tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-40570396667269474592024-03-05T17:45:24.255-08:00Putting up With Annie's Crapanne smithhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/00104828046695719577noreply@blogger.comBlogger558125tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4057039666726947459.post-35219818347197498152013-04-05T12:09:00.001-07:002013-04-05T13:59:12.021-07:00Spring Break<span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif; font-size: large;">So who in the heck invented Spring Break?</span><br />
<br />
<span style="font-family: Verdana; font-size: large;">Teachers? Kids?</span><br />
<br />
<span style="font-family: Verdana; font-size: large;">Certainly not Moms.</span><br />
<br />
<span style="font-family: Verdana; font-size: large;">Is it Easter Vacation? Maybe the Easter Bunny invented it, I doubt he had any kids if he did. Must have been a bachelor bunny.</span><br />
<br />
<span style="font-family: Verdana; font-size: large;">About two days into this wonderful break every year I ask myself "is this ever going to end"?</span><br />
<br />
<span style="font-family: Verdana; font-size: large;">The candy is long gone and I have eaten enough egg salad sandwiches to last me for the rest of the year.</span><br />
<br />
<span style="font-family: Verdana; font-size: large;">The weather is not good enough to throw the kids outside and there are not enough movies in the whole Erie County library system to keep them out of trouble.</span><br />
<br />
<span style="font-family: Verdana; font-size: large;">Some people go on trips, I opted out of that after our famous Virginia trip where the kids wore their winter boots, forgot their sneakers, and it was all my fault.</span><br />
<br />
<span style="font-family: Verdana; font-size: large;">Monday they will be back in school.</span><br />
<br />
<span style="font-family: Verdana; font-size: large;">I hope I make it that long.</span><br />
<br />
<span style="font-family: Verdana; font-size: large;">Annie
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh3o09WUHW4-yct_r68nyyy0L7iWJvJud-ZSGFYdAQDZSNzFAfM9axhJzKIMBtEg0ybsaYGCOTF8pfDQYhvIaCKCyCGClONjocMHsKaWbgWQGJZwsnqZJJJsGfuugIlkImugYbi2CGNs2id/s1600/th.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" mta="true" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh3o09WUHW4-yct_r68nyyy0L7iWJvJud-ZSGFYdAQDZSNzFAfM9axhJzKIMBtEg0ybsaYGCOTF8pfDQYhvIaCKCyCGClONjocMHsKaWbgWQGJZwsnqZJJJsGfuugIlkImugYbi2CGNs2id/s1600/th.jpg" /></a></div>
</span>anne smithhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/00104828046695719577noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4057039666726947459.post-59804493462023434642013-04-04T15:02:00.002-07:002013-04-04T16:20:41.415-07:00Thrifting "are you kidding me"?<span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif; font-size: large;">So I have been reading alot of blogs lately about thrifting. There is some sort of big deal going on like "try not to buy anything retail for 30 days".</span><br />
<br />
<span style="font-family: Verdana; font-size: large;">You have got to be kidding me.</span><br />
<br />
<br />
<span style="font-family: Verdana; font-size: large;">Try 30 years.</span><br />
<br />
<span style="font-family: Verdana; font-size: large;">I bet you could fit all the crap I have bought retail in a lunchpail. OK, maybe a file cabinet.</span><br />
<br />
<span style="font-family: Verdana; font-size: large;">No shit, I am not kidding.</span><br />
<br />
<span style="font-family: Verdana; font-size: large;">I will start to post crap I get either from thrift stores, free, or crap people just give me.</span><br />
<br />
<span style="font-family: Verdana; font-size: large;">I was going to start it today, but I have no idea how to take my camera off "movie" and put it on "photo".</span><br />
<br />
<span style="font-family: Verdana; font-size: large;">Oh yeah, here's a great start. 1. camera: given to me by oldest daughter when she got one on her new cell phone. Camera number 2, gift from a friend when she upgraded. Neither one I know how to use.</span><br />
<br />
<span style="font-family: Verdana; font-size: large;">Still trying to figure out how to put the film in them.</span><br />
<br />
<span style="font-family: Verdana; font-size: large;">Talk later,</span><br />
<br />
<span style="font-family: Verdana; font-size: large;">Annie</span>anne smithhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/00104828046695719577noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4057039666726947459.post-53027402508154240082011-04-16T03:42:00.001-07:002011-04-16T03:42:30.291-07:00<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhwArcCIVpAK8-Lbfnemb98R97Qq3pj9X7kz-DnSy6PfruKEFNs2Sxds7A70m4WU9diQaufiziWvLsqZXJH97kUjSCRiOrknjh-Fg9r4NU8SQrf3VvLdDzCWnjIu2Xn2SJPX7_z48uSb46t/s1600/%2524%2528KGrHqMOKn%2521E2eoyqyCbBNn4k%252BboCw%257E%257E_1.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="320" r6="true" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhwArcCIVpAK8-Lbfnemb98R97Qq3pj9X7kz-DnSy6PfruKEFNs2Sxds7A70m4WU9diQaufiziWvLsqZXJH97kUjSCRiOrknjh-Fg9r4NU8SQrf3VvLdDzCWnjIu2Xn2SJPX7_z48uSb46t/s320/%2524%2528KGrHqMOKn%2521E2eoyqyCbBNn4k%252BboCw%257E%257E_1.jpg" width="232" /></a></div>anne smithhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/00104828046695719577noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4057039666726947459.post-23684436439818602702011-04-14T03:59:00.000-07:002011-04-14T03:59:49.917-07:00Phineas And Ferb - Hey Ferb! (I Know What We're Gonna Do Today) Lyrics (HQ)<iframe height="344" src="http://www.youtube.com/embed/8dLYK675V04?fs=1" frameborder="0" width="425" allowfullscreen=""></iframe>anne smithhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/00104828046695719577noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4057039666726947459.post-89058144233307456672011-04-14T03:52:00.000-07:002011-04-14T03:52:57.032-07:00one, two , "flee"!!!<span style="font-family: inherit; font-size: x-large;">OK, I have one more kid to get in school. After 6, I think I am on the downhill on this school thing.</span><br />
<br />
<span style="font-size: x-large;">I wasn't able to get Wheezer in a preschool so we are working on her numbers and letters here at home.</span><br />
<br />
<span style="font-size: x-large;">Our school didn't have any openings in their preschool program, and they want a million dollars a week for any preschool in our area.</span><br />
<br />
<span style="font-size: x-large;">For some reason Wheezer can count but has a problem with her number three.</span><br />
<br />
<span style="font-size: x-large;">Yesterday at the kitchen table, Grandpa was "homeschooling" her.</span><br />
<br />
<span style="font-size: x-large;">She also has a bit of a problem saying the word "three".</span><br />
<br />
<span style="font-size: x-large;">Just for the record, she can sing the whole opening song to Phinias and Ferb. (So can I).</span><br />
<br />
<span style="font-size: x-large;">She starts out "one two, four, five".</span><br />
<br />
<span style="font-size: x-large;">Grandpa says to her " One, two, three, four, five".</span><br />
<br />
<span style="font-size: x-large;">After about five minutes, she is NOT listening and still can't get it.</span><br />
<br />
<span style="font-size: x-large;">"Do you want a crack on the butt?"</span><br />
<br />
<span style="font-size: x-large;">"No, grandpa, not really".</span><br />
<br />
<span style="font-size: x-large;">"Then pay attention."</span><br />
<br />
<span style="font-size: x-large;">Silence.</span><br />
<br />
<span style="font-size: x-large;">"One, two, pause."</span><br />
<br />
<span style="font-size: x-large;">"Three".</span><br />
<br />
<span style="font-size: x-large;">She says "flee"</span><br />
<br />
<span style="font-size: x-large;">"one, two, flee, four, five".</span><br />
<br />
<span style="font-size: x-large;">"Now, that's better"</span><br />
<br />
<span style="font-size: x-large;">I whisper in her ear. "tomarrow, you better say the numbers correctly or you will have to "flee" from the wrath of Grandpa.</span><br />
<br />
<span style="font-size: x-large;">She sits at the table all night.</span><br />
<br />
<span style="font-size: x-large;">"flee, flee, flee"</span><br />
<br />
<span style="font-size: x-large;">One, two, flee,four, five.</span><br />
<br />
<span style="font-size: x-large;">Whew.</span><br />
<br />
<span style="font-size: x-large;">I hum the Phineas and Ferb tune under my breath.</span><br />
<br />
<span style="font-size: x-large;">"Hey Ferb, whatta you gonna do today?"</span><br />
<br />
<span style="font-size: x-large;">"flee, flee, flee"</span><br />
<br />
<span style="font-size: x-large;">Talk later,</span><br />
<br />
<span style="font-size: x-large;">Annie</span>anne smithhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/00104828046695719577noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4057039666726947459.post-32882530317950595542011-04-13T03:55:00.001-07:002011-04-13T03:55:51.703-07:00YOPYOP <br />
<br />
<br />
OK, so this friend of mine gets a new job. I have no idea what he does, I am just glad he got a job.<br />
<br />
<br />
<br />
He comes over for coffee the other day.<br />
<br />
<br />
<br />
He tells me about some forms he had to fill out at work. <br />
<br />
<br />
<br />
"The boss told me to fill out my YOP forms".<br />
<br />
<br />
<br />
I poured him a cup of coffee, trying to look like I knew what in the heck he was talking about.<br />
<br />
<br />
<br />
"Did you get the forms in on time?"<br />
<br />
<br />
<br />
"Oh yeah, Annie, they were easy to fill out, you could even do them".<br />
<br />
<br />
<br />
"Oh", I answered.<br />
<br />
<br />
<br />
I cut some cake and still tried to look like I knew what in the heck he was talking about.<br />
<br />
<br />
<br />
Maybe there are new forms I don't know about out there in the work place. <br />
<br />
<br />
<br />
Maybe I am just really stupid.<br />
<br />
<br />
<br />
He waits for a while.<br />
<br />
<br />
<br />
"Aren't you gonna ask me what YOP stands for"?<br />
<br />
<br />
<br />
"Sure", I answer.<br />
<br />
<br />
<br />
"Your Own Opinion".<br />
<br />
<br />
<br />
"Oh sure, I knew that", I answer while lighting up a cigarette and still trying not to look like an idiot.<br />
<br />
<br />
<br />
"Oh, Annie, you would love it, they have these forms and you have to fill them out once a month and give your own opinion on what goes on at work".<br />
<br />
<br />
<br />
I sit there for a minute.<br />
<br />
<br />
<br />
"Do they have forms like that for house hold use?"<br />
<br />
<br />
<br />
He looks at me funny.<br />
<br />
<br />
<br />
"I think I should fill those out here, you know, what goes on here, or better yet, what DOESN'T go on here. You know, give my own opinion on why the toilet seat still isn't fixed and why my car still sits in the driveway waiting for a new fuel pump".<br />
<br />
<br />
<br />
"I better go out and see what Grampa is doing out in the sugar shanty", was his reply.<br />
<br />
<br />
<br />
Wimp.<br />
<br />
<br />
<br />
Talk later,<br />
<br />
<br />
<br />
Annie <br />
<br />
Posted by anne smith at 3:53 AManne smithhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/00104828046695719577noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4057039666726947459.post-54828212561580081522011-03-16T04:21:00.000-07:002011-03-16T04:30:29.930-07:00Boiling sap<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiw4PINsMPxEkcwqDyZMLEpoGXfNi1JDgUAf6GwnNwFMZJdPvm9umTUD0N63POXGgnyw45Z6AlRr33NznBkS44qz0NsFfacZRcw1ZaJ5SybyE0WCl7Nm2RqyIgnKR65hb9pUZkdka4_OhXO/s1600/140CAJSFEY5.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" r6="true" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiw4PINsMPxEkcwqDyZMLEpoGXfNi1JDgUAf6GwnNwFMZJdPvm9umTUD0N63POXGgnyw45Z6AlRr33NznBkS44qz0NsFfacZRcw1ZaJ5SybyE0WCl7Nm2RqyIgnKR65hb9pUZkdka4_OhXO/s1600/140CAJSFEY5.jpg" /></a></div><span style="font-size: x-large;">OK, so you put the kids to bed and you are sitting in the dark watching Blue Collar Comedy because obviously you have no life.</span><br />
<br />
<span style="font-size: x-large;">It's about 10:30 at night which is really late for you to be up.</span><br />
<br />
<span style="font-size: x-large;">Someone pulls in the yard and you ignore it. Probably some lost drunk.</span><br />
<br />
<span style="font-size: x-large;">The phone rings and it's your sister in law.</span><br />
<br />
<span style="font-size: x-large;">"I'm in the shanty, Grampy's boiling sap, get your but down here!'</span><br />
<br />
<span style="font-size: x-large;">"nah", you reply and hang up.</span><br />
<br />
<span style="font-size: x-large;">You sit there, Larry the Cable Guy says goodnight.</span><br />
<br />
<span style="font-size: x-large;">The phone rings again, "For God's sake, get your but down here, we have home made cider'.</span><br />
<br />
<span style="font-size: x-large;">"Nah" you answer.</span><br />
<br />
<span style="font-size: x-large;">You sit there in your bathrobe.</span><br />
<br />
<span style="font-size: x-large;">It's raining out.</span><br />
<br />
<span style="font-size: x-large;">The late news comes on.</span><br />
<br />
<span style="font-size: x-large;">You can't stand it any longer.</span><br />
<br />
<span style="font-size: x-large;">You get your rubber barn boots on and throw on a coat over your bathrobe.</span><br />
<br />
<span style="font-size: x-large;">The shanty smells so good, like maple.</span><br />
<br />
<span style="font-size: x-large;">"We knew you would come down".</span><br />
<br />
<span style="font-size: x-large;">"yeah," you reply.</span><br />
<br />
<span style="font-size: x-large;">They hand you a bottle of home made hard cider.</span><br />
<br />
<span style="font-size: x-large;">They hand you a cigarette, you light it with the fire from the sap boiler.</span><br />
<br />
<span style="font-size: x-large;">Grampy entertains everyone with his stories. He uses the word Jesus about 20 times and the term "it's over", another 30.</span><br />
<br />
<span style="font-size: x-large;">It is good to be home with my redneck family.</span><br />
<br />
<span style="font-size: x-large;">Talk later,</span><br />
<br />
<span style="font-size: x-large;">Annie</span>anne smithhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/00104828046695719577noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4057039666726947459.post-12864515907965290862011-03-15T04:04:00.000-07:002011-03-15T04:04:35.895-07:00Drug and Alcohol Rehab<span style="font-size: x-large;">OK, so your kids get off the bus and you chug down a cup of coffee so you have enough energy to listen to their stories of the day.</span><br />
<br />
<span style="font-size: x-large;">"Mom, we learned about drugs today".</span><br />
<br />
<span style="font-size: x-large;">"That's nice", you reply, "don't ever do drugs".</span><br />
<br />
<span style="font-size: x-large;">"Oh Mom, why do you do drugs?"</span><br />
<br />
<span style="font-size: x-large;">You stand there for a minute trying to think what in the heck your kids are trying to get at. The only drugs you can remember doing in the past 15 years are aspirin and cold medicine.</span><br />
<br />
<span style="font-size: x-large;">"Oh Mom, caffeine is a drug, so that coffee is bad for you."</span><br />
<br />
<span style="font-size: x-large;">"Oh really?" you reply filling up the coffee filter for the fourth time today.</span><br />
<br />
<span style="font-size: x-large;">"And cigarettes are drugs".</span><br />
<br />
<span style="font-size: x-large;">"Oh really", you reply looking at the pack of Senecas sitting on top of the coffee filters.</span><br />
<br />
<span style="font-size: x-large;">"Oh yeah Mom, and you are not supposed to drink beer".</span><br />
<br />
<span style="font-size: x-large;">"I drink wine", you answer.</span><br />
<br />
<span style="font-size: x-large;">"Same thing Mom".</span><br />
<br />
<span style="font-size: x-large;">The kids run to watch TV.</span><br />
<br />
<span style="font-size: x-large;">You look for the telephone book so you can call Drug and Alcohol Rehab.</span><br />
<br />
<span style="font-size: x-large;">You can't find the phonebook.</span><br />
<br />
<span style="font-size: x-large;">You light up a cigarette, pour yourself another cup of coffee and try to gather up the wine bottles because garbage day is tomarrow.</span><br />
<br />
<span style="font-size: x-large;">Maybe I will call tomarrow.</span><br />
<br />
<span style="font-size: x-large;">Maybe I won't.</span><br />
<br />
<span style="font-size: x-large;">Talk later,</span><br />
<br />
<span style="font-size: x-large;">Annie</span>anne smithhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/00104828046695719577noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4057039666726947459.post-84013684048730985692011-03-05T04:36:00.000-08:002011-03-05T04:36:39.019-08:00How to go from Super Slob to Clean Freak<iframe height="295" src="http://www.youtube.com/embed/kt-SH4GUdfU?fs=1" frameborder="0" width="480" allowfullscreen=""></iframe>anne smithhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/00104828046695719577noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4057039666726947459.post-27229925737583498202011-02-25T23:01:00.000-08:002011-02-25T23:05:40.323-08:00The flu<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh9C5SGCDbZGrh9CsHOWMkmeDfEwKpaoKbH7JTZXN2gdNyem-9hPKGXP-V9IouXLNg9cAiD2ybeOmkw2RWSe3BPYYWK4h8wZFqWRLRo-xf3O-KVXy7tVawrBhp8RhQqffIIK5NbeL0tVAkT/s1600/Woman_Sick_In_Bed_Royalty_Free_Clipart_Picture_090710-034577-660053.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" l6="true" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh9C5SGCDbZGrh9CsHOWMkmeDfEwKpaoKbH7JTZXN2gdNyem-9hPKGXP-V9IouXLNg9cAiD2ybeOmkw2RWSe3BPYYWK4h8wZFqWRLRo-xf3O-KVXy7tVawrBhp8RhQqffIIK5NbeL0tVAkT/s1600/Woman_Sick_In_Bed_Royalty_Free_Clipart_Picture_090710-034577-660053.jpg" /></a></div><span style="font-size: x-large;">OK, so you get the flu and all you want to do is lay in bed.</span><br />
<br />
<span style="font-size: x-large;">Your kids instantly turn handicapped.</span><br />
<br />
<span style="font-size: x-large;">All you want to do is lay there covered in a warm blanket.</span><br />
<br />
<span style="font-size: x-large;">No one can find the cupboards.</span><br />
<br />
<span style="font-size: x-large;">No one can find the toilet paper stash.</span><br />
<br />
<span style="font-size: x-large;">No one can figure out how to put in a DVD.</span><br />
<br />
<span style="font-size: x-large;">You call Karen to grab a loaf of bread on her way home from work.</span><br />
<br />
<span style="font-size: x-large;">She is sicker than you are.</span><br />
<br />
<span style="font-size: x-large;">Your significant other gets home from work.</span><br />
<br />
<span style="font-size: x-large;">For some crazy reason he can't remember where anything is either.</span><br />
<br />
<span style="font-size: x-large;">You lay there hoping to God you don't pass on before they do.</span><br />
<br />
<span style="font-size: x-large;">Or maybe not?</span><br />
<br />
<span style="font-size: x-large;">Talk later,</span><br />
<br />
<span style="font-size: x-large;">Annie</span>anne smithhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/00104828046695719577noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4057039666726947459.post-86071449357088159562011-02-25T04:11:00.000-08:002011-02-25T04:17:20.906-08:00The Civil War trail<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgGptCjt74lGn38qznEbspWw2OhOWZk0I9qR9Cm-4WfsEgX0AYiHfF844MqzzpYt_ZTcGsDa372Ceof6E21y_oeMp_RiWk8pJoBpoWJ9FeOMD5GNDBy0fp9GoljDPzeZi5cbiw7lbchGlpd/s1600/220px-UrsulaTheLittleMermaid.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" l6="true" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgGptCjt74lGn38qznEbspWw2OhOWZk0I9qR9Cm-4WfsEgX0AYiHfF844MqzzpYt_ZTcGsDa372Ceof6E21y_oeMp_RiWk8pJoBpoWJ9FeOMD5GNDBy0fp9GoljDPzeZi5cbiw7lbchGlpd/s1600/220px-UrsulaTheLittleMermaid.jpg" /></a></div><br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEic3v9aEfsGVWY2kgokf0YueR1C83ww02ZBW5tD0lJg5sxtKyeo5RO4rbSm9Qua4U29RQg2fsJjGypYHWioPG-Ec1HbnLMZS66uw0Vt43WXqMHEGAbS-u0Jkk69Z2Msotv84yZPThXg3Jsy/s1600/civilWar7.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" l6="true" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEic3v9aEfsGVWY2kgokf0YueR1C83ww02ZBW5tD0lJg5sxtKyeo5RO4rbSm9Qua4U29RQg2fsJjGypYHWioPG-Ec1HbnLMZS66uw0Vt43WXqMHEGAbS-u0Jkk69Z2Msotv84yZPThXg3Jsy/s1600/civilWar7.jpg" /></a></div><br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgo3rRu7b23A-1MXfIsoLXm4DWK7LYTgOWT1xl-r8vv1VYDvNhjG6k9DaqbHHutd0LNTYWKgW-KsNok29dB7yAJoLxYsgQ-3ZyMnTyVr-iKUO_NQpBochp-8sUppnHB5kV3dw7sdocgmDHp/s1600/a29_thumb.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" l6="true" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgo3rRu7b23A-1MXfIsoLXm4DWK7LYTgOWT1xl-r8vv1VYDvNhjG6k9DaqbHHutd0LNTYWKgW-KsNok29dB7yAJoLxYsgQ-3ZyMnTyVr-iKUO_NQpBochp-8sUppnHB5kV3dw7sdocgmDHp/s1600/a29_thumb.jpg" /></a></div><span style="font-size: x-large;">OK, so you are in Virginia and you need to find something "touristy" to do with the kids. It is 70 degrees out. You have just come from New York where is was 10 degrees when you left the house.</span><br />
<br />
<span style="font-size: x-large;">"Let's do one of those Civil War trails", I pipe up.</span><br />
<br />
<span style="font-size: x-large;">"OK, Civil War trail it is", replies my step son.</span><br />
<br />
<span style="font-size: x-large;">The next day we all head out for the trail. We have winter boots on and long sleeve shirts, it is 70 degrees out. I forgot my hair gel when I packed so I look like Ursula the sea witch.</span><br />
<br />
<span style="font-size: x-large;">We get to the trail and it show pictures of dead people on the map and cannons. The kids think that is what will be on the trail. You know better, but lie to the kids anyway. No one sees the sign that says "This trail will take 60 minutes to walk".</span><br />
<br />
<span style="font-size: x-large;">Now whoever wrote that sign was an Olympic athlete with no kids.</span><br />
<br />
<span style="font-size: x-large;">We head out on the trail. At first it's fun. It gets hotter and hotter and there are no cannons and dead bodies laying in the woods like the picture showed.</span><br />
<br />
<span style="font-size: x-large;">"This sucks", you hear from one of the kids.</span><br />
<br />
<span style="font-size: x-large;">"Oh hang in there, I am sure there is a cannon right around the corner".</span><br />
<br />
<span style="font-size: x-large;">You try not to act like you are melting, you catch one of the kids dragging your camera in the dirt because they can't carry it anymore.</span><br />
<br />
<span style="font-size: x-large;">The trail ends and there is not a drinking fountain anywhere in sight. Hell with water, you need a bottle of wine.</span><br />
<br />
<span style="font-size: x-large;">You try to still act like it was a blast and the kids can go and tell their teachers that they actually walked on a Civil War trail. </span><br />
<br />
<span style="font-size: x-large;">They couldn't give a rat's ass.</span><br />
<br />
<span style="font-size: x-large;">You climb in the fron of the van and your step son pulls out of the parking lot.</span><br />
<br />
<span style="font-size: x-large;">You both whisper under your breathe at the same time "Next time, Ixnay on the Civil War trail".</span><br />
<br />
<span style="font-size: x-large;">You try not to laugh.</span><br />
<br />
<span style="font-size: x-large;">Talk later,</span><br />
<br />
<span style="font-size: x-large;">Annie</span>anne smithhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/00104828046695719577noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4057039666726947459.post-65862225979049303752011-02-24T08:54:00.000-08:002011-02-24T08:59:40.582-08:00Annie on Vacation<span style="font-size: x-large;">OK, so your significant other tells you he has 3 days off and wants to go on a vacation.</span><br />
<br />
<span style="font-size: x-large;">You haven't been on a vacation since Nixon was in office.</span><br />
<br />
<span style="font-size: x-large;">Your mind runs wild with ideas.</span><br />
<br />
<span style="font-size: x-large;">You picture yourself renting a convertible, buying a set of sunglasses and a fancy scarf and driving to the Grand Canyon like Thelma and Louise.</span><br />
<br />
<span style="font-size: x-large;">You picture yourself drinking wine from fancy glasses and smoking those fancy cigarettes with white gloves.</span><br />
<br />
<span style="font-size: x-large;">You look up from your dream and you can hear Tim saying "We have to take the kids".</span><br />
<br />
<span style="font-size: x-large;">Your mind goes from Thelma to Chevy Chase immediately.</span><br />
<br />
<span style="font-size: x-large;">Now the reality sets in. You have to take the kids.</span><br />
<br />
<span style="font-size: x-large;">"Sounds like fun", you mumble under your breath.</span><br />
<br />
<span style="font-size: x-large;">OK, here are the things I learned on the trip.</span><br />
<br />
<span style="font-size: x-large;">1. Don't take kids.</span><br />
<br />
<span style="font-size: x-large;">2. Renting minivans is very expensive.</span><br />
<br />
<span style="font-size: x-large;">3. Virginia is a long ways from New York.</span><br />
<br />
<span style="font-size: x-large;">4. When you return a rental car you have to have it clean, chocolate is very hard to get out of white seats.</span><br />
<br />
<span style="font-size: x-large;">5. You need the same amount of days off to re-cooperate from a vaction, three days vacation, three days laying in bed.</span><br />
<br />
<span style="font-size: x-large;">6. No one unpacks or cares less about their crap in their suitcases once you return home.</span><br />
<br />
<span style="font-size: x-large;">7. When renting a GPS system, get one with loud volume as you will not be able to hear the man talking over your kids screaming in the back.</span><br />
<br />
<span style="font-size: x-large;">8. It takes more than 30 seconds to show a 45 year old woman how to turn on the radio, run the heater, and open up the back hatch on a new car.</span><br />
<br />
<br />
<br />
<span style="font-size: x-large;">Talk later,</span><br />
<br />
<span style="font-size: x-large;">Annie</span>anne smithhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/00104828046695719577noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4057039666726947459.post-20944092189149472562011-02-24T08:39:00.000-08:002011-02-24T08:39:36.854-08:00I Classici: "Thelma & Louise"<iframe height="344" src="http://www.youtube.com/embed/mxZUi149Otc?fs=1" frameborder="0" width="425" allowfullscreen=""></iframe>anne smithhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/00104828046695719577noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4057039666726947459.post-54875810615827392962011-02-24T08:37:00.000-08:002011-02-24T08:37:31.668-08:00Vacation - Trailer<iframe height="295" src="http://www.youtube.com/embed/i6G68ppe5C8?fs=1" frameborder="0" width="480" allowfullscreen=""></iframe>anne smithhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/00104828046695719577noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4057039666726947459.post-80349631416273413452011-02-23T13:29:00.000-08:002011-02-23T13:29:09.920-08:00you tube crap<span style="font-size: x-large;">OK, I admit it I am addicted to YouTube. When I want to learn something or find something out, I look on YouTube. This week I want to get my haircut, I spent half the day watching videos of people and their hair. People really must have alot of time on their hands.</span><br />
<br />
<span style="font-size: x-large;">I finally found the cut I wanted and watched this girl about five times talk about herself.</span><br />
<br />
<span style="font-size: x-large;">I gotta go, just got another email, someone just loaded up a new video. I can't get behind. Gotta stay in the loop you know.</span><br />
<br />
<span style="font-size: x-large;">Talk later,</span><br />
<br />
<span style="font-size: x-large;">Annie</span>anne smithhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/00104828046695719577noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4057039666726947459.post-79941142587691356762011-02-23T04:17:00.000-08:002011-02-23T04:17:35.308-08:00naturally curly short hair tutorial<iframe height="295" src="http://www.youtube.com/embed/T0pcFZUG_fA?fs=1" frameborder="0" width="480" allowfullscreen=""></iframe>anne smithhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/00104828046695719577noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4057039666726947459.post-62983416872228184902011-02-15T09:42:00.000-08:002011-02-15T09:42:17.661-08:00pictures in the paper<span style="font-size: x-large;">OK, so you are reading the paper and you see an article about a funeral.</span><br />
<br />
<span style="font-size: x-large;">You look close and you see a picture of an old friend of yours.</span><br />
<br />
<span style="font-size: x-large;">He is not the one in the casket thank God, so you give him a jingle.</span><br />
<br />
<span style="font-size: x-large;">You call him and catch up on crap.</span><br />
<br />
<span style="font-size: x-large;">Great to talk to old friends.</span><br />
<br />
<span style="font-size: x-large;">Life is Good,</span><br />
<br />
<span style="font-size: x-large;">Talk later,</span><br />
<br />
<span style="font-size: x-large;">Annie</span>anne smithhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/00104828046695719577noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4057039666726947459.post-71212368379038336742011-02-14T04:02:00.000-08:002011-02-14T04:06:53.214-08:00What a rotten day (sort of)<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgyFBatgFgmrDsuOfwVTs8luOW8S9y1jewBNYhFP-7zv-7DpG6tiGVXZ-eI8ptuUIWXDA61UhbfvgVRGE4Zq4k0yHuo28FuPKZZmB9WPa9dyMc0xOLLl-66Zd-U5DdMRF07q0Sml6fi5rRp/s1600/orange_tulips_large.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" h5="true" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgyFBatgFgmrDsuOfwVTs8luOW8S9y1jewBNYhFP-7zv-7DpG6tiGVXZ-eI8ptuUIWXDA61UhbfvgVRGE4Zq4k0yHuo28FuPKZZmB9WPa9dyMc0xOLLl-66Zd-U5DdMRF07q0Sml6fi5rRp/s320/orange_tulips_large.jpg" width="243" /></a></div><span style="font-size: x-large;">OK, so you are all ready to go to church. You have made pens with flowers on them for Valentines day for the ladies at church, you have your bibles in your bookbag, kids dressed and makeup on.</span><br />
<br />
<span style="font-size: x-large;">For once you are ready and on time.</span><br />
<br />
<span style="font-size: x-large;">All of the sudden this person pulls in the driveway that you think is your friend and starts saying the weirdest things to you. </span><br />
<br />
<span style="font-size: x-large;">You try not to let the kids see you are getting upset.</span><br />
<br />
<span style="font-size: x-large;">You are getting blamed for doing things you have not done and getting accused of some really weird crap.</span><br />
<br />
<span style="font-size: x-large;">You pull away, choking the tears back.</span><br />
<br />
<span style="font-size: x-large;">You get to church and sit in the very back. You try not to let the whole congregation see that you are crying.</span><br />
<br />
<span style="font-size: x-large;">You make it through church, you even stay for cake and coffee.</span><br />
<br />
<span style="font-size: x-large;">In the middle of mass there is a fire call and one of the guys sitting in the next row over runs out of church to go on it.</span><br />
<br />
<span style="font-size: x-large;">You think nothing of it.</span><br />
<br />
<span style="font-size: x-large;">You get home and find out that the neighbor has died in his driveway.</span><br />
<br />
<span style="font-size: x-large;">You are now trying to choke back a double set of tears.</span><br />
<br />
<span style="font-size: x-large;">You walk into the kitchen and there sits a box of chocolates and Tulips with a note "Happy Valentines Day Mama".</span><br />
<br />
<span style="font-size: x-large;">Now you are crying tears of joy.</span><br />
<br />
<span style="font-size: x-large;">You make it through the day, the kids eat all your chocolate and the cat wants to make your new flower his new kitty litter box.</span><br />
<br />
<span style="font-size: x-large;">Your sister in law comes to pick up your niece.</span><br />
<br />
<span style="font-size: x-large;">"Where is Mr Piggie?"</span><br />
<br />
<span style="font-size: x-large;">Crap.</span><br />
<br />
<span style="font-size: x-large;">I was supposed to watch her daughter and make sure that this stuffed piggie didn't disappear.</span><br />
<br />
<span style="font-size: x-large;">Of course it did.</span><br />
<br />
<span style="font-size: x-large;">You take the next 30 minutes looking for the pig. He is finally found in the laundry hamper wrapped in a wet towel.</span><br />
<br />
<span style="font-size: x-large;">Everyone leaves.</span><br />
<br />
<span style="font-size: x-large;">You light up a cigarette and stare into the darkness.</span><br />
<br />
<span style="font-size: x-large;">It will be better tomarrow.</span><br />
<br />
<span style="font-size: x-large;">You take one last look at your tulip plant.</span><br />
<br />
<span style="font-size: x-large;">Thank you Karen, I love you so much you will never know.</span><br />
<br />
<span style="font-size: x-large;">Talk later,</span><br />
<br />
<span style="font-size: x-large;">Annie (AKA, Mama)</span>anne smithhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/00104828046695719577noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4057039666726947459.post-71523979047740587302011-02-13T12:40:00.000-08:002011-02-14T03:52:57.861-08:00Annie on car repair shops<span style="font-size: x-large;">OK, so I found two used tires for my van. No one wants to put used tires on a van because they all want to sell you new ones.</span><br />
<br />
<span style="font-size: x-large;">I don't need new ones, just different ones.</span><br />
<br />
<span style="font-size: x-large;">I call this shop down the road and the guy says "Oh, no problem, be here at 8:30 and we will throw them on".</span><br />
<br />
<span style="font-size: x-large;">The next day I run down there.</span><br />
<br />
<span style="font-size: x-large;">Now I know why I got right in.</span><br />
<br />
<span style="font-size: x-large;">The guy has no business because he is so weird.</span><br />
<br />
<span style="font-size: x-large;">You walk in and no one acknowledges the fact that you are there.</span><br />
<br />
<span style="font-size: x-large;">You ring this greasy bell and no one comes out of the black abyss they call a "shop".</span><br />
<br />
<span style="font-size: x-large;">You sit for 30 minutes and finally holler in the "shop" "Does anyone know we are here?"</span><br />
<br />
<span style="font-size: x-large;">No answer.</span><br />
<br />
<span style="font-size: x-large;">You go back to the waiting room where there is absolutely NO heat.</span><br />
<br />
<span style="font-size: x-large;">You look for a TV.</span><br />
<br />
<span style="font-size: x-large;">None.</span><br />
<br />
<span style="font-size: x-large;">You look for a magazine to read.</span><br />
<br />
<span style="font-size: x-large;">You find Guideposts and Time.</span><br />
<br />
<span style="font-size: x-large;">You read all the Guideposts and try to stomach the Time.</span><br />
<br />
<span style="font-size: x-large;">You holler out once more "Does anyone know we are here?"</span><br />
<br />
<span style="font-size: x-large;">This guy wanders out.</span><br />
<br />
<span style="font-size: x-large;">"It will only take a minute to do your tires."</span><br />
<br />
<span style="font-size: x-large;">It is now 9:30 and your daughter is crawling out of her skin.</span><br />
<br />
<span style="font-size: x-large;">She wants to go pee.</span><br />
<br />
<span style="font-size: x-large;">You look at the bathroom.</span><br />
<br />
<span style="font-size: x-large;">It looks like a place my Mom would NEVER let you pee in.</span><br />
<br />
<span style="font-size: x-large;">He drives your car into the shop.</span><br />
<br />
<span style="font-size: x-large;">You read more Guideposts.</span><br />
<br />
<span style="font-size: x-large;">You put a whole roll of toilet paper on the toilet seat so your kid can pee.</span><br />
<br />
<span style="font-size: x-large;">You try not to looked pissed off, but it's getting harder and harder.</span><br />
<br />
<span style="font-size: x-large;">There are no other customers in the shop but you.</span><br />
<br />
<span style="font-size: x-large;">You read more Guideposts and steal a couple to show your sister that you actually read 30 issues of Guideposts.</span><br />
<br />
<span style="font-size: x-large;">Finally at 11:30 the van rolls out of the shop.</span><br />
<br />
<span style="font-size: x-large;">You pay the man.</span><br />
<br />
<span style="font-size: x-large;">A while later you are driving through town you see this thing that looks like your hubcap rolling down Main Street.</span><br />
<br />
<span style="font-size: x-large;">You see this guy walking down the road laughing at you.</span><br />
<br />
<span style="font-size: x-large;">The hubcap rolls about a million miles down the road and you are trying to drive slowly and follow it so you can pull over and grab it before the next Walmart semi comes through town and squashes it.</span><br />
<br />
<span style="font-size: x-large;">You grab the greasy thing and toss it in the back of the van.</span><br />
<br />
<span style="font-size: x-large;">I actually paid someone to put that thing back on my car, I actually had my kid pee on the toilet from hell and I can't move my fingers from reading Guideposts in an office with no heat for 2 and a half hours.</span><br />
<br />
<span style="font-size: x-large;">"It's OK", you say to yourself.</span><br />
<br />
<span style="font-size: x-large;">"I am beginning to doubt that", yourself replies back.</span><br />
<br />
<span style="font-size: x-large;">Talk later,</span><br />
<br />
<span style="font-size: x-large;">Annie</span>anne smithhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/00104828046695719577noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4057039666726947459.post-40458297637590980712011-02-11T08:32:00.000-08:002011-02-11T08:43:01.479-08:00Annie on quitting smoking<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgaBI3QiV5bDKg9dhA40RorIWxBq8sW-p9k4chQbL3wGlxTIExF7ksiG8rsWupFmb3sBpcCLe7-qFigddiVfSJtukrmEpyHQVIOGph4472ZIT3xRvoUuirhGM-rR_go0ibe4s-A91-lTgpi/s1600/fat_chicks-12198.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" h5="true" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgaBI3QiV5bDKg9dhA40RorIWxBq8sW-p9k4chQbL3wGlxTIExF7ksiG8rsWupFmb3sBpcCLe7-qFigddiVfSJtukrmEpyHQVIOGph4472ZIT3xRvoUuirhGM-rR_go0ibe4s-A91-lTgpi/s320/fat_chicks-12198.jpg" width="320" /></a></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjej2J-Aj1sTangmnFFIqdGV7D_cHHA-_LHK_KSeLwVWHgWfNr08n6fSRk8qiiUEtUmCAuB0VFE7XAOK70bfJvp97Z0zmvTGV2RsvrOoUCjkO9_ycgUFP_KYe6DGOfjURuB-375UQn9Ffc_/s1600/11_49_7---No-Smoking_web.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" h5="true" height="213" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjej2J-Aj1sTangmnFFIqdGV7D_cHHA-_LHK_KSeLwVWHgWfNr08n6fSRk8qiiUEtUmCAuB0VFE7XAOK70bfJvp97Z0zmvTGV2RsvrOoUCjkO9_ycgUFP_KYe6DGOfjURuB-375UQn9Ffc_/s320/11_49_7---No-Smoking_web.jpg" width="320" /></a></div><span style="font-size: x-large;">OK, so to prove a point, I quit smoking for 4 weeks. I don't get the whole "addiction" thing, so in order to prove my point I quit cold turkey.</span><br />
<br />
<span style="font-size: x-large;">I have also proved that in a mere 4 weeks it IS possible to gain 10 pounds.</span><br />
<br />
<span style="font-size: x-large;">Talk later,</span><br />
<br />
<span style="font-size: x-large;">Annie</span>anne smithhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/00104828046695719577noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4057039666726947459.post-3289842508864913892011-02-11T04:26:00.000-08:002011-02-11T04:26:30.482-08:00Just think positive<span style="font-size: x-large;">OK, so I get a flat tire in the driveway, I am so excited because it was in the driveway and not on the road.</span><br />
<br />
<span style="font-size: x-large;">I go to the Dentist and he tells me I only have to have a few teeth pulled and he can make a partial instead of the whole Dentures.</span><br />
<br />
<span style="font-size: x-large;">Some folks would think I am nuts, but this has been a great week.</span><br />
<br />
<span style="font-size: x-large;">I am gettin' new teeth and a new tire all in the same week.</span><br />
<br />
<span style="font-size: x-large;">Life is good.</span><br />
<br />
<span style="font-size: x-large;">Talk later,</span><br />
<br />
<span style="font-size: x-large;">Annie</span>anne smithhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/00104828046695719577noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4057039666726947459.post-38929428447148052372011-02-06T03:19:00.000-08:002011-02-06T03:19:54.528-08:00Willie and my Dad<span style="font-size: x-large;">OK, so my Dad was talking about Willie Nelson getting busted for having pot on his tour bus and my Dad thought they should just leave him alone.</span><br />
<br />
<span style="font-size: x-large;">"He's not hurting anyone".</span><br />
<br />
<span style="font-size: x-large;">So I asked "If I got busted for pot, would that be OK?"</span><br />
<br />
<span style="font-size: x-large;">"Is your name Willie Nelson?" was the answer I got.</span><br />
<br />
<span style="font-size: x-large;">I walked away in silence.</span><br />
<br />
<span style="font-size: x-large;">Talk later,</span><br />
<br />
<span style="font-size: x-large;">Annie</span>anne smithhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/00104828046695719577noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4057039666726947459.post-85764734685217926082011-02-04T04:07:00.000-08:002011-02-04T06:16:51.873-08:00Cat Litter and Red Lipstick<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"></div><br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiseGChOmxjgQkXoSv6_MZzgu6FfYVjkqZYcn1Od9OtNQRjHwQZllJaps60jrteXNY30_-pEOQ4xqM7PuzsCyRX2L2pUlEmIouTpL8I_9K3xi9ahHL5dfPi8ZhRRck1XOxCxqDUvP78GNNn/s1600/k0777486.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" h5="true" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiseGChOmxjgQkXoSv6_MZzgu6FfYVjkqZYcn1Od9OtNQRjHwQZllJaps60jrteXNY30_-pEOQ4xqM7PuzsCyRX2L2pUlEmIouTpL8I_9K3xi9ahHL5dfPi8ZhRRck1XOxCxqDUvP78GNNn/s1600/k0777486.jpg" /></a></div><span style="font-size: x-large;">OK, so your daughter gets stuck in the driveway because the man in your life doesn't feel as though plowing the driveway is very important. </span><br />
<br />
<span style="font-size: x-large;">We don't live n Florida.</span><br />
<br />
<span style="font-size: x-large;">New York is not Florida.</span><br />
<br />
<span style="font-size: x-large;">"I am stuck in your damn driveway!", was the last thing I heard after the slamming of the door.</span><br />
<br />
<span style="font-size: x-large;">"Get the cat litter and a small rug", I replied, trying not to get too excited.</span><br />
<br />
<span style="font-size: x-large;">"We don't have time to change the cat litter box mom, I have to get out of the driveway".</span><br />
<br />
<span style="font-size: x-large;">I went to the barn, got a snowshovel, Karen grabbed the cat litter and a rug".</span><br />
<br />
<span style="font-size: x-large;">After about a half an hour of hollering, and putting cat litter and the throw rug under the tires we got her out.</span><br />
<br />
<span style="font-size: x-large;">You can either put the throw rug under the tires for traction, or use it to wrap up the person who was supposed to plow the driveway, either way, it's your call.</span><br />
<br />
<span style="font-size: x-large;">My Aunt taught me the cat litter trick when I was a kid, in those days the cars were not front wheel drive and she always had a huge bag of it with her. She always carried red lipstick and cat litter.</span><br />
<br />
<span style="font-size: x-large;">I guess the lipstick was plan B if you couldn't get yourself out, you went to the nearest house to ask for help and you made sure you had your lipstick on.</span><br />
<br />
<span style="font-size: x-large;">I guess it was my turn to show Karen the kitty litter gig.</span><br />
<br />
<span style="font-size: x-large;">I think I will sit down today and write my Aunt a little thank you note.</span><br />
<br />
<span style="font-size: x-large;">Talk later,</span><br />
<br />
<span style="font-size: x-large;">Annie</span>anne smithhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/00104828046695719577noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4057039666726947459.post-17604680503731330562011-02-03T04:11:00.000-08:002011-02-03T04:13:47.501-08:00What the hell is a "muffin top" anyway?<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiv6HIJP8-T7zaa3zLyzThLvkZk5ES4RRQu3Hda63jCJkYYRsruEon3JaKGjHA9FRKvkFf6lNvSfou2GBJBu5IpeKpTWcEE4Re84fJtbgxqwUoih2HY73t5luU3XRorT781UnCBKWKapyET/s1600/th_cupcake_stack_lg.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" s5="true" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiv6HIJP8-T7zaa3zLyzThLvkZk5ES4RRQu3Hda63jCJkYYRsruEon3JaKGjHA9FRKvkFf6lNvSfou2GBJBu5IpeKpTWcEE4Re84fJtbgxqwUoih2HY73t5luU3XRorT781UnCBKWKapyET/s1600/th_cupcake_stack_lg.jpg" /></a></div><span style="font-size: x-large;">OK, I will admit it, I have no idea what the heck is going on with clothes these days. I am still stuck in the 80's, which is OK because I think the clothes are coming back in style.</span><br />
<br />
<span style="font-size: x-large;">The other day, I was discussing "jeans" with Karen and she tried to educate me, the poor kid.</span><br />
<br />
<span style="font-size: x-large;">"Why in the hell do all my sweaters look so short?"</span><br />
<span style="font-size: x-large;">was my first question.</span><br />
<br />
<span style="font-size: x-large;">She lit up a cigarette and looked at me with that "do I hurt my mom's feelings" look.</span><br />
<br />
<span style="font-size: x-large;">"OK Mom, the sweaters you are wearing are from the 80's and they are really short, you are wearing them with jeans I gave you which are from the 2 thousands. The jeans you wore used to go up to your boobs and so the sweaters were short. Now the jeans are low like they should be and so the sweaters are longer."</span><br />
<br />
<span style="font-size: x-large;">I sat there in silence.</span><br />
<br />
<span style="font-size: x-large;">"Oh", was my answer.</span><br />
<br />
<span style="font-size: x-large;">"And now Mom, everything is stretchy so your muffin top doesn't have to hang over your pants".</span><br />
<br />
<span style="font-size: x-large;">"Oh", was my answer.</span><br />
<br />
<span style="font-size: x-large;">"Just what in the hell is a muffin top?", I asked trying not to look like I was from another planet.</span><br />
<br />
<span style="font-size: x-large;">"For God's sake Mom, it's the fat that hangs over your pants when you wear them too tight".</span><br />
<br />
<span style="font-size: x-large;">"Like a cupcake?", was my reply.</span><br />
<br />
<span style="font-size: x-large;">"Whatever you want to use for the visual, Mom."</span><br />
<br />
<span style="font-size: x-large;">I spent the rest of the morning looking for a measuring tape so I can measure the length of my sweaters and width of my "muffin/cupcake top".</span><br />
<br />
<span style="font-size: x-large;">Talk later,</span><br />
<br />
<span style="font-size: x-large;">Annie</span>anne smithhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/00104828046695719577noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4057039666726947459.post-91678373252651931572011-01-09T12:47:00.000-08:002011-01-09T16:26:08.087-08:00Another helpless vacuum cleaner falls victim to pine needles<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjUrFYY56kXVXNRaS0pCRkJuEUheJ-JNqm6ml3kaTTtjNltti8i0Q1DdVKaq1Whb8ioQozg0raqiJEH16ZJeaj1cp4Sl6hEejq_tz0Z6cguUYElXsTeEtddtIJTLetCYGnZ5AEnlTWN6gQp/s1600/funny-pic-christmas-drinks.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="320" n4="true" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjUrFYY56kXVXNRaS0pCRkJuEUheJ-JNqm6ml3kaTTtjNltti8i0Q1DdVKaq1Whb8ioQozg0raqiJEH16ZJeaj1cp4Sl6hEejq_tz0Z6cguUYElXsTeEtddtIJTLetCYGnZ5AEnlTWN6gQp/s320/funny-pic-christmas-drinks.jpg" width="264" /></a></div><span style="font-size: x-large;">My daughter calls me up the other day and tells me that she took down her Christmas tree.</span><br />
<br />
<span style="font-size: x-large;">It was a live tree. You know one of those wonderful precut live trees that we all think we need to have.</span><br />
<br />
<span style="font-size: x-large;">Baby Jesus didn't have one, I don't know why we have to have one.</span><br />
<br />
<span style="font-size: x-large;">Come to find out, she blew the motor on her new vacuum cleaner vacuuming up the pine needles off her carpet.</span><br />
<br />
<span style="font-size: x-large;">Had to buy a new vacuum.</span><br />
<br />
<span style="font-size: x-large;">The next day my sister in law calls screaming about the same thing.</span><br />
<br />
<span style="font-size: x-large;">I finally got the nerve to take mine down and it took an hour out of my busy schedule to get the needles out of the rug and then out of my socks.</span><br />
<br />
<span style="font-size: x-large;">The whole thing gave me a major flashback.</span><br />
<br />
<span style="font-size: x-large;">The year was 1970, I was 5 years old. I think this is my first memory of Christmas. I have no idea what in the hell I got for gifts, but I remember my Dad dragging the tree out the door. I remember the sound of the vacuum cleaner and then alot of hollering. I remember my Dad making a "pine needle vacuum getter outter" from a wire coat hanger. I remember my mom cramming it in the hose of the vacuum about a hundred times until all the needles were off the floor.</span><br />
<br />
<span style="font-size: x-large;">I also remember my Dad waking up from his nap and stepping on the one last remaining pine needle and running it in his big toe.</span><br />
<br />
<span style="font-size: x-large;">When I moved out on my own, I got a real tree, a vacuum cleaner and bought some wire coat hangers.</span><br />
<br />
<span style="font-size: x-large;">Maybe these were the real gifts that the wise men offered baby Jesus?</span><br />
<br />
<span style="font-size: x-large;">Talk later,</span><br />
<br />
<span style="font-size: x-large;">Annie</span>anne smithhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/00104828046695719577noreply@blogger.com0