This Is The Next Chucky. I Think.

Last Christmas we bought Preschooler this beautiful Belle doll.  It’s much larger than a regular Barbie doll, with posable limbs, plus she sings.  At least, she sings in the store.

La-la-la-la-la-la. I’m-a-giant-rip-off.

La-la-la-la-la-la. Beauty-And-The-Beast.

The singing was really the selling point.  She had a sensor on her hand, and when you touch it she belts out one of several songs.  AWESOME!! I thought.  ANOTHER LOUD ANNOYING TOY TO ADD TO OUR COLLECTION! Keep in mind this was the same Christmas I gifted my children with a toy drum set, including maracas, jingle bells, and a tambourine.

Sometimes I have no parenting common sense.

On Christmas Eve Preschooler and I were both on pins and needles.  Having throughly examined the Santa theory, Preschooler determined the best way to examine this hypothesis was to actually GO TO SLEEP.  I was anticipating the morning, when she would open up this toy and forever remember this Christmas as the best Christmas ever, thus garnering me with another feather in my best mother ever hat.

MOM OF THE YEAR.

Christmas morning dawned and Preschooler opened her presents, including Giant Belle.  We take her out of the box, and I touched the sensor on Belle’s hand, expecting nothing short of an operatic miracle.

Nothing happens.

Preschooler didn’t really care.  By some stroke of accidental genius, I never told her the doll was supposed to sing. Over the next six months Belle did the usual tour-of-duty in Preschooler’s playtime routine.  But after a while, we noticed something odd. 

Belle’s head started to default to “backwards.”  Even if you put the head face forward at the beginning of the day, within several hours the head will slowly rotate backwards, remaining in that position forevermore.  It’s like the doll is possessed by some sort of half-assed demon.

So one afternoon, Preschooler was in the living room playing with her demonic Belle doll, whose head had already twisted backwards.  Out of nowhere, Belle engages in an unprecedented act and starts singing.

Preschooler was utterly agog.  For her it was as if an angel came down from the heavens and anointed her doll with the gift of voice.

To me it was as if this doll’s demonic possession was complete.

“Honey, look!” I say. “She sings when you press her hand!”

Preschooler was ecstatic.  She pressed Belle’s hand a couple more times just to witness the miracle once more.

Then she tossed Belle aside, moving on to a different toy. Nary a sound issued from her creepy head since.

So, next Christmas I’m making a concerted effort to buy toys that make no noise whatsoever.

I guess I’m a slow learner.

Vacation, All I Ever Wanted. Vacation, Have To Get Away!

So, I'm taking a leaf out of the Go-Go's book, and taking a vacation.  Actually, this will be our first "real" vacation since Toddler was born.  By "real" I mean we're going to places for fun, rather than traveling to visit relatives for Thanksgiving or Christmas, not that there's anything wrong with that.

We're spending a couple days in Minneapolis, then a few more days in a cabin in northern Minnesota, and then a few more days in northern Wisconsin with Husband's parents, which I still consider a vacation because Husband and I are ditching the kids at Grandma and Grandpa's, and going to a bed and breakfast.

This means I'll be ignoring my blog for the next seven day.  I may have patchy internet access during at least some of this vacation, anyways.  Hold me, I'm scared.

So, here are a couple of things to watch while in my.  Enjoy!

Muppets Sing "Danny Boy"


I'm a banana

You Better Read This Post. I'm About To Be Word Raptured.

The other day I went to leave a comment on a blog, when I encountered the following word verification:  “Squid.”

I’m pretty sure this is a sign of the apocalypse.  Word verification words are supposed to be a jumble of letters.  Last time I checked, “squid” was a word. This got me thinking, what if the word verification jumbles are actually undiscovered legitimate words?  It can’t be that hard to figure out.  Watch.

Cocarsi: 1)  Of course I’ll carpool!
'
Jamogigl: 1) To get down-and-funky or to have a laugh-attack.*  Not both.

Unothog: 1) The discovery that some one is NOT a hog.  2) The absence of a hog.  3) One hog.  Or one thog.  Whatever.

Cartuper: 1) One who purposely upturns a cart.  They probably don’t want to go on the cart.  I’m sure they feel happy.

Dicystes: 1) Two cysts.  With an extra “e.”  “E” for “extreme” or maybe “elephant.”  Probably elephant.  Don’t worry, double-elephant-cysts are actually a good omen.  You shouldn’t have to go on the aforementioned cart.

See? Easy. I’m expecting my cheque from Merriam-Webster to arrive any day now.

* I realize none of the cool kids “get-down-and-funky” or have “laugh-attacks.”  But this post is already so ridiculous that I’m sure a couple of hopelessly outdated phrases will go more or less unnoticed.

** OH MY GOD, I wrote this post late last night, and this morning when I went to leave a comment on another blog, my word verification was “Nation.”  I’m keeping an eye out for the four horseman.   And my cheque still hasn’t arrived.  Get it together, Merriam-Webster, I’ll probably be raptured any minute now.

Doogie Meowser: Cat M.D.

Over the long Memorial Day weekend, I threw an awesome cookout.  Any party that starts with beer and ends with scotch is a good party.  There was booze, food, and the crowning finish: a cat on a rope.

Wait, what?

Around six or seven in the evening, the next-door neighbors put a cat outside.  It was the world’s fattest cat, and in hopes of fighting the inevitable descent into cat diabetes, they tied the cat to a stake in the front yard.  Periodically, they’d move the stake to another place in the yard.  It was the logical thing to do.

I’d never seen that cat before.  It certainly wasn’t the cat that crashed my house a few days after we moved in.  I was unpacking some boxes in the basement, when I felt something scurry past my leg.  Thinking it was some kind of rodent, I shrieked and ran upstairs, only to find a large orange tabby cat reclining on my sofa.  The cat had a collar, but no tags, so I just put it outside thinking it would go home.  Instead it spent the next six hours meowing on my porch.

My brother-in-law suggested keeping the cat and naming it “Doogie Meowser.”  Unfortunately, the cat left before I could get it to respond to its new name.

Still, if I ever got a cat, I’m totally taking my brother-in-law up on that Doogie Meowser suggestion.  With a name like that, the cat would be OBLIGATED to become the world’s first and youngest cat doctor, and I’ll be able to retire early and mooch off my cat’s millions.  That is, until the cat throws me in the old-folks home.  But that won’t happen for years.

News From The Internet's Foremost Expert On Locusts

For your reading pleasure, I present some of the searches people performed whereby they stumbled across my blog.

It was bound to happen sooner or later.

begging the answer
Thank God!

sexy site:beggingtheanswer.blogspot.com
Who am I judge?

naked site:beggingtheanswer.blogspot.com
Errrrr... now this is getting creepy.

vampire band aids
Some one should patent these. 

what to comment on a preschooler drawings
Make sure you address their take on dimension and color composition, as well as emotions invoked.  Preschoolers appreciate constructive criticism.

i hereby officially proclaim that you are a good host and a good cook
Why thank you!

locust
I post one picture of a locust and suddenly I’m some sort of locust expert.  I can’t be everything to every one, you know.

dung beetles
See locust.

cindy lauper motherhood
Well, I have two girls and they just wanna have fun.  This is pertinent.

zebra eats face
I see you visited Satan’s Animal Conservation Center.

toddler floss teeth
Good luck with this! 

toddler shakes head while watching tv
Your kid is just trying to mess with you.  Trust me on this.

names for dead squirrels
Listen to your heart. 

my sleeping pills aren't working
Mine either.  Want to get together and play ping-pong or something?

ikea, empathy dimension
Since shopping at Ikea is like visiting a parallel universe, there probably is an empathy dimension to complement our own dick-head dimension.

where to buy pajama jeans 
Don’t.

band aid porn 
Rule 43 strikes again.

And finally...

a butter icing is like a favorite cotton dress
Only if you’re one of those ladies that jump out of cakes at bachelor parties.

This post has been lovelinked at lovelinks #7