Things I learned at a concert:

1. If this hadn't been my #1 favorite artist, none of this would have happened.
2. No matter how much you beg someone for a heads-up if they need to cancel, they still may. (Especially if this person has done this 12 thousand times before) ((yes, I'm an idiot.))
3. Driving over 4 hours one way for a concert while alone and female (no matter how tough) is not a good idea. Your mother gets so insanely worried, you'd like to use the mace you bought on yourself.
4. If your bladder is very full.. Skip the niceties and inform interested parties that you will make a massive golden puddle on the floor if you cannot have access to the employee restroom. They will tell you doors open at 6, when they actually open over 30 minutes after this.
5. Alcohol is so expensive.. actually everything is, but I'm talking about what really counts here: $6.00 for a beer..... I paid it, but I bitched the whole time. *note to self: ask Santa for a flask for Christmas*
6. If you are willing do sign up for several email newsletters, and/or take embarrassing pictures of yourself for the sake of winning a ukulele.. You have no life.
7. Texting your closest friends while waiting for your #1 to come on stage seems like you are bragging, when you are actually lonely.
8. Your true friends will see though this.
9. Let go of all self consciousness you may have. Enjoy yourself no matter what. (this portion I did right)
10. The teenagers sitting next to you will not appreciate your lack of inhibitions. They will trade seats with their parents and sit down during the entire concert and text their friends.
11. Said parents will no appreciate you occasionally  bumping into them while dancing. (These are the folks that actually need to get a life)
12. The ushers frown upon you moving up a couple rows, even if you're trying to hang with fellow free spirited dancers.
13. Secretly you imagine this event with your baby and how it would not have been so bad had you brought them. You think of this child multiple times during the concert and even tear up during THE SONG that reminds you of them.
14. You step out during one of the less desirable songs to buy matching shirts for yourself and your child at $30 a pop.
15. Rest stop coffee sucks.
16. Loud music and windows down in the rain will not help you feel awake. Just miserable.
17. Visions of crashing and your whale douche ex being the only one to raise your sweet baby keeps you awake better then anything.
18. When you arrive home, you lay in bed awake for over an hour..... wondering why your eyes won't fall asleep like they were in the car.
19. you will.. of course.. have to work the next morning and only get a couple hours of sleep.
20. The $30 shirts won't fit right.

A Brief History of Religion (based on no research whatsoever)

https://sites.google.com/site/balubabriefhistoryofreligion/

Love After Fifty, Part Two

For those of you who read the blog, I have some good news.  My sweetie has recovered from his mini strokes with no after affects except a lingering tiredness.   

After they released him, he was a completely different person for a while, (mentally more so than physically,) and it was worrisome for me, particularly because our relationship is still relatively new...  Although we've known each other going on eight years.  I was worried that his essential being, his spark that attracted me so much... had vanished.  We were watching Jeopardy the night after he was released, and he couldn't get the answers out fast enough, although he knew most of them.

My daughter reminded me:  "Give him a break, mom, he's had a stroke."  I knew that's what I had to do, and I did it, because my love for him was something that overshadowed any problems he was having.

So I did that, overlooked his little "differences," endured his rapid mood swings, and treated him just as if nothing had happened.  

I'm not a particularly religious person, but I think his recovery is ninety percent complete.  It's almost a miracle how much he IS his old self. And I'd like to think I had something to do with this "recovery."

The water isn't totally under the bridge yet, and I realize this, with a medium level of anxiety.  Who knows if or when he'll have another incident?  Who knows if something else might not take down this intrepid, mountainous individual that I consider mine?  Who cares.  Life threw us together, and I'm going to enjoy him... and us... as long as I can.

On a lighter note, and the purpose of this blog entry.  Last night, I observed something in his refrigerator that had been there for over a week.   

Me:  "That's been in there so long, it's probably old and wrinkled!"

Him:  "Well so are you, dear. but I still love you!"

:)

This makes me feel better as a parent:

http://thestir.cafemom.com/toddler/161303/the_worst_thing_i_ever

Kendall

I used to work in a daycare, and one of the most memorable children was a little girl named Kendall.  Both of her parents were teachers, and Kendall was very advanced for her age group.  One day I was observing her jumping off a foam climber piece.  She was saying "I can not jump down!" then saying "I CAN'T jump down!"  She was barely eighteen months, and had already grasped the concept of contractions.  You could tell Kendall's parents had taken a lot of time to teach her things early on.

I admired her parent's tenacity, but their obsession with their daughter was often the discussion du jour among the teachers at the center. They wanted the best for their little girl, and if we didn't measure up to their standards, they never hesitated to let us know... in a myriad of ways.

Kendall, though very "book" smart, didn't always have her mental balloons in a bunch.  We would often find her stuffing wood chips in her mouth, or staring off into space as she was walking, bumping into things.  She had an unseemly gait, and pumped her elbows like a speed walker no matter how fast she was walking.  She had enormous, watery blue eyes, and scant, dishwater blond hair.  She looked like she was half bald, because she would pull out hunks of her hair whenever she was upset.  She was so thin, shoes wouldn't stay on her feet.  (imagine Gollum from Lord of the Rings as a toddler.)

She could barely see where she was going when she was in the playlot, because her parents insisted on making her wear an obnoxious oversized sun hat whenever she went outdoors.  All that, coupled with the appliqued and overdone baby clothes she wore, made her stand out among her peers.

One Summer day, the children were playing outside with some Nerf balls that had been donated to the center by one of our wealthier parents.  Kendall was sitting alone in a corner, cradling one of the Nerf footballs like it was her greatest material possession.  I swore I could hear her hissing "Myyyyyyy Precioussssss!"

I noticed after a while Kendall looked like she was chewing on something.  I went over there, and discovered she had bitten a patch off the end of her precious football.   There were minute blue, yellow and red chunks of foam around her lips, mired in boogers and drool.   I asked her to spit it out, and when she did not, I pried open her mouth to do a finger sweep.   Out came a piece of Nerf ball the size of a large grape.  There were other flakes in her mouth, but I got the majority of the offending particles.

I wiped off her mouth, washed my hands, and Kendall wobbled off, her sun hat flopping gaily.

We wrote our incident report, and thought nothing more of the afternoon's happenings until the next morning.  

Her Mother and father came in with smug looks on their faces.  The father handed Kendall to me, as my co-worker prepared Kendall's breakfast.

The mother approached me and said, "I thought you should see this."

She was holding a small snack-sized zippered baggie.

I looked perplexed as I tried to decipher what I was seeing.

Inside the bag were miniature blue, yellow and red foam pieces.

"We found these in her poop this morning, and were wondering what they were," sneered the mom, as she slammed the baggie on the counter.  There was condensation inside the bag.  You cold tell the contents were "fresh off the press."

My co-worker had to go into the other room because she was fighting laughter.  I kept a straight face until both parents were safely out of the building, then literally, laughed until I cried.

Cheesy Picture (Be sure to read to the end)

Oh, How I Love Thee, Coffee 

The smell of you, as you are being created

The dark, rich aroma of life

Liquid beauty, silky yet bitter

With just enough cream to make you blush

Your caramel color I love so much

You slide down my throat

Like the gentle cascade of a lover's offering

Coating my insides as well you should

A sensual taste bud's symphony

Oh coffee, how I love thee!

The Mysterious Creature The Mysterious Creature of Sizeable Size, Has woobly hair and weebly eyes. His teeth have the sheen of an old used lamp wick, He walks with a limp and a clickety click. Is the Creature real old? Is he possibly young? And why does he sing Every song to be sung? What does he eat? Is it Bungberry Roots? Or peanuts? Or filberts? Or Bangle Tree Shoots? The Mysterious Creature of Sizeable Size, Lives under my cupboards, and sometimes he hides, Under my sofa where Mother won’t see, When she cleans the cupboards at quarter to three. He uses my toothbrush, which I do not like, He’s broken three wheels on my Quintiped Bike! My cute pet Furrufla once lived in this cage, But the Creature, he ate him, with Floofles and sage! The Mysterious Creature, I wish he would go! He does all the things that make Mother say No. He uses Dad’s razor for trimming his nails, He once filled our bath tub with Toomaroo Snails! My wish that I wish, is a wish that some day, The Mysterious Creature would move far away, But until then I will sit in my room, And watch while he chews on Mom’s Vroom-A-Zoom Broom! This poem has been copyrighted.  I wrote it several years ago, and I hope someday to turn it into a children's book.  But I need a good illustrator.  Baluba?  Ninja Nanny?

© Copyright 2006 Ravenwand, Rising Star! (UN: ravenwand at Writing.Com). All rights reserved.

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Things I learned while cleaning out my car

1. Gummy bears and summer heat are not my friends.
2. Vacuuming sand takes a looooong time, even with an industrial strength machine.
3. A tiny piece of cardboard will not go up the vacuum AND makes a rapid fire fart noise in protest.
4. A full size clothes pin WILL get sucked into the vacuum.
5. Wearing a comfy loose fitting skirt while cleaning the car on a windy day ..not a good idea.
6. ...Skirts also get sucked into the vacuum.
7. Small amounts of spilled coffee in the cup holder accumulating day after day resembles toffee. That has been glued down. With super glue.
8. Do NOT open the old sippy cup with mystery drink inside. Just don't.
9. You cannot armorall a little of the car. It makes the rest look terrible.
10. This will all take over an hour, almost a whole roll of quarters, and you will need a shower afterwards.

How Well Do You Speak Toddler?

I pride myself on being able to decipher the babbles and mispronunciations of my charges,  so I've compiled a list of words and phrases from a span of thirty years.  Maybe  you’ll be able to decipher them, there are only a couple that I never figured out.  So feel free to offer suggestions on what some of these words might mean.

     Word                                                                  Meaning

1.   Foo-neen                                                                                               'Scuse Me

2.   Peesh                                                                                                      Please

3.   Tay-too                                                                                                  Thank you

4.  Moke                                                                                                      Milk

5.  Faffoom                                                                                                Bathroom

6.  Bye-poh                                                                                               Diaper

7.  Squoh                                                                                                  Squirrel

8.  Chay-oh                                                                                               Chair

9.  Kay cakes                                                                                            Either Cupcakes
                                                                                                                  or Pancakes

                                                                                         

10. NO                                                                                                     NO

11. Kooookee                                                                                          Cookie

12. MINE                                                                                                I own this object forever

13. Gree                                                                                                   Blanket (don't ask)

14. Goggy                                                                                                Doggy

15.  Ho-see                                                                                              Horse

16. See-bup                                                                                             Either Cereal or Syrup

17. Wa wa                                                                                               Water, of course.

18. Shoosh                                                                                               Either Shoes or Juice

19. Reebooksh                                                                                         Read Books

20. GUCK!                                                                                              Truck, Stuck or Duck

Numbers 21-25 are the ones I never quite figured out.  One is almost certain, although I have no idea how the child could have messed up the word so badly that it sounds like foreign language.  If you guys have any clue of the real meanings, please enlighten me!

21.  Yumpsamee Weet:  I'm pretty sure this meant Sesame Street.  The little boy responsible for this mispronunciation is almost thirty now.  I sure hope he got speech therapy.

22. Hooby Dooby Hattow Battow:  Same little boy.  He used to say this all the time, and I never found out if it was just spouting nonsense, quoting a book or none of the above.  Still a mystery

23. Anklebah:  My current charge says that, usually in times of hunger or mild agitation.  I have NO idea what it means.

24. Yon-Shwiff:  Might have meant sandwich, might not have meant sandwich.

25. Oodlegah:  Might mean something on Pluto, but this one eludes me.

Happy deciphering!

Sharon

Strawberry Shortcake: A Review

    So, my son decided to watch Strawberry Shortcake.
My review:
     The show begins with an opening sequence that really sets the tone. I am assured that I am in for a berry good time. The theme song is somewhat catchy, but has a mechanical feel to it that makes me think that it was composed by not a person of flesh and blood, but rather a computer somehow made of gumdrops and sprinkles of sugar.
     The plot is rather straightforward: Strawberry Shortcake's little sister, Apple Dumpling, is having a birthday so they must gather the proper items to throw a proper party. But, the plot seems to be none of our business, as this is certainly a character driven story. The primary conflict lies in the relationship between Strawberry and her Cat, Custard.
     While Strawberry insists on a rich diversity of acquaintances, the apparently racist Custard wants only to meet others of her kind, as she is clearly prejudiced against anyone who is not a cat. However, one cannot help but feel a certain level of sympathy for the poor feline as she tries so berry hard to locate some food for herself. The ecology of this world does not seem geared toward providing sustenance for carnivorous creatures. She keeps asking for "tuna flavored berries", "tuna cookies", anything with tuna in it! But, everyone just laughs at her as they feast on high calorie foodstuffs. One particularly dark moment comes when Orange Blossom (an African American who spends all her time picking fruit in the orchard and "loves" her lot in life) gives Custard a bowl of milk. I cheered a little for the poor feline. As far as I could tell, she hadn't had a proper meal in weeks, if ever. At this point, she had only eaten a cookie that was SHAPED like a tuna (given to her by Ginger Snap, an Asian American who stereotypically runs a highly efficient production facility), which is not nutritionally appropriate. As soon as she starts to lap up the sweet, succulent bovine mammary juice, Strawberry's dumb dog, Cupcake, crashes through and knocks the bowl over, splashing milk everywhere. The tragedy is laughed off by the other characters while poor Custard continues to starve. And that brings up the subject of Cupcake.
     Cupcake, as mentioned before, is Shortcake's dog. For the first half of this show, he is not just the only male character, but he is the sole non sentient being. The cat talks, the pony talks, the damn BERRIES talk, but not the BOY, this DOG. And, of course, he causes ALL the problems experienced by the title character. He's hyper and stupid, always breaking things and making messes, but they all put up with him because he's "cute". It's obvious that this is pure femi-Nazi propaganda parading as children's entertainment, teaching little girls that they have to keep their men on leashes or the imbecilic animals are going to break the cookie machine. I'm not clear on the symbolism of the cookie machine, but I'm sure that if I figured it out I would be upset.
     Anyway, the dialogue is flat, the voice acting is cringe-worthy, the ambient music is a confusing blend of pop-metal guitar riffs and Chinese techno, and the animation is substandard at best. I sort of fell asleep at some point, but I do recall that the story wrapped up nicely. They had everything for Apple Dumpling's bitchin' party.
     Maybe I just don't fit within the target demographic, but I give this show one star, and that's being berry berry generous.

Hilarious! *Language Warning!* Go the F@#K to Sleep

http://www.ebaumsworld.com/video/watch/81588689/

Love After Fifty

I've spent most of yesterday and today in the hospital.

Not for me, mind you, but a man that I've grown to love had a series of mini strokes, and I wanted to be by his side.  I'm going back in a few, but I wanted to share some things to make me feel better.

We became close seven years ago;  he was single, I was single, our children were friends, and we became each other's special someone quickly.  However, it was too soon after the death of his wife, and our relationship turned toxic due to transference on his part, and immaturity on my part.  The relationship ended abruptly and not too nicely.

Seven years later, a chance meeting at Costco, and one hug rekindled the buried feelings we shared, and with cautious optimism, we began again.

Funny how things work out.  He's not the kind of man you would call traditionally handsome.  He's tall, mountainous, and to me, beautiful.  His eyes are like green marbles, and his smile makes me smile from deep within my navel area.  He is stubborn, strong, and not afraid to give his opinion on things.  As an added bonus, he has a wicked sense of humor that melds well with mine.

About eight months after our chance meeting at Costco, I'm sitting beside his hospital bed, holding his hand, still feeling those special feelings.  He's wired, tubed, has dorky hospital socks, and a gown that, due to his massive stature, doesn't quite close in the back. I still find him sexy.  I long to curl up in bed beside him and inhale his special scent. 

As of the time I left, he seemed to be doing fine, and the nurses were phenomenal.  Sorta scared to go back, sorta scared not to.  But I will, because my heart is full of him, and I'm devoted.  That, and his usually private persona has opened up to me and allowed me to witness him at his weakest.  I feel honored, scared and hopeful simultaneously.

Wishing and hoping,

Sharon

Baluba Has Posted a Cartoon! (Yay!)

Parents have manipulated their children's fears to teach them values since the beginning of time.
Why stop now?
https://sites.google.com/site/nailingthisparentingthing/

Empty (I Wish) Nest

For blogging purposes,  my daughter will be Samantha, (Sam for short) and my son will be Wes.  
Those were their chosen names before birth; the ones every parent gives the growing human being inside of them, for the sake of answering curious friend’s questions, like “What names have you chosen?”  However, this name plan didn’t work.  When they were born, they  looked at me and told me their real names.  Babies have a tendency to do that.  You get all hyped up to name them a certain thing, then they come out all wrinkled, gooey and  screaming, and look at you with heavily lidded eyes and tell you what you should name them.  My daughter did NOT look like a Samantha, so she was named something else before we left the hospital.  My son looked in my eyes and told me his name was Rodney.  I was like…  “Oh HELL no!”  So I named him something that was kind of Rodney-Wes ish.  He and I have been uncomfortably compromising ever since.  

In mild digression, this is one of the reasons I cringe at the popular trending names.  Let the kid name itself for goodness sakes, then you won’t have seventeen Kaidens (catch all name for boys AND girls) turn their heads at roll call.

Wes and Samantha are now adults. I had my children relatively late in life, by the eighties standards, and ended up having my daughter in my early thirties.  My daughter is off to college, but still close enough to see occasionally, and my son (the oldest) is still at home, living with his girlfriend, and still deciding what he wants to do  with his life.  

Maybe I should have given in when he was a young boy, riddled with ADD and unable to concentrate in school.  Maybe I should have drugged him to a semi-catatonic state so he could have absorbed more.  But I have no regrets weaning him off of his kiddy cocaine.   

He was on it for a brief moment in time, less than a year, I believe.  When he was on it, he was Mister Marvelous,  he could sit without getting up and twirling around, and write more than three lines of a sentence before scratching intricate designs on his writing implements with whatever he could find. He would also stare off into space, and lost his “Wesness.”   I hated the way he behaved when he was “coming down” off the drugs, which usually occurred right around dinner/homework/calm down time.

I hated the way he was turning into a string bean of a child, and I hated the very fact I had to resort to drugging my kid.  It made me feel horrible, like a failure.

It is my belief that some children are born learners and rule followers, and some are born for a different purpose; and will find their place in this dichotomy when it is their natural time arrives.

My son is such a person.  He writes brilliant poetry and essays, yet he hates to write.  He failed a majority of his classes in high school and barely scraped by in others, yet he got high grades in Advanced Placement Calculus.  He has a wonderful, rich baritone voice, yet I have never heard him sing.  He wants to go to college too.  He wants to do tech support.  There’s a lot he can do, and wants to do, but he needs to have the drive to give himself a better life.

I hope he succeeds.   I hope he’s like a ticking time bomb of intelligence and fortitude; and will surprise us all, making a successful something of himself.   Watch him end up making more money than my daughter, who is attending a university to be a veterinarian.

ME: one more minute until nap time.
 KID: Ok Mom! **Looks at his toys he is currently pretending with and whispers ** "We have one more minute guys."

ME: Please clean up... (for the hundreth time...)
 Kid: ..... (ignoring me)
ME: Hey, Your toy bucket is SOOOOO hungry, you should put some toys in there so it's not sad anymore.. If it's belly is full, it's happy!
 Kid: *puts a few toys in...*
ME: giggle
 Kid: *dumps out bucket* IT THREW UP MOM!!!!!
ME: ummm.....
 Kid: That's nasty, I'm not touching THAT.

After bathing my kid says: I don't need a towel, Mama... My farts will dry me off.

So, I go to jump in the shower and find a toy Iron Man in the tub.. I think to myself "Ha, I wish Iron Man was in my tub... Then I realize I'm either very lonely or very cool. I'm going with cool. Lol

Me vs. The McDonald's Cashier

    Normally, I buy the four piece chicken McNugget for one dollar and
some change. Four pieces is enough. A dollar and some change is
reasonable. But Alden decides to say:
     "I want five pieces".
     Well, that creates a problem now, doesn't it? A six piece costs
about three times as much as a four piece. Best way to go is to get
two four pieces and get me in on that golden brown chickeny goodness
to go with my McRib. Alright, thought process concluded, open mouth to
speak--
     "Your can get a kid's meal with a six piece and it comes with a Ninja Turtle!"
Why, thank you, little miss pimple faced teenage cash register person!
I had no idea that the five thousand dollar kid's meal was an option!
Please accept this tidal wave of gratitude, which gushes forth in
appreciation of your keen observation!
     "Ninja Turtle?" Alden says, happier than he's been in days. He wants
to live with mommy because she doesn't make him go to school and he
has five gajillion toys that he has to leave there because spoiling
him on Christmas is more important than paying child support. 
    "TEENAGE MUTANT Ninja Turtle?"
     "Uh huh!" says Suzy Zitface, no, Paula Pimple. Yeah. Paula Pimple.
On one had, I have some respect for her. This kid, half my age,
totally out ninja-ed me. She saw a weak point, outflanked me, struck
first, struck hard, no mercy, SIR! By using the tools (Alden and the
promise of turtles) available to her, she effectively boosted the
revenue from this particular point of sale by a factor of 3. The only
loss to the company is an envelope of fries, a juice box, and a
package of magic apple slices that never turn brown and taste like
cancer. Oh, and a Ninja Turtle.
     On the other hand, fuck you!
     On the other other hand, Ninja Turtle! I'm stoked, really. Of all the nerdy things I've introduced Alden to, the Turtles aren't one of them. He totally picked it up in daycare. He wants to be Donatello next Halloween. In the near future, I can discuss with him the superior source material and how Eastman and Laird didn't need different colored headbands to distinguish between the turtles and--
     "Yeah, okay," I said, soundly defeated by this corporate padawan.
So, we sit down to eat. There are distractions. It has a playplace. Alden makes a new friend named Gabriel. We both totally forget about the ninja Turtle in the bag. I get lost in McRib heaven for a while (yes, I know what's in a McRib. Shut up. I KNOW! SHUT UP!)
Oh yeah. The Ninja Turtle. Wonder if he got Donatello...
This... This isn't a ninja. It's not teenaged. It's no kind of mutant. It has no turtle like features at all. Unless there was some plot twist in the latest TMNT cartoon episode that involved all the turtles being remutated into fucking BALLS with glitter on them, there was no way in Satan's Blue Hell that this was a goddamned TEENAGE MUTANT NINJA TURTLE!
     "Daddy?"
     "Yes, Alden?"
     "Who's your favorite turtle?"
     "Raphael."
     "Is that Raphael?"
     "No, buddy. This is a ball... With glitter on it."
     "Oh," Alden says with a tone of disappointment that sometimes creeps out when he knows for sure that, for example, there will be no more My Little Pony tonight, for reals this time. Shakespeare himself would have a hard time explaining just how such a sound could injure one's heart. "Is it Donatello?"
     Hey, honest mistake, right? She must have grabbed a toy from the girl toy bin and thrown it in the bag. This is easily fixed, right?
     Now, I don't quite recall actually walking up to the counter, but I must have. Because I was there... And so was she. My nemesis. Standing there, with her acne and her taunting youth. And there I was, with my wasted life potential and deep feelings of inadequacy as a single parent, living in my Grandmother's basement, hoping the University would just pull the fucking trigger and hire me so I can get insurance and get this thing taken care of before it becomes an ulcer again or I get so nervous that I somehow blow it because THAT IS WHAT I DO!
     "Hi. Um, I'm sorry to bother you... Not a turtle."
     "I'm sorry?"
     "This toy," I say, cool as cucumber, holding the glitter encrusted ball as if my life would not greatly improve if it were replaced with something greener with ninja weapons. "It's not a Ninja Turtle."
     "No, it's not," says Alden, helpfully.
     "Oh!" says what's-her-face. "I'm sorry! That's a girl's toy. Here, I'll get one of the boys' toys."
     "Ninja Turtle."
     Then she looks in the bin of boys' toys. I see it's full of glitter balls. There's a flurry of activity. Suddenly, everyone's looking for that box of Teenage Mutant Ninja Turtles that came in today.
So I go to my happy place. I remind myself that I'm a pacifist and that appearing on Youtube going apeshit on some kid would reflect poorly on me and insult my family's honor or some shit like that.
     "Y'all lookin for turtles?" pipes in some manager lady who's sitting in the dining room doing paperwork. "We outta them!"
     "Are you sure?"
     "Yeah, I'm sure!"
     "Wait!" says the bane of my existence. She dashes into the back. Maybe she stashed one back there for her little pimple faced brother. Maybe the turtles are such a hot commodity that she's stealing them and selling them on the black market and she's decided that parting with one would be worth it to prevent me from flipping out. Either way, my hopes rise. Alden looks like he's keeping his expectations realistic, though.
     Everyone's looking at me... It must be my hat.
When she reappears, she's holding something that is not a glittery ball and I do see green.
     "What's that?"
     "I don't know," she said. "It shoots balls or something."
     It's a thing that you talk into and it changes your voice with a spring inside. It's from the movie "Megamind", which I did not like.
     "I appreciate the effort," I say as I hand the not turtle to Alden. 

     He seemed fine with it.

Welcome To Our Blog!

"Blog" is short for "Web Log". See? We know stuff because we're smart.

Two pretty ladies and one goofy looking guy, who are all separately single parents, have decided to team up on this one project, because apart we are individuals. Together, we are legion. Whatever the hell that means.