Browner! Greener!

Speaking of bodily functions . . . You all know that I love eggs.

For my dinner Wednesday night, I scrambled a couple with some cheese and folded them into a nice egg burrito.

Thursday morning, I awoke at seven sharp with a horrible pain in my stomach. I then spent three hours with my head in the toilet.

I'm pretty sure the eggs were the culprit. Everything else I had eaten Wednesday had already been taste tested.

During my toilet time, Martha Stewart was on the television in my bedroom. The volume was loud enough for me to hear her talking to her guest while they cooked.

They were discussing how awesome eggs are, promoting his book and cooking eggs.

I'm pretty sure I won't be eating eggs for awhile.

ps--That is a picture of a Pumpkin Dump Cake. Get it? Dump??

Poopship Destroyer

Since this has inadvertently turned into poop week, I figured I'd share another story.

This time, the names and places have been changed. The only identifying clue I will give you is that I was not the pooper!

Once upon a time, in a land called Cacaville, some little children were in the bathtub. It wasn't a giant bathtub, so the four kiddos were crammed in tight.

They splashed around, yelled at each other to "Move over!" and tried to figure out where to put their feet.

The oldest, positioned at the front of the group, looked down into the water and saw something floating. They didn't have toys, so what was it?

"There's POOP in the TUB!!!"

What happened next was a jumble of flying water and screaming as the children frantically scrambled to get out of the tub without touching the poo.

The mothers came flying into the room and one yelled "Penelope!!!"

The poor little pooper had given herself away by remaining in the tub, silent and pouting.

And now that I've finished my story, I have to say I'm a little disturbed about the whole cramming a bunch of kids in the tub bit.

Those mommas must have been lazy!

Because He's Ten out of Ten

A couple of months ago, I was at Jacque's house sitting in the living room with her and Evan. She left the room for a minute and a few minutes later, I was overcome with a horrid stench.

"Damn, baby!" I cried as I buried my face into my shirt.

Jacque came back in and looked at me, puzzled.

"I think that kid just dumped a giant turd!"

She laughed and checked his pants, the way every mother does. "I don't see anything."

Yet I could swear I could still smell something.

The phone rang, so Jacque answered it and I got down on the floor to play with Evan. He was crawling all around me as Jacque chatted away.

I picked Evan up and squeezed him tight to me.

Then Jacque squealed "Oh he did poop!"

I sat, not knowing what to do while she continued.

"It's coming out of his pants OH IT'S ON YOUR ARM!!!"

I promptly freaked out and handed Evan over. Then I scrubbed my arm raw.

Tuesday, Jacque and I decided to try Pizza Hut's new Sicilian Lasagna Pizza.

Apparently, everyone else in town had decided to try it, as well. The first Pizza Hut we called had over an hour delivery time and had run out of ingredients for the Lasagna Pizza.

Jacque called another store to order it and decided she would pick it up. Evan and I sat on the porch and waved goodbye.

We went back inside to play with toys while we waited for dinner. We sat on the floor and threw some balls around when I detected something rotten.

"Did you poop?" I asked Evan. His response was just to grin at me.

I took a peek in the diaper and saw a bit of brown. Of course.

He didn't seem too grumpy. Maybe we could just wait until Jacque got home!

But I felt so guilty. And I knew that even though Evan wasn't grumpy, Jacque would be if she came home to a crappy diaper.

So I gritted my teeth and picked up Evan. He even laughed like he knew the torture coming up for me.

I got him on his changing table and slowly got his pants off, hoping Jacque would walk in just in time.

With a deep sigh, I peeled open one side of the diaper. Then the other. Then . . .

Oh my God!!! The horror! "How did that all come out of you???"

Evan was no help, either. He wiggled around and kept trying to reach down into the poo. Somehow, he wiggled some poop right onto the changing table. I think I got some on the wall, too. Somehow.

After what seemed like hours, I finally got the kid cleaned, powerdered and freshly diapered. Then I heard a door slam.

How did I know Jacque would show up right when I was done with the diaper?

I settled the pantsless-Evan on my hip and stood in the doorway, waiting for Jacque.

She looked at my frowny face and was confused. "What?"

Then she saw that Evan's jeans were missing. She laughed and laughed.

"Good job, Evan!"

Like I Was the Predator

This morning, Nadia and I both wanted breakfast. We couldn't get anyone to go for us, so we just suffered.

When Laura went to lunch, she asked me if I wanted anything from McDonald's. Since it was after breakfast time, I didn't think I wanted anything else.

But after she left, I kept thinking about Chicken McNuggets.

I probably haven't had one in at least five years. But for some reason, I couldn't stop thinking about how much I used to love those things dipped in honey.

So when it was time for my lunch, I pulled into McDonald's drive-thru.

I remember reading quite some time ago that McDonalds was getting rid of "Super Size" meals after the success of Morgan Spurlock's movie Super Size Me.

After I ordered my McNuggets, the energetic voice coming from the sign asked "Do you want to large size that meal?"

Ah, semantics!

I Was the Editor and the Author

I previously wrote of Casey's lies on MySpace.

Raw finally added some pizazz to her profile and it seems lies run in the family!

Poop My Pants And Then I Poop Them Bad

I may have touched a bit on why I hate Wal-Mart in the past. I'm sure everyone gets tired of hearing how superior Target is.

But it's so true!

Most of you have already heard all my reasons, so I'll skip them.

This weekend, I had to go to Wal-Mart. They have something I need that Target doesn't have. But that doesn't mean I love Target any less, mind you!

So, on Saturday, after work, I braced myself and headed to the dreaded place.

The parking lot was bad enough. Little kids came running from in between parked cars. Other cars sat waiting, blocking everyone's way, while they waited for parking places.

I parked and carefully made my way to the entrance. The doors opened and I halted. There were about ten carts full of crap just sitting there. The "pushers" were waiting for their rides to show up, blocking the entrance while they were at it.

I quickly found what I wanted and got out quickly.

Walking back to my car, I noticed a woman on the other side of the aisle walking toward the store. I also noticed people walking around her. WAAAAAY around her.

The woman didn't seem threatening. She was a short, older woman, carrying some bags and looking like she couldn't find her car. She was dressed in something that looked like a scrub shirt and some white pants.

I thought maybe she had been painting because her white pants were splashed with brown. It seemed as though maybe she had stepped hard into a puddle of brown paint and it had mightily splahed up, clear to her buns and even a little onto the other pant leg.

Then we passed each other.

Now remember, we were on opposite sides of the parking lot aisle. And from that far away, I smelled a scent.

A scent of poo.

And that, my friends, is why I hate Wal-Mart!

How Can You Refuse It, Children of Moses?

Several years ago, Michael made the decision to run for president in the year 2016.

And of course, I had to horn in on the fun. I was going to be the secret advisor whom everyone fears! A cuter Karl Rove, if you will.

2016 seemed so very far away back then. Now, it's practically just over the horizon and we really need to get down to business!

We even worked up a cute little website. Granted, it's a little overboard with the stars . . .

It's strange to see "Terrorism" wasn't even on our minds back then.

ps---And to answer your question, Michael . . . Yes, I think I'm up to the challenge.

With Arms Outstretched

Last month, I got this text message from an unknown phone number:

"I got a job and a cell phone!"

I had absolutely no idea who the text message was from. I asked everyone from work if maybe they recognized the number. A California number?

So I finally just messaged back "Yay. Congratulations."

I went about my business and then it hit me . . . That must be Michael!!!

Michael is the second to last person I know to buy a mobile phone. I was excited because this meant I'd be able to talk to him for free, since we have the same carrier. Plus, I'd be able to reach him all the time! Right?

Tonight, I found out it's not so easy when he doesn't turn on his ringer!

Take a Look Around, Look What I've Found

Reason #23: Ann Coulter

Ten Thousand Reasons Civilization is Doomed

My Lord You're Mean

When I went to Harrah's Prairie Band Casino last month, they were running a promotion.

I think it was called "You're new and we know you're going to be a complete loser!"

The deal was, if you played the slots for two hours and lost money, the casino would refund half your losses up to a certain amount.

I got my loser vouchers the other day.

I'm heading up to Lawrence for my birthday, so I'll be making a little detour to the casino.

Any bets on how fast I'll lose the whole of my vouchers?

Take a Look Around, Look What I've Found

This bird is better than a parrot!

You've got to stick with the video for awhile. It gets really crazy.

The Lyrebird's Song

I'm Goin' to a Wedding

Last weekend, I went to Kacy and Rigo's wedding.

Kacy had told me she was planning an all-out Mexican wedding. She had her dress, jewelry and hairpiece brought up from Mexico. She said there would be all Mexican music at the wedding. But I didn't expect some of the other differences.

For instance, at many of the weddings I've gone to in the past, people show up an hour and a half early. So when I showed up with thirty minutes to spare, I was afraid I might not get a decent seat.

Instead, I walked into a nearly empty church. So Nadia, Raymond, Allie and I got great seats.

The ceremony was all in Spanish. Which wasn't a big deal, because sometimes, I don't know what's going on in Catholic ceremonies, anyway.

At one point, though, Allie and I both heard the priest talking about quesadillas.

Maybe the priest saw our blank faces. For a brief time, he spoke in English.

Nadia leaned over and said "I don't know why he's speaking in English. You two are the only people in here who don't understand!"

We were early to the reception, too. We sat at a table by the soundboard and watched the band do their soundcheck.

I'm not sure if the band was aware that they were playing at a wedding reception and not a stadium concert. The music was ear-achingly loud.

Allie leaned over and shouted at the guys at the soundboard. "Don't you think that's a little loud???"

They looked at each other. One of the guys looked back at us and grinned.

"YEAH!" He shouted back, gleefully.

During the party, Kacy came running up to me. "Can you and Nighat and Allie and Nadia serve the cake after the champagne toast?"

Now, I had never served cake at a wedding before. I had no idea how to cut the cake in those perfect uniform pieces. But I'd had a few drinks and said "Sure!"

We stood behind the table, watching Kacy and Rigo feed each other cake when Raymond's aunt asked me if we had water.

"Water?"

"You have to have water and a towel to clean off the knife so it doesn't get so gunky."

Luckily, the guy who runs the building knew how it worked and brought out a pitcher of water, a towel and rubber gloves.

I was putting on the gloves and turned to see Nadia had already started trying to cut the cake.

Remember when I said I had been drinking? Well, Nadia had been drinking more.

She was pretty much just crumbling the cake, so I pushed her aside. She stepped back to cheer me on while Allie handed me plates.

This was really the most stressful job I had ever had. It was pretty much cut-and-plate, cut-and-plate, cut-and-plate, with an occasional move-to-new-cake.

Finally, the building dude stepped in and offered to do the cutting. I gladly handed over the job and wiped my brow.

This gave me the chance to see the mob of people crowded around the cake talbe. Some were already holding plates. Others were reaching their hands in to try to grab some cake from Allie.

I looked over and saw Nadia trying to dig into a cake with a fork.

"Nadia! What are you doing?"

"This lady needs a piece of cake right now!!!"

I told you it was stressful!

I found the cake server and started in on another cake. I cut while Nadia gave me plates. We made a great team and we went really fast, but it wasn't fast enough for the hordes!

When we ran out of plates, they shouted "We don't care!" and held up napkins.

On and on we served. Faster and faster. Flinging cake right and left. Frosting was falling onto the floor. Onto our clothes.

We served until the cake was gone. And when it was gone, the hordes just looked at us like "Give us the crumbs!"

I shrugged back as if to say. "It's seriously gone. If you really want crumbs, well, have at it."

The moral of this story is:

If any of you decide to get married and need someone to serve cake, don't you dare even think of asking me!

You're Beautiful Surprise

A couple weeks ago, I was hanging out with Nighat. We went to Thai Bin and bought a ridiculous amount of Asian foods.

We headed back to her new apartment where she made me her awesome tea and we feasted on the best edamame and lychee.

I got a phone call from Raw. "Hey, Sophia and I are in Wichita and waiting for Casey to get here. Want to hang out?"

Without first asking Nighat, I immediately invited Raw over to her apartment. Luckily Nighat didn't mind.

She's getting so big! Sophia, that is. She's still pretty bald, but no longer Mr. Magoo style.

Apparently, she's also a fitness buff. In true Pilates form, Sophia lies on her back with her arms to the side, then raises her head and holds it. It's so funny to see the muscles work in her belly.

Kid's gonna have a six pack before she's a year old!

So Baby Close Your Eyes to the Lullabies

Well, the news is full of fun stories in Wichita, today.

The only radio station in town that plays local music; the only one that plays anything close to "alternative" has been taken over.

The only station not playing the same songs every hour; my favorite station is soon to be gone.

Actually, it doesn't surprise me. I'm surprised it lasted this long.

In other news, this makes the WPD look silly.

Take a Look Around, Look What I've Found

I'm so glad I'm not the only one who thinks U2 is so overrated.

"Fatally though, they became a band that believed their own (fawning) press and whose egotism has devoured their talent."

And Now I'm Breathing Deeply

When I was little, I was afraid of roller coasters.

This left me riding lame-o rides when we went to Worlds of Fun like the Bounce-a-Roos and the Octopus.

One of the summers around my fifth grade year, my family took a trip to Worlds of Fun and I decided I was ready for a roller coaster. My mom and I climbed aboard the Zambezi Zinger.

We started off and waved at my brother and dad, who would be boarding a few trains behind us.

I screamed my head off during the whole ride. It drove my mom nuts, but I thought that's what you were supposed to do.

I loved every drop, curve and tunnel of that ride. I even loved the anticipation as we slowly corkscrewed up to the first drop.

We got off and went to the observation area where you can see the trains emerging from the tunnel. We heard tales of some kid crying and I thought "How could anyone not like this?"

We heard a train zooming through the tunnel and out popped a train full of smiling people and one wailing boy: my brother.

I didn't go back to WoF until a few years later, with a bunch of friends in junior high.

Somehow, my friend Nathan talked me into going on The Orient Express, the most intimidating coaster in the park.

Big and red, you walked right by it as you entered the park. You heard the rails shaking and grumbling while the riders screamed.

"I can't believe I'm doing this!" I whined as we buckled into our seats.

Nathan was really sweet about my weenie ways. "Don't worry. You'll like it!"

I squirmed and envisioned my impending death while the sweaty dude behind the control panel mumbled something about staying buckled. Then the coaster started moving. And for some reason, I was suddenly fine.

Not scared anymore, I waved to the people below as we climbed higher and higher.

"What are you doing? Hang on!" Nathan cried. He seemed more nervous than I was at this point.

"This is awesome!"

At the top of the peak, we started going down, and I was disappointed. The first crest was just some tiny hill to psyche us out. We rounded a curve and down we weeeeent!!!

That first plunge on the Orient is still the scariest I've ever been on--not to say I've been on tons of coasters or anything. It just seems to go down into the ground. It was crazy.

Then there's the loops! There's something that just doesn't feel right about being that far above the ground and seeing the trees upside-down.

Even with the addition of new rides to Worlds of Fun, the Orient has always been my favorite.

Today, I was talking to a customer about his upcoming weekend trip to Kansas City.

"We're going to Worlds of Fun, too."

"I LOVE Worlds of Fun! I want to ride The Patriot!"

"Yeah it looks pretty cool. It just sucks that they had to tear down the Orient Express for it."

What??? I had no idea! I couldn't believe what he was telling me!

Apparently, it's been gone for three seasons and no one told me.

It's sad because every time I rode the Orient, I thought of all the people I had ridden it with. All the pictures I bought so we could see our faces as we sailed down the first drop.

And mostly, it's sad because I'll never get my pansy brother on the best coaster.

Later, one of my favorite customers arrived. "How are you?" he asked.

"Devastated."

Poor guy thought my house had blown up or something.

Brothers, Better Have Yo' Stuff Together

I'm making my brother take me to see Tool in Kansas City for my birthday. It turns out a ton of people I know are also going.

Raw and Casey had been considering getting tickets and had decided they definitely would if I was going.

Casey and I were talking about it on the phone one day and he asked if I was sure I would be at the concert.

"I don't know, yet."

"Well find out!"

"I'll call my brother."

"Yeah! Call him, now! Let's three-way your brother!"

Ah, the three-way calling feature. It's so handy in situations like these. I don't use it often, but when I do, I think back to the good old days . . .

When I lived in McCollum Hall, each dorm had a phone line loaded with call waiting and three-way calling. This was back in the day when nobody had mobile phones and didn't want to pay for extras, so not a lot of people had these features.

So, like I always do with any new toy, I tended to overuse the three-way calling.

One afternoon, I was talking to both Jackson and Raw to do some weekend planning.

"I wonder if you guys can each three-way someone, too . . ."

Raw offered to try first and called up our friend, John. It worked and we all talked over each other, trying to explain what we had done.

Jackson then brought his friend Nick into the conversation. Then John brought in our other friend Nick.

It went on and on like this for quite awhile. Somehow, we managed to not all talk over each other and ended up with a TON of people all conferenced together.

I know it sounds complicated and silly and a big waste of time. But it was beautiful!

Be prepared all you parents who are sending your kids to the dorms; these are the kinds of projects your money will be funding.

Turn and Face the Change

Now I'm thinking "Maybe I like the posts like this."

And I have no idea why the first two paragraphs on this post are one big link.

Give me time. Hopefully I fix this. But not tonight. Tonight, I am sleepy.

Baby You're a Quick Change Artist

AUNT BEE ANGRY!

I'm trying to get you the one post per day I promised and then I hear all about Beta Blogger.

It's supposed to do a lot of the things I've always wanted to do with my blog, but have been too lazy to figure out. Like labels.

So I decided to go ahead and change Heart, Aunt Bee to the new system.

When I did this, I had trouble posting through Flickr, which is my normal method. Apparently, it's not all figured out, yet.

So here is the stupid post I wrote two hours ago! I really hope it's worth it!

It's not, I know. It never is. But I do hope that everything will be easier and snazzier, soon.

Thank you for your patience.
Heart, Aunt Bee

I stopped by Chris and Jacque's house today so Jacque could yell at me about how badly I kept the house up.

It had been less than two weeks since I last saw Evan, but he has changed so much!

He's bigger and his face looks different.

When he screams, he sounds like he has more power in his lungs and his babbling is sounding more and more like real conversation.

Yet when I ask him to say "Aunt Bee" he still blows raspberries at me.

I guess some things will never change.

Been a Long Time Gone

Crazy Dogs
Originally uploaded by YourAuntBee.

I have been very busy the last ten days.

Jacque went on vacation and left me a key to her house. And instructions on how and when to water the garden and plants. Oh and don't forget that the dogs won't eat unless you're sitting there watching them.

So I've been busy with a lot of watering. Not to mention breaking out in hives when I harvest the garden.

That's right. Apparently, I'm allergic to the outdoors, now.

The dogs have been no picnic, either! They are so used to having someone around all day, that when I showed up after work, they nearly knocked me over.

One night, Milo was so excited, there was no calming him. And I ended up with this nasty looking thing.

Today, my duties are officially over. And to make up for my absence, I promise one entry per calendar day this week. So hold your horses. I'm sure it will be the most exciting and quality reading you have ever experienced!

Open Another Big Box

The Future Homestead
Originally uploaded by YourAuntBee.

I've never been a giant wine drinker. I'll drink it, but it usually gives me a headache and I haven't found many kinds of wine that I like.

I always enjoy Champagne and the imposters. I've had Cold Duck a few times and have liked it. But I've never found one that I could see myself drinking on a regular basis.

I watched a news story about Charles Shaw and thought "There's the wine for me!"

Apparently, those who drink this wine call it "Two-Buck Chuck." The wine costs a mere two dollars a bottle and everyone they interviewed said it tasted great.

So I set out on my quest to find me some Two-Buck Chuck.

I discussed it with a friend of mine (the biggest wine connisseur in my circle of friends) and she had not heard of it. I looked it up on the internet and was dismayed to discover the wine is only sold at Trader Joe's, none of which are located in Wichita. Or even Kansas.

It appeared I wouldn't be getting any Chuck for a long time.

Last night, I visited my wine connisseur friend. Her parents had just returned from a trip to the west coast.

"They brought back the best Chardonnay!"

"Was it Two-Buck Chuck?" I asked.

She looked at me like I was crazy. "No, no! My uncle had it brought up from California."

Here's where she kicked in with the wine snob aristocratic voice "It was Charles Shaw. I'll have to look it up on the inter-"

"That's Two-Buck Chuck!" I interrupted. "That's what they call Charles Shaw wine! It's only two bucks!"

She just sat there looking at me incredulously. Then she jumped up and logged into her computer.

"No way!" She exclaimed when she discovered I was right.

I don't know why she can't just remember I'm always right.