Our DAMN Tweets!
Happiness will never come to those who don't appreciate what they already have #quote #truth6 hours ago
RT @LoriMoreno: You cannot love what you do not appreciate, and FEAR MAKES APPRECIATION IMPOSSIBLE. ~ A Course in Miracles9 hours ago
@CathyWMDA Thanx for the follow! You can LIKE us on Facebook too 'Santa Clarita Info - http://t.co/rGJMpD7C'. Keep Up the Good Tweets!1 day ago
Dear #sacramento TU for supporting business in #california and making this state such a desirable to live #failure on so many levels :(1 day ago
Installing Husband 1.0
Published December 12, 2011 | I typically do not do the whole forward email funnies thing – BUT when I got this one was it was too good not to share, not only did I send out a mass email but thought it was worth sharing with our WMDA peeps!
***The best part of this funny is that MY HUSBAND was the one who sent it to me!
INSTALLING HUSBAND 1.0
Dear Tech Support,
Last year I upgraded from Boyfriend 5.0 to Husband 1.0 and noticed a distinct slowdown
in overall system performance, particularly in the flower and jewelry applications,
which operated flawlessly under Boyfriend 5.0 .
In addition, Husband 1.0 uninstalled many other valuable programs, such as:
· Romance 9.5 and
· Personal Attention 6.5,
and then installed undesirable programs such as :
· FISHING 5.0,
· RUGBY 3.0 and
· Golf Clubs 4.1 .
Also Conversation 8.0 no longer runs, and Housecleaning 2.6 simply crashes the system.
· Please note that I have tried running Nagging 5.3 to fix these problems, but to no avail.
What can I do?
Signed,
Desperate.
DEAR DESPERATE ,
First, keep in mind,
· Boyfriend 5.0 is an Entertainment Package, while
· Husband 1.0 is an Operating system.
Please enter command: ithoughtyoulovedme.HTML and try to download Tears 6.2
and do not forget to install the Guilt 3.0 update. · If that application works as designed ,
Husband 1.0 should then automatically run the applications Jewelry 2.0 and Flowers 3.5.
However, remember, overuse of the above application can cause Husband 1.0 to default to
Grumpy Silence 2.5, Happy Hour 7.0 or Beer 6.1.
· Please note that Beer 6.1 is a very bad program that will download Farting and Snoring Loudly Beta.
Whatever you do, DO NOT under any circumstances install Mother-In-Law 1.0
(it runs a virus in the background that will eventually seize control of all your system resources.)
In addition, please do not attempt to reinstall the Boyfriend 5.0 -program.
These are unsupported applications and will crash Husband 1.0 .
In summary, Husband 1.0 is a great program, but it does have limited memory and
cannot learn new applications quickly. You might consider buying additional software to improve
memory and performance. We recommend
· Cooking 3.0 and
· HOT LINGERIE 7.7.
Good Luck!
Tech Support
Posted in Check This Out, No clue where this fits, Prozac & the Padded Cell | 
funny, husband, Relationships | 
1 CommentCoo Coo Clocks … where’s the DAMN snooze button on this thing?
Published December 1, 2011 | 
So last Spring out of the blue, we got this little yellow bird that started visiting us. Each morning before the sun came up, he’d start hitting the window and then he’d fly up the window beating his lil wings against the window all the way up. He’d do this for about 5 – 10 minutes .. and then go into the tree for a bit and start over.
He seemed pissed … really pissed. We couldn’t figure out what the heck he was mad about. We have our very own ANGRY BIRD!!
So we decided to really piss him off and give all the trees a HUGE cut back. Not just a trim either … there was trunks exposed in the back yard and we could actually see all the neighbors.
Mr. Yellow Bird left shortly thereafter. That was 8 months ago.
… and now that the trees have grown back in … he’s back and even more pissed off. Now he chirps as he beats the windows. Not sure what we did … but he’s definitely NOT happy.
Check out the video we took from our bedroom window.
… so today my DAMN question is this …
Why is this Mr. Yellow Bird targeting us with his hate crimes? … and why so DAMN early and often?
Any ideas?
… help Mr. Yellow Bird find his DAMN answer already so he’ll leave us alone.
I’d like my light to turn green now, please.
Published September 7, 2010 | The road to happily ever after is a long one. Think Harrison Ford looking at Anne Heche in Six Days, Seven Nights and breaking it to her that they are likely to be stranded on a desert island for, ya know, a LONG time.
Along the way, in amongst the easy, no potholed roads that wend their way thru fields of flowers, there are some treacherous, mountainy (probably not a word, but forgive me anyway), sheer drop off kind of roads. Some roads have lots of turns, mostly U turns as my Navigation system enjoys reminding me because I’m an idiot and keep forgetting how to shut that floozy up. Possibly a fender bender where you cause SIX THOUSAND DOLLARS worth of damage to your car without even spilling your cup of coffee, or a fullblown multiple vehicle incident that can change your life forever. But, that’s a post for another time.
Currently, Hubunit and I are at the adoption mile marker on our road. And the adoption thing is like that road in San Francisco that is impossibly bent. I know. That road seems an improbable route to happily ever after, but still, we are on it. Mostly because it’s worked for us before. Which, to a sane person, would seem to imply that we should count our lucky stars and leave well enough alone. But, never having been accused of being sane before, why start now . . .
Yeah, except I’m tired of waiting. I’ve done my part. After all, I convinced Hubunit to jump on board AND we’re still married. I spent hours, days, weeks, months poring over the internet, researching countries, ages, glimpsed photos of waiting kids and built entire lives for them out of the figment of my imagination. I returned over and over to the Guatemala government’s adoption page and stared at those spanish words, willing them to miraculously scream, we’re open again. I slowly adjusted the dream and started to find myself drawn to Hungary. Well, first I had to find it on the map and then I daydreamed about it alot. I looked at more photos of kids with medical issues, cleft palate, missing fingers, club feet and knew in my heart that we could accept a child like that into our hearts and our lives. I filled out reams and reams of forms. I bared my soul to the social worker, well, and the fingerprint person. I emailed, photocopied, faxed, scanned and FedEx’d till my head exploded.
And now? Now it’s hard for me to understand that Europe takes August off. Oh yeah. The whole continent closes up shop and goes on holiday.
Huh. Don’t they care that Monkey tells everyone he meets that we are trying to get a new baby brudder or sister? That he is saving his toys in a pile for them to play with since he’s convinced that even a baby sister will already love Pokemon. Or that he was saving left over food for the new little one, cuz who doesn’t want half of a three month old PB&J?
Surprisingly, I am not a patient person. I really need to work on that. In the meantime, if you have one of those thingymabobbers that can turn a red light green with just a tap of the button – you’re my new best friend. Seriously, you need to share that thing now. It’s good for your soul.
How Michael Jackson saved my life…
Published January 5, 2010 | Oh…and also got me kicked out of Health Ed class in High School…but you’ll have to read on to see how.
Just a little antecdote for Wednesday morning.
I absolutely have adored Michael Jackson since I can remember…seriously. My folks took a girlfriend of mine & I to Jacksonville (how fitting, eh), Florida for a “business trip”…and surprised us that night at dinner with tickets to the Jackson’s Victory Tour in July 1984, just days before my 13th birthday. Heidi and I screamed at the top of our lungs, probably to the shreiking heights of Twilight Mania…no lie. My father enjoyed it just as much as we did…and for years, attempted (embarrasing the crap out of me) the Moonwalk.
I remember seeing Thriller for the first time and thinking that had to be one of the coolest videos ever done…well, besides Duran Duran’s Rio.
There were SO many jams through the years that I cried, sang, danced, skated, kissed, drove to…MJ was always prevelant during my formative years in the ’80′s. For sure.
Fast forward to Heritage High School…1st floor, Mr. Griebel’s Health Ed class, fall of 1988. Sitting bored, staring longingly at one of the varsity outside linebackers…hearing the “wah, wah, wah…” of Mr. Griebel discussing CPR.
Since I had been riding horses competitively for several years by this point, and we were always put through training classes on injuries, etc. I was completely unaware that we would actually be called up in front of the class to administer CPR to the dummy on the table.
Daydreaming about Mr. Football player…I hear my name a few times, bringing things back into focus. Being a bit shy and leader among nerds, I was MORTIFIED that I was being asked to do the steps. Do you remember how it goes?
- Call out the name of the victim trying to get a response (in this case, we were using a naked dummy named Resusci®-Anne) – Call for 911
- Tilt the head back to open the Airway – feel for breath, look to see if chest is rising
- Breathe for the victim (pinch nose, place mouth firmly over mouth of victim and blow)
- Find area below sternum, and take both hands to pump (or aid circulation) to the chest area
- Check airway again – if not breathing, repeat steps until help arrives
Okay, so this may not be exactly how they do it these days…but this is from memory.
So…in all of my embarrasment, I slinked up to the front of the room, looked around at my peers – who sat as interested in this as Spicolli in Fast Times at Ridgemont High. I cleared my throat nervously, wondering if I would possibly DIE RIGHT THERE
I decided to not only ask if the dummy was okay, I decided it would be better to SING to her in the vein of Michael Jackson’s Smooth Criminal – “Annie, Annie are you okay, are you okay Annie…you’ve been struck by…you’ve been hit by a smoooooooooooooooth criminal…”
The class roared with laughter and I was immediately sent out of the room.
I think of this moment from time to time, especially when the original song comes on…not the Alien Ant Farm remake.
Posted in Prozac & the Padded Cell | CPR, high school, Michael Jackson, Resusci-Anne, Smooth Criminal | 6 CommentsTrading Prizes for Donations!
Published December 15, 2009 | 
This is something for the Santa Clarita locals to get involved in.
We all know that it makes us feel better when we donate to charities. The holidays are no exception.
Little items can make a big difference this holiday season.
While the holidays bring joy and cheer to the hearts of many, others find themselves in need of more support. The weather has become increasingly cold, and there are many without coats or the means in which to buy one.
Others are having challenges simply providing a meal for themselves or their family.
To combat this problem in the Santa Clarita Valley, Yoga Works has opened their doors to collect warm coats and food this holiday season.
To help, drop off non-perishable food items and/or gently used coats by December 24th to:
Yoga Works 23951 Newhall Ranch Road Santa Clarita, CA 91355 T: 661-799-2645
To sweeten the pot, KHTS and Yoga Works are giving out prizes for those who conribute. Each donation will earn participants a free week of yoga and a Restaurant Row certificate. Those who redeem their one-week yoga pass by January 4, 2010 will automatically be entered to win the grand prize consisting of a free year of yoga and a two day Legoland “staycation” for four people.
Winners of the grand prize will be announced on KHTS AM 1220 January 5th 2010!
I am neurotic and so are you!
Published October 12, 2009 | 
I saw this book (i am neurotic (and so are you)) in the bookstore a couple weeks ago and found myself picking it up to thumb through it because .. hello .. I can be a little neurotic sometimes. I think that it reminds me a bit of postsecret in a way. We all have our secrets and things that have to be so so.
I actually LOVE that about people and have always loved figuring out what makes my friends and family tick. In fact, this book is now on my wish list. I think it’s a great conversation starter.
A couple of mine … crooked pictures drive me batty – I have to straighten them when I walk by them. I need to know all the downstairs doors and windows are locked (as is my car) before I can go to sleep and when I put away the pans from the dish washer, I have to wrap my lips over my teeth, because I don’t like the sound the metal makes when it touches other pans. Not sure WHY the lips help … but they do – haha. One of Zac’s biggest ones is wrinkles in his clothes … not sure where THAT came from since I rarely drag an iron out … but he can’t STAND it and will even get the iron out to touch up his jeans after they’ve been washed.
You can click on these images to see the page in closer details (so you can read).
So after flipping through the pages of this book it made me wonder more about what OTHER neurotic tenancies I have. Which leads me to the DAMN QUESTION:
What neurotic tenancies do YOU have?
Why I had to turn down the job at the Census Bureau.
Published September 22, 2009 | One of our esteemed readers, Stacy, submitted the following question:
How do you best recognize Unmarried and Single American’s Week?
According to the Census Bureau this is their week of recognition.
This was my reply:
Well, Stacy, I’m thinking, for sure, that celebration starts in a bar somewhere. It involves a pack of cigarettes, a few kamikazi shots and sex with a stranger. Dancing is optional.
Then, the celebration ends with watching a movie of your choice, in your own house, all the way thru, without any interruption from anyone, except for maybe a snuggle with your extremely jealous and possesive cat. Oh, and you get to eat some kind of sugary snack, like ice cream Dibs, without having to hide them or share them.
Plus, I think this kind of recognition can and should be used Internationally, not just be limited to American singles. In fact, I’ve heard the first part of that celebration becomes even easier when a member of the opposite sex has a foreign accent. Or a musical instrument in his hand. But that may be celebrated some other week.
I don’t know, did I nail it?
How did I get here, again?
Published September 9, 2009 | While I am brushing my teeth, my mind has a tendency to wander until that vibrating thing in my mouth turns itself off. It’s a Sonicare, not a part of hubunit’s anatomy.
Today, I happened to glance at the antique blue mason jar on my bathroom counter that is filled with white seashells. And here’s the train wreck that happens between the vibrating thing turning on and the vibrating thing turning off:
Hmm. I wonder where those particular shells came from. Maine? No, those were mostly rocks. New Hampshire? No. Those are mostly black shells. Florida? No, those mostly looked like actual shells. And actually, those shells from our Florida trip were really kind of big. And fragile. How did we ever get them back here to California in one piece? I guess we wrapped them up really good and tucked them into our clothes in the suitcase. But what if our luggage was checked by security at the airport? When those guys in the gray suits and rubber gloves paw thru your luggage, do they re-wrap fragile stuff? I’m actually indignant at the thought that they possibly might not re-wrap the fragile stuff as well as they should and something might BREAK and then where would we be? Huh. Plus, on the way back from vacation, I have DIRTY UNDERWEAR in my suitcase, which I have never thought to put in one of those cute little zipper bags that they sell at places like Steinmart, where all things shiny live. Why don’t I have one of those things? Do the baggage checkers make fun of people’s dirty underwear? Pull them out and screech ‘ewwwwww’ like I would? Note to self – definitely get one of those cute, bedazzled bags from Steinmart. Now, wait. What was I thinking about? Oh yeah, the shells. Doesn’t that blue glass of the mason jar look pretty against that black & white photo? I love that picture. I loved that house. We had our wedding shower there and our friends did a salsa dance in our living room. I still smoked then. Drinking and smoking was fun. Why did we . . .
Beep. Vibrating thing stopped.
Stuff like that ever happen to anyone else?
The Last Hurrah
Published August 12, 2009 | So about a month ago, I called my brother and asked if he thought we could sneak in a quick trip to the beach house before school started. The only weekend we could do it was the weekend of our annual FORE Golf Tourney in my Uncle’s Honor.
… well … I’m always up for a quick get-away and boy have we needed it.
So Thurs we ran outta town and headed to Visalia. This year, I was paired up with my Mom, Shawn (my brother) and our Great Uncle Ray. We laughed the whole day and used every single muligan that Mom bought for our team. In the end … we won the whole tournament. Three generation take home the win – woohoo.
Saturday am we headed to Cayucos, CA for a few days of rest, relaxation, game nights, beach time and deck time. I could give you a FULL run down of our trip, but really, I think that this video about sums it all up for ya. It’s just over 8 minutes and if you stay to watch it all .. then I know you TRULY love us.
If you don’t want to watch the whole thing .. at least stay until you get the major interruption, Jerry the Singing Cow and of course the fresh water frogs invading a butt hole. We love you Aunt Sherry …
So … without further adieu … I present our crazy family vacation video:
… when you’re done laughing … let us know your favorite part …
How I know I live with BOYS.
Published August 4, 2009 | How do you know that you don’t live in your house alone?
Me? Well, I know it when my not a twenty year old’s ass hits the water in the toilet because SOMEONE didn’t put the seat back down.
And I’m not talking about a Hubunit someone, because mine has rather good bathroom etiquette. Well, except for that one time he peed on the cat. Oh, because it was dark and he refuses to turn the light on in the middle of the night. He prefers to pee by what I call, the braille system. Basically he positions himself in what he believes is the right vicinity and starts peeing, while continuing to move until he hears the sound of pee hitting water. Imagine his surprise when that night all he heard was the sound of the cat screeching. Well and imagine the cat’s surprise when he was just minding his own business, getting a drink of water and some giant dude appeared and gave him a golden shower. I’m thinkin’ that’s how fetishes are born.
Oh, oh, that reminds me of this one time when I was young and oh, um, friendly to more than one member of the opposite sex (no, not at the same time, sheesh), I was staying overnight at this guy’s house. Technically we were dating, since food was involved. Then he and his roommate had a killer party and of course, everyone got kinda drunk. Some more so than others. Not me. Not me. And I remember waking up on the couch in the dark of night and hearing this strange sound. Someone was moving around in the kitchen and then this weird sound. Then I fell back to sleep. When we all woke up in the morning, it became apparent that someone had peed in the oven. Let me say that again. Someone had peed in the oven. That guy and I didn’t date much after that. Because food was no longer an option.
The moral of that story is, never rent anything to college age boys. And, that morals really had nothing to do with that story at all.
Anyhoo. I’m referring to Monkey. Who suddenly prefers to use the bathroom in our bedroom and never puts the seat back down. I expect it when I use his bathroom, but feel like my toilet should be, well, mine. Which translates to clean. And safe.
So now, when I go in there in the middle of the night, I have to feel the rim to see if the seat is up or down. And I really don’t like to do that. The feeling borders on HATE. If the seat is down, for some reason, it’s ok. But if the seat is up and my hand touches the cold, clammy bowl itself, I just get all skeeved out. Then I have to go and scrub my hands before I can feel clean again. And the length of the scrubbing is in direct proportion to the number of days it’s been since our cleaning lady graced us by showing up and doing all the things I never want to do. Ever again in my whole life.
Now I have to go add another column to Monkey’s Chore/Reward Sticker Chart. And I’ll pretty much promise him whatever he wants if he will learn this one, you know, FAST.
All you mother’s of daughters can just go ahead and thank me now. Plus you might want to keep a lock on your ovens.
Recent Comments