Traveling with a five year old, no matter the distance is always dramatic. Traveling with a five year old plus a 60 year old grandmother with severe rheumatoid arthritis AND an ornery, cantankerous-yet extraorinarily healthy 80 year old GREAT grandmother is always traumatic.

This past spring Gillian, my mother and grandmother and I were trekking up and over to Columbus, OH for my aunt's birthday. My family has been making regular visits to The Buckeye State for almost as long as I could remember. At a mere 150 miles away, Columbus should be a quick 3 hour trip. But before PaPaw, my grandfather, had gotten sick and passed away, he and Nan Nan (my grandmother) could stretch out the drive to make it more like a 5-6 hour half-day excursion. Unfortunately, there is no direct interstate highway connection to Columbus from Huntington, WV and for much of the trip old state routes and backroads are taken. These roads are riddled with my grandparents own personal Meccas: THRIFT STORES.

There are probably thrity or forty Goodwills, Salvation Army stores and good ol' fashioned "Second-handed Stores" along the way. Nan Nan and Pappers used to stop AT EVERY ONE. Being an antiques freak AND a cheapskate by nature (what can I say? It's in my genes) I was quite happy to shop along with them back in my younger, care-and child-free days. But my grandfather has since passed away. My arthritic mom is physically incapable of dragging out the trip any longer than necessary. And while Gillian is a seasoned traveller, she does get antsy in the car. That means, much to Nan Nan's dismay, that we make ONE stop, half-way there for a super-quick potty/coffee break at a McDonalds (my grandparents shared an unholy fear of Rest Stops and my Nanners still avoids them at all costs).

At this particular stop, we decided to grab lunch on the go. While I was gnoshing on my Cheeseburger Happy Meal and creeping thru one of the many 35mph speed traps, I grabbed my bucket of sweet tea for a quick, cool sip. It was stiflingly hot in the car because Nanners cannot tolerate air conditioning as it gives her a headache and makes her cough. Well, the tea cooled me off all right. The cheap styrofoam cup collapsed and cracked all the way apart. Instantly, my crotch, legs and thighs were drenched with the entire contents of my $1 large sweet tea, ice cubes and all. My immediate reaction was to look down and scream!! I lifted my sizezble posterior off of the car seat in reaction, but this proved to be an ill-fated move as the ice and liquid made their way between my legs, thru my undies and onto the seat I had to sit in for ANOTHER hour and a healf.

Because it was a quick 2.5 day trip and I was trying to pack light, I had planned to wear my jeans all weekend and did not pack an extra pair of pants. Besides, where would I go to change? It looked as if I had peed A GALLON on myself!!! I couldn't walk into a place of business looking like that! I spotted a closed-for-the-season Christmas Emporium and stopped in the parking lot. Lucky for me, the lot was also home to a string of storage units. I pulled up as close as I could to the units, positioning the car so that once open, the car door and storage building would make a nice shelter for my semi-nakedness. Mom hobbled out of the car and ransacked my overnight bag for some pajama bottoms as they were the only alternative. She was gonna get some fresh undies but I didn't want to be full frontally exposed on the side of the road, even for a spit second.
I was effectively blocked from any roadside specators as I crouched behind the open car door. Looking skyward as I shimmied out of my wet britches, I happened to notice a security camera perched directly over my head on the roof of the units. Of course. It was probably capturing every minute of this escapade. I thought for a brief second that it was a fake to deterr any would-be robbers, but it moved and made a noise, soooo I guess it was real. So much for modesty! I made a note to search You Tube later for a video feed of my panties-and-cellutlite clad self. Then came the dilemma of what to do about the very wet driver's seat. We spied a Dollar General Store across the street where we could buy a towel or two, and in the meantime, the seat was covered in trashbags ( my dad always keeps spare trash bags in the trunk-I don't wanna know why).

Thirty minutes later, Mom and Nan Nan emerged with bags full of not only towels but candy, chips and drinks. YAY!! Snacks! My burger was also a casualty of the ice tea fiasco. I only got one bite before I dropped it and screamed at my ice-cold crotch. But I wasn't about to open another drink in the car during the trip. Well, I wasn't allowed to. My mom may be sick, but when she aims those claws at you, you cringe! She snatched a pop bottle outta my hands and pointedly put it bag in the yellow and black shopping bag. *Sigh*

We were off again, me with dry pants and, thanks to surprisingly absorbent cheap towels, a dry seat. A few minutes later, Nan Nan sighed and muttered at the window, "I don't know why we cain't stop at one-o-them stores (thrift store). It ain't like we're in a hurry 'er nuthin."
Well, maybe SHE wasn't in a hurry but I was eager to get to Aunt Gwen's so I could wash my jeans, and look for my roadside fanny on the internet!

Ring-a-Bling-Bling!

I recently heard a radio deejay bashing Kim Cardashian (WHY is she famous again?) for buying her own engagement ring. Mostly, I think because the chic is not even officially engaged. BUt upon interviewing her on-air it was discovered that she merely has the diamond selected. NOT the ring itself. But the deejay is a silly boy and jsut didn't get it. We were discussing this at work and quite a few of my co-workers felt the same. That a woman shoud NOT buy her own ring. She shouldn even be present when it is purchased. I found it shocking that people, women, would feel this way.

As many of you know, I grew up in the bridal biz. My mother was the owner of a small boutique. Her clientele varied but one thing that remained constant among the brides was THE RING. Whether it was a small diamond chiplet, a huge multi-faceted heart shaped monstrosity or the exquisitely perfect emerald cut, THE RING was always ogled, examined and reveered. But that wasn't always the case.

In the long, long ago before times, in the olden days even, a man gave his beloved an heirloom ring to welcome her into the family. It wasn't necessarily a diamond. Diamonds and white wedding gowns became en vogue thanks to Queen Victoria (who, on her wedding day, donned herself in a never-before-seen dress of while and bespeckled her ears and neck with diamonds-surprisingly there were none on her fingers!) of England.

Ever since then, it has been diamonds and white dresses for brides.
The Victorian era brought the diamond engagement ring into popularity and men were visiting jewelry stores in droves. Back then, a man relied on the help of store clerks to select a ring for his sweetie to wear for the rest of their lives together. He got on one knee, she said yes they lived happily ever after. Then came the 60's and 70's. Suddenly women were shopping with their fiances and men were propsing withOUT a ring. The Feminist Movement woke up the female population. We didn't have to wear somethign that grandma wore. We didn't have to wear a ring tht a stranger had selected. WE HAD A CHOICE.

Then. The 1980's. Materialism, wallstreet and the Feminists of the previous era gave us powerful working women with their own disposable income. 80's women were paying for the entire wedding on their own, or the couple split the cost. Ring and all.

It should come as no surprise that women today select and purchase their own rings before they even acquire a fiance. Let's not forget that Britney Spears bought her own engagement ring when she agreed to marry Kevin Federline. Liz Taylor has funded countless engagement rings of her own.
Its just what we do these days. ALL women, not just the rich-n-famous. We are ALL women who know what we want and if we have to go out and get it on our own, we will!

So Kim Cardashian has a giant diamond on reserve for her in a jewelry store safe. Good for her. She has taken the pressure of her future fiance. And maybe they can design the setting of the diamond and the matching wedding band together.

After all, these days (especially with celeb-or pseudocelebrity-weddings) the bling may faaaaarrr outlast the union!!!!

No one better mess with 'Da Newsies!'

Me: (randomly starting a conversation that I had half-finished in my head): What was that guy's name in Titanic? The one whose acting was reeeeeallly bad?

Brian: Everyone's acting was bad in Titanic.

Me: What? That movie was AWESOME! We'll argue about that later. Anyway, he was the guy diggin' stuff up off the ship. Bill. Bill Something.

Brian: The guy from Big Love?Me: Yeah! That guy. He was in Twister, too.

Brian: Bill-At the same time he said "Pullman!" I offered "Paxton!"

Me: It's Paxton. Bill Paxton. Whew! I am glad I figured that out!

Brian: No, Bill Pullman was in Titanic and Twister.

Me: No, it was Bill Paxton. Bill Pullman was in While You Were Sleeping.

Brian: That was Peter Gallagher.

Me: Right. Peter was the one Sandy B. THOUGHT she was in love with. Bill PULLMAN was the one she married.

Brian: No, that was Bill Paxton. That guy was the President in Independence Day with Will Smith.

Me: HA! WRONG!!!! Bill PULLMAN was the Pres in Independence Day AND that SAME actor was in Newsies and BILL PULLMAN, most certainly NOT Bill PAXTON, was in NEWSIES.

Finally, Brian conceeded. Who knows why I was even thinking about Titanic to begin with. It was semi-important at the time. Oh well. The point is, I won an argument based on my unmatched knowledge of all things Newsies.

Brian knows better than to mess with me and my Newsies!!

Ugly Laughing: The Prequel

Once upon a time I went to a wedding. It wasn't a fairy tale wedding, far from it. More a bridal scene from a bad Soap Opera. But that is a WHOLE 'nuther story as they say.

Brian and I drove with Nan Nan, my maternal grandmother, to Ohio (Columbus, to be exact) just for the nuptuals of my cousin and his*gulp* fiance. We got lost twice and accidentally took the long way from WV to Ohio (considering WV and OH share a border and a river, that's pretty sad). So a 3 hour trip took almost 5, not to mention I had already driven 4 hours that day to drop Gillian off to her dad. By the time we arrived (late) at the rehearsal dinner, I was worn-out, cranky and had a tummy ache from eating lunch too fast in the car.

The bride's family had rented out a small banquet room in a quaint Italian restaurant. The food was great but the tension in the room was overwhelming. There had been a family feud involving the bride and almost every member of our extended family for some time now. So add all of that animosity to my already bad mood and I was on the verge of a breakdown.

As I was scrambling to keep it all together, my sister aimed her camera at Brian and me. I automatically leaned in and fake smiled. As soon as the digital picture popped up on the screen, Holly started laughing and snorting. I knew I looked pretty heinous, being all tired 'n everything but it couldn't be THAT funny. Holly showed me the camera and even with my dead eyes I thought it was an okay pic. Brian had his arm around me and we looked all snuggly, if not a little tired. Then I saw it. RIGHT BEHIND us, just off to the side, was my Nan Nan's floating head. My silly granny must have stuck her head in the shot at the last minute. Her pale Mary Kay powedered face caught most of the camera flash in the dimly-lit room. Brian and I were flesh tone. Nanner's skin was sheet white, her face twisted in a crazy, ghoulish smile, hands splayed on either side of her head. She looked like a poltergiest.
.
To say that I was entertained by the picture would be an understatement of epic proportions. I had barely been keeping myself in check anyway. And this wacky pic sent me right over that proverbial edge. I burst into hysterical laughter. Within minutes, I was laughing so hard, my lungs ached and my tummy was hurting even more. The mascara I had so tenuously applied in the car (to save time) just moments before our arrival was running in clumpy, black rivers down my face.

Before I could stop myself, it was happening.

I was ugly laughing. This had to be the WORST CASE of Ugly Laughing the world had ever seen. I had been trying to dab off the unruly eye make up AS I WAS LAUGHING (thereby producing more pesky tears) because as hard as I tried I could NOT stop. But the dabbing was making it worse. And the mascara was so fresh, instead of running all over my face in easy-to-wipe-off, scattered pieces, the stuff was turning into toxic sludge. The Almay Mascara for Sensitive Eyes turns out to be not so gentle when it is being dissolved directly into your eyeballs. It burns like an evil beeeotch!!
The tears of laughter were coming so fast. The more I wiped the worse I looked.

My reflection in Holly's Tiffany & Co. compact was horrifying. My face was simltaneously purple and splotchy pale with lovely black low-lights streaming from my eye sockets. I was still laughing hysterically when I got up to wash my face in the restoom. A concerned stranger put her hand on my back and asked if I was okay. All I could do was nod and try to breathe. I hiccuped and gasped. I flailed my hands in front of my face. "I'm-*gasp, snort, hysterical sob of laughter*I'm f-f-fine." I stammered. I didn't want the kind stranger worrying about me. I wanted her to know that I wasn't upset,despite the scary tears and magenta face. "Laughing-*hiccup, awkward snorty laugh-sob*-I'm laughing!!"
I'm not sure what the lady's response was. I know she hustled her kid outta there pretty fast, tho!

I was splashing my face with cold water and I even washed my EYES with the foaming hand soap, just to clean off SOME of the mascara that I had inadvertently rubbed into my skin, in my eyes and on my clothing.
I went back out to the 'party' and took my seat. I instructed my sister and my grandmother not to even LOOK in my direction, as it may set me off again.

Surprisingly, I managed to stay slightly composed for the rest of the evening. Although I had an even worse than before belly ache and I was literally sore all over from my Ugly Laughing 'sode.

Holly has the picture she snapped of the three of us: Me, Brian and the Ghost of Nan Nans Present, hopefully I can find it and steal it from her to post along with this blog. THEN you'll get it!!

As for the actual wedding, as I mentioned before, it has it's own story. But I'll save that for another time.

Like, never.

Wii, Wii, Wii, All the Way Home

After an AWE-wait for it-SOME evening of fun, food and a globe-trotting friends reunion, Brian and I called it an early evening and set off to relieve my exhausted mother from Gillian duty. He and I arrived at my mother's house only to find that Gillian had meandered over to the neighbor's to play. There, Brian and I discovered a battle comparable to The End of Days.

Thirteen year old Lauren was getting her butt handed to her by my five year old video game prodigy. The two were playing Wii Bowling. They had been playing all of ten minutes and Gillian, clad in a turquoise-and-white polka dot sundress w/ rainbow spaghetti straps and a half pony-tail, had already made two strikes and a few spares. Gillian is what I call a sore winner. If she loses she usually just smiles shyly and shruggs it off. But if she is winning? Oh man, Pro Wrestlers have nothin on this girl's smack-talk. She jumps up, does a wiggly dance of victory, then gets all up in yo' face and sings "I beeeeaaat you!! I beeeeaaat you!" Then she will give you a play-by-play of exACTly how she "beeeeaaat you!"
After the bowling victory, Gillian proceeded to beat the Wii out of Lauren's Mii during a boxing match. Lauren was trying to get in jabs and dance some fancy foot work. Gillian was just pummeling and kicking the air with all of her preschooler might. If Lauren paused to take a breath, Gillian would SCREAM at her "FIGHT! FIGHT ME LAUREN! FIIIIIGGGHHHTTT!!" It was very "BRING IT, BITCH!!" sounding.
After Gillian had won both bowling and boxing matches, it was time to go home. We promised she could come back the next day and kick Lauren's Wii little butt again. As we left the house, Gilly and Brian held hands and skipped down the brick sidewalk together. It was very dark outside because of the storms of the day and the fact that it was close to 930pm. The sight of them holding hands and skipping and laughing, well made my heart skip and laugh, too.
We went home, got comfy and we all crashed early. Gillian dreamed last night about defending her Wii title. My lil girl talks in her sleep, and while I couldn't exactly make out the words, I am sure she was taunting Lauren.
I hope our neighbor is preparing for a re-match! Because it is ONNN!!!

Wolverine

So we finally knocked a movie off of our growing "Must See" list.

Wolverine was certainly action-packed and there were plenty of gratuitous "Hugh is so hot" scenes. I must admit tho, that there were no where near enough nekkid butt cheeks in the movie. There were exactly two naked Hugh scenes and they were back-to-back. One in the lab and one in the farmhouse. I don't think he even took his shirt off after that. And wasn't the whole point of creating this movie to bring in the female audience? I mean, he had a lover in this movie. He was sweet and sensitive to her and the old folks on the farm. He didn't want his bro to kill a bunch of villagers. So if the producers wanted the women to be drawn in there should certainly have been a lot less clothing in the movie. And not once did we see Liev unclothed. THAT was disappointing for sure!! The fangs were sexy as hell, tho!

Having said that, I have a few questions about the plot.

I had no idea that Logan was immortal. I had no idea that he had a bro. How did we not know this from the other movies. I mean sure, he had bullet-to-the-brain induced amnesia. But during this movie, Sabertooth was hell-bent on killing him. And his reasoning seemed to be 'just because.' So why wouldnt he have popped up in the other movies. These days flicks have too many bad guys anyway. A brother looking for revenge would have been perfectly acceptable.

And in the beginning, why was Logan sick? Oh, and when did he become "Logan?" Was that his last name when he was a sick kid? bc Liev called him that kid name 1/2 the movie and the other half it was Logan. Like Jimmy or Petey or something. Anyway, was he sick bc of the mutation? Was it just then becoming active? And his lil bod was freaking out, in overdrive? Bc clearly the kid never knew about his healing powers and the bone daggers until he killed Liev's dad. Well, his dad, too I guess. I thot that was a bit confusing as well. Jimmy's mom cheated on her Doctor husband with Liev's dad who was a raging drunk? Ugh. That was stupid.

And how come the boys grew up to a certain point and stopped aging? I get that they were immortal. Well, actually, i don't. Not all Mutants are immortal, right? They are just people who have some screwy genes. Logan is regenerative but that started when he was 11 so it would make more sense that his body would keep him as he was right then when the mutation began. But I guess he had to grow up all hot and strong, right?
WHy was Sabertooth immortal? As far as I could tell, he didn't have regenerative powers. So why was he a bazillion years old?

And Gambit. What the CRAP was his power. And I had hoped that the kid playing him would have gotten hotter as a mutant. Bc I think he is creepy and ugly. Apparently I am alone in that opinion. Even straight guys I know who watch him as Riggins on Friday Night Lights understand that he is attractive. But not to me. I found myself distracted during his scenes tryng to figger him out. Both his power and his mystery hot factor.

Will.I.Am. was very good as Spectre. I was surpirsed that I had never noticed how attractive he is. I also never noticed that his name is just plain ol William. Hmmmm...

I was pleased to see Patrick Stewart at the end. But his CGI facelift was disturbing. Altho I know why it was necessary.
The extra scenes were disappointing.

I actually did enjoy the movie overall. I am a huge Hugh fan, and of course he was the whole reason I got pulled into the XMen movie franchise. Just that the plot was a little too...something.

Oh ok, I'll admit it. I just wish there were more butt cheeks in the movie!!

Baby Wipes of Death

As a mother I tend to keep things like band-aids, candy and stickers on hand for various emergency situations. These emergencies can be anything from cuts and scrapes on the playground to an emo sitch at The Disney Store. I also tend to keep my vehicle well-stocked. The backseat of the familyYaris Sedan is loaded with things like kid toys and extra clothes and shoes.

Baby wipes are also a staple for moms. Recently, I picked up some generic wipes in an easy-to-distribute pop-up container at a local discount store. The cartoon picture on the canister was of bright, shiny, happy kids on a playground. The wipes were touted as being hypoallergenic, perfect for the sensitive skin genes I passed on to Gillian.

As it turned out, my five year old daughter was not the first person to use the wipes. After a fun grown up girls' nite at a local Mexican restaurant I decided along with Holly and our childhood friend PJ, to make a run to a local drug store. They were having a sale on our favorite cheap make-up. We piled into the Yaris (after PJ made room for her grow-up self in my packed back seat) and I cracked the seal on my new wipes as we all felt the need to degrease ourselves a bit after dinner. As I opened the can, the smell that wafted up into my eyes, nose and lungs made me gasp, sneeze and cough all at once. The chemical slightly-cholrine bleachy smell was over whelming. I rolled down the window and gasped for air. Holly and PJ rolled their windows down as well, laughing at me for being so cheap as to buy no-name, generic brand baby wipes. I was grateful that I hadn't tried them on Gillian first. Her baby soft skin may have actually dissolved, or at least have suffered chemical burns as a result.

But for some reason (I'm gonna guess it was out of laziness), I did not toss the can of wipes. I kept them in my car. They were good for other things, like getting melted candy out of my car's cup holders. Once, I even used a toxic wipe to polish the dashboard and steering wheel while I waited for Brian and Gillian to exit the grocery store. It seemed the wipes were good for cleaning everything except people.

I guess I forgot to mention that to brian. Poor guy. After eating a dinner of Long John Slivers (I swear my fam does not consume that much greasy food--these events were weeks apart)Brian used a wipe-of-death on his face and hands. He had a bit of a cold and couldn't smell the wipe itself (the first cloud of noxious gas that I inhaled upon unsealing the can seemed to be a one time occurence). But he sure could feel the burning on his face and hands!! "OH MY GOOOOOODDDD! What ARE these things?!" I heard from the direction of our parked car. Gilly and I were examining the local flora and fauna offerings of the local grocery store's pop-up green house. We had decided to 'shop off' some of our LJS dinner. Gillian and I rushed over to our fallen family member. Brian was outside the car, bent over, his hands covering his face.
"Are you okay Brian?" Gilly asked, concerned. "I thought these were BABY WIPES!!!" He said with clenched eyes, shaking the canister in the air.
I couldn't help but laugh. Really, unnecessarily hard. Not quite ugly laughing, but close. "I'm sorry!" I squealed. "They are! They are baby wipes!" Brian dropped the can onto the ground and stumbled over to the greenhouse where he grabbed a garden hose that he had almost tripped over. It was still trickling and he dribbled the tepid water over his face. He wiped off with his shirt and glared at me from behind his glasses w/ red, raw eyes. I was biting my lip, trying not to smile. "I'm sorry." I said failing at my attempts to hold in my guffaws. I don't know why I found it to be so funny, his misery. But I did and I couldn't help it.

"Are those baby wipes for kids you HATE?" He said, still out of breath. "WHY would ANYONE put that stuff on their kid's SKIN? The kids would look like the Joker!" I lost it then. Brian laughed, too and Gillian chimed in with her silly, snorty giggle. We were quite a sight to onlookers, I am sure. But then again, aren't we always?

Needless to say, I DID NOT tell Brian that I had relagated the toxic wipes to car-cleaning duty. He ended up trashing them as soon as we got home. But that doesn't mean I won't buy more. I'll just have to hide them under the driver's seat or something.

I mean, those things got MELTED SUCKER out of my car seat!! Amazing!

Artist vs. Furntiure

Please, someone EXPLAIN IT TO MEEEEE!!

How is it that someone so artistic, someone who can put paint and brush to canvas and create spectacular visions of wonder CANNOT PAINT??!

My sister Holly and I painted Gillian's room at Mammy's (my old room) this weekend. Well, to be 100% accurate, we left the walls alone and painted the floor and furniture. Yes, we painted 150 year old original walnut floors. It was decided that painting them would be better for the floor than stripping it because it was thought that perhaps the solvent needed to remove the century and a half of grit and grime just might dissolve the decrepit wood. The furniture, also antiques by today's standard, was painted a lovely 'Dusty Rose Day Glo Puce-y Pink" I think was how Holly put it.

I precariously painted the floor on Friday. Holly arrived bright and early at 11 am Saturday to help with the rest of the grunt work. I got to work on the headboard trusting Holly, the artist, to do her effortless magic on the footboard. My lil sis and I engaged in our typical Summer-n-Holly mindless chatter/banter. It was quite a few minutes before I needed a refill of paint. I headed over to Holly's station, as she was painting out of the can. I stopped, dead-cold in my tracks. I was not prepared for the carnage my eyes beheld.

On Gillian's headboard there were GIANT BLOBS of dripping paint. The entire middle section was unpainted, untouched. Around the delicate curved arch of the top of the bed, bright yellow paint screamed out, taunting me. She had missed it. Surrounding the yellow was a stormy sea of pink. Stormy because there were even more globs, smears and streaks.

"How-Wha? I don't-I... Holly?"

My gorgeous lil sis turned her hypnotic green eyes and bright smile to me. She was blissfully unaware of her...mess. The smile slowly dissolved as she saw my stricken face. Paint brush in mid-air she asked, "What? What is it?"

I blinked rapidly, trying to focus my vision. "You... You can't ... You can't..PAINT!!"

"WHAT? I can so! I can so PAINT!"

And then my shock gave way to Taunting Big Sis mode. I sprang into action, snatching the spongie brush away from her maniacle grip. "Look! Look at that! It's all smeary! And the runs! Oh my GOSH! HOW did you DO THAT??!"

It was unfathomable. Not only is Holly talented in the visual arts, she and I grew up in a Civil War era
home. We were raised on paint vapor and wallpaper paste fumes ('splains a lot, don't it??!). By ages 8and 9, we learned how to faux paint wooden columns to look like they were made of marble. Holly and I cut, diced and stripped layer upon layer of wallpaper off and smoothly back on to uneven walls. She and I were decorating dynamos before our preteen years.

Then I started thinking. I had seen her do those other things, I was right along side her. But paint a flat surface a single color? Hmmmm... I think I recall Mom redirecting her into something else. Something less... restrictive. Yes! Yes, that's it! For Holly, the paint needs to flow, it needs to be coaxed and guided into something beautiful and amazing to behold. To Holly, the paint and brush are merely vessels for her vision. Apparently, she HAS NO VISION (artisitc or otherwise) when painting household goods. Or walls.

No further explanation needed. I get it, sis. You have creative needs that cannot be met or contained by mindless housework. Either that or you are so devious that you constantly mess up on purpose in order to get out of a boring activity. Well, I can repect that, too.

So from now on, when the family is undertaking yet another extreme make over, you are reglated to BABYSITTING DUTY! It's My Lil Pony, SpongeBob and Gilly Raspberries for you from now on!!!

How's THAT for creative genius!!