At some point, I shall actually try to crank out a post that is well written, thoughtful and hilarious. For now? I’m still basking in the glow of my piles of laundry and thinking about the hideous potential of ANOTHER car repair, so I want to get down and have a little fun with you and Whoorl.

Why?

Because Whoorl is pretty. And it sounds fun. And possibly a little dirty. Although in reality it isn’t whatsoever. Dammit.

I think I have some of the best comments on the planet. (Seriously? Seriously.)

Which is why I want you all to come up with a caption and/or imaginary conversation for this awesome photo by the fabulous Dutch Blitz:

Whoorl is a good sport for letting me play this game. This is the two of us at Y’s infamous BlogHer CheeseburgHer Party. (Which I loved. After 33 years on the earth, I FINALLY attended a party that was shut down by The Law. I’ve arrived, people.)

There are no real prizes, but the commenter who comes up with the best caption for this photo will earn my undying love and respect. And I’ll make out with you and post photos of our make out session on the internet. Because THAT IS HOW I ROLL, PEOPLE.

(Ok, fine. If you DON’T want to make out with me I will let you choose the non-monetary prize of your choice. Want linky love? Done. Want me to read something of yours and review it, answer a question or write something about the topic of your choice? SO there. Want me to ride nekkid on a donkey with you at the next Mardi Gras? Maybe. It depends on how many beads I’ll get out of it.)

Point is: You’ll get to pick your prize. Within reason, of course.

And if that wasn’t enough excitement, MY HUSBAND may actually comment on one of my posts.

(Somebody be prepared to catch me if I pass out in shock, please. Except I’ll give Backpacking Dad a free pass on this one. He’s been doing heavy duty overtime in the chivalry department for the blogosphere lately and I imagine he’s a bit knackered.)

My summation of Mamma Mia in three words: HOT TRANNY MESS.

Some moments were great but over all?

Shudder.

Good on stage, crapola on the screen.

However, I was there with two of the best women on the planet (Waving madly to Karen and Chelle) so it was one of the best nights I’ve had in awhile. When we were shrieking in embarrassment and/or horror in the parking lot a group of women mistook us for thinking it was fabulous and squeed, “We’ve seen it three times!”

Um, I would die, thanks.

(Apologies to those who loved it, but watching a woman use silk flower arrangements as a male package just isn’t my thing. Speaking of, what was with all the crotch grabbing? And memo to Pierce Brosnan: DO NOT QUIT YOUR DAY JOB, BUT PLEASE STOP SINGING. GO BACK TO BEING HOT IN A TUXEDO FOR THE LOVE OF ALL THAT IS HOLY!!!!)

That is all.

(Well, not really. I could go on for years but this IS a tiny sidebar.)

If you do, I will love you so much I will squee and lick you!

Careful, you are about to date yourself. *

(You might want to make sure your speaker volume isn’t up too high. I’m just sayin’)

I loved this show. Especially the end segment of “The Bloodhound Gang”. I totally thought I was going to be a detective when I grew up. Well, that or the Queen of England. Some dreams die a bitter, bitter death.

I loved so many TV shows from the 80’s: Silver Spoons, Heart to Heart, Fantasy Island, The Cosby Show, Moonlighting, The Smurf’s, and I totally wanted a bedroom complete with tilting flower cart to sleep in just like the one Punky Brewster had. I also cop to the fact that I started watching Days of Our Lives in the 80’s and I STILL WATCH IT FROM TIME TO TIME.

(I know, I know. I cannot help it. It is a sickness. Sigh.)

And who could forget MCGYVER?

The only man who could take a gum wrapper, some duct tape and a paper clip and make a nuclear missile.

Yup, McGyver and his mullet were one mean, lean crimefighting science geek machine. All business up front and a PARTY in the back.

(I totally wanted to put a photo of Richard Dean Anderson here with pink puffy hearts photoshopped in all around his head, but I think that would violate quite a few copyright laws. SO…just picture him and his mullet in a leather jacket staring at the camera like he wants to make hot, hot, scientific love to you right here, right NOW! Rad.)

So…what about all of you? What great TV memories do YOU have?

*Dedicated to Sue and Froyd-two of my original blogging “Peeps”. (You can take a pass at the licking. Go, Bemidji State!)

Hoping all LA bloggity friends and readers are ok after the earthquake. Check in and let us know via some kind of Tweet or something!

I’m 33-years-old.

I remember when our family got our first microwave.

My first telephone in my room was a rotary dial.

I saw my first CD disk at a dance in the 9th grade. The student body officers were up on the stage and someone held up a disk. The light hit it and created a crazy amount of refracted light rainbows. I had no idea what it was, but I did have a bit of a Pollyanna moment thinking how cool it would be to string a line of them up on the stage. I wouldn’t own my own CD player until after I graduated from high school in 1992. (I skipped a grade, in case you math heads are going, “Something doesn’t add up here.)

I remember playing Centipede on our Atari and I remember when we bought our first computer. My brother and I had a huge book of computer codes and we would enter lines of code for HOURS on our Commodore 64. At the end of the program we would look at each other anxiously before hitting the “Return” key and pray that we had done all of our coding correctly. If we did, we would be rewarded with some pretty little “Laser show” or spinning object that flashed on the screen for about 15 seconds. If we made even one typing mistake we would have a big, flashing “Error” screen pop up and I would have this overwhelming desire to throw my computer monitor out the window. (Some things have not changed.)

I remember watching the movie, Jumping Jack Flash with Whoopie Goldberg where she saves a stranded British spy trapped in East Germany by “Chatting” with him on her computer at the bank she worked at. I thought the fact that she could type to someone across the world on her computer was AMAZING. I wished so much that it was something I could do.

I didn’t really use a computer for much in school except to use Word Perfect to type and print out papers. Papers that I used books and encyclopedias to research. Because there was no internet when I was in high school. At least not one that was easily accessed by the average Joe.

My freshman year of college, I dated a guy who was a bit of a computer geek (again, some things have not changed) and he introduced me to things like “Telephone” where I could talk to people at other universities and then he showed me the best thing of ALL TIME! “The Internet”.

Until then I had only had the frustration of DOS (Dude. I HATE DOS. I used to get so frustrated in my basics of computers class that I would type “Tree” just because I knew it would make SOMETHING happen!), I dabbled a bit in MUDDS and I perused the “Newsgroups” like, alt.i.hate.barney.die.die.die.

With the internet, I could do ANYTHING and I was hooked. Hooked and I’ve never looked back. I’ve been fond of all the technology advances I’ve seen in my life and despite my definite streak of “TechnoDORK” I think I have adapted rather well. (Except when I try to tinker with my blog template. When I do that I end up shutting down the power grid of the state of Utah and make Dick Cheney’s toilet start flushing randomly. I am super awesome.)

EXCEPT IN ONE AREA.

TEXTING.

I cannot text. I SUCK at it. SUCK! I tell you.

It seems like all my friends and relations take to it with a speediness that confounds me. It seems like I only get a few words henpecked out before another text is on top of me waiting to be opened.

LAZER-FAST TEXTING FRIEND: hey chicka! how r u doing?

ME: Hello! Nice to hear from you. I am fi…

LAZER-FAST TEXTING FRIEND:so do you want to go check out a movie tonight?

ME: Sure, that would be really n-

LAZER-FAST TEXTING FRIEND:we could go catch the new film at the art cinema or hit that chick flick we’ve been wanting to see.

ME: Either of those choices would b-

LAZER-FAST TEXTING FRIEND:art cinema, maybe? yup, i was totally thinking the same thing.

ME: Well, I-

LAZER-FAST TEXTING FRIEND:do you think that the 7 or the 9 would work better for you? i think that the 9 would be best for me because i have a ton of errands to run and then i have dinner to make and the house to clean and a million things to get ready for tomorrow and then of course there is the preparation i have for my work week and oh man am i tired, so i’ll meet you there at 8:45, ok? see you later, toots!

ME: Um…?

And if you think that my lazer-fast texting friends are fast, well you have never seen TEENAGERS. My hell. It’s almost like their thumbs are on fire. I swear that in a few years time we are going to see the equivalent of tennis elbow cropping up amongst the youth of today. I can just see the medical journals: “Texting Thumb”: An epidemic?

Besides the speediness they exhibit, it also takes me a couple of online thesaraus’s and a few hours to decipher just what the HELL their texts SAY.

Example:

OMG i went2 d mal n saw lk a ton of orsum fings 2 buy bt thN i saw my pal jenny or shd i sA my ex pal jenny W my oder bfz guy matt n dey wr lk 100% HH n stuf @ d mal n so thN i wznt sure w@ 2 do so i jst ran N2 d baskin robins n ordrD a 3x <<{:}} cone so dat dey wudnt C me n now i feel lk a big f@ moo 3:-o. tlk2U l8r! BI!

Uh….?

I am just slow as cold tar when it comes to texting, but with my phone anxiety it is also a LIFE SAVER. Texting means you don’t have to stammer out a conversation on the phone and talk over people or laugh too loudly and hysterically out of anxiety. It’s something you can do in loud places that you could never have a conversation or under the dinner table in the middle of a blind date that is sucking the lifeblood out of your soul to the point that you MUST broadcast it to your BFF.

So? In the end I suppose that my texting life will keep going on because dude, it totally is necessary with my phone issues, but I will never be quick or awesome at it. Nope, not at all.

&? im 100% ok W dat. tlk2U l8r!

Jill of Glossyveneer is raising money for the Leukemia and Lymphoma Society.

Even $1 can help.

Hello, Looney Tunes Bloggityworld!

This is Loralee. Or rather, I should say that this is the tiny segment of Loralee’s mind that represents logic, rationality, and balance. (Yes, I know that I don’t talk a lot here. I SAID I was tiny, ok?)

Loralee has had a bit of a rough go of it lately and so I thought I would make a little list of things she needs to remember to help her out.

DON’T FALL BEHIND IN YOUR LAUNDRY. It makes you feel bad, there are clothes everywhere and once you fall behind it is just damn hard to catch up. So? Get off your ass and go put in a load already.

HONEY, YOU ARE NOT THE BLOGGING POLICE. It’s not your responsibility to make sure the blogging world is fair or that idiocy and offensiveness be corrected. Just don’t engage, chicka. DO NOT DO IT. It is not worth it and it’s just feeding the fire, so shut your pie-hole for once. It will just make you feel worse in the end if you start a brouhaha.

(I really thought about putting this down as number one but the pull of clean underwear was too strong. Sorry.)

TRY TO CONTROL YOUR NEED TO PEE DURING A MARATHON 16-HOUR CAR TRIP WITH YOUR INLAWS. Ok, I know that you have had three children and sometimes it just hits with a fury. Even if you are in the middle of buttfreakingnowhere Idaho and there is literally NOWHERE to pee for miles and miles I can see that part isn’t your fault. You also have no control over there being no bathrooms in the area, so peeing outside was the only option there was. And, I can ALSO see that you had to lean up against the side of the van because your plan to go pee in the bushes was thwarted because there were clusters of thorns on them the size of big, hairy donkey balls. (THAT would have been bad. Ouch.)

However, IF you are outside peeing and IF you have to lean up against the side of the van to pee, you really need to double check the space you are peeing on because your sister-in-law’s flipflop may have fallen out of the van door and you MAY PEE ALL THE HELL OVER IT.

It will cause much embarrassment and shame for you, although the rest of the people in the van will get a kick out of it. (Except for the owner of aforementioned urine-soaked sandal, of course.)

DO NOT GO NEAR THE COMPUTER AND/OR HAVE ANY HUMAN INTERACTION TWO DAYS BEFORE AND AFTER YOUR PERIOD STARTS. Really, it’s just not a good idea. You are always so damn pissy and emotional. You get caught up and twisted in things that will not matter or seem like a big deal once your hormones calm the hell down. So? Get a little calender and circle all your dates in red with a big reminder to realize what is up and to not engage, ok?

STOP LOOKING AT YOUR DAMN STATS: Because they are in the toilet after BlogHer but it will be ok. Seriously? SERIOUSLY.

YOU’RE OFF VACATION AND ARE FINALLY HOME. CALL YOUR IN LIFE FRIENDS BECAUSE IT’S BEEN FOREVER AND A DAY SINCE YOU’VE SEEN ANY OF THEM AND YOU MISS THEM.Because there is nothing quite like a friend who is right in front of you that you’ve known forever, is there?

And finally…

DON’T USE YOUR TEETH. THAT little tawdry tidbit is from your husband, Jonathan.

“Who are you texting so late?”

“My friend, Jon Deal. He’s trying to cheer me up because there is no damn Diet Coke on tap anywhere in the state of Washington. Oh, and because I lost 41 subscribers after posting those photos of me making out with half of BlogHer. I’m trying to get him to come next year, he’d have fun.”

“The male to female ratio at that thing must be staggering. I think I’ll start a blog and form a pack of males to go pick up on chicks.”

“You’re going to start a blog and go to BlogHer to go hit on women? You do realize that the majority of them are Mommybloggers, right?”

“Of course. It’s the best demographic. Mommybloggers have a proven track record that they put out.”