The Realtor is coming to looking at our house on Wednesday at 9am. And what have I done to prepare? Well, um, I…uh…I just washed the dinner dishes. Oh, and earlier I…no, I didn’t. Earlier I finished the book I was reading. And this morning I laid on the couch and played with Cindy-Lu. But, tonight? Tonight I’m going to clean.

I have to clean my refrigerator, clean Cindy-Lu’s bedroom from top to bottom (I would take a picture, but my Aunt Kimmy borrowed my camera and Cleatus would have a stroke if I posted a picture of what a slob I am on the internet), clean my bedroom from top to bottom (again with the HORRIBLE MESSY ROOM LIKE YOU WOULDN’T BELIEVE!!), clean and organize all closets, clean the bathtub, and mop the entire house (whose idea was it to get wood floors? Mine? That was dumb.) and I’m sure I’ll find many more projects to complete.

I don’t even want to think about what the outside of the house looks like. Thankfully Cleatus is off tomorrow so he will be banished to the yard working and weeding and mowing and sweeping and not even thinking about his Playstation 3.

I guess this means I don’t get to think about you guys tomorrow. Damn.

When I was in high school I did some pretty crazy things. One of the best parts of having done some of those things is being able to go back and tell my parents what I used to do. "When I ran away to Nebraska we picked up a hitch hiker named George who ate day old food from the back seat of our car!" GASP! So much fun.

Heres a fun little story that won’t so much make you gasp, but it might make you call PETA on me. Just remember, I was in high school and I was dumb.

My friend Dana and I use to drive to the back of the new Super Wal-Mart in our town. It was located on the river and we’d go back where no one  could see us and  just hang out and goof around.  A couple times we jumped into the river (which, looking back, EW and OHMIGOD WE SO COULD HAVE DIED!) but mostly we just hung out and talked and goofed off.

One day we noticed a goose on a nest. We had so much fun tormenting this poor goose. We would walk as close as we dared, the whole time the goose freaking out and screeching at us to get out of her fucking way she was trying to make some damn babies you bitches!

Eventually we grew brave enough and charged that poor little goose and she flew away leaving her little eggs to be kidnapped by the likes of us.

We took two. One for each of us.

Back to my house we went where we wrapped each egg up in the dirty laundry we found strewn across my bedroom and placed them on the heating vent. Looking back, I don’t think the heating vent was the warmest place since it was summer and the heat was never turned on for the poor little bastards.

We loved those eggs. We were so gentle and kind and every now and again one of us would squat over the goosies and pretend to be a mother goose all the while praying that we wouldn’t topple over and wind up with dead goose guts all over our asses.

After a couple weeks we grew bored waiting for the damn gooses to hatch.

Side note: I know that gooses are actually geese, but ever since we played with mama goose, multiple gooses were called gooses for some reason. I’ve said gooses for so long now that its damn near impossible for me to say geese.

So, we got tired of waiting and I convinced Dana to take her egg out back and chuck it into the woods. We wanted to see how close they were to hatching. THANK GOD they weren’t close to hatching and never were going to hatch. If we cracked that egg and a dead baby goose was laying in there it probably would have broke my heart. That or made me vomit. Either way, I’m glad the egg was rotten.

We went back in the house and continued caring for my egg, hoping that it would eventually hatch. I even dreamed about the damn goose hatching and me being the first thing it saw so I would be its mommy forever. Its okay if you just gagged from the corniness of it all. I did too.

Eventually my baby goosie started stinking and we chucked him out into the woods as well.

C’est la vie. 

I still have a thing for gooses though.

If your reading this in bloglines, please click through. OK? Done?

Now clear your cache and tell me what you think of the new design? Love it? Hate it? Is it kinda hard to read?

Anyone wanna donate a free professional design? Anyone? Hellooooooo?

When I met Cleatus I was 15 years old. We were both working at a restaurant and he had a long time girlfriend. They eventually broke up and Cleatus and I immediately got together. His home life wasn’t very good and he was constantly being kicked out of his house for little things and eventually he moved in with my me and my parents. Obviously they weren’t thrilled to have their 17 year old daughter’s boyfriend living with them, but they knew that we were in love and that he was a really good kid who needed somewhere to go.

And then he took his shoes off.

Cleatus’s feet were awful. They stunk and if you got near them you would probably die. I mean DIE. They were BAD, people.

Cleatus and I eventually got an apartment together and then he broke his foot. He had to wear a cast for a few months and didn’t wear shoes and eventually his feet weren’t little toxic death bombs.

Nowadays Cleatus’s feet smell just as pretty as mine. Like a flower. A rainbow colored flower. Dipped in sprinkles.

But, he does occasionally get a case of athletes foot and while that doesn’t cause his feet to stink (PRAISE THE LORD!), it is uncomfortable for him and doesn’t look all that sexy. He uses those sprays to keep it in line. When it starts getting bad he sprays his toes down and he’s good to go.

AND THEN…

We were sent some Lamisil Gel to try out. Cleatus loves it. It works in half the time as the sprays and it works GOOD. Cleatus has been using it every day for the last week and his athletes foot is completely gone.

Lamisil Gel retails for around fifteen dollars, which is a bit pricier than the spray. In my (and Cleatus’s) opinion? Totally worth it.

My only complaint? Digger isn’t anywhere on the package. I love Digger.

We’re baaaaack! And the trip home went surprisingly well for a 16 hour car ride with 3 kids, 2 of which who are 2 years old.

Promise to quit with the vacation talk after this, but I had to post this picture of Eeyore on his first helicopter ride. This picture was taken before we actually took off, but he looked like this the entire ride. A big ol’ grin on his face through it all.

And for a little funny, in case your getting sick of the cute kid pics, I leave you with this little list of things I never, ever want to hear my brother in law say again.

1. While weaving in and out of traffic, going 85 down the interstate, swerving into other lanes by mistake and nearly running into cars on all sides of us, asking "You have life insurance right?"

2. Slamming on his brakes and screaming "HOLD ON!" as we came within in INCHES of hitting the stopped semi in front of us. I love my brother in law, I really do. But, OHMIGOD, is he ever a bad driver.

3. After getting out of the ocean and plopping down in the beach
chair next to me "If I get you a straw, will you suck the water out of
my ears?"