Wii for dogs.

I hope you all appreciate this post, possibly my last, because the second Corey finds out I purposely let Oliver on the new rug (which is a big no-no) he will slaughter me.  Maybe even through the phone.


But it is a story that must be told.  And I am hoping one of the four followers of this blog is the random stranger that happened to see me and the following antics through the window.  He or she desperately needs an explanation if only to know that I am not completely crazy.


Here's the story:

I got a Wii and the Wii Fit Plus for Christmas.  I screamed.  Really, ask my mom.

And finally, I was able to set it up Tuesday night.  I put the sensor bar on the TV, plugged in the cords, re-plugged the cords and synched the Wii Fit board...

(this thing)

...and powered up the game.  It weighed me, calculated my body mass index, and figured out my center of balance.  Then it started talking to my dog.

"Excuse me, you want to do what to my dog?"

"Have Guest F (me) help you (Oliver) onto the board.  His/Her weight will be subtracted from your total."

"Hold up.  You want to weigh my dog?OK."

This is what I was trying to do.

But I am not a man, nor am I strong.  And Oliver is not a willing participant.

So, this is what we looked like.

First, I try to get him to sit on the board, but he wanted to lay across it.

Then I try to get him to stand on the board:

"First foot on, second foot on, now the back ones, oh crap, the first two are off..."

"I cannot find you.  Please step off the board and press A."

"Dangit."

Next I wrap my arms around his belly and hoist him up on his two back feet.  He is as tall as I am.  And 70 pounds.  Did I forget to mention that?

We walk onto the board.

"One foot off.  Dangit.  Lemme grab that back foo...."

"I cannot find you. Please step off the board and press A."



I press A, board resets, I regain my grip and drag Oliver back on.

"All feet on, looks goo..."

"I cannot find you. Please step off the board and press A."

"Dangit."


Press A.  All feet on...

"I cannot find you. Please step off the board and press A."



"SERIOUSLY?!  We are both here, on this board, ready to be WEIGHED."

"I cannot find you. Please step off the board and press A."


"Can't I just tell you how much he weighs?!  Because I already know!!  And what are you going to do with his measurements?!  Track his weight loss?"

"I cannot find you. Please step off the board and press A."



(sigh)


I end up standing on the board by myself to get the thing to shut up about the dang A button.  Oliver is then told he weighs negative pounds.  Score for me.  Unfortunately, he won't be able to set and follow his own fitness goals.

He's over it.

And I'm sure Corey's over the whole rug thing...hehe...right Cor?

How many brunettes does it take...

Funny things happen when you put three girls in a room with a deflated air mattress.

(You may think you know where this is going, but you really have nooooo idea.)

For as long as I can remember, me and my sisters would climb into the same bed on Christmas Eve and giggle about Santa, about the presents we hoped were under the tree, about how we couldn't fall asleep, and about Kimberlie, who couldn't stop farting, until we finally passed out.

Eventually, we outgrew twin sized beds, but never outgrew the tradition.

Until I had to go and get married.

See, Corey had this strange idea that as a married couple we should start our own traditions.  "Pppsssshhh,"  I said.....or spit, actually.  But he was right, and Katie, Kimberlie and I, again, modified our tradition.  We would hold our annual Christmas Eve sleepover on Christmas Eve Eve.

This is actually where the air mattress story begins.  I just felt the need to give you way more background material than you probably wanted.  That's just what I do.

So here we are.  The three of us.  Ready to sleep, a deflated air mattress in front of us.  I should mention this air mattress requires many, many batteries to inflate (which we did not have).  Oh, or a car charger. 

Where does ass-uming get you, L.L. Bean?

Anyway, as I am ready to give up on the mattress and claim a couch, one of the two sisters (can't remember which one, they both kinda run together) has the bright idea to inflate the dang thing using a car charger.  As in a car charger in a car.  Outside.

So, we suit up and go.

...plug the thing in there.

And then that thing plugs in there.

Oops.  Wrong thing.

My feet.

Ahhh, yes.  The mattress.  Focus.

Now, to get it inside.  Snow free.

...and up the stairs.

Ahhhhhhh, success.

In short (see what I did there?  This story was in no way short...that's what makes it funny), we survived.  So did the tradition.  And the air mattress.

'Tis the season...

...for stomach aches.

You know you did exactly what I did the past three days: stuffed every goodie within reach down your cram-hole until your innie turned outie.

So don't tell me you're not still full from Christmas ham, beef, or turducken because I won't believe you.

...for unpacking toys.

The toys you got for Christmas.

Because you're at that age where you don't care what your friends, family, neighbors, co-workers think of your obsession with remote controlled cars and video games.

...for zero workplace motivation.

No one is working anywhere this week, so there is really no reason you or I should be.

...for seasonal depression.

No more Christmas carols, no more Christmas lights, no more family gatherings, no more presents. 

What does that leave us?  Snow.  And cold.  Bitter cold.  Then more snow.  Then slush and mud.  Followed by rain.

...for counting down to Saratoga track season.

Oh to see those stately thoroughbreds crossing Union Avenue, holding up traffic, and leaving golden surprises in their wake.

By "golden surprises" I really mean poop.  They poop in the street.

...for New Year's Resolutions.

You know, the goals you set for yourself that you can't seem to keep past noon on the second day of the year.

...for swearing to shop earlier for Christmas presents next year, to not wait until Christmas eve to wrap said presents, and to save ambitious baking projects for, let's say, a Tuesday afternoon.

Enjoy this post-Christmas season and have a Happy New Year!!

The time is near

Um, I wish someone had told me Christmas is Friday.

As in three days from now.

I mean, I knew, but I didn't know. 

You know?

I think I just needed someone to say, "You know all that stuff you got wadded up in all those bags upstairs?   Yeah, it needs to be under the tree next week."

And then I wish that same someone had said, "Oh, and you have to wrap it.  Nicely."

Because now I'm stuck between a rock and a booger.

Do I put all my purchases in grocery sacks to save time for the production of hundreds of sprinkly cookies?  Or do I make enemies out of neighbors and coworkers expecting holiday treats so I can spend hours wrapping gifts in fancy paper that will be in the garbage by Friday morning?

Problem solved.



To my family and friends: If I give you a bag that says Hannaford Supermarket on it, that doesn't necessarily mean there are groceries in it.  Just so you know.

Something you should know

Here's my dad:

People say we look alike.  And that's cool, he's pretty handsome. 

I say "pretty" because he's my dad, and anything more than moderate is gross.

But then there's these days:

When I do not claim his as mine.

That was Halloween.  Pret-ty convincing.

Don't worry Ma, you'll have your day on the blog very soon.

I won something.

Out of 30,000 people I won something.  Me.  The unluckiest person in the world.

The person who manages to do thousands of dollars of damage to her car while it is sitting in the driveway.

The person who always steps in gum and sits in chocolate.

The person who has never won a single dollar in any gambling venture.  Ever.

But this time I won.

Did I mention I won something?

My prize:

Kitchenaid 90th Anniversary Limited-Edition 5-Quart Stand Mixer

Isn't she beautiful?  I'm not quite sure what these things are for, but how can you not love a sturdy piece of kitchenware?  And it's red to boot.

Now if we could just get some salt and pepper shakers...

Devestation

Corey has come down with a serious ailment.

One that has left him practically incapacitated.

He is unable to concentrate on his work.

And barely able to eat.

His world has now come to an end.

Corey has red itchy bumps on his face.