You Met Your Match

My cousin Chad is the nicest guy ever.

He's the kind of guy that after just meeting, you'd feel like you've known him for years.

He has a great smile and gives the best hugs.

When I was a youngin' my friends would see pictures of Chand and swoon. "He's so cute! Don't you want to kiss him?"

Talking to Jill about this recently, it turns out her friends had the same reaction. She and I had the same answer for our friends: No. We did not want to make out with him. We knew he was a good-lookin' guy and all, but c'mon! He's our cousin!

I remember when my family headed down to Borger, By God Texas to visit, he and I would stay up all night talking. I don't have a clue what we talked about. Probably Achy Breaky Heart. It was the only thing on the radio down there.

One one of these nights, we watched television in his bedroom. We were resting with our heads on opposite ends of the bed.

"While you're down there," he suggested. "How about a foot massage?"

He stuck his foot into my face, which totally grossed me out. But I kept my cool. I shoved my foot near his face.

"That sounds awesome!"

And you know what? If I wasn't a freak about hating it when people touch my feet, Chad totally would have rubbed them. He's just that nice.

I guess what I'm trying to get at is that (unless he has me completely fooled) Chad is a good boy. And he deserves a girl to match.

We weren't sure if KayLyn fit that bill. Chad grew up in a household full of OU fans. A lot of the rest of our family are also Sooner fans. Some of us aren't. But I can guarantee you none of us are Texas fans.

But KayLyn is. I wasn't sure it could last. Especially after she wore a Texas jersey to the Red River Shootout. BJ says Doug just about blew a fuse when he saw that one.

Doug got her back this weekend. He called her up and told us all a story about that wretched jersey. Then he handed her a package. Can you guess what was in it?

That's right. It was a shiny crimson and cream jersey. "Boomer Sooner" started playing and Doug started doing high kicks. KayLyn even danced, which was cool. Until she brought out the hook 'em horns signal.

Aside from that major flaw, KayLyn seems like a good match. I had only met her once before, but she treated me like an old friend. And she didn't even mind when I used my phone to take pictures of her in the bathroom! She's full of smiles and hugs and seems to take our family's mean humor well, and even gives back.

I had a great time celebrating with them this weekend. I wish for them many great times and happiness for the future. Oh! And many trips to Kansas!

T-T-T-Totally Dude

Oh man. What a weekend!

I know you're expecting a full update, but right now I'm really tired.

And to tell you the truth, I remember thinking "I need to write about this!" a lot this weekend. But now, I can't seem to remember what it was I wanted to tell you.

I don't think my memory loss is due to my new friend, Malibu Coconut Rum. I think it's more about defective brain cells.

I promise I'll recap what I can remember (and what I haven't promised not to tell) soon. And in the meantime, here's a few pictures:

I Throw it Back to Quench This Thirst

My uncle BJ is a bit anal at times. Other times, he goes completely opposite.

For example, lets talk about his issues with littering the yard.

One day, I was hanging out at their place. I drank a can of Dr Pepper and set my can down beside me.

"You'd better throw that out!" BJ ordered.

Too lazy to get up right away, I brushed him off. "I'll get it later."

As the afternoon went on (which means, every five minutes), BJ would remind me that my can was still sitting there.

"I'll get it!" I kept telling him as I rolled my eyes.

He's like that. He'll keep badgering you until you give in to his demands. But I'm stubborn. So anything he asks me to do usually doesn't get done until just before I leave.

After I got home that night, I called BJ. "I forgot to throw out my pop can!"

"I know! I'm gonna kill you!"

"I can't believe it! I meant to get it! I just forgot!"

"It was like a movie! i saw it and it's like I zoomed in on it!"

No really. He was that angry. He still brings it up several years later.

But then he takes the other road. Like during my first Fourth of July in Wichita.

I was trying to be a good girl and got up from my lawn chair to throw my bottle in the recycling bin. BJ stopped me. "Throw it in the yard like you're supposed to!"

I did as I was told and continued to throw my bottles and cans into the yard for the rest of the night. At the end of the holiday, the yard had quite a display of used fireworks and litter.

You can see, now, how it's hard to tell where BJ will stand when it comes to litter.

At Mitch's graduation party, our family mostly hung out in the back yard. When we would finish a drink, we'd toss the bottle in the corner of the yard. When BJ came back, he flipped out and started picking them up.

Of course we laughed and as soon as BJ turned to walk away, another bottle flew by him. "Who threw that?"

He left to mingle with people in the front yard and we continued to litter the back yard.

Jeremy must be getting old. Instead of joining in the fun, he would pick up our trash and throw it away. Luckily, he couldn't keep up and eventually surrendered.

As the day went on and Jill drank more beer, the more obsessed she got with throwing bottles. She was a maniac! She would zero in on a person getting ready to finish their drink and hover until she could snatch it away and toss it clear across the yard. If anyone left their bottle around for more than five minutes, she'd claim it. And if neither of those opportunities were presented, she'd chug her beer and toss it.

All through this, BJ would yell "Who threw that? I'm serious . . ."

The way he yelled and crouched down to pick the bottles up brought glee to our evil hearts.

I went to the garage to grab another drink and noticed the bottle and can bin was full. I hatched a brilliant plan and shared it with Jill.

"We should go grab the bin and dump it all over the yard!"

Of course Jill was all into the idea. Joe, not so much. He and Jeremy must think they're mature or something. Joe kept trying to talk us out of it.

Like we would listen!

We hurried over to the garage just in time to see BJ bagging the trash. But we didn't give up. We decided to wait for him to bring around the bag and just pull crap from that.

Jingle. Giggle. CLANK! We weren't very quiet about getting the bottles. We grabbed as many as our little hands could hold and rushed off to scatter them in the yard. But that wasn't enough. We went back for more.

As we clanked and clattered with BJ standing just a few feet away in the garage, we laughed our bums off about how clever we were.

"What's that noise?"

We were caught! Somehow BJ had heard our bottles clanging at eleventy billion decibels.. "Who's back there? What's going on?"

Jill and I ran for our lives, still clutching some bottles. We rounded the corner of the house and I, thinking Jill would take the same rout she had before, got rid of the evidence. I dropped the bottles one by one as I ran.

Turns out Jill hadn't gone her old route. She stayed right behind me and as I dropped each bottle, she had to hurdle them to keep from falling. She thought I was trying to pin everything on her.

"Who did this?" BJ demanded to know. Apparently, he couldn't figure us out as the culprits even though we were laughing and peeing ourselves like we did when we were three.

He was pretty grumpy at us when he put it together. "I'll remember this. I won't forget how you treated your poor Unckie."

"Oh please. You'd think it was hilarious if it wasn't your yard!"

Very quietly, BJ admitted "Yeah. But don't do it again!"

This weekend, my dad's side of the family is getting together for the first time since that fiasco. My cousin Chad got married last weekend and we're celebrating this weekend.

Do you think it will be rude if we throw our finished drinks on the Elks Lodge floor?

Pressure's On

Back when I was a lifeguard, I was a wee bit insane.

Okay, so I still am. But back then, I had a partner in crime.

Pesha was a fellow lifeguard. You may remember reading about her. We were quite adept at entertaining ourselves with silly things.

Like calling people by the wrong name. Pesha liked to call everyone "Susan."

There was a girl who came to the pool almost everyday. We'll call her Patty. She didn't have many friends, but it may be because she was a bully. She whined a lot, too. We weren't especially fond of her.

One day, Pesha decided to play the name game with Patty. "Hey Susan!"

"My name's Patty."

"Nu-uh! It's Susan!"

At this point most kids would realize Pesha was just playing around. But not patty. She got angry and argued with Pesha about what her name was.

And the more insistent she was, the more Pesha denied her name. "You're being silly, Susan!"

Oh man! i know it doesn't seem all that funny, and it was probably kind of mean. But the way Pesha would say "Susan" . . . I'm pretty sure I peed the pool that day!

With all the mean-ish things we did to those kids, you'd think they would have hated us. Au contraire! They loved us!

One kid found a turtle and brought it to us.

We made a cage for him out of one of the pool baskets.

"We'll make it our mascot!" Pesha decided.

"We shall call him Jorge," I decreed.

We wrote his name on duct tape and stuck it on his basket. (I know. You were thinking we put the tape on his shell. We loved Jorge! We wouldn't be mean to him!)

We knew Jorge would't last long in his cage since none of us had any knowledge about taking care of a turtle. As much as it broke our hearts, we had to set Jorge free.

For years, Jorge's cage still sat waiting for him and reminded me of all the great times we shared. But the last few times I've been at the pool, the cage has been gone.

When we took The Boy swimming, some of the lifeguards were talking about a giant spider they had caught. "It's our mascot!"

I tell you, I choked up a little. It's lovely to see a little of the insanity Pesha and I brought to the pool lives on.

Of course I had to take a look. "What's his name?"

I was horrified by both his size and the fact that they hadn't named him! What kind of mascot doesn't have a name?

This is their mascot. We shall call him Spidey.

I'm Embarrassed but I'm Much More Sorry

Sometimes people just make it too easy.

Marcus and T-Biscuit cam to pick up The Boy from my mom and dad's house after two days of the poor thing being in our care.

My mom had a lot of non-baby related stuff to send back with them in the basement. I saw Mom, Marcus and Tasia come upstairs. "You took Tasia to the basement?"

"Yeah!" Marcus laughed. "She liked it!"

Our basement isn't finished so of course it has that dark basementy feel. I'm pretty sure she didn't enjoy it all that much. Although, she did complain she hadn't gotten to see " . . . the kitty's litter box."

"We should lock her down there!" Marcus whispered to me.

You know how mature I am and what a bad idea this was; not very and awesomely bad! "Hey T-Biscuit! We want to show you something else down there! Marcus forgot to show you!"

She followed us to the stairs. "You go first," I told her. "We want you to be totally surprised!"

Tasia headed down and Marcus even acted like he was following her. Then he quickly slammed the door. And we laughed like five year-old girls.

Later that day, my mom and brother were in his old room going through some crap as I walked by the door. My brother asked me to have Tasia come in for a minute.

I called her over and she approached warily. "You go first," I suggested.

She stopped in her tracks. Looks like we've got a quick learner!

I talked to Casey on my way home that night. "Do you want to know what I'm wearing today?"

Yes. These are the things I talk about. It's almost as exciting as what I write about. Isn't it super thrilling when I combine the two?

Casey laughed and then used his dirtiest voice. "What are you wearing?"

I have on camouflage shorts and a flowery tunic top. I look hot."

"Did you say pubic shirt?"

"Yes! Don't you people have those in Lawrence?"

"Um . . . no."

"Oh yeah! Everyone wears them down here! They're basically a piece of fabric that covers your pubic area."

"Like a jock strap?"

"Well, sort of . . . but there's just one strap that goes around your waist. And the fabric is looser and much more comfortable. It's more like a loincloth without the backside coverage."

Casey was silent for a moment. "Are you serious?"

Maybe people aren't gullible. Maybe I'm just some kind of master fooler! I knew I had to be good at something!

Now His Part is Over

There's a few summer season shows I've been hoping to catch:

FX's Damages, TNT's Saving Grace and AMC's Mad Men.

The first two start this week and I think Mad Men must have started on Thursday. I happened to catch it tonight while I was keeping the dogs company.

The show is set in an ad agency during the year 1960. And I have to say, it's probably a good thing I wasn't in the work force back then.

Because if men actually took time out of their day to tell the new girl "It wouldn't hurt to show more of those legs. And you might want to cinch in your waist so you look like a woman," I'm pretty sure I wouldn't fit in.

No really. this is the Betty's first day as a secretary and the men are telling her things like this, and her mentor, Joan, is telling her the same stuff. And sends her to the doctor to get birth control pills!

As Joan is showing Betty around, she uncovers a typewriter and tells Betty not to be intimidated. "It looks complicated but they made it easy enough for a woman to use."

AAAARGH!

Maybe I shouldn't be watching this show . . .

Burn Me Alive From the Inside Out

I know you all know that I seriously do not like WalMart. It's not like I've kept that secret.

But I have a new reason to avoid that place.

I'm warning you. This is gross. Especially since I don't like feet, either.

No seriously. This is gross.

Strangely, though, it doesn't deter me from slipping into flip-flops!

I love you, Target! Which is why I have no idea why it took me so long to find Slave to Target!

I'm not alone!

Stay Wilder than the Wind

Another thing I realized while watching this that I had forgotten about until today is that I love Duran Duran. And that Simon gets hotter with age.

You're the Hardest Little Button

On the seventh, I watched quite a bit of the Live Earth hoopla.

Say what you will about how bad it was for the Earth to haul everyone all around . . . there was still some kind of awareness raised.

And I got to see The Police.

I do think that since over half the crowd hadn't even been born yet when the band broke up, they probably should have stuck with the better-known hits. There were a couple of songs where some of the crowd was standing there, yawning and texting other people.

They could've been like their pal Kanye and had a whole medley of everyone's favorites. Dude did quite a job in the heat with his long sleeves. But it doesn't compare to my favorite Kanye performance:

I know that musicians, and especially those who rap, historically have big egos. I've always liked Ludacris, but thought he was taking the ego a little too far that day during an interview.

He was asked about what he has learned since getting involved with Live Earth. He said something about having learned a lot and then said "I'm just out here lending my celebrity to the cause."

It didn't quite seem he had answered the question. But at least we know how generous he's being!

The interviewer went on to ask him another question. He ended his response with "I'm here lending my celebrity."

Um. Yeah. Got it.

And Richie, I'm glad you're all sober and stuff. But could you please button your shirt!

Sorry I Promised to Love You Forever

This kid loves his Aunt Bee!

He likes me so much that there were times he just didn't want to go to sleep while we were babysitting him.

On Saturday, Mom went to get us lunch while I tried to rock The Boy to sleep. I sang lots of songs to him.

They, uh . . . weren't your average lullabies.

I sang some Travis, Beatles, Kermit, Blur, ABBA, Pearl Jam and Imogen Heap.

Like a good Star Wars fan, he fell asleep to the Nerf Herder.

I'm not sure about his feelings for my mom, though. Just look at the stuff she makes him wear!

Take a Look Around, Look What I Found

Gross!

Handsoap

Demon Play, Demon Out

I got back from taking care of The Boy last night. You'd think the cat would be really excited and nice to me.

Instead I get this:

Take a Look Around, Look What I Found

Now your teenage sons can be interested in politics!

One More Day to Complete My Service

Three months until my birthday!

Man, am I getting old. And as I've already told you, I'm worried about how I'll survive when I'm old. I got my Social Security statement the other day, and I'm not feeling any better.

If I retire at age sixty-two, I'll receive $728 per month. Per month!!!

If I wait to quit working until I'm seventy, I'll get $1,284 per month. So, only forty more years of work before I can take it easy and live rich!

Of course, this is all what they're estimating. There's actually a note that says "The law governing benefit amounts may change because, by 2041, the payroll taxes collected will be enough to pay only about 75 percent of scheduled benefits."

Well, at least they're giving us advanced warning that we're screwed!

I don't even feel old enough to be worrying about stuff like this. But this is when you have to worry! If I wait too long, I'm going to end up retiring to the streets!

I was talking to Grandmere the other day. "I don't feel like I'm almost twenty-nine!"

She understood my situation. "I don't feel like I'm almost forty-nine!"

Quit Your Moanin', We're All in the Same Boat

Look! I found this one at someone else's house!

It's much smaller than mine were, but I'm just glad to know I'm not the only one co-habitating with evil!

Like Toy Soldiers

So there's a big family party coming up. And of course, crazy family that we are, we're all in a tizzy.

My biggest concern: What shall I wear?

I have these shoes. I got them at Target for seven bucks.

I've worn them once.

But they're really cute and would look swell with the outfits I have in mind.

They're high corky platformy heels with black patenty leathery criss cross peep-toe action.

I figured since I'll be on my feet a lot, I'd better break them in. Especially since I'm not used to heels anymore. I pretty much live in flip-flops, now. So I wore them to work today and towered over everyone.

The shoes aren't as uncomfortable as I thought they would be. I walked around more than normal and didn't really have any trouble. But I'm just not sure they'd be great dancing shoes.

As I drove home, I thought about the shoes. They'd look so cute! I could do it! Right! I could wear these heels without falling over, right?

Right!

Well, at least I knew what shoes I would be wearing!

I made my way home and started across the street to my building. I had to wait for a car to pass and noticed a girl by her car in the parking lot.

I made my way through the lot and suddenly one of my feet just stopped. "Oh!" I said as I started the long long descent down to the ground.

I tried to stop myself by putting out my other foot and it just kinda flopped on the big heel.

So WHAM! Down onto my knee and then my hands. I fell hard. I'm pretty sure I caused an earthquake.

I started laughing, knowing I had an audience. Yet the girl in the parking lot went about her business. She didn't ask if I was okay. She didn't even look at me.

Maybe she didn't see it.

More likely, she's just a jackass!

She'd fit right in with my family!

Which reminds me . . . now I really don't know what to wear!

I Need a Moment to Deliberate

This is always an awesome conversation starter:

"Did you go to {insert mutual friend's name}'s {insert occasion that a bunch of people you both know attended}?"

No really. Try it!

They Buy and They Sell and They Sell All Their Trash

But I didn't even get a chance to go and gripe about how lame it is!

Wild West World is closed! Two months!

Shaky Rockin' Dance

I hope you all had a good Fourth and still have all your fingers.

I spent my day with Raw and her family at East Lake. Except I wasn't really at the lake. I was in an air-conditioned building for most of the day.

Sophia provided a lot of the entertainment, of course. Poor thing. We had her up on the table and every five seconds, someone would tell her to shake her booty.

She's only sixteen months old and she's already table dancing.

We let the kids beat the crap out of a pinata for a while. Sophia went to get candy and then started giving it away. Raw put a stop to that right away.

Not that she doesn't want the girls to learn how to share. It's just that Sophia had like one piece of candy to every other kids' fifteen. Plus, c'mon . . . it's candy! Who wants to share that?

Sophia sat on the table eating the Nerds she had scored. She wasn't paying very good attention, so most of the tiny candies were falling all over her and the table.

Don't worry. The candy didn't go to waste. Raw sat there and picked up each piece right after it fell. None got by her!

When Sophia decided she was done, her fingers were coated with slobbery half-dissolved Nerds. She labored to shake them off her hand and onto the table.

I watched Raw looking at the candies. "Oh man," I thought. "Surely she won't eat that sticky candy!"

I held my breath as she zeroed in on it. She picked up a piece. With no hesitation, she put it in her mouth and ate it!

It was equally horrifying and hilarious.

As we packed up the van to head back, I noticed a poor SweeTart lying in the dirt. Somehow it had escaped the pinata and its packaging.

"Hey Raw! It looks like the kids missed one!"

Apparently, Raw does have a line she won't cross.

But she did look longingly at it!

She Ain't Gonna Wanna Share

Why I Don't Want My Own Kids:
Reason number 5009

I don't want to share my ice cream.

But it's Brilliant Anyway

Have a happy and safe Independence Day!

Or as BJ will be saying all day, "Hooray for John Adams, second president of the United States of America for giving us the Fourth of July!"

Take a Look Around, Look What I Found

Man, I forgot how much I liked this song.

Maybe you're right, Casey. Maybe Phil Collins is awesome!

If I Move, This Could Die

I'm driving down K-15 on my way back home. It's surprisingly busy for this time of the evening. There's a truck behind me and beside me; a van in front of me and a car beside him.

And then there's a motorcycle cutting me off. Wait. Where the hell did he come from?

Oh! I forgot. Cycles can just drive through heavy traffic down the center line.

This makes me really mad. There's all these signs in yards telling us that we need to treat you with the same respect as any car or truck. The highway patrol has commercials that say something like "Motorcycle drivers are people, too."

I'm not saying we shouldn't look out for motorcycles. I don't even hate motorcycles. I'm fine with them and understand they have the same rights as any other driver.

I'm cool with that. I'm not cool with breakin' the rules just because you have a smaller vehicle. Especially when it's going to endanger everyone on the road.

And I bet you anything that guy has one of those signs in his yard!

This isn't Torque, buddy! You don't even have a particularly small vehicle now that you've souped up your bike so that it's as wide as a Miata. And you're carrying a passenger!

I had a pretty bad day and was in a pretty dark mood.

I swear to Pete, it took all the moral strength I had to not just "accidentally" take him out!

I totally would have then sued him for mental anguish!

Seriously. I need meds.

Now She's Staring Wide-Eyed

1. Today I had a baby poop. Like same smell and consistency. And pretty much all I ate yesterday was my cracked-wheat bread.

2. How can there be pee on the seat in the ladies' room?

3. The person pictured has nothing to do with 1 or 2. Except sometimes she goes #2 in inappropriate places.