And some snowmobile ones...
And, of course, you know where to get them.... InsanityWear & SledderWear
Monday, October 15, 2007
NEW STUFF
Lots of new stuff in the store.. I spent many hours the past few days working on it. So here's just a sample for you...
And some snowmobile ones...
And, of course, you know where to get them.... InsanityWear & SledderWear
And some snowmobile ones...
And, of course, you know where to get them.... InsanityWear & SledderWear
The Pink Interceptor - 'Ceptorlicious
So a few weeks ago I mentioned to the husband that I want a Kawasaki Interceptor.
It's a snowmobile, follow along.
I want to paint it pink and call it 'Ceptorlicious. I'd name it Kittilicous, but that would look silly on a Kawasaki. Now if I had an Arctic Cat it would be a different story. They have leopard print, which you would think - if you knew me at all - would be what I want, but I can't because it's not a Kawasaki.
Vintage snowmobiles, aren't you following along?
From the minute I told the husband about my future plans for 'Ceptorlicious his head has been in the clouds. After years of trying to get me to get into this whole snowmobiling game, he's finally won. Or so he thinks. He even bought me a newer sled a couple years ago. I think I rode it once. It's up for sale if anyone is interested. It's a 1990-something Polaris. Neat looking sled, but I get cold when I'm on it, so I don't go on it.
I have no plans to ride the 'Ceptorlicious either. I just want it. So I'm getting it. Don't call me spoiled, either. I've been asking for a puppy for months and the husband refuses that, but I ask for a snowmobile and he's going to go to the ends of the earth for me.
Figures.
So anyway. One phone call and my Interceptor was found. I'll get it in November. Excitement is boiling through me so much I can't contain myself.
You just can't hear sarcasm on the net.
Yesterday I was out in the garage with the husband and I said that I changed my mind about 'Ceptorlicious - I don't want the whole hood pink.
"It wasn't going to be"
Huh? WTF? What if I wanted the whole thing pink?
"I've been thinking a lot about it and how to make it what you want, but still make it look like an Interceptor"
Wait a second. How does that sentence even make sense? He's been thinking about how I want it?? How about just asking me? If it's my sled, to do with as I please, then why should he think about it?
So 'Ceptorlicious will exist, but I think it will end up being the husbands pink sled, not mine.
All I wanted was a puppy.
It's a snowmobile, follow along.
I want to paint it pink and call it 'Ceptorlicious. I'd name it Kittilicous, but that would look silly on a Kawasaki. Now if I had an Arctic Cat it would be a different story. They have leopard print, which you would think - if you knew me at all - would be what I want, but I can't because it's not a Kawasaki.
Vintage snowmobiles, aren't you following along?
From the minute I told the husband about my future plans for 'Ceptorlicious his head has been in the clouds. After years of trying to get me to get into this whole snowmobiling game, he's finally won. Or so he thinks. He even bought me a newer sled a couple years ago. I think I rode it once. It's up for sale if anyone is interested. It's a 1990-something Polaris. Neat looking sled, but I get cold when I'm on it, so I don't go on it.
I have no plans to ride the 'Ceptorlicious either. I just want it. So I'm getting it. Don't call me spoiled, either. I've been asking for a puppy for months and the husband refuses that, but I ask for a snowmobile and he's going to go to the ends of the earth for me.
Figures.
So anyway. One phone call and my Interceptor was found. I'll get it in November. Excitement is boiling through me so much I can't contain myself.
You just can't hear sarcasm on the net.
Yesterday I was out in the garage with the husband and I said that I changed my mind about 'Ceptorlicious - I don't want the whole hood pink.
"It wasn't going to be"
Huh? WTF? What if I wanted the whole thing pink?
"I've been thinking a lot about it and how to make it what you want, but still make it look like an Interceptor"
Wait a second. How does that sentence even make sense? He's been thinking about how I want it?? How about just asking me? If it's my sled, to do with as I please, then why should he think about it?
So 'Ceptorlicious will exist, but I think it will end up being the husbands pink sled, not mine.
All I wanted was a puppy.
THE FEAR OF BUYING SOMETHING NEW
The demons often ask me why I don't buy them more stuff. It doesn't matter that they both have a closet full of clothes that they haven't worn in months, partly because after a week of owning it they decide it's ugly. But whatever. I hear about how Suzie has a Wii....
Is that how you type th at out? I ain't looking it up, so deal with it.
...Johnny has a new bike.
Oh yeah, bikes. Last year they both got a new bike. The 3rd bike that they've each gotten since their first training wheels one. They both decide this year they want a new one! No way. I told them last year that this was it... this is the bike they were biking to college with. Both of them have full sized bikes, they are set for at least 20 years. They don't ride them anymore either, because they don't like them. Does their refusing to ride a bike rebellion think that I'm going to break down on this one? Who knows. These are kids afterall. Mom ain't breaking on this. No new bike until you are 30.
So last week both demons got new shoes. Demon #2 wanted skateboard shoes in the worst way when school started. She had to have them. She had to. She'd die without them. Fine, skateboard shoes it is. Funny how a month of Phy Ed she realized it probably wasn't the smartest idea. So I go out and buy her a pair of tennis shoes. That was Thursday. She wore them on Friday. Today is Monday. She got out of bed, got dressed, whined about how school is stupid and should start in the afternoon, opened a can of fruit cocktail for breakfast. A family size can. Geez kid, thats a weeks worth of your daily fruit intake.
Don't talk to me about the sugar.
So she does all this and it's getting to be that bus time so I tell the demons to get their shoes on.
"Mom, where are my new shoes?"
"I don't know, I didn't wear them last."
"I can't find them."
We look. Demon #1 looks. Demon #2 looks. No new shoes. She puts her skateboard shoes on and heads out the door. I then spend 15 minutes looking for these new shoes. Either a mouse took them into the walls or they just aren't here. Can't find them anywhere.
And they wonder why I hate buying them anything.
Oh... the fruit cocktail was never eaten. It was forgotten about in the search for the new shoes. It's now in the fridge getting crusty, I'm sure, because I didn't put a cover on it. If it makes it through the day it will become the after school snack. And if I find the shoes in the neighbors yard or someplace similar, the shoes will be for dessert.
Is that how you type th at out? I ain't looking it up, so deal with it.
...Johnny has a new bike.
Oh yeah, bikes. Last year they both got a new bike. The 3rd bike that they've each gotten since their first training wheels one. They both decide this year they want a new one! No way. I told them last year that this was it... this is the bike they were biking to college with. Both of them have full sized bikes, they are set for at least 20 years. They don't ride them anymore either, because they don't like them. Does their refusing to ride a bike rebellion think that I'm going to break down on this one? Who knows. These are kids afterall. Mom ain't breaking on this. No new bike until you are 30.
So last week both demons got new shoes. Demon #2 wanted skateboard shoes in the worst way when school started. She had to have them. She had to. She'd die without them. Fine, skateboard shoes it is. Funny how a month of Phy Ed she realized it probably wasn't the smartest idea. So I go out and buy her a pair of tennis shoes. That was Thursday. She wore them on Friday. Today is Monday. She got out of bed, got dressed, whined about how school is stupid and should start in the afternoon, opened a can of fruit cocktail for breakfast. A family size can. Geez kid, thats a weeks worth of your daily fruit intake.
Don't talk to me about the sugar.
So she does all this and it's getting to be that bus time so I tell the demons to get their shoes on.
"Mom, where are my new shoes?"
"I don't know, I didn't wear them last."
"I can't find them."
We look. Demon #1 looks. Demon #2 looks. No new shoes. She puts her skateboard shoes on and heads out the door. I then spend 15 minutes looking for these new shoes. Either a mouse took them into the walls or they just aren't here. Can't find them anywhere.
And they wonder why I hate buying them anything.
Oh... the fruit cocktail was never eaten. It was forgotten about in the search for the new shoes. It's now in the fridge getting crusty, I'm sure, because I didn't put a cover on it. If it makes it through the day it will become the after school snack. And if I find the shoes in the neighbors yard or someplace similar, the shoes will be for dessert.
WHY YOU WILL NEVER HEAR ME TALK POLITICS
It's not that I don't care about our country, it's not that I don't care about my children's future, it's because I love my family and friends. I purposely don't pay attention to anything regarding politics because I don't want to know enough to form an opinion so that I can sit and argue with my best friends. I hate the fact that once politics are brought up that the most polite, caring, loving people will suddenly throw jabs at each other and turn into blood-sucking hyenas. It's frickin' ridiculous.
Yes, I know hyenas don't suck blood.
This is short and sweet because, as I said, I don't talk politics. Maybe this is a warning for all of you who are looking for Kittilicious - The Opinion on Politics. You won't get it here or anywhere.
I decided that when the election comes around - I'm going to vote for the person who has the best last name that goes with my first name. Just in case I become 1st lady within the next 4-8 years.
That should piss someone off. Probably my husband more than anybody.
Yes, I know hyenas don't suck blood.
This is short and sweet because, as I said, I don't talk politics. Maybe this is a warning for all of you who are looking for Kittilicious - The Opinion on Politics. You won't get it here or anywhere.
I decided that when the election comes around - I'm going to vote for the person who has the best last name that goes with my first name. Just in case I become 1st lady within the next 4-8 years.
That should piss someone off. Probably my husband more than anybody.
Wednesday, October 10, 2007
Lets go back to the basics
I'm a good mom. I taught my children that lying is bad early in their life. At least I thought I did.
Last night during a commercial break of House I told Demon #1 to pick up the junk that was in front of the entertainment center. (Or 'tainment center, as she calls it - even at 13 years old) The junk consisted of a book, a sock, 2 pieces of paper and 1 knee pad. She put the book on the 'tainment center, the sock on the couch and actually walked to the garbage can in the kitchen to throw the papers away. I was beaming with pride over that one.
Then comes the knee pad.
She walks to the front door to the entry way and walks in... walks out.
"Did you just throw that on the bench?"
"No."
"Ok"
We finished watching House and then went to bed.
This morning I go out into the entry way to have a cigarette. It's a closed entry way/porch, so don't freak out that I smoke in the house. I don't. I'm just not standing outside.
What do I find when I sit down on the bench? The knee pad. What was the pride I felt last night? So I wake Demon #1 up for school this morning with "Good Morning, you're grounded" and I walk out of her bedroom.
If that won't get a teenager out of bed quick.
I proceeded to tell her as she's falling out of bed, stumbling out her bedroom door whining "Why? Mom! What did I do?" that I taught her not to lie and she lied to me. She's grounded through the weekend. She argued with me saying that is the stupidest reason to be grounded, it's just a knee pad. I asked her if she had prom this weekend and, of course, that just irritated her because she knows I know she's only in 7th grade and 7th graders don't have prom. 7th graders don't really have a social life anyway so I know that she knows that I know I didn't ruin any life altering events.
I laugh at my Demons. And I tell them why. I asked her why she would lie about something that she knew I would find out about the next time I walked into the porch. "If you are going to lie, at least try not to get caught". Yeah, probably not the smartest thing to try to teach your child, but so far it hasn't mattered if a 13 year old is going to lie about something stupid like a knee pad.
So friends, here's the moral of the story. If you don't want to do what your mom says, at least stuff the knee pad under the cushion of the bench, just don't lay it on top in plain view. It just might save your ass from going to prom.
Last night during a commercial break of House I told Demon #1 to pick up the junk that was in front of the entertainment center. (Or 'tainment center, as she calls it - even at 13 years old) The junk consisted of a book, a sock, 2 pieces of paper and 1 knee pad. She put the book on the 'tainment center, the sock on the couch and actually walked to the garbage can in the kitchen to throw the papers away. I was beaming with pride over that one.
Then comes the knee pad.
She walks to the front door to the entry way and walks in... walks out.
"Did you just throw that on the bench?"
"No."
"Ok"
We finished watching House and then went to bed.
This morning I go out into the entry way to have a cigarette. It's a closed entry way/porch, so don't freak out that I smoke in the house. I don't. I'm just not standing outside.
What do I find when I sit down on the bench? The knee pad. What was the pride I felt last night? So I wake Demon #1 up for school this morning with "Good Morning, you're grounded" and I walk out of her bedroom.
If that won't get a teenager out of bed quick.
I proceeded to tell her as she's falling out of bed, stumbling out her bedroom door whining "Why? Mom! What did I do?" that I taught her not to lie and she lied to me. She's grounded through the weekend. She argued with me saying that is the stupidest reason to be grounded, it's just a knee pad. I asked her if she had prom this weekend and, of course, that just irritated her because she knows I know she's only in 7th grade and 7th graders don't have prom. 7th graders don't really have a social life anyway so I know that she knows that I know I didn't ruin any life altering events.
I laugh at my Demons. And I tell them why. I asked her why she would lie about something that she knew I would find out about the next time I walked into the porch. "If you are going to lie, at least try not to get caught". Yeah, probably not the smartest thing to try to teach your child, but so far it hasn't mattered if a 13 year old is going to lie about something stupid like a knee pad.
So friends, here's the moral of the story. If you don't want to do what your mom says, at least stuff the knee pad under the cushion of the bench, just don't lay it on top in plain view. It just might save your ass from going to prom.
Tuesday, October 09, 2007
Men's nipples
Demon #2 (the 11 year old) yesterday...
Demon: Men should have to wear a bra. I don't want to see their nipples and when I stand next to a man his nipples are right here (as she makes the motion that they are eye level to her). Even with a shirt on, I can see their nipples. I don't want to see their nipples.
Demon: Men should have to wear a bra. I don't want to see their nipples and when I stand next to a man his nipples are right here (as she makes the motion that they are eye level to her). Even with a shirt on, I can see their nipples. I don't want to see their nipples.
A different kind of wife?
I just don't get it, I really don't. So often I am called a good wife or the husband is told he is lucky to have a wife like me. Why am I so different? The problem is; his snowmobiles. But it's not a problem. Sure, he's got an addiction that doesn't seem to have a cure and I haven't heard of any rehab centers for snowmobile addicts, but why is that such a problem? Ok, so we have an unknown amount of snowmobiles and lets not even talk about the parts he has... he doesn't even know what he all has anymore! But can someone direct me to the direction of the actual problem? He goes in his garage, works on sleds, goes to snowmobile shows and talks smart or he is on the computer looking at sled porn.
For those of you who are not sure what sled porn is, it's worse than real porn. If the husband would look at real porn I could somehow relate - yep, she's got a nice rack, etc. But sled porn? It's a whole different world...
So out of the three things, thats it. Thats all he does. No bars, no gambling...
unless you count spending a grand on parts with the hopes of turning it around and making money on it, I suppose thats a gamble.
I hear the other guys talk about how their wives hate their husbands habit. Why? I don't get it. It's a snowmobile, not a woman. Sure, his excitement about sleds is sometimes pretty close to the same excitement he gets from me but I know I'll always win in the end. There's one guy who's wife actually got pissed because he got a free sled. WTF? It's free! How can you get mad at a free sled? It leaves me literally frazzled at how some of these wives think.
I was talking to a guy yesterday who asked if the husband was going to a certain show this weekend. I told him no, he had too many projects in the works that he had to get done and that I was grounding him to the garage this weekend. What kind of wife grounds her husband to the garage??? I guess a whacked out one.
Maybe the 2-stroke fumes have effected my brain.
For those of you who are not sure what sled porn is, it's worse than real porn. If the husband would look at real porn I could somehow relate - yep, she's got a nice rack, etc. But sled porn? It's a whole different world...
So out of the three things, thats it. Thats all he does. No bars, no gambling...
unless you count spending a grand on parts with the hopes of turning it around and making money on it, I suppose thats a gamble.
I hear the other guys talk about how their wives hate their husbands habit. Why? I don't get it. It's a snowmobile, not a woman. Sure, his excitement about sleds is sometimes pretty close to the same excitement he gets from me but I know I'll always win in the end. There's one guy who's wife actually got pissed because he got a free sled. WTF? It's free! How can you get mad at a free sled? It leaves me literally frazzled at how some of these wives think.
I was talking to a guy yesterday who asked if the husband was going to a certain show this weekend. I told him no, he had too many projects in the works that he had to get done and that I was grounding him to the garage this weekend. What kind of wife grounds her husband to the garage??? I guess a whacked out one.
Maybe the 2-stroke fumes have effected my brain.
Monday, October 08, 2007
Rock of Love
Had my notify thing set up days in advance for the Rock of Love Reunion Show. Now mind you, I only started watching it halfway through the season, but from what I saw from the recaps - I didn't miss much. Let me first say that I was surprised. Really surprised. A Jes & Heather hug? Wow. And for Jes to basically tell Bret & Heather they deserve each other? What a woman! Yeah Jes!
But let me also say that I hated Heather. I hated when she totally disregarded Bret needing to eat on their last date. When you are with someone, you keep their health in the back of your mind and if someone you know has diabetes and they say "I need to eat" your brain really should stop you and make you think twice. Lets hope there was some major editing going on there.
But hey... if Heather is really what Bret wants, more power to him! I can handle that. I've been a fan of his since the 80's and even got to see him in a little hick town ballroom in 92. (And yes, I have washed my hand since then!) He's a very sincere guy... at least from what the cameras show. I wish him the best and it was a great show. Had me hooked, thats for sure.
I gotta give Jes kudos for what she did - she didn't play the part that some would just for the fame part of it. She walked down her own road and made her own fame - crushing Bret on tv. But was it really crushing him? I don't think so... I think he got what he wanted in the end and Heather? The tears throughout the reunion showed her true feelings - she really does love Bret.
But let me also say that I hated Heather. I hated when she totally disregarded Bret needing to eat on their last date. When you are with someone, you keep their health in the back of your mind and if someone you know has diabetes and they say "I need to eat" your brain really should stop you and make you think twice. Lets hope there was some major editing going on there.
But hey... if Heather is really what Bret wants, more power to him! I can handle that. I've been a fan of his since the 80's and even got to see him in a little hick town ballroom in 92. (And yes, I have washed my hand since then!) He's a very sincere guy... at least from what the cameras show. I wish him the best and it was a great show. Had me hooked, thats for sure.
I gotta give Jes kudos for what she did - she didn't play the part that some would just for the fame part of it. She walked down her own road and made her own fame - crushing Bret on tv. But was it really crushing him? I don't think so... I think he got what he wanted in the end and Heather? The tears throughout the reunion showed her true feelings - she really does love Bret.
Sunday, October 07, 2007
Saturday, October 06, 2007
Big Sky Carvers
Anyone need ideas for gifts for me this holiday season, look no further. Oh come on, I know you all want to buy me a present. Everyone wants to buy me a present! That is, everyone except my husband. He just throws money at me and tells me to go buy what I want. What fun is that? Where's the thought? Where's the surprise?
Anyway. Go here. Buy me that stuff. Take a chance that I don't have the one you are going to buy me.
But don't buy this one because I just bought it for myself yesterday.
Friday, October 05, 2007
Who's Your Daddy?
Last night was Parents Night at the swim meet. Demon #1 is in swimming. She came in last place, again, but I always tell her - somebody has got to be last. So after the meet we all meet in the school commons area for a round of desserts.
As we are waiting we keep seeing parents bringing up pans of bar, cookies and other yummy additions. Husband looks at me and says "Were we supposed to bring something?" I don't know, nobody said a word. As we wait, more and more pans of bars and plates of cookies arrive. "I think we were supposed to bring something" How am I supposed to know? Nobody said a thing to me. More time passes and the pile of calories grows. "I think we were supposed to bring something". I had to bite my tongue, but I wanted to ask him if he wanted to run home and bake a pan of brownies, but he was not happy to be there to begin with because it was so late at night. 8:30 late. Which is late for a lot of people, but really late for him since he starts beating his alarm clock at 2am. Hey, he's the one who wanted to be a truck driver!
So the party starts and the whole thing is, each swimmer gets to introduce their parents. They start with the bottom of the totem pole, the 7th graders, which does include our Demon. She's the last one to introduce her proud mommy & daddy. Even though daddy, by this time, is ready to just walk home. She stands up and says
"My name is Taryn - insert last name here - and this is my dad......."
long pause as she stares at him with her hand on his head.
".........."
I turn my head, hoping nobody realizes this is MY daughter who can't seem to remember her own father's name.
"........... Jason."
Everyone starts laughing and I'm dying. I'm hoping that nobody is thinking we just grabbed some bum off the street to pass off as her father or something.
The coach is a good sport, though, and she lightens Taryn's embarrassment with "How often do you call Mom & Dad by their first name?".
After we got home I did ask her, did you pass that "All about me" test in Kindergarten or not?
And about the bars & cookies. I'm pretty sure we weren't supposed to. I don't remember seeing any 7th grade moms or dads walk up with goodies.
The picture isn't from last night, but the look is pretty much the same. And her hair is wet, so that fits, too.
As we are waiting we keep seeing parents bringing up pans of bar, cookies and other yummy additions. Husband looks at me and says "Were we supposed to bring something?" I don't know, nobody said a word. As we wait, more and more pans of bars and plates of cookies arrive. "I think we were supposed to bring something" How am I supposed to know? Nobody said a thing to me. More time passes and the pile of calories grows. "I think we were supposed to bring something". I had to bite my tongue, but I wanted to ask him if he wanted to run home and bake a pan of brownies, but he was not happy to be there to begin with because it was so late at night. 8:30 late. Which is late for a lot of people, but really late for him since he starts beating his alarm clock at 2am. Hey, he's the one who wanted to be a truck driver!
So the party starts and the whole thing is, each swimmer gets to introduce their parents. They start with the bottom of the totem pole, the 7th graders, which does include our Demon. She's the last one to introduce her proud mommy & daddy. Even though daddy, by this time, is ready to just walk home. She stands up and says
"My name is Taryn - insert last name here - and this is my dad......."
long pause as she stares at him with her hand on his head.
".........."
I turn my head, hoping nobody realizes this is MY daughter who can't seem to remember her own father's name.
"........... Jason."
Everyone starts laughing and I'm dying. I'm hoping that nobody is thinking we just grabbed some bum off the street to pass off as her father or something.
The coach is a good sport, though, and she lightens Taryn's embarrassment with "How often do you call Mom & Dad by their first name?".
After we got home I did ask her, did you pass that "All about me" test in Kindergarten or not?
And about the bars & cookies. I'm pretty sure we weren't supposed to. I don't remember seeing any 7th grade moms or dads walk up with goodies.
The picture isn't from last night, but the look is pretty much the same. And her hair is wet, so that fits, too.
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