mrtl

Gettin' Jizzy Wit It

I'd almost given up on Saturday Night Live, but it appears to be making a great comeback this year. I'm just finishing up last night's episode and am greatly pleasured by this short.

Playing with Pasta

Go forth and have fun.

My Trophy

It all started when a fellow Mama casually mentioned the secret ingredient in the oh-so-delicious margarita of limey goodness. AM took it to task to procure this ingredient for our upcoming overnighter playdate (our daughters are the bestest of friends, and have totally hounded us to have a sleepover, and we have caved to their demands, because they were way demanding and are too cute together, like at the hockey game last weekend...

...see what I'm talking about? How could anyone resist the cutest of this combination? So the girls twisted our arms and we gave in and said, "Well, shucks, if we HAVE to.") Besides, I needed a reason to test out the new blender with the margarita dispenser. You think I'm kidding? Check this baby out (and no, mine didn't cost that much). (Note to mister mrtl - the old blender was sacrificed while making a ever-so-yummy butternut squash soup for a Halloween party.)

Anyhoo, AM got all busy doing -- what? MOM stuff -- and dropped the ball on finding the secret ingredient, although in all fairness I should contend that she didn't really drop the ball, but bounced it around a few times and then put it down in a safe place to get to later, and then got a bit distracted by other, much lesser-priority tasks (I don't know what, diapers or dishes or more crack-ho sock knitting), and so when I asked her how the search was going and she hemmed and hawed just that least little bit that she had tried here and there and had yet to try hither and yon, I cracked my knuckles, slapped my cap, and pulled out my mad Googling skilz. I responded to her email with name, number, and link to a local distributor of said secret ingredient, to which AM responded with, "You are the magical goddess of the internet! I bow down to thee!" and later in IM "you're the bestest super sleuth you need a medal." Rather than a medal I asked for a trophy and shared with her the awesome link I found today while perusing boredatwork.com: http://www.addcaptions.com/.

And behold, my trophy:

If the margaritas are worthy, I shall post the secret ingredient. Stay tuned!

Weeee! A Live Blogging Event!

10:00 Today is the annual community garage sale. For the next four hours, I shall be trying to hawk my shite. It's bound to be a highly exciting day, folks! Come back, and don't forget to bring cash!

10:05 It's only 5 minutes in and I've made a whopping $74. I may not have time for much blogging afterall.

10:10ish How appropriate with how freakin' cold it is in the shadow of my house that "I've Got My Love to Keep Me Warm" is playing?

10:18 I'm cold.

10:19 Bradley's parents have cookies. I was thinking that it's an ingenius way of getting people up the driveway. Should I be surprised that they're selling them?

10:22 I'm going to rearrange stuff. Casting my net if you will.

10:42 If only the Alphabet Pal would go, this sale could be considered a complete success.

10:45 Bradley's mom stopped over to visit. She doesn't have cookies. Apologies.

10:53 I'M BORED! And I can't even knit because I forgot to bring out some stitch markers. WAH!

11:20 Two of the book shelves are gone. Yay! Hopefully some of this other big stuff will go, too.

11:57 I'm cold and now I have to pee. Dinah is saying, "Something's Gotta Give." Damn straight.

Let's talk about other things. Did anyone watch Grey's last night? The penis issue? EWWWWWW!

If I type, my fingers aren't as cold. Maybe I should be off of this boring thing and write something for real since I'm out here for two more hours.

1:34 I'm done and back inside. I actually quit around 12:30, but spent some time dragging everything back into the garage. Still, people came up and followed me into the garage to look. Asking if other things in my garage were for sale.

Till next year...

Listed

Meme stolen from Andrea

The rules: You can only type one word. No explanations.

1. Yourself: restless
2. Your significant other: dreamy
3. Your hair: better
4. Your mother: hug
5. Your father: soon
6. Your favorite item: giggles
7. Your dream last night: unknown
8. Your favorite drink: fruity
9. Your dream car: tt
10. The room you are in: disarray
11. Your ex: unconsidered
12. Your fear: loss
13. What you want to be in 10 years: settled
14. Who you hung out with last night: family
15. What you're not: tired
16. Muffins: muffin-topped
17: One of your wish list items: cruise
18: Time: more
19. The last thing you did: blogged
20. What you are wearing: gray
21. Your favorite weather: fallish
22. Your favorite book: ashamed
23. The last thing you ate: pie
24. Your life: charmed
25. Your mood: relaxed
26. Your best friend (s): asleep
27. What are you thinking about right now: monitor
28. Your car: Vannie
29. What are you doing at the moment: listening
30. Your summer: cold
31. Your relationship status: married
32. What is on your tv: paused
33. What is the weather like: frigid
34. When is the last time you laughed: hour

Poor Pussy

Did you think I'd actually leave my birthday party plan for Bug alone? Hell, no. I'm all for talk and shit for follow through. If you've been reading this blog for any period of time and haven't seen that, then you're not the brightest bulb.

Today I renewed my search after I started putting together my things to do lists for the party. I kept seeing this recurrence of the importance of sticking to a theme, so I looked for more ideas and tried to figure out how to tie all the components together. Bottom line: The theme is "Pop." Freeze dancing will be done to a bubbly song, like "I'm Forever Blowing Bubbles" or "Tiny Bubbles." (And although it was an acquaintance of mine from high school who wrote and performed this song in her group, I will forego using, "How Many Licks Does It Take to Make My Coochie Pop?") A new game possibility was added with a musical chairs where no one gets out, but all the kids have to try to fit on the chairs provided. We'll do that to "Pop Goes the Weasel." The book exchange has nothing to do with bubbles, balloons or popping, but the order that kids pick their books can be determined by a balloon pop off.

But I digress.

As I was looking around the net for game ideas, I came across a game called, "Poor Pussy." I just had to share it with you. Notably with Sheryl, who is now the proud owner of my beloved copy of Games You Can Play With Your Pussy. It's not going to make the list for this party -- I honestly couldn't see this being played by anyone but adults, -- but I'd love to play it sometime.

Poor Pussy

This is a tried and true game which has been popular for generations. Arrange players in a circle. except for one child who is designated "Poor Pussy". Poor Pussy kneels in front of any player and acts like - you guessed it - a pussy cat. While he or she is meowing, the player must stroke Poor Pussy's head and say "Poor Pussy, Poor Pussy" without smiling. If the player petting Pussy smiles or laughs, they become "Poor Pussy" in the next round.

Think about how difficult it is not to crack up while petting someone's head and saying "Poor Pussy"! To make it worse, Poor Pussy is allowed to do anything to make players lose their composure, including silly faces, strange purring sounds, or other catlike moves. Other players are also permitted to laugh and do whatever possible to make it more difficult for the designated person to keep their cool.

An Art Project

The first I read of Donny Johnson was a small excerpt in the paper. I was intrigued at the thought of artwork created using a paintbrush made from hair and paint from M&Ms. I bought some M&Ms today with a plan. Searching tonight, I found this, which provides the instructions I need:

He puts from one to five of the candies in each of the jelly containers, drizzles a little water in and later fishes out the chocolate cores, leaving liquid of various colors, which get stronger if they sit for a couple of days.

A picture accompanies a description of the brush -- "Mr. Johnson's paintbrush is made of plastic wrap, foil and strands of his own hair," -- and if I feel so inclined I will make one to use. I wonder where I can get blank postcards.

I'll be posting my work of art next Monday, so I guess this could be considered a pseudo Motif. Anyone?

Happy Valentine's Day

Hey! Who Took My Pie?

I'll Give You a Window to My Soul

This post is dedicated to all of my wonderful blogging friends who took Bug's idea and ran the other day. You helped me to laugh at myself over this.

Question: What is mrtl up to?

Answer: No good.

What's your porn name?

Doing some random blog surfing today, I came across the following:

childhood dog's name + childhood street name = porn name

I had to snicker a bit thinking of what my brother's is. Suffice to say that mine wasn't as compelling. "Sparky Boner's Sister" doesn't have that special oomph.

Cough it up, peeps. What's yours?

----

Update: I'm laughing a bit now. I was confusing "childhood street name" with "childhood nickname." Watched too much of "The Wire," I suppose.

Mister mrtl had told me he's heard a variation of this activity:

childhood pet name + childhood street name = porn name

(He actually said "street you lived on," which brought the "aha!" moment for me. Duh!) Since we only had one dog ever, but plenty of cats, a couple fish and even some turtles, this gives me much more to work with. Besides, it was hard for anyone to come up with a teasing nickname for me since nothing works with my first name... which lasted until I met mister mrtl's old roommate, who called me "The Cathetar."

Anyhoo, with this new confirguration and my enlightenment, I can now reintroduce myself to you as:

Muffin Station