And none contented

Things I've learned/rediscovered during my pseudo vacation from the internet. And other things I'm just dying to tell you.

1. My "spare" time is easily filled up by the people I love. I've never been in such demand, not even when I had one hanging off my leg and another hanging off my breast.

2. What "spare" time isn't devoted to staring meaningfully at my children as gems drop from their lips is quickly eaten up by my need to keep things just so.

3. Upon attempting to not give a flying fig about the squalor that doubles as the children's bedrooms, I think I may have pulled something. Or lost something. They'd say my sense of humor is missing. I'd say (in descending order) you're on your own now so no more money, get a job, and how does military school sound?

4.  Nate is like me when it comes to emotional films. He, Sophie and I watched Of Mice and Men with Gary Sinise and John Malkovich, but then Nate refused to watch the end because he's read the book.

I get this. I once became furious with MathMan for renting Jack the Bear from Blockbuster. A kid so traumatized by the death of his mother that he goes mute! Fantastic! Areyououtofyoureverlovingmind? Whatwereyouthinking? !!!

If I'm alone, fine. I snivel. Sob. Wipe snot on my sleeve. Dab at the corner of my eyes with a tissue.

But when I'm with the family, none of whom seem moved by the same things that move me? They can't help themselves. They have to look at me to see if I'm getting misty-eyed. They know it embarrasses me and they make a joke of it to cover their own embarrassment.

Also - Sophie loves the movie Harold and Maude. When did you watch Harold and Maude? I wanted to know.

One night when I couldn't sleep. I watched it on Netflix.

Interesting. When I had seventh grade insomnia, I watched the numbers flip over on my sister's clock/radio while counting to sixty. The trick was to time it just right so I got to sixty as the number flipped.

How times have changed.




5. MathMan's sister sent him some information about the family's last name (Golden is the assimilated name).  Suddenly his family's history has a name. A place. Birthdays. Immigration dates. A million thanks to his cousin who tracked this information down.

I only wish we'd had this information sooner because I can guarantee you that one of Nate's middle names would be Leyzer.

6. People surf the internet more during the traditional working hours than at any other time of the day. Not that it's particularly significant. I'm just glad they do.

7. I've been online off and on, most especially looking at classic car websites. If I had the resources, I could become a gearhead pretty easily. More on that is coming. I know - you're thrilled.

7.a. The Chick Fil A mess was enough to drive me offline. What a disturbing clustertug. Some of my coworkers chipped in and had CFA for lunch last Wednesday. Not surprisingly, I didn't participate. I maintain personal, petty reasons for not eating that dreck (caveat - I'd climb over dead bodies to get at one of their chocolate milkshakes), predating this current fight. For the record, I no longer drink their milkshakes either. Great for my waistline and my conscience.

Knowing my coworkers went out of their way to support that company for any number of reasons made me feel a little less sparkly happy about my job. I'd gotten a bit too comfy pretending that this could be a tiny liberal haven because it's a labor union. I'm so tired of being an ideological minority. I've bitten my tongue so many times that it's mostly numb.

8.  I'm listening to the audiobook of In One Person by John Irving. I haven't read any of his work since Garp. I wasn't sure I'd like this novel, but I do. Very much. I've laughed out loud alone in my car several times. That's a bit awkward at stoplights, but I'd rather a stranger see me laugh than my family see me cry.

9.  The In-Betweeners. It's just another example of how I'm really a 12 year old boy trapped in a pair of Fanx (faux Spanx).

10. Your turn. Epiphanies, random bits of knowledge, book reviews, disappointments, pet peeves, potential hobbies and/or name changes?

Is this an instrument of communication or torture?

Source

Before I became interested in watching IU basketball, I had the good sense to stay out of the room or at least occupy myself with other activities while MathMan sat glued to the television during sporting events. I cannot tell you the number of White Sox baseball games I've ironed through.

In fact, if you were to do a little window peeping while I do domestic duties while MathMan watched sports, you'd think you were looking at Ward and June Cleaver. If Ward and June got handsy with each other in front of Wally and the Beaver and seasoned their conversation with the occasional utterance of the word fuck.

Anyway, MathMan forgot that it's best to make oneself scarce while one's spouse is indulging in a bit of televised pleasure. And thus, that is how I ended up taking notes during the last episode of Season 2 of Downton Abbey. I'm hooked. MathMan was lukewarm, tepid, sorry he'd agreed to let me watch the program in the bedroom where he normally cloisters himself to watch whatever he wants on Sunday nights.

Disclaimer #1 Possible spoilers for the Christmas special aired on Sunday, February 19, 2012 so please don't read unless you want to risk it.


Disclaimer #2 Despite his use of the pejorative puss, MathMan is a relatively evolved man. I mean, it took me only two days to get him to understand the value of putting down the toilet seat. Besides that, I do believe he was sending me subliminal signals. Either he wanted to get some or he thought I should feed the cats. 

MM: I like her, too.
Me: Daisy, the maid? She's cute, isn't she?
MM: Yeah. She cleans, too.

MM: Who gets the ruby in the Christmas pudding? (Remark based on Hercule Poirot's The Theft of the Royal Ruby)

MM:  He's a douchebag. A huge douchebag. And the other guy's a puss.

MM: So what? Does Maggie Smith have a contract so that she's in everything made in England?

MM:  I think someone is going to punch him before it's over. (re: Sir Richard)

MM:  What are you doing?
Me: Taking notes of your commentary.
MM:  Oh, I see how it is.
Me: I don't think you do.

MM:  What's the point of watching this if it's going to be so predictable?

MM:  Which Sybil is pregnant? One, two, three, four, five or seven?

MM:  Is the stuffy guy (Sir Richard)  her fiance?
Me:  Yes.
MM: That's a dumbass move.

MM: Someone's going to get shot for sure.

MM:  She's not going to marry that clown.

MM:  Wasn't he part of some Monty Python skit?

MM:  I feel like this is an episode of Poirot without the murder. You know which one I'm talking about.
Me: The Mystery of Hunter's Lodge
MM:  I guess. Yeah, that's the one.

MM:  The only drama is if the pretty woman marries the dumbass.

MM:  Wasn't that on the Young Ones? Sir Something Old Fart? What was that? That's who Sir Richard is.
Me: Sir Boring Old Fart
MM:  That's it!

MM: He shouldn't have given her that dumb pussy speech in the graveyard because now he's feeling bad because now she's going to marry that dumbass.

MM:  (regarding Matthew) Now he's going to get in trouble with his mom.
Me:  For letting Mary go?
MM:  No. For being a puss.

Lady Mary:  It shall be hard.
MM:  It's not hard. It's easy. Just say,"Shut up and piss off."

MM:  Here's where he gets punched in the face.

MM:  (Re: Matthew) 'Cause he's going to get a punch in the face if he acts like a pussy again.

There's definitely a theme here. Let's unpack it, shall we? No, nevermind. I'm not qualified to delve that deeply into anyone's mind. The funny thing is, he's not a violent man so I don't know why he's so hellbent on predicting violence. It's obvious that he has little patience for melodrama and emotional games. I'm not surprised, of course, because he lives with me. Watching it on TV is a busman's holiday.

When I mentioned I thought there was time for them to declare Mr. Bates innocent, MathMan rolled his eyes. "They're going to leave you hanging on that one."

When the show ended without wrapping the Bates storyline, I whined. "Wah! I've got to wait months to know what happens to Mr. Bates. They have to tell us how Mrs. Bates really died. Was it murder or suicide?"

MathMan simply shook his head.

"But don't you want to know what happens?"

"I want to know if that guy's going to stop being a puss."

Oh, he's hooked.

What do you watch on TV as a compromise? What about Mrs. Bates? Murder or suicide? Who did it? What's going to get in the way of Mary and Matthew's wedding? Have we seen the last of the guy who claimed to be Patrick who allegedly drowned in the sinking of the Titanic? Will the Dowager Countess embrace the Jazz Age? Will Thomas and O'Brien ever stop scheming?

Wouldn't be prudent

Today while I ran on the elliptical, the kids watched some episodes of Saturday Night Live from 1990. It was strange seeing those episodes that I remember watching live. Mike Myers, Kevin Nealon, Jan Hooks, Phil Hartman, Dana Carvey, Dennis Miller and Victoria Jackson. They used to be older than me and suddenly, via the magic of television, I was older than them. Significantly older.

Chris Rock, Adam Sandler, Chris Farley and David Spade were just kids. Barely out of college. Like I was back then.

Nathan, his friend and Chloe didn't know what to make of some of the skits. They were dated, almost obscure in context of today. Dennis Miller read the news and there was a segment about possibly going to war with Iraq. Desert Storm. There were jokes about Saddam Hussein. A spoof of Live with Regis and Kathy Lee. Kathy Lee not Kelly Kelly was probably still a kid on All My Children. The Bad Ideas Jeans commercial. I had to explain the Chris Rock Pump It Turkey commercial. The kids thought I was kidding about the Nike basketball shoes that you could pump up.

I felt two things watching the shows. Old and sympathy. Not every skit was funny. Some of them were all out clunkers. It has to be damn hard to crank out the funny week after week. You're not going to hit it out of the park every time. I get that now.

Have you ever thought about how many plots of movies and books would be completely different if they took place after the cellphone became ubiquitous?


25 Things Writers Should Stop Doing  The good news is that masturbating and robbing liquor stores are not on the list.

Insight from the Intern. Interesting bits for writers.

Morrissey!


Kim W Jung is on Twitter.

We've always got Gosford Park

I'm sure I underestimate the amount of time I spend with the television, especially when I'm half watching while I do other things. There's no denying it. As I go through my day, the TV provides background noise more often then not. Even if I'm only using it for the music channels and not actually watching programs.

When I become acutely aware the television is when it goes away.

Yesterday smack in the middle of Morning Joe, Dishnetwork diminished our service. If you've never experienced an outage due to the an unpaid bill, here's how it works, for Dish, at least:  First they call sixty times a day. Then they start putting a message on your screen every couple of hours reminding you that your bill is late. Next they decrease your number of channels until finally they cut you off altogether and you're stuck watching the instructions on how to use your remote, whatever's on your DVR and that mess of DVDs you've recorded. Thank goodness for all those old Poirots you recorded on A&E. And how historically quaint are those Countrywide Mortgage commercials with the guy who looked like John Kerry?

Then they send you a box and tell you to send your fucking receiver back stat or they're going to send Fred over to yank it out and he won't be putting down the floor mats to keep from tracking mud into your house either!

Not that we've ever gotten to that stage.

Anyway, now we're in the diminished state. When this happens, it's a surprise. You never know exactly when it will happen or which channels they'll leave you with. It's different every time.

This time, we've got the Science Channel, NASA channel, a handful of Christian channels, Current to balance those out, I suppose; ESPN RedZone Preview, Tasty channel so I can learn of all the things I can do with Country Crock, a Spanish movie channel, American Movie Classics, The Military Channel, every shopping channel you can think of, Japanese news and two - count 'em TWO! - holiday music channels. The modern and the traditional. In case you don't want to hear G Love without his Special Sauce, you can listen to Bing croon about A White Christmas.

Because, you know, there's no chance I won't be hating Christmas music by Thanksgiving. I've already heard enough Burl Ives to make me want to build a snowman so I can kick him in his frosty balls and enough Mel Torme to make me demand a martini with a candy cane swizzle stick. The cats are working on the recipe right now. At least, based on the clinking of glasses and hiccuping, I think that's what they're doing.

Not to mention the fact that I find the whip crack sound in the Boston Pops' version of Sleigh Ride oddly arousing.

And what is the idea of keeping the shopping channels? I can't pay my bill, do they really want me buying that set of faux pearl handled vibrators?

But back to the TV. Naturally, none of those channels are my favorite. Even the one movie channel they gave us isn't my favorite. I prefer Turner Movie classics. No commercials.

Do you go through TV phases? Like in the days when my time was spent with young children, I watched PBS from morning til night. I would sing the Celery Bunch and the I Like Fudge songs and close out the day with Nature or Frontline.

Then we were getting ready to move to Georgia and I entered the HGTV days which dovetailed nicely with The Food Network era.

That came after the period when I watched a lot of VH1, catching up with the I Love series. I had no idea my youth was so interesting! Then the kids and I got into watching The N for the Degrassi series and I fell in love with Daria and wanted to be Jane. That coincided with when A&E and The Biography Channel had the wisdom to show the Poirots, Midsomer Murders and Sherlock Holmes with Jeremy Brett on Sundays.

And then there was the complete and utter devotion to BBC America. Sigh.

Some of you will remember the C-SPAN mornings that dragged on all day. Election time, you know.

So for now I'm stuck with the whirring sounds in my own noggin, Christmas music or The Military Channel which I can at least pretend is research for my novel. Thankfully, there's a DVR full of murders committed by people with charming accents. The kids have Netflix. And MathMan has Calculus.

My mother appears at my shoulder like one of those Angel/Devil apparitions and suggests I read a damn book. Yes, but I can't do that and be on the computer......(looks at the stack of books waiting to be read)..... oh.

What's your favorite channel? What's on your DVR or Tivo that you never delete?

Knock Knock Knock Lisa!

Source: Think Geek

I realize that I have been MIA here and on your blogs. I apologize. I've been reluctant to write here because I hate be one of those friends who takes and never gives. If I can't come read you, then I feel like an ass for posting.

Suddenly, life has taken on new dimensions. As in leaving the house and going out into public dimensions or, if I'm staying in, doing different things dimensions. Yesterday was used up reading the Sunday Atlanta Constitution Journal and providing running commentary for an only politely interested MathMan. I then pestered him to help me run the clothesline in the backyard. Actually, does complying with his request that I show him my breasts in exchange for his help negate pestering? Perhaps it was more like a bribe. I want a service, he wants a service, we each get what we wanted. Ahhhhh, that's what makes these relationships work, isn't it?

So I showed him both breasts with a little striptease for effect (Note: Austrian marches are not such great accompaniments to erotic displays) and he figured out how to run the clothesline from a tree to the deck so that I could hang heavy stuff without cloth touching ground. I love being married to a genius.

Speaking of which, that's something else we did this weekend, we watched seasons one and two of Big Bang Theory. Now, longtime readers know that most of the television I watch is on PBS or BBC and includes, but is not limited to murders, British accents, period costume and British humor or rather humour. I don't watch much American television anymore. The last time I watched Must See TV, Seinfeld was in its last season. I didn't even watch Friends faithfully by 1997. But Big Bang Theory is different. It's like M*A*S*H in that you have to have broad cultural knowledge to get a lot of the jokes. Unlike M*A*S*H, a lot of the jokes are based on science and math knowledge. For example, as we watched an episode from season two last night, MathMan noted that it had Euclid in the title. I only know that Euclid was a mathematician because I'm married to MathMan and he recently had a Euclid book checked out of the library.

Watching Johnny Galecki play Leonard is especially hilarious to me because he's so much like my husband. Even the whine. Thankfully MathMan is neither lactose intolerant nor a gamer, otherwise I'd never see him. The way I'm pushing the overstock of cereal and milk thanks to my outstanding couponing skills (Organic Valley skim for .69 per half gallon!!!), we'd have to hook MathMan up with a Wii in the bathroom. Not that he'd hate that, of course. He could sit in there and play Halo and shout for me to bring him Lactaid milkshakes and show him my boobies all day long. Except he wouldn't be playing Halo, he'd be watching those MIT guys teach calculus or creating complex graphs with his TI80 platinum or whatever that device is that like another appendage to him.

So let us recap the weekend:

Baseball game which I didn't even mention where Nate started Varsity as a freshman and played reasonably well. (Yes,I'm bragging.)
Wash hung on the new clothesline ($46 shaved off our last electric bill by not using the dryer so much)
Sunday's AJC for the coupons and the Vent which is full of assholes who provided me with plenty of material with which to annoy MathMan.
Big Bang Theory. Yes, we are late to this party.
And I ironed which is always a good sign that my writing mojo is on the upswing. I iron therefore I am.

How were your last few days? I know, if I read your blogs, I'd know, wouldn't I? Dang, I hate being that girlfriend. Even my laptop was sending me text messages asking me where I was.

I know. Here's what I need to make sure I have all the time in the world to do what I want to do...

My beacon's been moved under moon and star

Something weird is going on around here. It's a new something weird.  Perhaps it's sunspots or some electromagnetic field emanating from all the back to school ions.  I've considered and dismissed any supernatural interference.  I'm not  interesting enough to have my own poltergeist.

It started this morning when I turned on the TV to see the weather. I noticed immediately that something was wrong with our DishNetwork because the channel that normally houses Turner Classic Movies showed something decidedly not classic, nor terribly theatrical.  The woman in the lab coat spoke Spanish while an 800 number crawled the bottom of the screen.

I investigated.

Food Network was now Pakastani TV resplendent with waving flags and echoing commercials.  HGTV appeared to be something from China.  Maybe Korea.  C-SPAN was, we assumed, coming from Japan.  The newsreaders bowed to one another.

"This is odd."

MathMan had to get himself and Nate out on time so he showed barely a passing interest. He must have forgotten that I'm banned from tinkering with the electronics.

Sophia and I watched a few minutes of something that looked suspiciously like Full House except it was in Russian. Possibly Greek.  And Uncle Jesse was some punk girl with a head full of long, dark hair.

Slowly, channels came back on line.  When Fox News returned and MSNBC continued to be some sort of French news broadcast, I considered the possibility of a right wing conspiracy.  My ability to understand the channels is usually the other way around - it's Fox News that doesn't make sense to me.  But then MSNBC, HGTV, and whatever channel it is that's obsessed with Little People came back.  Not that there's anything wrong with Little People, but how many shows following around Little People while they live their lives do we need?

Anyway, I breathed a sigh of relief and pulled out my phone to post a Facebook status.

"Have TV again, breakfast is made, hubby and teen on their way to school, tween in the shower, the sun is shining and laundry is going.  Life is good."

Mid-crisis, shame and practical issues prevented me from contacting DishNetwork.  If I reach out to them now, they're just going to demand I pay my bill already.  They'll get paid what we owe, of course, but since we've been considering letting Dish become the latest casualty of our fiscal revamping, it might just do to let the service run out.  A natural death of sorts.  My main concern is for all those programs tied up on the DVR.  Poirots, Sherlock Holmes, a whole mess of Miss Marples, several Alfred Hitchcock movies.  I never remember to ask MathMan to show me how to record them onto dvds until it's too late, he's too tired or someone is watching something else on TV.

Still - in the grand scheme, losing a bunch of programs is nothing.  Nada. Rien.  Diddlysquat.

Later, other things started going wrong.  First, the DVD player became uncooperative.  The menu wouldn't come up.  The fast forward and reverse buttons revolted.  I changed the batteries to no avail.  If a change of batteries doesn't fix the problem, what next?  Sledgehammer?  Elephant gun?

Throwing the thing across the room is largely frowned upon in this household.  Being a good example is such a drag.

Adding to the electronic curiosities was the fact that when I pushed the remote's volume button, it would shift the sound up to 100 without stopping.  When I pushed it to decrease, it scrolled all the way to 0.  The only way to get it to stop at a somewhat decent volume was to play a sort of game - push the increase volume button and then quickly push it again where it would stop and stay on say level 16.

The final straw was a visit to the upper channels - the Island of Misfit Toys of the movie channels.  Not the premium channels.

Oh, that movie may have been British.  It was made in the 1990s or 2000s.  It was set on a country estate.  But that movie was not Howard's End.  There was no Helena Bonham Carter, no Emma Thompson, no Sir Anthony Hopkins.  I did recognize one of the male leads.  Matthew Goode.  He played  Patrick Simmons in Agatha Christie's A Murder is Announced and was most recently in A Single Man, but I only know that from IMB.  I haven't seen the movie.  Dang it.  A little research tells me what was being passed off as Howard's End was actually Brideshead Revisited.

"Do you suppose all of this electronic humbuggery is due to some cloud around me?  I have been rather difficult, putting off bad vibes and all."  The cat to whom I directed my question yawned and tucked her head under her paw.  "I don't suppose Dish Network would give us a month of free service in exchange for having messed with my head."  The cat remained indifferent.

I realize this is more of the same - modern day complaints.  Back when a person like me would have been out feeding the chickens in a blizzard or poisoning herself with bluing while laundering the Lord's and Lady's bloomers, the notion that pushing a button would cause so much fretting and consternation would have made us peasants laugh with our toothless mouths wide open. But I live now and I have certain expectations and when I turn on the television and can understand Fox and Friends better than I can understand anything else on TV, I think I'm entitled to a little modern day groaning.

I mean, a person can only take so much, right?


What buttons are you pushing today?

I Couldn't Remember the Name of the Show with Winnie Cooper

So I called MathMan from my sick bed. He was at his desk in the other room. I called him on the phone.

And thankfully, he had the answer because it would have driven my crazy if I didn't know, but I was too lazy and distracted to google it.

I don't know, but I ended up watching VH1's I Love the New Millennium. Because the history that just happened in 2005 has to be relived right now, that's why.

The following conversations were prompted by having this program on.....

Garbo: I think there should be a television show called "I Love (Garbo's real name)."
Me: No self esteem problems there.
MathMan: Are you kidding me? She's all self-esteem. There's nothing else there.
Garbo: What?!?!
MathMan: All that crying you were doing - you don't care who sees you cry.
Garbo: You're right. I don't.

Me: I'm taking steroids.
The Actor: What? Why?
Me: I'm taking parenting steroids. That's what makes me a great mom.
The Actor: That's what makes you so good at sitting around in bed.
Me: It's been nice knowing you. Enjoy the workhouse, yo.

Garbo: I want to be a vampire.
Me: Me, too.
Garbo: You can't be a vampire. You're a mom.
Me: That's true - only kids are blood suckers.
Garbo: I think my fangs are growing in.

MathMan: Actor, please stop growling like that.
The Actor: How do you want me to growl?
MathMan: I don't want you to growl? I want mom to growl.
Me: Rowrowrowrowrowrowr
The Actor: Gross, people. Just gross.

The Actor: Why wouldn't dad buy me a hotdog?
Me: Because he bought you a hamburger.
The Actor: Yeah, but I wanted a Big Mac and a hot dog.
Me: Nope. You got McDonalds. That's all.
The Actor (who can talk a blue streak): Actually I wanted a Big Mac and a cheeseburger with pickles. Then I saw a commercial for Taco Bell. But dad should have gotten me a hot dog, too........now I have the eater's remorse.
(This conversation was punctuated by lots of coughing. Nasty.)

And now we commence our time of silence.

Before I go - a favor, please. Click this link, scroll down and vote for Nora O'Sullivan. You know who Nora is? She's Bubs daughter. If you don't, my cold will get worse, I'll cough up my other lung and it's quite possible that Garbo might lose a tiny fraction of her self-esteem.

You wouldn't want that on your conscience, would you?

When We Did It, We Called It The Lifestyle

A blogpal emailed me the application to appear on Wife Swap, along with this note:

I did something really silly, I applied for my family to participate on Wife Swap. My religious background was the hook for the show, so yours wouldn't be the same. But, interesting families are what they're looking for and yours is right up there.

They pay (dollar amount deleted) two weeks after the show airs and you get to travel first class somewhere around the country, while your family back home terrorizes some poor woman.

I included an application if you want to know what they want to know. They also do a background check to make sure you're not a sociopath, or a convicted sex offender, as well as psychological screening. They want interesting, but not bat-shit crazy. It's a Disney show after all.

So, think a bout it. In my case, an extra twenty grand could go really, really far.

First of all, the very idea cracked me up, as did Crevass's cover note. I responded with a quick thank you and said that I'd think about it.

And I did think about it. Alot. I asked MathMan what he thought about it. Unfortunately, I picked the wrong time, when he was distracted. "Hey, honey, would you want to go on Wife Swap?" I asked out of the blue while we were puttering around in the kitchen.

He closed the cabinet he'd just finished emptying so we could pack up some things and muttered, "I thought you wanted to lose a few more pounds before we started doing that again."

Have mercy.

I asked The Dancer. She simply rolled her eyes as if she's heard one too many of these get rich quick schemes from me. What a tart. When pressed and convinced with the idea that the money earned from the show could be applied toward her tuition, she conceded. Some. "If they choose us, it better be after I've left for school."

Noted.

Then I asked The Actor and Garbo their opinions. At first they were incredulous. Or maybe really groggy because I asked them as we drove to school. After I'd convinced them that I was really considering it, they started asking questions. Veteran viewers of the program, they had a pretty good idea of what the producers would be looking for.

"So if we're going to be on it, we need to think of what an opposite family would do," announced Garbo.

The Actor offered further clarification. "It' really has to do a lot with how the mom in the family is so we have to think about what the other mom would be like."

The two of them set about tossing out ideas.

"It could be a mom who never cusses and doesn't allow any cussing." Boring! was the verdict.
"It could be a fundamentalist Christian mom." They've done that to death.
"A Republican?" "A health nut?" "A mom who hates music?"
"It could be a flat chested mom," offered Garbo. Oh, nice. Very nice. And no.
"I know! It could be a mom who thinks computers and electronics are the tool of the devil and who doesn't blog!"

They agreed that would be perfect. They could stand to learn something from a mom who answers questions with something besides "Google it" or "Well, if it isn't in the Urban Dictionary, it can't possible be true."

Finally, I opened the application and read the questions. I kept thinking about what Crevass had said, "They also do a background check to make sure you're not a sociopath, or a convicted sex offender, as well as psychological screening. They want interesting, but not bat-shit crazy." Hmmmm.

Then I got to question that asked which adult in the family "wears the pants?" Yeesh. Now there's an outdated euphemism. The twelve year old trapped inside me wanted to note that both MathMan and I wear pants. Sometimes. Except on those days when we go without. Oh and on the second Tuesday of the month, MathMan wears a kilt for giggles.

Sure, sure - I get it. Who's in charge? Talk about a snag. I mean, I just asked MathMan who wears the pants in our family and you know what his answer was? You guessed it - "We both wear pants. The question is, who wears the frillier underwear?"

What a sexist thing to say. I took a running leap at him, attempting to deliver a death blow to his temple (I'll show him frilly underwear!), but I missed and landed on my back flat on the floor, MathMan threw the chocolate pudding he was holding at me and then shouted something nasty in Hebrew. I must have blacked out at that point because when I came to, the county sheriff's deputy was there taking statements from the neighbors. MathMan was sitting mute, covered in leaves and grass. Upon closer inspection, I noticed he wasn't wearing his pants.

The deputy mentioned that the house appeared to be in quite the state of squalor (hey! we're packing to move, dumbass!) and our neighbor from across the way shook his head sadly, "Weeelll, the've always been kind of loud, but they kept mostly to themselves," he spoke softly to the deputy who was still surveying the living room with a look of shock on his face.

I looked down and realized that I was tied to a chair in the middle of the living room and a fire was blazing away in the fireplace behind me. I tried to twist around in my chair to see what was on the fire that was making that terrible smell.

"Excuse me," I croaked to the deputy and Mr. Neighbor. "What's burning?"

The deputy's eyes flickered over me and then he exchanged a quick smile with our neighbor. I cleared my throat, getting anxious and impatient. Both men looked my way again and the deputy pulled a serious face.

"Well, ma'am, that's a laptop in the fireplace," he said. I could hear the hint of laughter in his voice.

Mr. Neighbor craned his neck and looked around me at the fireplace. I could feel the heat against my back and I was getting really uncomfortable. Why weren't these yahoos untying me already? My head hurt. My back hurt.

Mr. Neighbor took in a sharp breath. A smile tugged at the corners of his mouth. "Ah think there are actually two laptop computers in that fireplace," he choked out, bobbing his balding head up and down.

"What?" I shrieked, struggling to turn in the chair. Damn those ropes were tight! I started to go berserk, fighting against the restraints and wriggling about. MathMan turned his head and watched silently and expressionless as the chair and I toppled over. I lay on my back again, my feet, ankles bound together, in the air. It was then that I noticed that I wasn't wearing any pants either.

I guess we'll have to find another way to earn that (dollar amount deleted) because Disney will never call us now.