Recipe for Disaster

  • 2 cranky children on the second and third days of cold symptoms
  • 1 miserable parent on the first day of cold symptoms; bonus for lack of sleep the previous night due to drainage


  • Strap down cranky children in car seats and insert into family vehicle.
  • Place parent behind wheel of car and drive directly to McD's for LARGE COFFEE
  • Stop for snacks and gas-station-sinus-meds to prevent parental head explosion
  • Add emergency side-of-road potty stop (not for who you would think it would be for)
  • Blend car with blinding rain storm for 5+ hours
  • Encounter suddenly brilliant skies at precisely the time of day that sun visors cannot block sun
  • Apply more sinus meds
  • Arrive home nine years days hours later, just in time to prepare dinner for cranky/snotty/no-nap-having children out of cardboard and toothpaste because the cupboard is bare
  • Enjoy!*

*The trip to visit my father and sisters was lovely. The kids and I had a great time and my dad's event raised a lot of money for a worthy charity. If only teleporters had been invented, the weekend would have been perfect.


Happy (Belated) Earth Day!

On Earth Day, I was cleaning like a crazy person for an upcoming road trip/showing of my house (so sorry about all those chemicals, Mother Earth!), so I didn't quite manage an Earth Day post. Actually, I didn't really think I had anything to post about. When I was in college, I was Super Green Girl, but with the advent of marriage (my husband is practically anti-environment) and children (OMG: the diapers! the wipes!), my good habits deteriorated.

As I was giving my formerly-green-self a mental kick in the shins, I started thinking about the things I do manage to do for the environment.

  • I recycle. Big deal, you say? Small Town has NO recycling. I have to export my recyclables to Ginormousville 100 miles away. My hubs thinks I'm crazy and my in-laws roll their eyes at my 'eccentricities,' but by gosh, I manage to recycle paper, plastics 1-7, glass, aluminum and steel cans.
  • We keep our house (too) warm in the summer and (too) cool in the winter. I would like to say we do this for environmental reasons, but the reality is that our house is about as energy efficient at a paper bag. Our electric bills would rival the national debt if we were to keep our house as cool/warm as we might like for it to be.
  • I do not own paper plates. We eat all our meals on regular dishes. It took some training to bring the hubs around, but the kids have never eaten on paper at our house.
  • I HATE using paper towels. I can make a roll last for months. This skill is somewhat counteracted by T's germaphobia... He just doesn't believe that a rag can really get the counter clean.
  • I only do four loads of laundry per week. Mostly because I hate laundry. But seriously, my washer has adjustable water levels and I almost never run anything but a full load.
  • Same goes for the dishwasher. I only run it when it is full to the MAX. Last year, I stopped rinsing the dishes before I put them in. That saves a ton of water and except for the occasional stray morsel, the dishes are just as clean as they were before.
  • I save lots of electricity by letting the dogs clean my kitchen floor and hardly ever running the vacuum cleaner.
  • I clean so rarely that I seldom release harsh chemicals into the environment.
  • I don't use a lot of anti-bacterial products, so our household isn't contributing to the creation of drug-resistant bacteria. Side bonus: I am building up my kids' immune systems!

Who knew I could turn my complete apathy for all things housewiffery into a pro-environmental statement! I'm not a slob! I'm an environmentalist!

As an Earth friendly bonus, here is a little recipe discovered by Mrs. B's husband, Mr. B. He even made some. How many husbands would do that?

How to Make a Natural Antibacterial Hand Sanitizer

  1. Start your natural hand sanitizer by selecting a container. This recipe will work in plastic squeeze bottles, or mini spray bottles. Look for these in the travel accessories area of health and beauty departments.
  2. Use the following recipe---2 parts aloe gel (NOT juice). 1 part distilled water (NOT tap). 1 part grain alcohol-vodka (NOT isopropyl). 4-5 drops essential oil of choice (NOT fragrance oils). Hint: tea tree is a great antibacterial and one of the best essential oils to add to a hand sanitizer recipe.
  3. Mix all ingredients in glass bowl (preferably) with a plastic spoon. Don't use metal dishes or utensils because of potential reactions with the essential oils. Pour your aromatherapy hand sanitizer into plastic containers. You can add less water if you prefer a thicker product.


Honk and Snort

Too sick to blog. My germy children infected me. Damn offspring. Too cute to stop kissing when they have snotty noses. Will return tomorrow.


Queen of Alll Things Awe-Summm!!!

My most awesome blog bud, Jamie, has given me this very cool award. LOVE! Whoever designed it clearly has an amazing artistic aesthetic and mad graphic skills... Oh, wait! I designed it. How very VERY cool to receive an award that I got to design! Thanks Jamie!

The rules:

  • List 7 things that make you Awe-Summ and then pass the award on to 7 bloggers you love.

  • Make sure to tag your recipients and let them know they have won!

  • Also link back to the Queen that tagged you.

My list of Awe-Summm-ness:

  1. I designed this totally cool award given to me by my totally Awe-Summm friend, Jamie.

  2. I enjoy learning new things - to the tune of geeking out and posting about them on the ol' blog!

  3. I am a good writer. My grammar/punctuation is correct enough not to make readers crazy while being relaxed enough that it is fun to read.

  4. I am so humble that I am having a hard time completing this list! (Ha!)

  5. I make gorgeous babies. Seriously, Z and Q are so lovely that I have a hard time believing they came from me. If they didn't have my giant head and T's beautiful baby-blues, I might think they were changelings!

  6. I have a wicked delightful sense of humor. I have been told that I am not for the faint of heart.

  7. I am a master multi-tasker. (What mom isn't?) I can keep many balls in the air.

My Awe-Summm Recipients:

There are so many more of you who are Awe-Summm, but I am too sleepy to hunt up all the URLs!

Again, thanks Jamie. You are really the one who is Queen!



I don't have any long involved stories to tell, but there are a few minor incidents/aha! moments to share:
  • I have discovered why my house is always such a wreck. It's my husband's fault! I got the house clean for listing/showing and kept it pristine for over a week. Within 30 minutes of his arrival this weekend, the whole house was junked up! The kitchen counters were covered in papers, the bedroom floor was hidden under his clothes and the bathroom smelled like a urinal. See? I'm not a bad housekeeper! It's all his fault!*
  • We went to dinner with T's BFF and his very pregnant wife yesterday evening. She is an adorable pregnant woman and I told her how great she looked. She thanked me, but said that she didn't feel beautiful. She felt too bad about the big baby belly. Later, I was relating this story to T and told him that when I was pregnant was the only time I ever felt good about my body. His response? "Why? You are so pretty!" Best! response! ever! (It doesn't hurt that the hubs is a boob man and when I gain weight, I gain it everywhere, if you know what I mean!)
  • I hate stall showers. This morning, at my in-laws' house, I was showering in a smallish stall shower and thinking to myself how much I hate that particular shower. Apparently, the shower took it personally. When I propped my foot up on the wall to wash my toes, the other foot slipped out from under me. I landed with a colossal thud that had my hubs pounding up the stairs in a flash. Luckily, my head broke my fall. He found me sprawled on the bottom of the shower: door open, water spraying everywhere, clutching my head. My hair saved the day. If not for my doubled-up pony tail, I might have done myself some real damage. Now there is a reason to be thankful for thick hair!
  • I got to hang out with Chica and Chicklette this afternoon. I cannot say often enough how CUTE Chicklette is! Those fat little thighs! Nom! I could eat her up. But I digress... so Chica and I decided to go for a walk. For the first time, I could really tell that I had put on some poundage. Within two blocks of her house, my shins were all like, "WTF? You can't be serious!" It didn't help that she has legs up to her armpits and I have to take like five steps to her every one. It was like she was walking a (verrrry round) chihuahua. I was totally sucking wind and I don't think Chica broke a sweat. Seriously. It is time to make some changes. Yep, fat thighs on a baby? Adorable. Fat thighs on me? Not so much.
  • For the last several days, Q has been having major blow-outs of the runs-down-his-leg-into-his-boot variety. He had one this morning, so I thought we were done for the day. We arrive at McD's for dinner on the way back to Small Town and hit the bathroom. When we were done, Q said, "Poopie." I asked him if it really was poop or if it was only tinkle. He said it was tinkle, so I told him I would change it when we got back to the car. We get our food and hit the play area. Again he said, "Poopie!" so we repeated the above conversation and I sent him on his way. At last, when it was about time to leave, he came up to me and said, "Poopie! Peese! (Q-speak for 'please')" With a sinking heart, I finally actually checked his diaper. Blow-out city. I am the worst mom ever. I am just grateful that a.) it didn't bleed through his clothes and get smeared all over the play area; and b.) that his little hiney didn't get all chapped from my unintentional neglect.

*Sigh. If only it was all his fault. Usually I share in the blame. It was just his fault this time.


Redneck Road Trip

We invited some of our favorite people over for pizza and cards tonight, only to discover that I had packed up the cards and moved them to New Town. Luckily, our friends just live right down the road, so we decided to leave the men with the kids and go get their Canasta deck (and a few beers).

On the way out to her truck, I looked down and noticed that I was wearing my fuzzy house shoes. Look out! My white trash is showing!

She told me not to feel bad. Her truck had a Wolfe-brand-chili-can-dip-cup* in the cup holder, so I should feel right at home.

At least I was in good company!

*For those of you who aren't familiar with our redneck/white trash ways, a dip cup is where you spit the tobacco juice from using snuff.


Weekend Wordles - Parenting is Hard Edition, Part 1

Join the fun at The Asylum, aka Last Shreds Of Sanity, to participate in Shan's Week~End Wordles. She has Mr. Linky up and running. For instructions on how to participate, go here.


A Battle of Wills... But Who Won?

Z is up to her old tricks again. We had a really rough day. Bless her heart, she is all freaked out about her dad being gone and chooses to show it by being a little terror for me. The fact that I know what is behind the behavior does not make it a.) any more fun to deal with; or b.) any more acceptable.

Upon her return from school this afternoon, Z had her treat as she usually does. But after snarfing down some Easter candy, she comes to me and says she is still hungry. She sees the pretzels that I had out for Q's morning snack and demands that I give her some. I tell her that she can have some after nap time, but that she had eaten her whole meal at school and her treat at home so she didn't need anything right this minute.

You would have thought I told her I was never going to feed her again. There was screaming and ugliness and refusals to do as she was told culminating in getting carried to her room (literally kicking and screaming) for an early nap.

But that isn't the battle the title is talking about. No, that would be dinner. My policy is that I make one meal for everyone and the kids can choose to eat it or not, but there will be no treats if you chose not to eat any healthy food. There are no requirements about clean plates, but I expect most of the plate to be gone. This said, tonight's dinner was very kid friendly: fish sticks, mashed potatoes, peas, and sliced strawberries. All favorites.

I started to put a little of everything on her plate, and right away Z starts telling me she doesn't want any peas. She loves peas. I told her that was fine, but not to expect dessert. She decided to have peas. She wolfed down her strawberries and started asking if she could have dessert. I asked if she had eaten most of her food and she said no. She took two bites of a fish stick and asked again if she could have dessert. She asked after every bite until I started clearing my place. I told her each time that if she was full, she should stop eating. The ice cream would be there tomorrow.

By the time Q and I were finished, Z had eaten approximately four peas and half a teaspoon of potatoes. Clearly, she was not interested in her dinner. She had eaten a sizable snack after her nap, so she was probably pretty full. I asked her if she wasn't going to get dessert anyway, would she eat what was on her plate? After a brief screaming interlude, she declared herself still hungry and continued to eat.

About this time, Q's diaper had a catastrophic failure and I was completely consumed in cleaning him up, leaving Z at the table. This one was a six-wiper, so I spent quite a bit of time getting him undressed while depositing the least amount of grossness on his person in the process, cleaning up the bio-hazard, re-diapering and wrangling his semi-naked self into pajamas.

Z came in mid-wrangle, her eyes triumphant. "I finished most of my food!" And she had. She had choked down an entire plate of food that she didn't want in order to get a tiny scoop of ice cream on a cone.

I was torn. Clearly, she had followed the letter of the law, if not the intent. In the end, rules are rules. She got her ice cream. But no syrup.


Playground Trauma*

*This post could just have easily been titled "Playground Drama," so rest assured no children were injured in gathering material for this post.

Let's start with the exciting news: we had a showing of the house today! Yay! I ran around like a crazy person, but I think the house looked really good for its maiden voyage into real estate. The realtor requested from 4:30 to 5:00, so I loaded up the kids and we headed to the park.

Q and I went to the park the other day during Z's dance class. T has told me over and over that a bad element hangs out there, but I had never seen any evidence of it. Until yesterday. Very scary gang-banger-looking people in big old cars with low profile tires and rims that were worth more than the car. So. Today we headed to an adjacent small town, a suburb of Small Town, if you will, to go to a park with a less sullied reputation.

The park was quite nice: fully fenced with a gate, fresh pea gravel, new equipment. (Bonus - no graffiti!) We were the only ones there at first, but soon we were joined by a family with four kids accompanied by both parents. As they were walking up, I was thinking, "Score! Someone for everyone to play with!"

It has never occurred to Z that there could possibly be anyone out there who wouldn't just die to be her friend, so she walks right up to the oldest girl and says, "I'm-Z-this-is-my-brother-Q-I'm 4." This is her standard opening gambit. It has worked very well for her. Until now. The other little girl, Anna (I can use her real name because a.) her parents have no idea who I am; and b.) she was a little shit to my baby) gave Z the hairy eyeball and replied, "I'm six." in a tone of voice that made it clear that she thought herself above Z. Her younger brother, Jackson (see above), followed Anna's lead and ran off when Z approached them.

Z completely missed the social cues and trailed after them to the swings. She hasn't figured out how to get herself going yet, so she was swinging on her tummy. The two older kids were making snarky comments to each other at Z's expense. Stupid playground stuff like, "She's never going to go as high as us." The parents? Did nothing.

Z got bored with swinging and headed back over to the playscape. She and Q were climbing the steps and sliding down the different slides. Anna came over with her little sister in tow. She slid down the slide with her in her lap, and Z followed. The next time, Z went down first because Anna had to hold her sister's hand and they weren't making good time. Z wasn't being spiteful or cutting in line, but it clearly made Anna mad. The third time, it looked like Z was going to go down first again, so Anna picked up her sister and practically pushed Z out of the way so they could go first. The parents? Did nothing.

To be fair, Z wasn't entirely without fault. A couple of times she squeezed in front of the other kids on stairs or the climbing wall, but I noticed and told her to quit it. Finally, the mom noticed that Anna was practically yanking her sister's arm out of the socket in her efforts to beat Z to the slide, and she made Anna let her sister find her own way around. So Anna drifted off to be replaced with the more openly hostile Jackson.

The playscape at this park was very small, with the highlight being the spiral slide. Both Z and Q were pretty excited about it and kept going down the slide, up the stairs, and across the playscape and down the slide again in a continuous loop. After they had gone down, Jackson climbed up the slide and just sat there as Z and Q lined up behind him. He looked over at me, gave me a smirk and continued to block the way. Eventually, Z complained to me that he wouldn't move. I responded with, "Yes, he is being very unpleasant. Why don't you go down another slide?"

I guess this must have caught his parents attention because they told him to go down the slide and he reluctantly complied. Z and Q followed practically on top of him then scurried off to go again. Jackson stayed at the bottom of the slide and started loading it up with the pea gravel. Z looked down questioningly from the top of the slide. He looked me right in the eye then said to Z, "I bet your mother would let you do this!" Just to make sure Z knew where I stood, I replied, "No, I wouldn't let my children do that." Then he was all gloating, "See? I told you!" Like he'd won some sort of contest. The parents? Did nothing.

Finally, when Z had to plow through a pile of gravel to get off the end of the slide, his parents noticed and told him to quit. I'd had enough, so we packed up and left.

In the car I gave Z the if-someone-isn't-nice-to-you-they-aren't-worth-your-time speech. Given her complete disregard for social cues, I'm not even sure Z knew they were being mean to her (well, except for the blocking the slide thing. That wasn't subtle.). Possibly, I was more traumatized by the encounter than she was. I guess it kind of gave me a flashback of all the times I was on the outside looking in (an occupational hazard of being a military kid). But I don't want Z to think it is okay for anyone to treat her poorly or that she is somehow less.

In the end, I guess no harm was done. We headed to the library ($17 fine! Ack!) where Z walked up to the first girl she saw and said, "I'm-Z-this-is-my-brother-Q-I'm 4." It worked like a charm.


My Heart? It Is Breaking

So I'm settled into Z's rocking chair, having finished the requisite three books and snuggling with my little ball of energy. She is telling me about her day at school and how she and her little friends were playing family. Then her mood turned melancholy. She looked at me with tears threatening and said with a sigh, "When is Daddy coming home? I used to have three families: you, Daddy, and Q. Now I just have two families: you and Q."

Ack! Stabbed in the heart. My sweet girl is mourning for her daddy. (Me, too, actually.)

Listen up, you gods of real estate! You make my house sell quickly so my baby can be with her father. Or else!

(Almost) Wordless Wednesday

Who knew? When Barbie gets old, she turns into... ME!


It Has Begun

Tonight at bath time, with no prompting from me, Q requested to sit on the potty. Wow! I guess potty training has begun. He sat on it for a while (with no action) then the siren song of the tub called him away. Once he got in the water, he immediately said he had to sit on the potty again. So I plopped his wet and shivering little self back on the pot. He sat there for a while tugging on his junk (and not peeing) then asked to get back in the tub. Where he immediately peed. Sigh. I guess it is good that he knew he had to go, even if the mission was not successful.

I am a little terrified of potty training a boy. I come from a family of girls, and even then we liked to pretend that under our clothes we were all built like Barbies - you know, no private parts. T and I even keep the door closed in the bathroom, so I have never actually seen a male do his thing. I mean, I know the mechanics of it, but I have never witnessed it.

Do you train boys standing up? That just seems like asking for trouble. Many grown men of my acquaintance have bad aim. How can you expect someone with no fine motor skills to hit the target? If you train them sitting down, what do you do with their, erm, stuff? Do you just poke it down and hope for the best? If I let Q handle it, I think he might try to poke his parts back up inside of him (or pull the whole package over his head, whatever) rather than taking aim.

I was really hoping to delay this potty training thing until he was a little more verbal. I have read several articles in praise of potty training three-year-olds. It seems that they train more quickly and are more cooperative. I am afraid that if we start this now we will be training until he is three anyway. I'd rather just change some more diapers than have to fight with pull-ups or dirty accident pants (shudder).

Any advice from you moms of boys out there?


Easter Wrap-Up

We had a lovely, if quiet, Easter. T was 500 miles away in New Town and the grandparents were at the ranch, so it was just the kids and me. We had been having gorgeous perfect weather, so what happened on Easter eve? Thunder storm. With hail. It beat the heck out of my beautiful (brand new) pink geraniums. Sigh.

So I just moved the festivities indoors. I dressed the kids in their Easter ensembles - Z with a long sleeve shirt underneath - and set them loose on the Easter baskets. Even though they had almost identical contents, Q was obsessed with everything in Z's basket. Of course. So tears were shed. Z was so sweet trying to tempt him with offerings from his basket, "Look, Q! Sun glasses! And a bubble sword!" But eventually she lost patience and reverted to the tried and true, "MINE!"

Then I stuffed the kids into my room and hid eggs all over the rest of the house. It was a ridiculous number of eggs for two small children, but what can I say? I'm a sucker for holidays and happy children. Z is a notoriously bad look-er. Basically, if she didn't trip over it, she can't find them. Hmm... she's the same way with shoes! Q, on the other hand, was a surprisingly good egg finder. He is slower moving and more methodical.

It didn't matter who found what because in our house, all candy is communal. We had a big bowl and the kids and I emptied the contents of all the eggs into it. As we were doing this, I conducted a little parental experiment. All the feeding books say that young children will self-regulate food intake if given the opportunity, so I let them eat the candy without any restrictions. Sugar isn't taboo at our house, so it wasn't like they didn't ever get to have candy. My kids? Hovered over the candy bowl like two little pigs at the trough. The only thing slowing them down was their fine motor skills - they couldn't get the wrappers off.
After about an hour, I decided that I would intervene so that I didn't have to clean up anything disgusting later. I attempted to feed them lunch then the sugar crash hit. Everyone was cranky and whiny. They fought it, but they both conked out and took nice long naps.
The only thing the day needed to be perfect was T.

I Did It!

Finally, finally, finally I got our house on the market. With a sign in the yard and everything. I love our realtor (she sold this house to us) and trust her opinions. She suggested that we price it $10K less that we had initially planned. Oh noes!

I told her to do it because she said that at that price point we would get a lot more interest, but I knew that T would freak. And sure enough, he did. Well, not over the top freaking out, but he was all indignant about it. "If I had known we were going to price it at that, I wouldn't have put all this money into the house!"

In my opinion, we were either going to pay for the repairs before (as we did) or pay for it after with a lower final selling price and longer time on the market. Doing it beforehand just makes our house that much more salable. T griped about how we weren't going to make any money on the house because we had put so much into it. But most of the stuff we did was maintenance, not improvements. You shouldn't expect to get that money back.

I think T has a skewed idea about how real estate works. His dad has the (accidental) golden touch when it comes to real estate. Every property he has ever purchased has skyrocketed in value, so I guess that is what T thought would happen here. I had a little more realistic expectations.

On the up side, I think maybe the huz has seen the light on keeping up with regular maintenance, so maybe next time we won't be slammed with a bunch of last minute repairs. Or at least I can hope!


Identity Thieves

This Easter, don't be fooled by these clever impostors!
These identity thieves will steal your hearts, if not your bank accounts.


Weekend Wordles - (Belated) Moving Edition, Part 1

Join the fun at The Asylum, aka Last Shreds Of Sanity, to participate in Shan's Week~End Wordles. She has Mr. Linky up and running. For instructions on how to participate, go here.

Everything I Need to Know, I Learned from the Easter Bunny*

  • Don't put all your eggs in one basket.
  • Everyone needs a friend who is all ears.
  • There's no such thing as too much candy.
  • All work and no play can make you a basket case.
  • A cute tail attracts a lot of attention.
  • Everyone is entitled to a bad hare day.
  • Let happy thoughts multiply like rabbits.
  • Some body parts should be floppy.
  • Keep your paws off of other people's jelly beans.
  • Good things come in small, sugar coated packages.
  • The grass is always greener in someone else's basket.
  • To show your true colors, you have to come out of the shell.
  • The best things in life are still sweet and gooey.

Happy Easter!

*Yet another post courtesy of Mrs. B!


Ode to Chica

How awesome is this? My BFF, Chica, drove to Small Town all the way from Ginormousville - with a baby! - to help me clean my filthy house. She even brought mojitos!

She is so amazing. She thought of stuff to clean that never would have crossed my mind. Care to peek inside the built-ins, anyone? Wow! She stayed motivated long after I would have retired to the couch for visiting and adult beverages. Instead, it was visiting, adult beverages, and baseboard scrubbing!

Then, despite the fact that Chicklette kept her up all night, the next day she donned a bikini (!) and - wait for it - CLEANED MY POOL! What kind of true devotion is that? Love! I won't even hold it against her that she looks like a freaking super model (literally!) in her red string bikini. She talked me into putting on my bikini top, but I just couldn't bring myself to expose my jiggly fish-belly-white stomach to the unforgiving sunshine, so I wore my shorty overalls over it. I've got a pretty healthy self-esteem, but come on!

Thank you, thank you, thank you, Chica. Deciding to be your friend was one of the best decisions I ever made.

Redneck Sidenote

Perhaps I should have been more clear... The child in the Redneck Time Out photo is not mine! (Not that I haven't thought about it!)


Good to Be Home!

It is SO good to be home! It would be better if I didn't have to clean absolutely every surface of my house in preparation for listing it, but I'll take what I can get.

New Town was lovely. I think we are really going to like it there. I think I saw more of my aunt (who lives there) in the last week than I have in the entire previous four years. Awesome! I can't wait to get the little cousins together. Z is very excited, too.

Anyhoo, as there is still so much to do, I am afraid I will be a bit of a lame post-er for the next little bit. Rats. In that spirit, here is my first installment:

Redneck Time-Out


Spoiled Young People

I didn't write this, but I thought it was too hilarious not to share. My friend, Mrs. B sent it to me and I thought it was spot on!

. .. ... .... ..... .... ... .. .

When I was a kid, adults used to bore me to tears with their tedious diatribes about how hard things were when they were growing up; with walking Twenty-five miles to school every morning. Uphill. Barefoot. BOTH ways.

Blah, blah, blah.

And I remember promising myself that when I grew up,there was no way in hell I was going to lay a bunch of crap like that on kids about how hard I had it and how easy they've got it!But now that I'm over the ripe old age of thirty-something, I can't help but look around and notice the youth of today.

You've got it so easy! I mean, compared to my childhood, you live in a damn Barbie Dream House! And I hate to say it, but you kids today don't know how good you've got it!

When I was a kid we didn't have the Internet. If we wanted to know something, we had to go to the damn library and look it up ourselves - in the card catalogue! There was no email! We had to actually write somebody a letter (with a pen!), then you had to walk all the way across the street and put it in the mailbox and it would take like a week to get there!

There were no MP3's or Ipods. If you wanted to steal music, you had to hitchhike to the damn record store and shoplift it yourself! Or you had to wait around all day to tape it off the radio and the DJ would usually talk over the beginning and @#*% it all up!

We didn't have fancy crap like call waiting. If you were on the phone and somebody else called, they got a busy signal - that's it! And we didn't have fancy Caller ID, either. When the phone rang, you had no idea who it was! It could be your school, your mom, your boss, your bookie, a collections agent. You just didn't know! You had to pick it up and take your chances, mister!

We didn't have any fancy Sony Playstation video games with high-resolution 3-D graphics. We had the Atari 2600, with games like 'Space Invaders' and 'Asteroids'. Your guy was a little square! You actually had to use your imagination!! And there were no multiple levels or screens, it was just one screen - forever! And you could never win. The game just kept getting harder and harder and faster and faster until you died! Just like LIFE!

You had to use a little book called the TV Guide to find out what was on TV. You were screwed when it came to channel surfing. You had to get off your ass and walk over to the TV to change the channel. And there was no Cartoon Network, either. You could only get cartoons on Saturday morning. Do you hear what I'm saying? We had to wait ALL WEEK for cartoons, you spoiled rat-bastards!

We didn't have microwaves. If we wanted to heat something up, we had to use the stove. Imagine that! That's exactly what I'm talking about! You kids today have got it too easy. You're spoiled. You guys wouldn't have lasted five minutes back in 1980!

The over 30 Crowd