come on everybody...

Risky Business was on last night.  I have never seen this movie, nor did I watch it when I had this chance.  This never-seen factoid surprised my other half, he couldn't believe that I hadn't seen such an iconic movie.

For the record (and I know I've talked about this before but bear with me), I also haven't seen The Karate Kid, Dirty Dancing, or Ernest Goes to Camp.

Friends took me to the re-release of Grease back in the nineties and I once sat down and watched Xanadu at the world's most boring party when all I could find on the shelf was a copy of that movie.  I closed to the door to someone's room, sat down among the pile of discarded party-goer coats, popped the movie in and watched it beginning to end with my mickey and mix at my side.  Gawd I hate boring parties but at least I got something accomplished.  If you can call watching Xanadu an accomplishment.

I do remember at one point during the movie - during some muse dance number built around the magic of the Electric Light Orchestra- that a couple from the party came into the same room where I was enjoying my little bit of Kubla Kahn, to swap spit.  I thought this make-out session was horrifically inconsiderate but I just pumped up the volume, did a three-finger pour, and I was able to block out their incessant groping and tongue-wrestling.  Also that heap of coats on the bed provided a good visual block because by the sounds of their undoubtedly one-hit-wonder lovings, I didn't want to watch.  Even I have standards.

BUT LORDY, as usual I did not come here to talk Xanadu or Xenu.  It's just, I even find it strange that a movie lover like me hasn't seen some of the post popular movies out there.  Though for the record, I did see Ernest Goes to Jail.  In the theatre. Sober. Sad but true.

Anyhow, let's all pretend it's this past Monday m'kay?  Because I meant to post but life got in the way.  I know you know what I mean and to those of you that still managed to post despite the roadblocks life handed you - hats off to you and I really mean that.  I marvel at how people do it all.

But I'm getting off track again.... so... yes... IF this was actually last Monday, I would be jumping on the beautiful Schmutzie bandwagon - a bandwagon which I see in my mind's eye as looking something like the bus from the Partridge Family -  and after jumping on this bus, I looked for grace in small things.  Grace in small things "is a daily reminder to take notice of the positive things we tend to overlook."

I will try to do this every Monday Thursday so often because life needs more of this over that.  And I won't go into what "that" is because all I need to say is that in this case, "that" is the opposite of this.

1. The barrista who referred to me as "miss" three times during our exchange of precious moneys for equally precious coffees. It took all of my strong marriage to not ram my tongue down that young man's throat in precious thanks.  Thirty-nine does that to you.
   
2. The endless possibilities presented upon opening a brand new, virgin notebook.
3. Large print books. I now buy them and I'm not too proud to say so.  They help me concentrate on the story and not the sea of tiny letters that swim before me.  First to rib me about the association of ageing and large print gets a virtual wedgie.
   
4. New playdoh and crayons.
   
5. Recipes that are fast, fool-proof, and taste great.  Salsa chicken anyone?
   

And on that note, check out the photo I found while looking for the Partridge bus:

Damn. I miss the seventies some days.

Nada

Well I'm still beat but things are much better in the physical arena. It's amazing how rest does do the body good but trying to do it, even with help, is darn near impossible to do.

But right after my family help left (after wonderful week of keeping the house standing and the child on the far side of feral), a burst of house cleaning broke out along with a not- too- shabby streak of organization.

A cleanish home is an instant de-stress for me. Too bad it rarely happens.

Anyhow, I'm still taking it easy and living by Chuck Inspirational of the Day:

Chuck Norris can divide by zero.

Sometimes doing nothing is best. Know what I mean?

This weekend, after live blogging the National Spelling Bee with Cynical Dad on Friday, I only worked on celeb gossip stuff over at Binkywood [shameless plug]. I can't help but mention Binky because OMG that blog is my outlet. I swear my need for gossip is up to heights not seen since I was post-partum. Back in those days, I couldn't get enough of USWeekly, People, Hello, OK!, and online gossip.

It's kinda like I know I won't completely crack as long as there is someone crazier out there than me - because there's always Brit to save my life y'all.

Anyhow, now I just have to catch up on all the reading I haven't done in a week. I hate to say it, but I feel a Bloglines cleanse happening tonight. It's the only way to catch up sometimes. Arghhh.

Iron Mom

A rare afternoon date was my Mother's Day gift.

In the pre-parenting life formerly known as "freedom to watch movies all weekend if one wished", SB and I would hit the theatres all the time. Now it is a rare event so we always take advantage.

This weekend's selection was a hit: Iron Man (thank gawd, because it sucks to catch a miss). It was really gooooooood, everything I expected and it was totally action packed. It stayed true to comic book style, which is how movies like this should be. Well done Mr. Favreau.

So long of short, we enjoyed what should have been an early matinee but it started 30 minute late. Holy crap, the ads kept running with the lights on in the theatre and OMG they made us watch this really bad, very loud music video over and over and over a la Clockwork Orange. Ironically the music video was called Mercy - kinda funny considering they didn't show us any. It was insane and no one knew what was going on.

Since I didn't feel like having my blood pressure tested by some disinterested teenage employee, I sat tight, refusing to let the torture get to me. Not on Mother's Day, no freakin' way was some thing like poor customer service going to get to me on my royal-highness, signed, stamped, and supported by Hallmark day. Thankfully the theatre redeemed itself by handing out free movie gift certificates with an apology for late start time at the end of the movie. Well played "overpriced but under duress since home entertainment is the preferred method of Hollywood ingestion" movie theatre, well played.

Anyhow, despite the poor start and my overwhelming urge to run out to Burger King, drink Perrier, trade my Mac for a Dell, and do it all while driving a Ford got under my "hate the sell outs but how else are they going to pay for all the explosions" skin - the movie never stopped pumping.

How can I hate a film that includes Suicidal Tendancies in the score along side Black Sabbath? Exactly. And Robert Downey Jr. will always have a special place in my heart. So overall? Mmmmmmmm yummy.

But I reserve judgement on Gwyneth Paltrow's role - I can't decide if she did her Pepper Pots to perfection or she just annoys the crap outta of me with her breathless girly character. When at one point she tiptoed through broken glass and actually made squeaky noises, I can't say I didn't want to drill her one upside the head. Okay, so I just rolled my eyes. She didn't play the role as a ditz because Pepper Pots isn't an idiot but something about it didn't work for me. And I also need to decide if she played the role in true comic book fashion - grrrrrr I have a dilemma. Oh if only each of life dilemmas were this easy to dissect.

Speaking of dilemmas, I still can't blog straight but that's alright, I will wallow in my nonsensical attempts at humour and shake things up here at Casa Bump.

Chuck is on vacation this week. But Chuck wouldn't go on vacation and not assign anyone his Monday Morning slot.

He asked Mr. T to fill in but Mr. T did not agree with the inspirational assignment - he thought a establishing your style assignment was a better idea.

He believes that Mr. T just standing in front of you is inspiration enough. Well despite the truth behind that statement, Mr. T would like to instruct you on stylin' and making a statement.



You will love Marta, she IS a real hotdog. And back off - Manny is all mine ladies.

Sad thing, I remember these days like they were yesterday. But on the bright side, even back then I would have totally recognized this for all it's bad 80's glory that it represents.

Remember kids, everybody got to wear clothes - if not you'll be arrested. Now if those aren't words to live by on a Monday morning, I don't know what words you need to hear. Nice buns perhaps?

Oh and in case you haven't noticed the kerfuffle swirling around the 'sphere surrounding a certain site I work with that was named after a piece of clothing I so rarily wear (bloggess said it so much better than me so read her post for the details on the mean women out who obviously didn't get much love during high school or something because what else would make you so freakin' mean and lawsuit-happy?) - well the new name for said site has officially been changed.

Today I am no longer a girl who wears a skirt, I am a girl who knows how to kirtsy:

Those kool kids at kirtsy will make a lady out of me, I just know it.

Care to join the triad?

The truth will set you free.

Unless Chuck Norris has you, in which case, forget it.

Which reminds me, Backpacking Dad told me about this one that he heard about over at loraleeslooneytunes.com:

Go to google
Type "find chuck norris" in search
Then click "I'm feeling lucky".
Fun times.

Speaking of fun times, recently I have been reflecting on some of the primary yet nonetheless fascinating, aspects of depression.

For instance the always fun depressive cognitive triad of self, the immediate world around that self, and that so bleak, you gotta pull the shades, future. In each of those corners, the member of the triad surround and transfix on only those always supportive negative thought processes.

Anyone else thinking High Kong Underworld when I say triad? Didn't think so. Anyhow, when one sees glimpses of these mobsters of the membrane kind, one can only laugh in it's face because recognition is one step in moving past it. Some may not agree, but consensus is impossible to attain in matters of the brain.

Now there's a puzzle for you lovers of challenges: map and solve the riddles of the human brain in the next 10 minutes please.

Anyhow, that constant focus on the negative permeates everything. Just like that red onion I forgot to wrap and left in the fridge last week. Cupcakes with onion essence? Not so nice. The onion needs to be removed and presented to the Glad Man.

Dude, that was some stylin' hair on the Glad Man. Remember him and his gleaming white everything. Nary a speck of dirt on the man who takes charge and takes out your trash. Good gravy, why can't I find a picture of the Glad Man? Why did I just say gravy? Google you have failed me, what did I ever do to you?

Speaking of taking out the trash - the forgetfulness from having head up the backside is difficult to figure out. Ugly stuff and the extraction for such a problem can be a slow process. It's not as difficult when it's not wedged too deep, but this only happens when the owner of said head notices it is kinda dark in there and decides to do something about it.

Another fun thing to think about is that kooky depressive attributional style. Which strangely enough has NOTHING to do with the actual lack of style that so many of those people who get hit by the depression bus lose. Or should I say: they "lose all sense of giving a shit about" style? Sometimes it's a fine line.

Anyhow this kind of style is like having a best friend that wants you to look like a loser, an absolutely disorganized slob. And like an anti-entourage, this friend works to keep chipping away at the ice cap known as cool exterior. Chipping ice makes it melt faster in case you didn't know.

Arm chair psychology is so much fun. Everyone should try it at home.

For all the studying, research participation, hours spent armpit deep in others studies and hypothesis up the ying-yang, I never took any specific courses in child psychology. I figured I'd never need something like that. Kids, schmids - give me the abnormal folk - now there are some peeps I can understand.

Not taking Paiget more seriously than how will this factoid be posed as an exam question: mistake # 1,298,712.

Holy crap - this is the WORST Monday Morning Inspirational I've written so far.

Um so yah, sometimes the truth won't set you free. Some days it will make you clamber to the back of the cage and cringe.

If you are looking for something lighter, I am talking about Barbara Walters sex life over at Binkywood... oh wait... that isn't much better is it now.

Teaser #2

I know it's Monday morning (well at least for another hour or so in my books) and maybe your brain is feeling kinda fuzzy. Maybe it needs a bit of a work out to get you ready for the week ahead. That dreaded, long, torturous week that stretches so long sometimes before the next weekend comes (or is that just me?).

Anyhow:

Just start here at Teaser #1 (if you haven't already been there) and then just like the tease that I was accused of more times in the past than I care to count... here is Teaser #2:


Now go to Teaser #3 to find out what's next.

And after that go to Teaser #4 and you'll see a pattern.

See? Look, it's Teaser #5!.

And then... (that's right... drumroll please....) Teaser #6.

Got it? Good.

Oh and I didn't forget my usual injection for Monday Mornings: Chuck Norris does not sleep. He waits.

And right now sexy open shirt Chuck is waiting for you to go to the next Teaser.

Monday Morning Inspirational #95184

Take a picture shiny boy, it lasts longer...
or are you looking for some fine prison luvin'?
oh and one comment about me wearing mom pants
and I'll crush your windpipe before you can say "nice mo...".

There is no 'ctrl' button on Chuck Norris's computer. Chuck Norris is always in control.

Just like me.

NOT.

Anyhow, it was a rather non-eventful weekend at Casa Bump. That is a good thing.

Mind you, Bumper is in a totally out-of-control defiant mood which is difficult to deal with but I can't really complain. If she was acting all angelic, I'd be counting the silver wear and double checking the knife drawer. But seriously, she is a bit out of control in a hyper way.

Usually this signifies a learning obstacle is nearing the "overcome" status and that new skill is about to be mastered.

For the life of me, I can't figure out what is left since she has walking, running, skipping, beating me, manners, walking/smoking/chewing gum simultaneously, talking in full, completely mind-boggling, scary sentences all while mixing a mighty fine martini down pat.

Hot wiring cars perhaps? Who knows. Better be lucrative.

Anyhow, whenever this happens she sleeps well for a week or so, lulls us into a false sense of security, and then she is back to downloading the latest program in the Bumpatrix.

Man, preschoolers are mind-boggling.

Hey look over here. See this thing - yes, this would be a tangent in the post.

Last Saturday night (like over a week ago for you Luddite calendar following folks), I was able to get out for some socializing with a large group of Canadian kick-ass bloggers. Mmmm it was nice.. really nice.

Anyhow, during the course of the evening I was asked a question that stayed with me - it was along the lines of "how do you find time to do the all sorts of the different things you mention on your blog and not have your toddler set the curtains on fire because you are so distracted by said things?".

I believe the said things refer to the teching/writing/spewing of gossip things I do over at Playdate, Binkywood, the on hiatus but still providing work Tool of the Matriarchy, Sk*rt, and of course, this ol' thang motherbumper [editor: this paragraph is a grand example of shameless self-promotion].

Or maybe they were referring to my night job over at the local wrestling pit where for just the low entry fee of 25 bucks, you can try to kick my as* in a vat of pad thai (warning: contains peanuts and shellfish). Note I said try - no one beats the motherbumper at pad thai wrestling... no one... except my child.

Regardless of what they were talking about, my answer was to smile and say "sleep is soooo overrated" punctuated with hyena-like laughter and a swift change in topic.

In reality how I do said multiple things is: - *deep breath* - I do absolutely next to no housekeeping. Like the absolute minimum as in "department of health doesn't break down door and burn sheets kinda bare" minimum.

But of course, when I know that guests might show up on my doorstep, I clean up the puddles, sticky spots, throw the dishes into the cupboards and dust bust the areas guests may tread. Oh and I'll wipe down the toilet seat because I'm civilized like that.

So in case you are wondering my secrets for juggling the fun shit I do - no, I do not neglect the child* - I neglect the floors, dishes, laundry, and general neatness of our environs.

Because I can say with most certainty, based on the fact that I love my family so much, and being a member of the blogosphere makes me so f'ing happy, that I will never EVER say on my death bed "DAMMIT, I should have cleaned more".

Amen.

* btw no one insinuated or even hinted that I must neglect my child but when I over analysed things I did at one point think "omg what if they think I ignore my kid all day?" but then of course I realized the wonderful folks I mix with don't think that way - otherwise they wouldn't be talking to me, they would be reporting me to the authorities. Anyhow, almost all of them hold down full-time jobs, have a happy family life, have wonderful kids, and write kick ass blogs AND probably have clean homes. So really, the question really should be "How da' f**k are you all doing it?" AND "can I move in with you?".

Being the week of Earth Day, over at Playdate there is a whole eco-theme going on - so if you are into saving the planet and other super cool adventures, check out what's going on. Happy Monday ya'll.

Monday Morning Inspirational #71802

OK, so I don't remember the part in the Old Testament where Chuck came in but I was never known for my listening skills during church. Motherbumper spent waaaaaay too much time trying to figure out why that old lady in the choir sang with that ridiculously high-pitched, fake-sounding falsetto every freakin' solo or better yet, why Brother John in full Franciscan garb was missing a finger. With so many things to contemplate, who wouldn't miss when Chuck took over?

Anyhow, I spent this weekend being a redneck . Oh yes, she was in town for a whirlwind tour and Saturday night found me and something like 25 other bloggers up on top of Toronto toasting the night away with Redneck Mommy. I was not drinking (WHAT? screams the crowd my Dad) because I had a 100% patented motherbumper of a migraine Friday and was still nursing nausea wounds the next day.

This translated to me being a bit slow on the uptake and downloads during the festivities. I was about as sharp as nerf ball and dangerous as a wet kitten but f**k it, I had a blast. More on it later, when I can get all the linky love going because oh my holy heck - there were so many bloggers there and I'm really that lazy.

Right now it's Sunday night when I write this and I'm 98% sure that I'm sick. Again. Didn't I just got over the real-life-made-for-tv thus plague-worthy flu? Here it is, finally Spring outside and I'm getting sick. Some days I'm pretty sure this is purgatory.

So I'm extra special crispy, loopy and lazy tonight and I cannot do excessive linkage - I have yet to memorize everyone's freakin' url. Shame on me. See? Extra crispy tonight.

Oh and update to the *ahem* case of the missing jewel or she sh*ts diamonds by the seashore: there has been no definitive sighting of the bedazzled joy that gave that extra special twist to our past Thursday afternoon. We've given up hope in finding the bauble. But I'm glad that our experience could serve as a warning to you all - just when you think you have them figured out, they make the next move so unnerving and unexpected that game begins again. Good times.

Ah, parenthood - looks so good on the outside, pure mayhem on the inside.

Monday Morning Inspirational #50394

Holy Moley and some more, it's 10:45 and it feels like I've been parked in front of my laptop all day without finishing one freakin' thing I set out to do with any degree of satisfaction. That sucks the big one.

Not that I really did get to spend the entire day in laptopland, it just seems like whenever I wasn't tending to a sick person (SB), my parents (it was totally reciprocal or I would have kicked them to the curb), a leprechaun hopped up on that visit from my parents (who left for the safety of their own hotel), or tending to basic human functions and bare minimum for family duties - well I was in front of this laptop.

And I didn't even get my Monday Morning Inspirational up for your morning commute. I feel like I must have let somebody down. Beuller? Beuller?

Anyhow, I hope that by posting it tonight, it will make your Tuesday commute more confusing. Motherbumper aims to disorientate.

Without further whining, whinging, or gasping for air, I present Sir Norris and his inspirational thoughts for the day:

If you can see Chuck Norris, Chuck Norris can see you.

If you can't see Chuck Norris, you may only have seconds to live.

What is this to inspire you to do? I dunno, live in constant fear and you'll be more productive. Yup - you just witnessed a motherbumper brain cramp.

Wait! There's more. Remember last week's Chuck pic?

Because it's hard to resist a jean that stretches just so - due to a hidden gusset - this had to be shared with you fine folks.

I present the average man wearing his Chuck Norris endorsed designer denim:

It will knock 'em out BABY!

Gotta enlarge to enjoy the crotch shot.
[Editor: I'm sure that statement was probably completely unintentional but I'm leaving it in for your reading amusement.]

Is it just me, or do you think that Chuck may have hand picked the model himself?

Chuck at the go-see for denim model: "It's like looking in a mirror - you are almost the most handsome manly man ever - you're hired!".