Bug Eyes and Plastic Vs

So I watched that Twilight movie last weekend.

I wish I could say that I loved it.

It seems to be what most people say, right? Or they’ll gush about Edward and say things like, “Edward can bite me whenever he wants!”

Edward better stay away from me or I’ll bash him over the head with my purse. And it would hurt because I have all sorts of crap in my purse at the moment. Yes, I’m one of those ladies who collects STUFF. What of it?

If a guy looked at me like this I’d be terrified:



I mean, look at those bug eyes! If someone stared at me like that I’d glance around the room nervously and inquire what they were looking at.

And if the response was a sultry, “You,” then I’d get up and leave.

Thems crazy eyes, people! CRAZY EYES.

If my husband gazed at me like that then I’d ask if I had something caught in my teeth and was that his polite way of telling me?

“Because no offense Tom, but when your eyes take up half of your face it’s sort of frightening...” I’d say with a shrug.

This also bothered me:



Okay, my medical knowledge is limited. I admit this. Most of my information comes from shows like ER , Grey’s Anatomy and Scrubs.

But, okay, when someone is injured and has to have one of those nose oxygen things, doesn’t it go behind the ears and around the face?

Sort of like this:



Wait, I found an actual picture since I can't paint worth a darn:



It was really distracting to see a plastic tube in the shape of a V stuck against Bella’s face while she talked to Edward.

Did that not bother anyone else?

I couldn’t take the scene seriously because BELLA HAD A PLASTIC V ON HER FACE!

A few times the tube would be over her eye and then I’d get the giggles because, oh my gosh, Bella is moaning to Edward that he can’t leave her but she has a PLASTIC V over her retina.

I realize this movie was low budget but could they not fix the oxygen tube? I imagine Grey’s Anatomy has a bunch of the regular ones in their prop department that they would be willing to lend out.

Needless to say, I will not be watching the movie again.

AND THE WINNER IS.....

We have a winner. Now all I need is for her to email me a snail mail address so I can get the package packed up and shipped! The winner came to me via Leigh of Bloggeritaville. The winner is Kelly! Her blog, which I have visited and love is called...A Girl Named Kelly Kelly. Congrats Kelly! Thank you to all of you who stopped by and signed up. I think I enjoyed this giveaway concept so may plan a summer one. Good luck next time!

The Sweet Mouth

I have a sweet tooth.

Actually, a more appropriate phase might be that I have a sweet mouth.

I can’t help it.

Who can resist sinking their teeth into a giant slice of chocolate cake?

Who can turn down a Little Debbie snack? (Swiss Rolls. Mmm...)

Who can avoid throwing a bag of Hershey Kisses into the shopping cart?

Who can walk past the bakery section of the grocery store without even glancing at the display case?

I know I can’t.

I try, I really do, but then I spot the bear claws and the cookies and the cupcakes and I just have to stop.

This is what happened to me yesterday.

Actually, it was this woman’s fault. She was talking to the baker and I overheard her saying, “I’ll take a cupcake with the butterfly.”

This caught my attention.

My mind immediately started to race. What? A cupcake with a BUTTERFLY on it? How cool! I’ve GOT to check that out.

So I paused and watched as the baker picked a cupcake with a butterfly on top and placed it in a plastic container. It was beautiful. My mouth practically watered as my eyes drifted over the other treats. There were vanilla cupcakes, chocolate cupcakes, cookies and, oh my gosh, a chocolate brownie with chocolate frosting on top. I had to have that brownie. I was practically salivating all over the glass display.

“Miss? Can I help you with something? Hello? MISS?”

I didn’t realize that the baker was talking to me. I was too busy drooling over the brownie.

“MISS!”

My neck jerked back in surprise. The baker had banged her palm down on the counter and had snapped me out of my trance.

“Oh,” I said in a dazed tone. “I’m sorry. It’s just, you have so many delicious treats—”

“What do you want?” the baker boomed, crossing her arms over her chest. I guess she didn’t want to be complimented on her treats.

“I’ll take two of those butterfly cupcakes,” I replied meekly.

I figured I’d just get something for the kids.

I really tried not to get anything for myself. But my eyes kept flicking over to that chocolate brownie with the chocolate frosting and OH! In the middle of it was a Hershey Kiss.

“Could you hide that brownie for me?” I joked as the baker pulled out a plastic container from the back. “That way I won’t be tempted.”

The baker didn’t look amused. She pursed her lips and said sharply, “Do you want the brownie or not?”

Hello? Did she not HEAR me? I asked her to HIDE the brownie. If she HIDES it then I could pretend that it never existed.

“I...” I hesitated.

Oh no. OH NO.

I didn’t need the brownie. I mean, swim suit season is approaching. A lot of women cut out sweets all together around this time. But I don’t have that kind of willpower. Sure, I want to look nice in my swim suit. But I think I like my sweets more.

Actually, maybe I could just get one of those modest swimsuits that those Duggar girls always wear.

I think they’re onto something. Sure, they want to cover up but maybe they’re also like, “And it means we can totally pig out and no one will notice!”

But then again, if I walked out wearing this, my husband would think that I’ve lost my mind and refuse to be seen with me.



“MISS!”

The baker’s shrill voice cut through my thoughts again.

She did not look amused.

I don’t know why she was so cranky. If I worked with frosting and chocolate I’d be in a wonderful mood.

“I’ll take the brownie,” I said quickly.

I mean, I could work it off with housework. Vacuuming burns what, 300 calories? Okay, probably more like 30 but a girl can dream, right?

I thought I’d be happy with the brownie.

But then my eyes rested on a variety of cheesecake slices.

Cheesecake is my weakness. I love it. I would marry cheesecake if it were legal. Oh, and if I weren’t already married.

I went to The Cheesecake Factory once and I thought I’d pass out from the excitement of all the different cheesecake flavors to choose from. I think I startled the waitress when I clapped my hands after staring at the menu.

“And...” I heard a familiar voice say. “I’ll take a slice of that strawberry cheesecake, too.”

I realized that it was MY voice.

What? Wait!

The baker just raised an eyebrow as she reached for the cheesecake.

“Want me to just bag up everything that’s for sale?” she asked dryly.

I ignored her and just took my treats.

Maybe if she had a chocolate brownie with chocolate frosting and a Hershey Kiss on top then she’d be a happier person.



I had the brownie as soon as I got home.

A reward for doing the grocery shopping and having to bring in all those bags, you see.

It melted in my mouth and to be honest, I wanted another one.

Then I had the cheesecake for breakfast and I weirded out my kids by going, "Mmmmmmm!" every few seconds.

Later in the afternoon I made the mistake of getting on my WiiFit.

I was told that I gained weight:





I thought I DID eat in moderation. I mean, I only had one brownie and one slice of cheesecake.

Then I was told this:



Obviously the WiiFit doesn't have kids.

You can't eat slowly when you have kids. If you eat slowly then you don't eat at all.

Plus, I think I'd bore myself if I had to chew the same bite of food five times.

I'd confuse my husband. He'd be all, "Why are you chewing in slow motion?"

*Sighs*

Oh well.

So I've gained weight.

Maybe I'll give those modest swimsuits another look....

Wonderful News for a Stormy Wednesday

I am so very excited. Today was my father's last radiation treatment. He is through and none the worse for the wear. His chipperness has returned in a diminished capacity...but there. He still has hair...just not as much as he used to have. I want so to run my fingers through his hair like I did as a child....but the last time I touched his hair I brought a handful back with me...and it was a freaky feeling. I know my mom will be glad to be through with radiation....everyday...five days a week...gets old fast. She loves early morning appointments....and after his hospital stay....they lost that slot and had to go everyday at 2:00. That timing element curtailed their rambling a bit. His appetite is returning somewhat...although slowly. He bought some green beans, new potatoes and tomatoes at the Avondale truck farmer. I snapped them all (we will be eating beans for a while), and cooked them, the potatoes, some fresh squash, porkchops, cornbread, and sliced up tomatoes and onions. He ATE! I was tickled to see him put the veggies away. I will cook them for him everyday if he will eat them. So life at the Korb house is returning to some resemblance of normalcy and for that I am glad. The stress of the cancer treatments took their toll on all of us. It is not fun to see someone you love lose their hair, their appetite, their personality...everything! I realize that my dad is 83 years old and things will continue to arise and we will deal with each one as it comes. It is a good thing that God is on our side. I would hate to know we had to face this alone. I want to thank each of you who offered up a prayer for my dad's healing. I love this man. I love all of you! I stand before you today to let you know that prayer works. PTL!

A Rude Wake Up Call

Remember how I wrote about my crazy weekend?

I have more to moan about.

At around 8:30 on Sunday morning the phone rang. I thought it was my husband at first. He’s in Texas until June and I know he has a tendency to get bored easily. So he calls me. But when he does phone me up he doesn’t contribute much to the conversation. It’s like talking to a teenager. I’ll ask him about his day and he’ll tell me that it was fine and I’ll ask him to elaborate and he’ll get all smart alecky and say something like, “It was REALLY fine.” Then he’ll chuckle at his awful joke and I’ll remind him that HE called ME and that if he didn’t really have anything to say, then to please not call because I have two kids to look after.

I’m really not a phone person. Can you tell?

Anyhow, when the phone rang I cursed Tom because I assumed it was him. I was actually still in bed which rarely happens. But the kids were actually entertaining themselves in their rooms which meant that I was allowed to SLEEP IN. I realize that 830 is not sleeping in to a lot of people but it is to me. Anything over 7 is sleeping in when you become a parent.

So after the shrill ringing of the phone woke me out of my blissful sleep I rolled over and picked it up.

“TOM! How many times do I have to tell you NOT to call me before 10?” I barked into the receiver.

There was a silence and for a brief second I felt bad. All Tom wanted to do was talk to his wife. It wasn’t nice of me to snap at him like that. I was all set to apologize but then an unfamiliar woman’s voice said,

“Hi. This is Jodi calling from Sears.”

She sounded a little afraid. I suppose I would be if someone had just screamed into my ear.

But honestly. Who calls at 8:30 in the morning?

I didn’t know what to say. Truth to be told, I think I briefly fell back to sleep contemplating this. But then Jodi’s voice woke me back up.

“I’m calling because I see that you purchased a warranty plan for your new Samsung TV. How are you liking that TV?” she asked breezily.

“I like the fact that it turns on,” I grumbled out, my eyes still closed.

Did I ever mention that our old TV died the very day that Mom came to visit? Well it did. It suddenly wouldn’t turn on anymore. I tried everything I could think of to fix it. I unplugged and replugged in all the cords. I cursed at it. It still refused to turn on. So Mom offered to buy us a new TV but it just meant that we wouldn’t get any birthday or Christmas money and that I’d have to pay for the tax and the warranty plan.

I agreed because I NEED a TV in order to survive. Hi, I’m Amber and I’m addicted to the television. I can’t HELP it. When the old TV was broken it was too quiet for me. I’d walk into the room and instinctively press the remote on towards the TV and then remember, duh, the TV doesn’t work. So I sat there in silence and truth be told, it freaked me out. I kept hearing strange noises and I swore someone was trying to break in and murder me and steal all my books or something.

The kids were fine without the TV. They went on playing happily because to be honest, I don’t put a lot of children’s TV on for them. If I had to sit and listen to Noggin all day I think I’d shoot myself. I can only handle an hour of it each day and the only reason why I can handle it is because I’m usually off cleaning or making dinner. So I really don’t have to endure any of the programs.

Anyhow, I was thrilled when the new TV was up and running. It took Mom and I a few tries to figure out how to put it together. See, you had to screw in the TV stand and something wasn’t right and the screws weren’t going in. If Mom hadn’t been there I’d have probably burst into tears and thrown the parts across the room. But since she was there I had to silently curse the screws and imagine myself taking a baseball bat and smashing the pieces to bits.

We actually had to take the stand into Sears the next day because we had NO IDEA WHAT WE WERE DOING.

I was a little embarrassed when we went up to the salesman who had sold us the TV. He looked amused over the fact that we came bearing the TV stand. He had it put together in less than five minutes.

But whatever.

An hour after that the new TV was working. I was quite proud of myself for figuring out all the plugs. I mean, okay, I think any idiot could figure them out because all the plugs are labeled and color coded but still….I did it.

But back to the annoying early phone call.

After I had told Jodi the Sears worker that I was thrilled that the TV actually turned on she basically pretended I hadn’t said that at all and went on with her sales pitch.

“I see you also bought a washer and dryer from us and that warranty expires in December. Would you like to purchase the same plan for those so they’ll expire the same time as the TV?”

What?

She wanted me to BUY something at 8:30 in the morning?

Did she not realize that BUYING something meant that I would have to get out of bed, stumble downstairs and riffle through my bog of eternal stuff that is also known as my purse for my credit card?

“No thank you,” I croaked out. I just wanted to go back to sleep.

Jodi seemed taken aback. “No?” she repeated as though she had never heard the word before.

“No,” I repeated. “Not interested.” I felt like I needed to emphasize my point.

“Are you sure? Because I can offer you a low rate now but if you decide to continue with the warranty when it runs out it’ll be even more expensive,” she continued in a solemn you-better-do-this-or-you’ll-be-sorry voice.

“No thank you,” I said tersely.

“Oh. Okay then. Have a FABULOUS day,” Jodi said in a saccharine sweet tone and then hung up. She was obviously pissed. She was probably one of those chicks who freak out if their man so much as glances at a member of the opposite sex.

I thought I’d be able to roll over and get at least a half hour of sleep.

But no.

Natalie had heard me talking and she started to shout out, “Mom? MOM?”

“Mommy’s sleeping!” I yelled back. Which made no sense because hello, if I were sleeping, how would I be TALKING? I was hoping Natalie wouldn’t catch this because she’s only two and believes that her creepy Brobee doll actually goes on vacation for a few days a couple times per month. (He has to! Otherwise I’d go insane from the song he sings.)

However, Natalie DID catch that wasn’t really sleeping and started to whine and cry.

“MOMMY! MOMMY! MOMMMM---EEEEEEEEEEEEE!"

You’d think someone was dying or something.

I gave a sigh and pushed back the covers. So long, comfortable bed.

Next time I’m totally unplugging the phone until it’s a decent hour.

Teachable Tuesday Moment

According to Stephen Brookfield, "We teach what we like to learn and the reason many people go into teaching is vicariously to reexperience the primary joy experienced the first time they learned something they loved."

I have to agree with Brookfield. I am a prime example that God has a sense of humor. I hated high school....and where do I go every day....you guessed it...to high school. I did not experience the primary joy of learning something I loved until college....but when I did...it made such a difference in my life that I knew right then and there....that I had to share it with high schoolers. You see, high school should have been a time of wonderment for me...but it wasn't...so I want to change that in the minds of my own students. I want them to remember things from high school fondly...and thoroughly. I don't just teach by the book....I am a firm believer that life lessons are the greatest tool there can be. I am a storyteller by nature. I love weaving a good tale together and capturing an audiences attention....and holding it in the palm of my hand. I am a stand up comedian at times....my kids love my antics....these are the things they will remember long after conjugating Spanish verbs has faded. My job as a teacher is to give my students wings...so they can fly...and give them delight in learning. I too want to reexperience the primary joy...every single day....I teach what I love....I teach kids....and I am blessed.

The Offensive Toy

Hi, how was your weekend?

Mine was...let me think of how to describe it...okay, you know how you walk into a club and the music is blaring and you can’t even THINK because of the noise and you have to SHOUT in order to be heard?

That basically sums up my weekend.

For starters, our doorbell rang at 10:30. Who comes over at 10:30 on a Saturday? I’m not ready to converse with anyone until after noon.

I opened the door and there stood Tommy’s annoying friend Blake. That kid has been known to show up at 9 so I suppose I should be grateful that he waited until 10:30.

“Tommy can’t play until after he’s had his lunch,” I said briskly and started to shut the door.

I swear I wasn’t being rude. You HAVE to close the door on this kid or else he keeps talking to you. I once spent ten minutes answering his questions about dirt.

“WAIT!” he shrieked at me, holding his hands out.

I paused and gave a sigh. “What is it?”

Blake dug into his pocket and pulled this out:



My heart stopped briefly.

Because, as you can see, that toy is not appropriate for kids. I mean, I don’t think they were able to read what it said. But when you push the button the toy shouts, “Bullshit alert! Bullshit alert!” I like to push it when Tom is spouting on about the fact that he’s going to lose ten pounds and start working out again.

“My Mom said I had to return this. I’m in trouble for taking it home,” Blake explained.

I opened the screen door and took the offensive toy from him.

“Where...did you find this?” I said weakly.

Oh no. I was starting to wonder what his parents must think of me. They probably figured I was some psycho who boiled cats and allowed my children to play with knives or something. I was just praying that they weren’t the uptight parents who flip out if their kid so much as hears the word crud.

I’m not kidding. There are parents who freak out over the word crud.

I was at Wal-Mart once and I muttered the word crud because I accidentally dropped an orange as I was putting some in a plastic bag. I’m uncoordinated so I spill things on a daily basis.

Anyhow, this woman was beside me with her little boy and the boy gasped and went, “Mommy! She said a bad word!”

Then the mother shot me a dirty look, looked me squarely in the eye and said something like, “Yes she did, Cosmo.”

Okay, first of all, no I did NOT. If I wanted to say a bad word I would have said, “Fu*king sh*t oranges!” But I didn’t. I said crud. And also, who names their kid Cosmo?

“I found the toy in the garage,” Blake spoke up, interrupting my panicked thoughts.

I remembered that Tom had put a bunch of his stuff on the garage shelves before he left on his TDY. I imagine Blake and Tommy were playing in the garage and had come across the toy. Then one of them had pushed the button and had squealed with glee because they had found something that said a bad word.

Oh my gosh. I hope they didn’t push the button for the entire neighborhood to hear. I can picture them gathering all the children up and whispering that what everyone was about to hear was FASCINATING.

Maybe that’s why the chick who lives across the street always looks like she has a sock wedged up her butt when she’s around me?

“Thank you for returning it,” I said to Blake. “This toy isn’t really appropriate for kids.”

Blake nodded. “I know. I’m sorry.” Then he did a double take as though seeing me for the first time. Maybe he did. Blake has been known to converse with your shoulder rather than your face. I’m used to this because Tommy can do the same thing. “What’s wrong with your hair?” Blake wondered, screwing up his nose with distain.

Oh. See, I had just washed it. And after I wash my hair it looks...well, I’m not going to lie, it doesn’t look good. It becomes extra frizzy for awhile and sort of fans out all over the place.

“I just washed it. So it looks silly right now,” I told Blake. “Well,” I continued, thinking that I had better go before Blake started up with all his questions, “I better go. Thank you again.”

I went to shut the door and Blake was all, “You have funny looking hair.”

“You have a funny looking face,” I replied.

I’m kidding. I didn’t say that. Oh, I wanted to, because I’m sorry, it’s a little true. He sort of has this sunken in look with beady eyes and reminds me of an old man. Maybe he’s Benjamin Button.

Anyhow, I managed to close the door and then I headed for the phone and dialed Blake’s number to apologize for the toy.

I just didn’t want his parents to think that I walked around the house screaming profanities. That only happens when I stub my toe you see.

Thankfully Blake’s Mom was understanding. She was more upset that Blake had taken the toy home and didn’t want me to think that her kid was a future Winona Ryder. (Random thought: Winona totally rocks in the movie Beetlejuice. I forgive her for stealing.)

Needless to say, the toy is now on the very top shelf in my kitchen.

I thought that would be the only drama I would face. But no. Tommy decided that Saturday was his day to be EXTRA LOUD AND OBSTINATE.

I told him it was time to do a page of his homework. See, he gets new homework on Friday and it’s due on Thursday. I prefer him to get it done by Tuesday at the latest because I want to teach him that it’s not good to procrastinate.

Because fine, I admit it, I’m a huge procrastinator. I did more projects than I care to remember the day before they were due even though I would vow to never do that again. But then there I’d be, hunched over the keyboard, scrambling to find all the information I could on Sigmund Freud.

“I don’t LIKE this homework,” Tommy fumed. “This homework is BAD!”

Then he started chewing on his pencil eraser.

“Stop chewing on your eraser,” I lectured.

“It’s my pencil,” he told me simply.

“Don’t talk to me like that,” I said firmly.

“Will you send me to my room?” he asked hopefully and took another bite out of his eraser.

While I was helping Tommy with his homework and trying to stop him from pooping out an entire eraser in the future, Natalie did this:



She has amazing strength for a two-year-old.

I don’t know if I should be impressed or terrified. I was a little bit of both. When I saw her up there my first instinct was to yelp and scream, "GET DOWN FROM THERE. YOU'LL CRACK YOUR HEAD OPEN!" But my second thought was all, "Oh my gosh, maybe she'll be in the Olympics one day." Because if she had the strength to pull herself up, then maybe she can leap and twirl on those frightening looking bars.

Natalie threw a gigantic fit when I made her get down. She threw this fit for about an hour.

While Natalie was screaming in the background, I was rushing around trying to get three things done at once and I totally forgot that I was refilling the water:



I only figured it out when I heard the dripping noises of the water against the sink. I thought Tommy was peeing on the floor and I shouted,

"We've been THROUGH this before Tommy. Urine belongs in the TOILET, not the floor!"

"It's not me! It's the water!" Tommy answered in an insulted voice.

Oh.

The only good news I got over the weekend was that my Glamour Shots pictures had arrived.



This is my best friend Jennifer and I. If you're not aware, that's me on the right. Yes, I'm aware that my teeth are crooked. Do you want to know why? Because I didn't wear my retainer. I was a stupid teenager so this is my lesson for those of you who wear braces: WEAR YOUR RETAINER. I'll eventually get them fixed when I get over my dentist phobia.





This is the photo I ended up buying.



I also got this one. I wish I had prettier feet. My feet just aren't the tiny dainty kinds.



I also got this.

The rest are some of my proofs that Jennifer scanned for me. I wanted to buy more but Glamour Shots is overpriced.











Thank goodness I shaved.



I wanted this one but it got too expensive. I really can't do the sexy look. The photographer was all, "Give me a sexy look," and I was all, "Come again?" and kept wanting to laugh. Then I'd try to do a sexy one and she'd be all, "You're laughing!" and I'd be all, "I am? I thought I was being sexy!"