Octopussy

I took my kids to the bookstore and told them that they could buy anything they wanted, for Valentine's Day. Well, of course this was a huge mistake because in "kid world" semantics are very important. I said "anything", didn't I? So my boys picked out $40.oo Thomas the Train accessories, of course. But my daughter picked out the cutest little octopus. (Of course no one picked out a book...the whole reason I took them there in the first place) Anyway, the octopus was pink and fluffy. It really needed a cute and fluffy name to go along with it's asthetics. I asked her what she was going to name it and she said, "Octopussy"....."Pussy, for short". I bit the insides of my cheeks, to keep from laughing and said, "Well, that's a wonderful name, but I have some other suggestions." This was never going to work because when I challenge her, she fights back even more. She's very hard-headed. We paid for our merchandise and went out to the car. There, I proceeded to offer up alternative names. "How about sassypus or octofluffy?" And she replied, "Those are great Mom, but this is Pussy!" I was going to HAVE to come up with something fantastic or she'd never change her mind. And I was going to have to come up with it fast...before she offended everyone we knew (and a few strangers, to boot). Meanwhile, she's purposely trying to annoy me by repeating the name as much as possible. (bear in mind that she has no idea why I'm opposed to it...she is only five!) "Ian, see my Pussy?" "Woo, this is Pussy" (and a few other comments that I'm not even comfortble putting on this blog!!) I start to panic because every time she gets a new stuffed animal, she takes it to school to show everyone. What would I do when the teacher called me and fussed at me for letting my daughter bring "Pussy" to school?!! My wheels were turning and I finally came up with an idea that she simply couldn't refuse. I strategically turned on the song "Fabulous" from High School Musical. I grabbed "pussy" and started to make it dance to the song. And the coup de gras, I said "Hey, this octopus sure would make a great Sharpay!" She loved the idea. Thank you lord!!I owe you one!

Next Challenge

Now that our trip to Disney is officially over (although I'm a bit in denial still...sniffle.), I'm trying to look toward our upcoming Colorado trip. This is when I'm going attempt to climb Long's Peak - my first "fourteener". I'm making it my new goal to start rigorously training for it. It's NOT my New Year's resolution though, because those things are always doomed to fail, right? Instead, it's just my newest challenge. And one thing you should know about me: I NEVER back down from a challenge. It's a Burnett girl trait, I think. We're quite competitive. We pretend we're not though. That's part of our game. Usually works too. However, I was initially having a hard time getting properly motivated to exercise........until the holidays came. (cue the bad-ass music...oh yea, are you feelin the mood yet?) Anyway, at the family Christmas party, we were all discussing the Long's Peak climb and my grandmother kept insinuating that I'll never make it up with all of the "athletes" in my family because they've all been exercising, while I've been sitting around on my butt, popping out babies for the last 5 years. (Which is technically true, but it sounds like an insult, none the less) "Are you challenging me, old lady?", I thought. Huh? Huh? Well bring it on Grammy! Bring. It. On. (ok, I don't really talk like this to my grandmother. I love and respect her very much...but this is what I was thinking.) Anyway, I decided then and there that I was gonna be so ready for that damn mountain that I'll be laughing my fucking ass off at the top of it! HA, HA, HA, bitches. Fourteen, schmourteen. I scoff at your wimpy-ass peak....maybe I'll just do it in heels! Just watch me!! Oh yea, you just watch me. Meet ya' at the top, weenies! Here we go...

Mission: Disney

Imagine 2000 miles, 10 days, and 7 kids. OK, it just wouldn't do our trip justice if I also didn't mention the extra 5 pounds that I packed on too. Sounds like a recipe for a disaster, eh? Well, it wasn't too bad. We took a family trip to Disney World, and at the risk of sounding cliche, it was magical! Other than the fact that we cheaped out and opted to drive, our trip was probably like most other peoples experience at Disney. Here's a quick summary:
1)Drive, drive, drive
2)get mauled by a deadly swarm of mosquitos, while peeing on the side of the road - WHAT?! You know you've peed on the side of the road before - stop judging me!
3)Mickey, Mickey, Mickey
4)drop, splash, scream, laugh
5)blow a wad at gift shop
6)eat $10 burgers and $5 cokes
7)get stampeded by a herd of wild Brazilians and made into a huge tourist sandwich; and I must also mention that as a result, my sister and I start to get a little "scrappy" with the crowd.
*note: we are very sweet and kind girls until you F with our children and then we turn into raving bitches...it wasn't pretty. We're both a bit ashamed of our behavior.
8) parade, fireworks, more Mickey
9) son pukes repeatedly (man, what a waste of a perfectly good $10 burger!)
10)Get offered a reefer from the hot German waitress...wait, what? Oh. My sister says she was just offering me a refill on my drink. Damn. That was the best part of the trip. Oh well.
11) more $10 burgers and $5 cokes
12) bank calls to ask if we're making all of these purchases or if we've been robbed. Oy.
13) son pukes some more (it just wouldn't be a proper family trip if one kid didn't get violently ill, right?)
13) more rides, more Mickey, more puking
14) pack up and drive home, on what seems like the longest drive in history, with a carload of Disney crap!!
I think it's important to mention, by the way, that I have the grumpiest family on the face of this earth. In all of our photos I look like Jesus Christ himself came out of the clouds, with my huge cheesy-ass grin. But my husband and sons all looked like death was awaiting them. If Mickey Mouse can't make them smile, then I do believe they are screwed. Poor guys. I think that's why my husband married me, in all truth. I can make him smile. Since he's completely incapable of doing so himself, he needs me around for that. I guess it's like the old saying, "there can only be one peacock in the family", but in this case, only one overly-happy nutcase. Well, I'm glad I get to hold that title. But in all seriousness, we all had a really fantastic time on our family trip to Disney. We made memories that I'll cherish forever. Viva Disney!

Earth to Husband!

Dear Husband,


You are the greatest person I have in my life and I love you so very,very much. But if you don't start doing some dishes, I'm gonna have to kick your ass! I was out of town for 10 days and when I returned I had to do all of your dishes. As a matter of fact, I can't remember the last time I saw you wash a dish. Did you forget how and you're just embarrassed to tell me that? Because if that's the case, I'll be more than pleased to teach you.


According to my estimate, you dirty up about 5 dishes per day. And it has been about 340 days since you washed a dish . (I think it was my last birthday...maybe...I'm giving you the benefit of the doubt on this one) That means I've washed approximately 1,700 of your dishes. So either start buying paper plates, hire a maid, or get busy washing, asshole! I'm getting tired and grouchy, and I just might start taking it out on you!! That's fair warning, in my opinion. In addition, I'm PMSing and so this whole situation is likely going to turn me into a raving lunatic at any minute. (But if you mention the PMS thing, I'm really going to give you an ass-whooping. So watch yourself, boy!)

Love,
Your sweet-hearted, caring, and adorable wife

Food for Thought

So our cable and internet went out for 2 days. Two days!! Good lord almighty, two days! (yes, we paid our bill! You smart ass. I outta whoop your butt for even thinking that.) So after I baked cookies, cleaned out the van, did all of the laundry,vacuumed the floor in the garage (man, I sure can get a lot of work done when I'm not parked in front of a computer all day!), mopped the kitchen floor, and realphabetized the food in the pantry (what?!), the question became "What now?". I missed the news. I missed my only source for a social life...facebook...I know, it's sad. I was feeling so disconnected from the world. We could have been nuked and I'd still be outside fucking around with my Christmas lights, totally clueless. And I'm not too sure the local radio station would have the gall to interrupt the ongoing Christmas music to actually let me know that New York has been wiped off of the map. (shrug) Anyway, my husband came home from work and just sat there, staring at me. He hasn't looked at me that long in over 10 years. It was quite unnverving. We had NO idea what to do next! Well, my husband had ONE idea. But that only used up one hour and five minutes of our long night ahead of us. One hour to shave off my winter fur, and well, you know what the other five minutes was for! Tee-hee-hee. (that's my innocent-little-girl laugh) Uh oh, Mom, are you reading this? Crap.
By the way, I asked my husband if it was ok to blog about our sex life and he replied, "hell no!" I don't know why. What's he ashamed of? Once a month he gets to be the "Master of the bedroom" for five whole minutes. Right on, brother!
But I digress, because when I was soaking in the tub and mowing my leg hairs (hey, it's been really cold out lately!), I had plenty of time to think. And what, you ask, does Catherine think about when she has lots of time on her hands? (You probably don't wanna know - but here it goes) I was thinking about how gross hotel rooms are. You see, I'm a camper. Not only that, but I'm a germaphobe. Despite being a germaphobe, I'll throw my ass on the ground and sleep with the raccoons and bugs anyday! But put me in a hotel room and I will completely freak out on you! I'm seriously grossed out! Women who are snobs about staying in hotels vs. camping are totally dilusional, in my opinion. They've obviously never watched a 20/20 expose' on "funk in hotel rooms". There are 4 things that I will NEVER touch in a hotel room. (1) faucets. Imagine some really nasty guy, wiping his big, shitty ass and then turning on the faucet to wash his hands (unlikely that he's even doing that, but let's just pretend, for argument sake.) Sure, you're also about to wash your hands, right after touching the faucet, but don't you also touch the faucet to turn the water off? Thus, you've just defeated the purpose of even washing your hands to begin with. (I've given this a lot of thought!) Gag.
(2) light switches. Imagine Mr. Shitty flipping on the lights after said trip to the crapper. Enough said, right? Wrong! When did you EVER see the maid clean the light switches. I rarely even do that and I vacuum my garage floor, for chrissake!
(3) the remote control. Yuck! Imagine a "John" romping around the hotel room with his $5.00 whore and then picking up the remote to finish off with a little porn. God lord. I can feel the chunks coming up my throat even now.
(4)The floor. Yes, I said the floor. You will never see my feet touch the floor in a hotel. My feet may smell like hell after wearing my shoes for 4 days straight, but that's preferrable to picking up a toe fungus from the skanky $5.00 whore. Ew.
So this is just food for thought when you all venture off for the holidays to visit family and you're snuggled up in your cozy sheets at the Drury Inn. Happy Holidays!