scraps & lagniappe

the Kerry blog: now with 80% more randomness

Welcome to my brain today.

Last night I went to bed with a huge sense of relief after finishing my friend's website, ready to dream of rainbows and fluffy kitties and Andrew McCarthy in 1986, but woke up in the middle of a dream where I was having dinner with Jeff Lewis (from Bravo's "Flipping Out") and Anderson Cooper, talking about the balloon boy from Colorado and I'm pretty sure we were at the Red Lobster.  What does that mean?

Balloon boy's name is Falcon.  Who names a kid Falcon?  What are the siblings names?  Eagle and Rooster?  Sparrow and Ruby-throated Warbler?  Finch and Red-breasted Nuthatch?  Poor kids.

If I had a red-haired son I would totally call him Rooster as a nickname.

I made the mistake of going to Best Buy today.  42 people asked if they could help me find something, so I finally said yes and asked where the recordable CDs were.  Chickie insisted on leading the way, I followed.  There were a row of CD-Rs and chickie says, "here are the CD MINUS Rs."  Minus.  I'm thinking if you use those you'll actually subtract part of your music collection from your iTunes. 

No, I didn't correct her. I know the dash means nothing for CDs.  

My garbage company hates me.  Over the past month, they've cracked the front of the can to where it's barely hanging together and today, somehow they garbage men managed to break a wheel off of the can.  If only there was video of my attempt to drag the one-wheeled can back to the garage -- it would be a You Tube sensation.  Of course, it would have to be bleeped every other word, but a sensation nonetheless.  

I dropped an entire pitcher of iced tea on the kitchen floor AGAIN tonight.  I have the coordination of a sleepy toddler.  I was going to say "drunk toddler," but that would be wrong.

Our modem is trying to die.  It's been doing this turn off randomly thing for couple of weeks, then last night it wouldn't come back on for 10 minutes.  I called AT&T about the thing today.  Chickie tries to get me to "troubleshoot" it.  I told her I was damn close to shooting the thing with the rifle and she needed to send me another modem.  Chickie verified that we have the extended whatever and says it will be here in 3-5 days.  Welcome to Kerry's troubleshooting -- it's not working properly, send me a new one.   I have PMS, you don't want to try me right now.

At Walgreens, I stood in front of the PMS over-the-counter section for at least five minutes trying to remember what I usually buy.  It seems there are many more boxes than before.  Drug companies, I have PMS, I don't need options right now.  I need a box that says "take this now for your cramps so you don't kill someone with a pen in the parking lot."  That's the box for me.

All the ingredients in the PMS medicines are the same, so I don't know why we need 20 to choose from.  I picked Midol.  And M&Ms.  You know, for the extra caffeine in the chocolate.

I saw a commercial tonight for Reese Witherspoon's new perfume.  Do y'all remember way back in the day when the only celebrity who had a perfume was Elizabeth Taylor?  Am I the only one disturbed by the fact that we live in a world where anyone can have a perfume? Avril "I'm so punk!  Look at me, I'm Canadian and I can flip the bird!" Lavigne and Tim McGraw both have perfumes.  I'm unveiling my new perfume next week.  It's called Kerrageous and it has all my favorite scents in one bottle: geranium, sweet pea, honeysuckle, mint, chocolate chip cookies, and cornbread. And butter.

Mmm...cornbread.

forecast schmorecast

Kerry's weather forecast is brought to you by the fine people at the pharmaceutical company which keeps her medicated and motivated.

Here is the 10-day forecast for the Covington area:

That's right, a week of storms, lows in the 70s, highs in the 80s, and 90% chance of Kerry losing her mind.  

the Kors quote post: I feel like a pope at a sex club

Can we just talk for a minute?  I've taken cough medicine and started this post.  I am medicated and motivated, people.  I am wired.  But enough about me, let's move on to the me in my head.

Do you watch the Project Runway?  Huh?  Do ya?  Well, ya should.  Here's the rub: Michael Kors and Nina Garcia have been missing for weeks and I have missed the bitchy, sarcastic, snarky, bitchy, hysterical, ridiculous, bitchy judging styles of Michael Kors.  He's like my fairy godfather of bitchy comments and I've missed him.  He's like me, only male and gay -- judgmental, with sarcasm and you know he says things out of love, like moi.  He's like me, only orange.

The Kors and I have been BFFs in my mind since season one of PR.  Here are his best quotes from the six previous seasons.  Keep in mind -- these quotes are about outfits, that's what makes The Kors hilarious.

It's a little like a woman going out to eat ribs.

It looks like toilet paper caught in a wind storm.

It's a little mother of the bride.

I thought it looked farty.

She looks like a paper brioche.

You're a mess just standing there.

If you didn't do that jacket in fleece I would have been like give me a Xanax, I'm asleep.

Nina Garcia: You went from a wedding to a funeral.  Michael Kors: ...Or a French maid at a funeral.

It's a little Shirley McClaine when she played a hooker with a heart of gold.

She needed a feather duster.

That was so Paris hooker 50's.

I think she looked like $29.99 prom.

AND my top 4 fave quotes:

Next thing you know, it's big button earrings and you're on 'The Facts of Life.'

Scarlett O'Hara ripped drapes down and made a couture dress...this, she ripped the sheets off the bed and ran out the door.

She looks like Barefoot Appalachain Lil' Abner Barbie.

I feel like a pope at a sex club.

Don't we all just feel like a pope at a sex club sometimes?  That's what I like to call 1992-97.  I'm telling you, I was/am the goody two shoes Adam Ant sang about.

Well, honeys, he's back.  Here's the preview.  And yes, he says "teal charmeuse disco pumpkin" which is now what I want to be for Halloween.  Has anything more festive ever been said?  Teal charmeuse disco pumpkin?  Shut up. 

is that a rhetorical question?

What am I on meds for?  I'll take a case. 

one weak week

It's been an odd week for this chick, so I'll start there because it's always nice to start at the beginning. 

Monday was normal.  The hubs was sick, but everything in Kerry world was fine otherwise.

Tuesday sucked.  The munchkins and I were on the way home from the club and I got into my first car accident.  I rear-ended a woman, pretty much knocking her bumper off.  Go me.  Before I go on, everyone was fine -- no need to worry or start a telethon for donations or anything.  The middle child asked if I would get a ticket, followed with the question "will we go to jail?"  So far (fingers crossed) I can say I've never spent time behind bars, but I told her we'd go to jail if we didn't behave.  The police show up and I hand over my license, registration, and expired insurance card -- of course my card expired on my birthday and I hadn't put the new one in my car yet.  Awesome.  Then deputy Megan shows up, jumps out of her car asking if I want her to take the kids or if there's anything she can do -- I was expecting her to say she was once a traffic cop, because as those close to her know, Megan has had every job on the planet.  By the way, I'm not exaggerating here -- Megs has done everything from designing kitchens to taking newborn photos in the hospital -- I never know what's next.  We will be sitting in a restaurant or something and I'll wonder aloud if the paella is any good and she will bust out with "you know, when I was Castro's personal food taster, I had great paella."  And I'm all "I didn't realize that was a job or that you'd even been to Cuba."

So, I told Megan everything was under control and she left.  I got a citation and the middle child asks if it was a ticket.  I said yes and the four year-old goes "yea!"  as if it were a prize.  Once I get home, Frugal Beth calls and tells me her mother saw me after the accident standing on the median.  Later, on Facebook another friend tells me she saw me too.  I felt like a minor celebrity.  By that night my neck and head hurt and I've been popping Motrin since.   Oh, the pic is of the car I hit, notice the bumper.  And I didn't know they still make Lancers.

Wednesday night we took the kids to see Thomas Live in New Orleans.  Driving across the Causeway, the hubs asked where I'd like to go for dinner and he suggested Chevy Chase's place.  My hubs is a very bright man.  He can do all kinds of math, knows the ins and outs of complicated computer programs, and is great at what he does.  He's not so good with names.  Make that horrible with names.  I informed him that Chevy's Tex-Mex restaurant is not Chevy Chase's place.  It is not an understatement to say he was shocked.  His reply "but it's called Chevy's..." made me question his brilliance.  I went into analogy mode --because my hubs is the king of analogies -- and told him that the toilet paper brand Scott's doesn't make it automatically his.  I think he understood, but I'm still not sure.  No doubt I could not endure that conversation if it were not for medication.  This blog should be sponsored by anti-depression/anxiety meds, I'm telling you. 

We ate dinner at Chevy's (not Chevy Chase's place) and went to see the show.  Once we found our seats, I started reading the tattoos of the woman sitting in front of Andrew.  The back of her neck said Sarah.  Her hand read Ms. Pink in swirly letters and there were different sized stars going up her arm.  She turned her head to talk to the woman sitting to her left and to reveal more stars coming from below the bra area (she was wearing a very low-cut top) and going up her neck to behind her ear.  Another family shows up on their row and informs Sarah that her family is in their seats.  Color me surprised because Sarah seemed like the type who knows her way around an arena.  The show began and ten minutes in a 50something lady is asking me to move my purse from her seat and I obliged, then she says they've paid good money to be there and want to sit down.  Huh?  Are we gonna have a throw down?  I moved my purse, grams.  Grams, Gramps, and a kid sit and don't stop talking the entire time because apparently they felt the show needed to be narrated.  Intermission.  Grams tells her hubs, who is named "Dammit George" to get them drinks.  He asks what type of beverage, she replies "Dammit George, I said Cokes!"  He walks away, returns with said Cokes.  Grams says "Dammit George, I thought I told you to get cotton candy."  He walks away, then turns around, maybe 15 feet away and yells "red or blue?"  In my head, I'm thinking that it's pink and not red, but I'm not going to interject.  Grams yells "Dammit George, get the blue!"  I start to wonder if he was Dammit George as a child or if he got the pet name once he married Ms. Congeniality.  

Thursday was a day spent on the computer from morning 'til way past sundown.  There was a bit of work to be done on the ScrapFest! website, just cleaning up a couple of things that most people woudn't even notice -- then I decided to make a favicon (that's the little picture you see next to a website in your address bar and in your bookmarks or favorites).  I made a pink scalloped circle with a blue fleur de lis inside, uploaded it, and put it on all the pages of the site.  When I got to the FAQs page I saw an empty page.  Somehow there was no saved version of the FAQs page, so I remade the whole thing -- it was time consuming.  I fully intended to write a post Thursday night, but instead had work to do.  Gosh, I sound like a real grown up.  Ugh.

So, this has been an odd week, complete with my first ever car accident.  I know, hard to believe I haven't caused more accidents, right?  That's what I thought. 

With ScrapFest! looming I'll be quite busy for the next several weeks, but since practically all my work is either in Photoshop or the Interwebs, I'm hoping to post more since I'll be on the computer anyway.  The hubs thinks I'm on this thing a lot now -- he hasn't seen anything yet.  I hope he likes the new nickname I'm giving him, "Dammit Scott!"

goodbye 2008, felt like I was just getting to know you

Dear Reader Friends,

Wishing you a healthy and happy new year!  Thanks for reading in 2008.  We've had some fun, haven't we?  I've shared, you've shared, and we learned some things together -- mainly that I know a lot of stuff about stuff and I like to shop, tell you about music you might not be familiar with, and explore the things that amuse me.  Occasionally we talk about serious things, but we're here to have a little fun and retreat from the chaotic everyday grind.  I appreciate each and every one of you who stop by to read (you know I like you the best -- yes, I'm talking to you) and I sincerely hope you have a wonderful year.  

Much love,
Kerry

stupid hormones

why anxiety medication exists

Apparently today is old dude and screaming baby day at the Covington Walmart.  Oh, you didn't get the memo either?  I never go to Walmart anymore for this reason.  Because I'm a genius, I thought I'd go to Walmart for groceries and Halloween candy, and of course, to help others.

I don't know what it is about my adorable face that says "fount of knowledge," but I'm going to make a name tag for myself that says "chief information officer" for when I'm out and about.  I was walking on an outside aisle when an old dude practically jumped out in front of me to ask my opinion on which iron he should buy.  Now, I don't commonly walk around with my small appliance guide of Consumer Reports, but I did my best.  Old dude didn't want to spend a lot of money, but he wanted a lot of features on his iron for some reason.  I guess he likes to iron, we didn't get into his life history.  Since they didn't have any Rowenta irons, I told him he would be fine with a Black and Decker model.   He thanked me, I went on my not-so-merry way to office supplies, to find there still weren't any new colors of the new Sharpie pen.  I'm a pen horder and I love the new Sharpie pen, so what?  In the middle of office supplies I encountered screaming baby #1.  Made my way to women's clothes to look for a Halloween t-shirt, couldn't find one I liked, so I went to find oven cleaner.  Screaming baby #2.  I'm almost embarrassed to admit it, but I've never cleaned an oven, so I didn't know what to buy.  I bought Easy-Off Fume Free, since I'm prone to migraines sometimes triggered by scents.  Anyodor, picked up some Mr. Clean Magic Erasers and focused on groceries.

In the milk section there was mom and her screaming toddler who wanted chocolate milk.  For a minute I thought of opening some and giving it to the boy.  I decided against it and put skim milk in my cart.  I made it through a few more aisles without having to talk to anyone, then in the cereal aisle Mr. Old Dude #2 found me.  His wife sent him for oats and he didn't know what to get, he was thinking oatmeal , I told him she probably just meant Quaker Oats if she didn't say oatmeal.  Ladies, I learned many moons ago that you have to be super specific when you send your husband to the grocery store.  If you're not specific, they will bring home beer and wine when you ask them to get drinks when you were thinking juice boxes and Coke.  Anyalcohol, I started to look for the new Honey Bunches of Oats: Just Bunches, 'cause this girl loves some Honey Bunches of Oats and the prospect of a box of Just Bunches gives me a thrill like when Oprah announces to her audience that she's giving them all new cars.  I'm telling you, I'm a geek and it takes so little for me to be excited.  There were no Just Bunches to be found.  It was at that time I realized it's probably not a good idea to say "oh hell no, where are the Honey Bunches of Oats-Just Bunches?  Damn communist store!" in front of a Walmart employee.  They look at you kinda weird after that.  I had one of my "did I say that outloud" moments.  I'm used to it, whatev.

While hunting for the right bunch of bananas (not too green, not too big that the kids won't finish the banana,) I heard the best old dude dialogue ever.  Old dude yells across the produce section to his wife, "are we good on sweet puhtadas?"  She nods.  "How 'bout snap beans?"  She nods.  "Regular puhtadas?"  Wife was starting to get annoyed, I could see it.  This guy was yelling.  I remembered I hadn't taken my medicine before I took Andrew to MDO.  I decided I needed to get out of there before I had an anxiety attack.  I didn't even bring up the group of Latino men in the lingerie section or the Elvis impersonator-looking guy I saw walking around with a pumpkin.  He wasn't in costume, just looked like the King.  A lot.  With a giant pumpkin.

Of course I couldn't get out of Walmart without something weird happening at the checkout.  The cashier is bagging all my Halloween candy and asked if we have a lot of trick-or-treaters in my neighborhood and instead of saying, "no, I'm just hungry," I said yes.  Told her some of it's for the fall festival at the girls' school, too.  There is a screaming baby at the next register.   She tells me her daughter is having a fall festival, too, when weird dude behind me chimes in about how he's retired from making babies!   Oh, hell no moment #2.   This guy is not telling me about his vasectomy, oh wait, yes he is.  Did I ask for this info?  NO.  He's telling me that after 4 kids, he got snipped and that was the end of "that train and now it's better than ever."  Oh, yeah, he said that.

This kind of crap only happens to me.  I'm serious.   I swear I'm not going back to Walmart.  And I mean it this time.

the costume to end all costumes

Halloween is next Friday for those of you without a calendar.

I've been talking about costumes all month and how 1) can't find one to go with the theme the kids have going, 2) doesn't look like I should be serving up drinks at Oktoberfest, and 3) doesn't look like somewhere a pole is missing a stripper.  So, it should come to no surprise that I've had to come up with my own costume.  As you know, necessity is the mother of invention.  Not that I'm an inventor, but I've seen Back to the Future many times and I'm a devoted follower of Project Runway, so I figure I'm ahead of the curve on this one.  I've been thinking about the costume for a week and I've worked for at least 15 minutes on this, so you know it's quality.  Friends, without further ado, I give you Wellbutrina.

Wellbutrina is a fairy who is medicated and motivated.  The costume comes with the wings, dress, and 30 day supply of Wellbutrin.  She is a supercute fairy who gives a much needed boost to mothers of young children all over the earth.  Wellbutrina is a mood-enhancing fairy and you should consult your doctor before ordering this costume.

Caution:  Wellbutrina may cause you to forget your cares and should not be used by people with low stress levels.  Wellbutrina cannot fly and you should not try to fly while wearing this costume.  You should not wear this costume if you are on other medications as Wellbutrina may interfere with you medications you are taking.  Do not wear this costume if you are pregnant, may become pregnant, or are nursing (but you know you're going to need to call on Wellbutrina soon 'cause lemme tell you, motherhood is not for the weak and there's only so much Max and Ruby you can take before you shoot out the television like Elvis did).

I do have to say I look pretty smokin' in the costume.  And yes, I do wear heels like that around the house everyday, well, except on Thursdays when my tiara is out being polished.