and they are streaming live video. I guess, this is a cultural haven.

Let Your Subconcious Be Your Guide

2009-04-20T12:53:00.000-07:00

Much like the Superhero Wonder Woman, I too have a nemesis and gold cuffs. Or, I did have gold cuffs until the price of gold rose astronomically and I sold them for a fraction of what they were worth because I like to get hosed.

My nemesis is in the most dangerous and often underestimated form of fellow 'Mom'. But under that maternal exterior lies a ruthless villain, anxious to pounce on any sign of weakness all with a big smile on her face.

I'm a strong proponent of the "keep your friends close and your enemies closer" movement and you will often find the telltale black with white skull and crossbones ribbon securely fastened to my brightly colored polo. Unless, of course, she sits across from me at one of many school meetings. In that case, I wear my ribbon on the inside of my jacket so not to tip my hand to her.

I'm always nice. In fact, I would suspect she doesn't even realize in my head I'm throwing martial arts moves at her that may in fact be so brutal, they would be illegal in the Ultimate Fighting Circuit. But this is how we coexist peacefully. I think some countries in the world could learn a thing or two from 'mommies who work on committees.'

Unfortunately, my subconscious has remained very unsatisfied with this arrangement and took matters into its own hands when I laid down to sleep. In my sleep, I unleashed a tirade so thorough on the unsuspecting mom, I woke both embarrassed and ashamed. But I snapped out of it and enjoyed the pseudo argument in which I was guaranteed the winner.

It was a cleansing and this Wonder Woman is moving on to the next nemesis because, in life, we all know there is going to be more.

P.S. Dear Mother Nature,

When my daughter said, "I hate Mother Nature" she was just venting about the snow in the forecast. She didn't mean it.

Me, on the other hand, is waiting until the snow begins to fall before I let you have it. Are you ready to step in as my new nemesis?

Another One Of Those Ideas That Looked Good On Paper

2009-04-17T10:01:00.000-07:00

This:

Plus:

Equals:

Play along at Candid Carrie.

Random Bits of Nothingness

2009-04-11T19:40:00.000-07:00

Or rather, 'What You Have Come To Expect from My Blog.'

I love Twitter. Like LOVE love Twitter. If I could pour it into my bathtub and roll around in it I would in a heart beat.

If it would propose and polygamy was okay, I'd marry it.

If it asked me to watch its kids for the day, I would.

Yes, I love it that much.

Why?

Because, as my sister and her family traversed the country in a RV Friday, I was able to keep her updated on the tornadoes breaking out in the mid section of the US.

How?

Twitter, Baby.

That's right, the Weather Channel was twittering the tornado sightings and touchdowns before any mainstream media even knew there were warnings. In her words, "You are nutty but you saved our life."

No, Sister of mine, Twitter saved your life.

Now, Dear Readers, go to Twitter. You do not need to update to read updates. You simply sign up for free, decide who you wish to follow (me) and it is easy peasy lemon squeezy. You log in to read updates or you can have updates of certain people (me) sent to your phone but seriously, that's just crazy.

P.S. Dear Men of The World,

Adrian from Adrian's Crazy Life has devised a way to make dieting equal for both men and women.

From now on, Men pounds will be measured much like dog years. Men will have to lose 7 pounds for every 1 pound a woman loses.

Therefore, If my husband comes down in the morning marveling at the fact that he lost 14 pounds since the night before, It simply means he really lost two pounds and all I have to do is avoid eating the huge bowl of ice cream after I drop the kids off at school and whaa laa, I've lost two pounds too.

So, please, tell your friends and family that the new poundage ratio is 7 to 1. Fingers crossed it catches on.

Recessionista* - Let Me Help You

2009-04-09T08:28:00.000-07:00

I'm paging through an InStyle because I am not (in style) and I came across this ad for Bloomingdale's.
I was relieved they showed me how to dressy up my cutoffs that are so short, the pockets are hanging down. I wasn't sure if I could go from painting my fence to night on the town. But now, with only a blazer, belt and heels, I'll be ready to sit down at that five star restaurant.

Seriously, when did high end retailers decide to look to Britney Spears for inspiration? And, who, above the age of twelve, really believes they can get a way with this look?

But maybe, since these are high end cutoffs because they cost more than my winter heating bill, that makes a difference?
Perhaps they cost so much because they are sewn "in earnest"?

I've decided to help out all those gals who seriously think they can pull this look off. I'll send you a pair of short cutoffs for only $72. That will save you $100. In an effort of full disclosure, they will not be sewn in earnest but I guarantee I will cut them in earnest.

*Term not originally my own and trying to avoid hearing from corporate lawyers.

P.S. Dear Old Navy,

Those mannequin commercials you have running right now are awful, like William Hung singing She Bangs, awful.

I'd love to know how much alcohol the marketing executives supplied you with before you gave this campaign a green light.

It is so bad that I would really consider firing the marketing team and then I would fire the people who gave the campaign two enthusiastic thumbs up.

Then I'd ask my three year-old for his ideas on an ad campaign because, honestly, anything he came up with would have to be better than the couple arriving at a bar-b-que and the man has the hostess's face tattooed on his calf.