Cowboy Boots and Basketball Shoes

I love Kool-Aid

2011-10-09T12:42:00.003-06:00

I believe that I've established the fact that I'm a hairy girl. I'm not proud of it but I've reluctantly accepted it.
Since hair removal is such an important part of my life, I have become quite the connoisseur of the art. At this time I have two bits of advice: 1-Laser hair removal is a crock, don't waste your money. 2- Don't ever wax your big toe, it's the most painful thing I've ever experienced...you will only do it one time.

Last night I was happily waxing my upper lip. Who doesn't like the feeling of your skin being ripped off your face?
Anyway, while Nate was watching an old black and white silent Dracula movie I decided to wax my upper lip since he was distracted. I figured I'd quickly wax what needed to be waxed and Nate would be none the wiser.
I was so clever. 1, 2, 3 RRRIIPPPP! 1, 2, 3 RRRIIPPPP! (pain, pain) I hate counting when I wax, why do I do that to myself? I was done, I peaked out the bathroom door and saw that Nate was still distracted. Yes, mission accomplished.
I nonchalantly meandered out of the bathroom. Nate looked at me for a second then looked back at the TV, then he looked back at me again. He squinted in the dim light. As I walked by he said "I really like your Kool-Aid mustache." Crickets chirp, my eyes narrow and I try to come up with a reasonable explanation for my bright red upper lip, I had nothing.
You just couldn't let it go could you Nate? I wonder how you'd like a kool-aid mustache on your left cheek...you're southern cheek. You'd better watch your back.

Babies and Duckies

2011-09-04T08:29:00.000-06:00

What are the chances of me going to hell for making fun of the two cutest things on God's green earth, babies and duckies? What the heck, you only live once.
Is it just me or does this picture look like this cute sweet baby just pooped out a gaggle of duckies?

A naked baby leaning slightly forward with a look of relief on its face and a line of duckies (notice the one that's fallen down, he must of have been the most recent poop) freshly squeezed out.
Wow, that was a filthy sentence. Gross, what's wrong with me?
Wait a minute...what's wrong with me? No, what's wrong with the photographer who thought that the bowel contents of a poor little baby was cute?
Photographers these days, you just can't trust 'em.

Bangs

2011-07-27T22:14:00.001-06:00

I recently cut my bangs. When I say "I cut my bangs" I mean that I went and paid a "professional" to cut my bangs for me...then I went home and cut my bangs because she did a terrible job...miraculously, I made them look worse. I snipped a little here, I snipped a little there and all of a sudden there is was, Vietnam flashback.

I've only cut my hair one other time in my life, I was in 1st grade and was bored. I remember sitting at my desk and snipping a little bit of hair. Then another little bit until the next thing I know, I looked like this:I really looked like that, leave me alone. I probably would have been ok with the non-existent bangs alone, but the addition of my big ole glasses made it a sad scene. When I stepped off the bus in front of my house the baby-sitter took one look at me and said "Oooh, your mom is going to kill you." I believed her. I spent the next 3 hours visualizing the hell that was to come, that's a lot to put on a little 1st grade heart and soul. It would start with a spanking, followed by hanging from my toe nails. I'm sure I'd have to eat a whole bowl of onions then I'd have to wash my brothers' dirty undies by hand. I was never never never going to cut my hair again. Oh the agony I suffered as the minutes passed like years. With tears in my eyes and fear in my heart I looked up as my mom walked in the room. My mom only laughed when she saw my hair. The bowl of onions would wait for another day.

This recent haircut brings to mind a relation who we'll call "Hillary." Several months ago "Hillary" had her hair cut but didn't like her bangs so she grabbed the closest pair of scissors, which happened to be cuticle scissors, and tried to fix things. I didn't think her bangs looked that bad but she spent the next few weeks with her bangs pinned back. Now I too am walking the "cut my own bangs" road-o-regret. I can only think about 3 ways to pull my bangs back, they're so annoying...I just want to cut them all off.
I've asked Nate to hide all the scissors

Le Laxative

2011-07-17T17:05:00.004-06:00

I took a laxative last night for the first time in my life. I should be the anti-Activia spokesperson (sorry Jamie Lee, but I will take you down). In fact I usually pop Immodium like tic-tacs. "Regularity" has never been a problem for me which has been a blessing and a retched curse.
Something changed last night and with a concerned Nate at my side, I considered taking half of a laxative. The box said results 6 to 12 hours.
"Ok," I thought to myself "it's 10:00 pm now. Church starts at 10:00 am. My body will probably react 10 minutes after I take the the pill. Laxative is a go."
I then proceeded to take the pill-o-Satan.
10 minutes passed, nothing. Went to bed ( I have to be totally honest with you all, I had the tiniest fear that an issue would arise while I slept). Woke up this morning, nothing. Prepared for church, nothing. Maybe my body was immune to laxative. That's like a superhero kind of power isn't it? (My mind drifts for a moment, bare with me my friends, as I think about what my superhero name would be. "The Commodian" was all I could come up with. I welcome any other names."
Dressed in our finest, we leave for church at 9:30 with no signs of problems.
10:00, and church has begun. The laxative has left my mind as I sing a hymn and listen to a prayer.
Before the hour is up I will be home after the longest drive of my life. In between curses I prayed that I wouldn't get pulled over by a policeman, that wouldn't end up well for anyone involved.
I shall now spend the rest of my evening writing a strongly worded letter to the laxative company and file a complaint. Apparently there was a misprint on the box. It should say:
"results in 6 to 12 1/2 hours."

Fin

In Nates defense

2011-07-11T17:58:00.003-06:00

I have to defend Nate on the whole "deceptively heavy" comment that I mentioned in my last blog. You see, it's true I am deceptively heavy and I'm ok with it. Nate sometimes tries to heroically lift me into his arms and carry me to a rose petal covered bed, only to slip a disk.
There has been more than one occasion that I was out dancing (pre-marriage) and some hot shot guy tried to flip me but had to use every ounce of strength to not drop me on my head. One guy did drop me. After that I wore a sign around my neck with my weight on it so when some Don Juan came to ask me to dance, he would know if I fit into his weight limit.
I'd like to close by saying that I would much rather be deceptively heavy than deceptively light. Think about that by dear blogging BFFs.
Peace \/,
Haley

PS: After reading all your comments I decided to move back to my old toilet stall at work. If I'm going to sit in urine (or splash back) I might as well sit where there's more room and better air flow. I love you guys!

Da Bathroom

2011-07-10T19:18:00.003-06:00

I have a favorite toilet stall at work. Does that make me weird? I mean, of course I would love nothing more that to rest my rump on on my favorite seat at home but I can't do that 15 times a day (that is no exaggeration, I drink a lot of water) when I'm at work.
And so I have decreed that the first bathroom stall on the right is my official stall. Apparently not everyone at work received the memo. Of course it's the woman that pees on seat who doesn't read. I don't mind sharing my stall when it's not being used by me (my parents taught me to share) but I really don't like sitting in the urine of someone else, twice. And so angrily I packed my bathroom decorations and moved to different stall. The real estate isn't quite as nice but I suppose that's for the best. Friday, my first day in my new stall I sat in urine. Seriously?

I would also like to mention that during training at my job, my desk was right near the bathrooms. I will stand up in court and swear that 4 out of 5 men (I'll drop names if I have to) didn't wash their hands after they tinkled. I know because I timed them. There is no way that a man can walk into the bathroom, step up to a urinal, unbutton and unzip his pants, pull out his little wee-bee, do his business, put before mentioned wee-bee away, button and zip up, wash his hands, dry his hands and walk out the bathroom in 26 seconds. On the other hand, I though one guy had died in there. I'm really grateful my permanent desk isn't by the restrooms.

I think I broke the scale in the bathroom at work. One day it worked, and now it says I weigh 84 pounds. The scale at home says a much different number. I hate the scale at home. Nate says I'm deceptively heavy. I know this is true, I've had others mention the same thing. Nate shall live, this time.

Lunch

2011-06-28T19:17:00.004-06:00

The following conversation went down in the Judd household:

Cowboy Boots comes home from a long day at work. Basketball Shoes asks her how her day was.
"I was long but goo.."
"Where's your lunch?" Interrupts Basketball Shoes.
"I ate it." Cowboy Boots stuttered, confused.
"You ate your WHOLE lunch." Basketball Shoes exclaimed in shock and awe.
"Yes, I was hungry. I ate my whole lunch." Cowboy Boots gets a little defensive.
"I can't believe you ate the whole thing." Basketball Shoes shakes his head in unbelief. He eyes her rear end to see if it's gotten any bigger since he saw it earlier that day.

Cowboy Boots punches Basketball Shoes in the nose. Then she does a leg sweep and knocks him on the ground. Then she tackles him and puts him in a triangle hold. After all, she has sooo many calories to burn from the HUGE lunch she ate.

What? Oh, you want to know what was in my lunch that caused so many bruises to Basketball Shoes.

Cowboy Boots Lunch List:
Banana
Apple
Yogurt
Sandwich (Consisted of: Two slices of wheat bread, two pieces of ham, tiny dot of mustard)
Small baggie of carrots

Basketball Shoes Injury List*:
Black eye
2nd black eye
Bloody nose
Punch in the kidneys
Kick in the pants

You'll notice he has one injury for every item I ate in my lunch. An eye for an eye, baby.

*I didn't really abuse him. I'm not going to lie, I really wanted to punch him in the nose but I didn't...yet.

The Mirror

2011-05-21T21:45:00.007-06:00

We have two mirrors in our room. One is tall and forged by Angels from above. One is a curse from Satan.
When I looked at the tall mirror for the first time I asked myself "Why aren't you a model?"
(Hint:

)

My legs were long and fabulous. My breasts were...well...I don't want to brag. Let's just say I was expecting a phone call from Victoria's Secret any moment.
I was especially excited because I thought I had gained some weight since my pants were quite a bit tighter than I usually prefer.
I then turned and looked at the "other" mirror. "Son of a b..."

Excuse me, I need to go buy some new jeans...and cancel my appointment with Victoria's Secret.

Is it too late for you?

2011-04-18T20:47:00.006-06:00

I learned a disturbing fact today. A fact that I will share with you...hopefully it's not to late...I pray that it's not too late.

This is Sonora.
A couple weeks ago she tore up her eye pretty bad...10 stitches bad. Since then it's healed up nicely. Cindy, in charge of the horses, asked me to put some medication on Sonora's wound. She said it helps the hair grow back. She then handed me the tube of "miracle hair growth":I guess I'd better stop rubbing this on my upper lip...and my arm pits...or any other places. I suggest you do the same.

Fun times at Sunshine Acres

2011-03-18T22:51:00.008-06:00

I am fortunate enough to have the time to volunteer at a wonderful place called Sunshine Acres. It's a place for children who have bad home situations and need a better environment. They have a great equine program that allows the kids to use horses to heal.
I work in the horse program where I am able to fulfill my need to be around horses and I get to spend time teaching a sweet little girl to ride.
Last weekend I was able to take my two cute little nieces there and show them some of the horses. I'll let the pictures tell the story.

This is Fransisco

Kasey riding Sonora (who likes to buck every time I ride her)

Darby holding on as Lacey jumps

Kacey, Max and I

Good Times!

This was so fun, I loved being able to teach my nieces about horses

The girls fell in love with Lacey, I caught them trying to sneak her in the car a couple times

This is a look of pure joy

Kacy and Samson, who is huge

I'm pretty lucky to be able to have this great opportunity not only to share this with my nieces but also to be a part of such a great program.
If you'd like more information or to donate to Sunshine Acres you can go to http://sunshineacres.org/

America's Next Top Model

2011-03-07T20:55:00.003-07:00

Does this picture really warrant a caption.....?
Why yes, it does.
Care to share your thoughts?

Breedcist

2011-02-02T19:55:00.000-07:00

I'm a breedcist...I didn't realize it or even know what it was until I saw this running across the road:
I made Nate drive around for 1/2 hour to make sure the puppy didn't get hit by a car. In truth, I wanted to "rescue" it and keep it. My plans were foiled when we couldn't find the cute little thing.

The next day I saw this running across that same road:I almost swerved to hit this one, I figured anything that ugly would want to be put out of its misery right away. He was a quick little bugger.

And so...

...now you know what I am. I don't believe all dogs were created equal. I believe that some are a heck of a lot cuter than others.

Am I right?

My Best Present

2010-11-01T07:30:00.001-06:00

22 years ago I received my best present ever. My sweet little sister was born. My dad and mom said that I could pick out her middle name. I chose Sarah (which she hates) because I had a good friend named Sarah.
I wish I could be there to give you a hug Logan. I love you so much and am so thankful to have you in my life. Happy Birthday!

In honor of Logan's birthday and my 200th post, I would like to have a give away. Since Nate and I are broke, all I have to give is my vast (sarcasm) knowledge. My prize is a recipe that has finally won respect from Nate. Since we were first married I have never been able to produce a batch of cookies that tastes better than his mom's or my Aunt's. I have found a recipe sent from the god's. I realize a $100 gift card or cruise to Greece would be a better prize, perhaps on my 300th post I'll be able to give such a gift.
But if you know Nate, you know how picky he is so him liking a recipe is rare in deed and worth it's weight in gift cards.
To enter, tell me about a food that you've always had a hard time making. And if you want to share a recipe with me...I'm always open.

Love you Logan!

Family Portraits

2010-10-23T17:35:00.005-06:00

Have I ever mentioned that Nate has fabulous legs? I haven't? Well he does. Please pray that our future children are blessed with Nate's long, thin legs and not my man calves.
What's that? You want to see a glimpse Nate's legs? Well, I drew a picture of Nate in a skirt and heels that might satisfy your curiosity (I'm not going to lie, I'm a little envious about his thighs. They're finger licking good!).He must have forgotten to shave, but you can see why a girl would be jealous.

Then my sweet Nate drew a portrait of me.The likeness is actually quite startling.

Coming out

2010-10-08T21:47:00.005-06:00

I'd like to pause for a moment and talk about the picture below. On the outside it looks like a young married couple enjoying their first Arizona D-Backs game together (can't you see the pure excitement in Nate's eyes?)

No, I don't want to focus on how amazing Nate's lashes are or that my skin is near perfection. I don't want to bring to attention that Nate was whispering sweet little nothings into my ear...

Here, look at the picture again. Does any thing seem a little unsettling or just plain nasty?
Let me give you a hint: Did you ever see the tv show "Friends" where Phoebe has a new boyfriend who wears shorts and no undies and his boys keep hanging out for everyone to see? No? Yes?
Well I have seen it, and when all those old men in shorts behind us moved down one row and proudly put their feet up on the seats...I knew I'd better not turn around or Nate might have a little competition.

Nate would like to say that those men would have big competition with him.

Darby and I...my continuing education

2010-09-17T20:34:00.009-06:00

I've learned a lot since moving to Arizona. I've learned that when you're living with a 4 year old "what's mine is her's and what's her's is her's." I've learned little nieces love to tease their Unca Nates (but he usually deserves it so I don't feel bad for him one little bit). I've learned the best way to eat is when you're racing but I always loose... I've learned that I can't like the color blue because "daddy likes blue, only daddy." I've learned that little hands can reach a lot further under bathroom doors than I feel comfortable with while I'm on the pot. I've learned that my little niece has way nicer legs then I have, and I'm very envious (how cute are those shoes).
I've learned every word to the Neverending Story not only because we watch it 7 times a day but when it's not on I get to be Artax and sink into the bog. I've learned that all my life I was taught how to count to 10 wrong, it's 1,2,3,4,10. I've learned that I have a best buddy one minute and then next "we're not friends anymore" (it's very painful, emotionally). I've learned the exact angle and speed it takes to turn a corner to avoid a little hand smacking my booty.
So, as you can see, Arizona has been a good move for me, intellectually.

Oh,...

...And Darby has learned that the combination of static electricity and Auntie Haley equals trouble...and payback is a beast...hahahaha!

Happy Birthday Ninja Nate!

2010-09-16T16:36:00.000-06:00

Today Nate turns 33, I think he gets cuter (and more ornery) everyday. I can't post a "picture" of him so I've made him a ninja for his birthday, it's the least I could do.

Happy Birthday babe!

Catch up

2010-08-27T12:29:00.007-06:00

I haven't posted for awhile but that's because not a lot new has happened, actually that's not true. A lot has happened but it's not that interesting to anyone except Nate and I.

First, we moved to Arizona. Ahhhh! I was really sad to leave my friends, co-workers and all the people I worked with and served with. Here are a few pictures of going my going away:

My cute Young Women
Some of my friends at work (greetings to the Hitchcock Stalker's, you know who you are!)

My sweet, sweet sister who helped me more that she'll ever know. Thanks so much Logan, I love you and miss you.

And then after Logan and I packed up the Uhaul (ps: Don't ever rent a Uhaul, they're one of the worst companies I've ever dealt with) Nate and I drove to Arizona.
I turned 29

This is me documenting my 29th birthday (even though is was taken 4 days after my actual b-day).
And that's it, I'm looking for a job and a house. Frank, Hil and Darby are letting us stay with them which has been lot's of fun. Darby enjoys tormenting Nate, I think it's good for him he's got life too easy anyway.
So there you have it in a nut shell, the Judd's are now Arizonians.

Strawberry Days Rodeo

2010-07-21T09:22:00.000-06:00

Last month Vonda and I went to the Strawberry Days Rodeo. It's been our tradition the last few years. A little mutton bustin', barrel racing and bull riding. Best of all is the strawberries and cream that they sell at the rodeo, it's seriously what I imagine heaven being like...except for one thing. This chunky little boy kept deciding he needed to climb up and down the bleachers every 3 minutes and he thought squishing by me was the best way to do this. He had a stinky, fat little rear end and it was a perfect height with my face every time he stumbled by me. I was on the verge of pinching it (or biting it) the next time he came by, I didn't.

Here's the only picture I took of the rodeo. Sorry! I was a little distracted by a couple stinky cheeks in my face, I was fighting for my very survival.
Don't judge me.

There is No Arizona

2010-07-13T11:02:00.001-06:00

Have you ever heard the country song "There is no Arizona"? It's a song about a girl who falls for a guy and he promises to take her to AZ after he goes first to get things settled. She finally figures out he duped her and that there "is no Arizona."
It's a very sad song but I make it even more sad when I try to sing it karaoke. You see, it's my unicorn. What's a unicorn you may ask? A unicorn is the unattainable. And I couldn't sing that song if my life depended on it. Ask Nate, he'll tell you. He likes to give me a hard time occasionally and every once in awhile he'll text me something sweet like "Is there an Arizona?" or "Haley, there is no Arizona for you."

I'm happy and excited to report that there is an Arizona, maybe not in my future singing career but in the next month the Judd family is uprooting and making the move. I once swore I would never move to Arizona, I guess I'd better quit swearing.

Bring on the skin cancer...

I will survive...I mean, I did survive

2010-06-30T14:41:00.001-06:00

Well my blogging BFF's I did it. I survived girls camps with only a 12 bruises on my legs (for real, I counted them), two sunburned arms, one sunburned nose and a pair of thighs in so much pain I cry when I have to sit on the toilet.

Our theme was "Army Strong" and our first day began with me getting to play drill sergeant at "bootcamp"I was very scary, in fact with that helmet I can be anything I want to be like a princess or a mermaid. The possibilities are endless.

I divided the group into three teams: Alpha, Bravo and Charlie. The team that had the most points at the end of the bootcamp didn't have to help clean up dinner.

This is our landmine game (idea courtesy of Nate). We filled paper plates up with shaving cream, set them out randomly, then blindfolded the girls and made them walk barefoot. The person with the best time won. If anyone stepped on a landmine, 3 seconds were added to their time.

They made me play too, you can see that I was awesome. No need to divulge how many 3 second penalties I recieved.

Tug-o-war between the teams. Bravo (my team) won, but it was a hard earned win, those girls were strong.

The good news is that everyone survived bootcamp. We also had a waterballoon toss with grenade looking waterballoons, three-legged race, a water relay and there was the occasional girl that gave me a little lip so I made her "DROP AND GIVE ME 20!"

I know they look like they're preparing to go to battle but really their just getting ready to perform skits.

The leaders "Scared Straight" skit. I have no idea what I was doing.Louisa and I outside our nasty bathrooms.Some of the ladies shaving their legs. Everyone knows bears hate hairy legs.
I convinced some of the girls to take a bath in the creek with me. The rare Brassiere Tree, only found in Heber Valley
Does it look like the water was that cold?

We had a real Major from the army talk to us about being "strong and of good courage."

Our homemade mason jar lanterns.

We made blocks (Hils' idea) for our other craft project. I forgot to get pictures of the girls with theirs.

This, my friends, is why my thighs are killing me. This game is called "Hit the deck" and I was very good at it. I put my heart, soul and thighs in to every moment.

And this, is why most of the girls went home with bruises. I have no loyalties when it comes to worthless games. This part of the game is called "two men in a boat." I was one of those two men, my dear blogging BFF's.

Here's all my cute girls practicing a skit.

We all had a great time minus the propane stove catching on fire and singeing a few eyebrows. And the pineapple upside down cake burning (I maintain that was not my fault). And the fact that we didn't have showers.
But that's what camping is all about.

The mullet with a thousand faces

2010-06-28T13:16:00.010-06:00

There's a time in every woman's life when she needs to take control of her spinning world. This control is grasped one of two ways: 1. She rearranges all the furniture in the house 2. She gets her hair cut.
I don't have enough furniture to rearrange so I cut my hair. After carefully looking through hundreds of pictures I found the haircut that I knew would change my life:
I showed it to Nate. I don't know why, why do I ever show him anything? His comment when he saw the picture: "You know you won't look like that don't you?"
(Sigh) I love my husband.

My aunt Becky is a stylist and was kind enough to cut it all off.

This is the most versatile mullet I've ever seen. As soon as I get out of the shower I look like a wet cocker spaniel. If I let it dry naturally I look like a muppet. Pull it up in a pony tail and Nate starts to sing the Hoo song from the Grinch who Stole Christmas. Flat iron it out and I get a nice Farrah/McGiver look.
I truly made the right decision about cutting my hair, no regrets...

Before

After

Love the mullet

Then I discovered curls.

Peace \/

Family Feud

2010-06-18T09:45:00.000-06:00

Nate is very embarrassed by the fact that occasionally we sit down in front of the TV and watch Family Feud. And we like it.
The first few times it we watched the show we would pretend that there was nothing else on. Sporadically one of us would call out an answer then turn to the other, embarrassed. Now, we both call out answers. There is no longer shame because we are both complete and utter nerds.

I keep trying to convince Nate that we should go on the show. It's not like Jeopardy where you actually have to know stuff. I've seen some of the dumbest people win on Family Feud. Nate's answer, when I ask him if he wants to be on the show and have the chance of winning $20,000, What if my friends see me?

Um, babe, I don't think any of your friends are frequent watchers of the Feud. And, if they did watch, don't you think they'd be proud to see you on their favorite game show? I think so, you would be their hero.

I (really it was both of us) began to plan out who we wanted to add to our team. You have to audition for the show because they want to make it interesting. We needed people with spunk and pure cheap entertainment.

This next part seems mean but the truth will set me free. We thought we'd invite my sister, Logan, to join our team because she often says things that are way out there and can be pretty hilarious. We didn't really expect her to help us win but her personality would get us on the show.

That was until Logan stopped by one evening during a particularly intense game of Family Feud. She sat down and answered every question correct. She was kicking Nate and my behinds up one road and down another.
SHE WAS OUR SECRET WEAPON. We didn't even know it.

So now, she needs to get us on the show and win it for us. $20,000 baby! Yea! we all know that $20,000 goes a long way when split between 5 people....

I believe in miracles

2010-06-09T10:01:00.003-06:00

I made a potentially lethal (ok, not lethal, just nasty) miscalculation yesterday. You see, I ran out of clean undies.
Let me explain, we don't have a washer or dryer in our little apartment so once a week we load up the car with our dirty clothes and go to a nasty little laundry mat down the road. It's a filthy place and at times I wonder if it might be more beneficial to our health if I just hand washed our clothes in the bathtub. More time consuming, yes, but I also don't have to watch for roaches in the washing machine (yes, true story and I almost fainted).

Anyway, our schedule was thrown off last week so we didn't end up doing laundry on our usual day. That's cool, I had enough clean clothes to make it a few more days. Yesterday I was getting ready for work, standing nakey, telling Nate not to look at my tushy, and searching for a pair of clean drawers. After a long search I finally dug out my least favorite pair (at that point I almost thought about going commando) and shimmied into them.

I was sure I had a couple clean pairs left but just to be safe, last night I went searching...and found nothing. Not even an old pair with a hole in the cheeks. It was late, not enough time to go to the laundry mat. Nate, the support that he is, sat in his chair offering little smirks of encouragement. I was almost to the point to washing a pair in the bathtub (which Nate found a disgusting thought...don't know why) when Nate jumped up and pulled out an old pair of undies that were to small for him.
I know what you're thinking, "How romantic for Nate and Haley to share underoos." I feel the same way, it's like having a little piece of Nate with me all day cupping my cheeks.

No, the miracle is not that Nate and I have the same size tush or that the undies fit like a glove.
The miracle was that this morning as I stood in Nate's old drawers looking in the mirror, I looked over at a bag and remembered I had a spare change of clothes in it...could I possibly have a spare change of undies to? Please, please, please...yes, there they were. Clean folded undies just waiting for a warm bottom to fill them.

And I did.

My thanks to Nate for doing laundry this morning, I don't think miracles like that will happen twice in one week.

Questions of an important nature

2010-05-27T10:37:00.003-06:00

Questions of an important nature:
-Is finding a box of cookies outside your door the same as taking candy from a stranger?
-What if they were really good cookies, does that make it ok? I know, I ate them which is part of the reason my fanny has grown (according to him who shall not be named).
-Should I have taken the neighbors box of mysterious cookies to save them from some horrible death by poison?
-Since I didn't die from poisonous cookies, can I accept candy from strangers now?
-Am I completely crazy because I open the door every morning hoping for another box of delicious poisonous cookies?
-Why do the heavens tease me so?

Baby got back

2010-05-25T14:54:00.003-06:00

I've gained a little weight the last couple months.
I conveyed this information to my sweet, sweet husband.
The following is our conversation:

Haley- We need to start eating better, I'm gaining weight

Dead Man-We do need to start eating better. You don't look like you've gained weight...

Haley- Thanks babe.

Dead Man-...except on your butt. When you gain weight it's on your butt.

Haley- (Silence, deadly silence)

***SPECIAL REPORT***BREAKING NEWS***THIS JUST IN***

A man has been reported missing from his home. His loving wife has asked for the help of local law enforcement and the community to bring her sweet husband back to her open arms. Search and rescue has been dispatched but moral is low as there is no leads to the man's disappearance.

It's Official...I am no longer allowed to speak to the public

2010-05-18T10:54:00.002-06:00

My post title is true. Nate has officially told me that I am no longer allowed to speak to strangers, friends or family.
I don't normally submit so gracefully to Nate but I will make an exception in this case seeing how it deeply involved Nate, our new neighbor and me offering Nate's manhood at the neighbors' disposal.

The following happened, and I am not exaggerating this story in the least bit.

Haley walked next door to the new neighbor to introduce herself.
Knock, knock.
Door opened by a cute brunette about Haley's age.

Haley: Hi, my name is Haley. I'm your next door neighbor.
Girl: Hi, my name is Kristy.
Haley: If you ever need anything let me know. I'm right next door.
Kristy: Thanks, that's nice of you.
***Please note, before reading the continued conversation, Kristy is single and lives by herself.***

Haley: My husband is Nate. If you ever have any problems with anyone, he has no problem coming over and showing off his manhood.

Silence, long drawn out silence... crickets chirp...
Kristy doesn't say anything, just looks at Haley for a moment then glances uneasily at the house next door. She half expects to see Nate pressed against the window "showing off his manhood."
Haley doesn't realize what the heck she said. She just smiles, waves and walks away.
Kristy doesn't talk to Haley anymore. Kristy doesn't even look at Nate, which Nate didn't understand until Haley related the story to him. That's when Haley was promptly demoted from family spokesperson to mute court jester.

On another note, Nate isn't the perfect little spokesperson either.
Nate and Haley were driving down the road near their house (remember they live in the ghetto).
They notice an interesting woman walking on the sidewalk.
Nate: That lady looks like she's tooting.
Haley: How can you tell?

Haley was seriously perplexed (and somewhat nervous about this gift from the heavens), how could Nate tell if someone was tooting? The lady wasn't walking weird with her cheeks squeezing together, she didn't have a scrunched up look on her face or a look of contentment/relief. How did he know?

Nate: Look at the way she's dressed, you don't think she's prostituting?

Oh, prostituting... Haley didn't know that the lingo on the street for prostituting was tooting. Well, good to know. Hope that everyone has learned something today.

I've learned that neither Nate or I should be allowed out in public without adult supervision. Any volunteers?

Happy Mother's Day!

2010-05-07T11:30:00.003-06:00

Answers given by 2nd grade school children to the following questions:

Why did God make mothers?
1. She's the only one who knows where the scotch tape is.
2. Mostly to clean the house.
3. To help us out of there when we were getting born.

How did God make mothers?
1. He used dirt, just like for the rest of us.
2. Magic plus super powers and a lot of stirring.
3. God made my mom just the same like he made me. He just used bigger parts.

What ingredients are mothers made of?
1. God makes mothers out of clouds and angel hair and everything nice in the world and one dab of mean.
2. They had to get their start from men's bones. Then they mostly use string, I think.

Why did God give you your mother and not some other mom?
1. We're related.
2. God knew she likes me a lot more than other people's mom like me.

What kind of a little girl was your mom?
1. My mom has always been my mom and none of that other stuff.
2. I don't know because I wasn't there, but my guess would be pretty bossy.
3. They say she used to be nice.

What did mom need to know about dad before she married him?
1. His last name.
2. She had to know his background. Like is he a crook? Does he get drunk on beer?
3. Does he make at least $800 a year? Did he say NO to drugs and YES to chores?

Why did your mom marry your dad?
1. My dad makes the best spaghetti in the world. And my mom eats a lot.
2. She got too old to do anything else with him.
3. My grandma says that mom didn't have her thinking cap on.

Who's the boss at your house?
1. Mom doesn't want to be boss, but she has to because dad's such a goof ball.
2. Mom. You can tell by room inspection. She sees the stuff under the bed.
3. I guess mom is, but only because she has a lot more to do than dad.

What's the difference between moms and dads?
1. Moms work at work and work at home and dads just go to work at work.
2. Moms know how to talk to teachers without scaring them.
3. Dads are taller and stronger, but moms have all the real power 'cause that's who you got to ask if you want to sleep over at your friends.
4. Moms have magic, they make you feel better without medicine.

What does your mom do in her spare time?
1. Mothers don't do spare time.
2. To hear her tell it, she pays bills all day long.

What would it take to make your mom perfect?
1. On the inside she's already perfect. Outside, I think some kind of plastic surgery.
2. Diet. You know, her hair. I'd diet, maybe blue.

If you could change one thing about your mom, what would it be?
1. She has this weird thing about me keeping my room clean. I'd get rid of that.
2. I'd make my mom smarter. Then she would know it was my sister who did it not me.
3. I would like for her to get rid of those invisible eyes on the back of her head.

I love you Mom! Thanks for who you are and all you do. Thanks for making me do chores and smacking my b#tt when it needed it. Thanks for making sure dad didn't tease us too much. And thanks for being there.

Also a thanks to Cindy who is the best mother-in-law a girl could ask for. You are so giving and patient.

To all the other teachers, aunts, grandma's, and influences in my life, thank you because without you I wouldn't be me.

Love,
Haley

There's always money in sod

2010-04-29T11:50:00.007-06:00

One of Nate and my goals in life is to be financially independent. Naturally, who wouldn't want to be? I know, right?
Through our short years together we've talked about ways that we can accomplish this goal. I'm all about the movie star/singer route. You don't really need any talent, look at Miley Syrus and she's filthy rich. Of course that's not going to make me financially independent. I'll still have to work for my money...

One day when my brain wasn't turned on to it's brightest setting I suggested to Nate that we raise and sell sod. "There's good money in sod." I explained to my city-boy husband*. That was my brilliant idea, pure and simple.

Nate looked at me like I was crazy. He eyed the big diesel truck hauling a huge trailer full of sod, waiting the stop light next to us. I admit that that is where my idea came from. I'm not an original thinker.

Then Nate asked me the question that made me the fool. "So what land are we going to use to grow all this fortune making sod on?" I thought for a moment of our little rental house with it's 10 square feet of lawn out front. Even if our landlords ok'd us digging up the lawn, I doubt we'd get much out of it.
Nate had successfully, in .2 seconds, destroyed my dreams of a multi-billion dollar sod empire.

Now every once in awhile, Nate will send me a text such as "I just saw a huge trailer full of sod...and not one person guarding it..."

Dear Nate,
I haven't heard any of your brilliant ideas yet for becoming wealthy.
(crickets chirp)
What? Still no ideas?
Ok then. You let me have my big dreams...(mumbles under breath "big jerk")
Love,
Haley

*It's not like I knew anything about sod. How much does it cost? Don't know. How long does it take to grow? Umm, don't know. What kind of grass do you grow? ....green...grass?
I really should have thought this idea through a little more. It would have saved me a little humiliation.

A History of Haley's Heart Throbs

2010-03-12T12:56:00.000-07:00

As part of the teachings of my parents, I learned that you should never judge someone by their looks. I took this to heart as I began the life long road of crushes and true loves. The list may be long, and at times not pretty, but it's sure to be entertaining:

My first memorable attraction to the opposite sex would have to be the Prince of Thieves. I had no clue who Kevin Costner was, nor did I care. I was probably about 6 or 7 years old. This was the Robin Hood who could shoot me with an arrow anytime he wanted to.

Not bad for being so young and inexperienced...right?

My realistic crush: Kevin Blahblah, he had black hair and bright blue eyes. He never talked to me once, I think he hit me in the face with a ball during dodge ball. That's as good as talking to me. I remember in class (3rd grade) I was returning homework to desks. I kissed his paper.

I've told you of my Star Trek obsession. I believe that I also mentioned that I was attracted to Worf, or Michael Dorn as he's known in the "real" world. This was probably one of the longest/most unhealthy of my crushes. Actually, as I look back I'm beginning to see a pattern of the type of men I like. Tell me if you see it too.

Realistic crush: Colby Tyra, his tall hunched walk took my breath away. I loved him through middle school and my first year of high school. I heard a rumor that he liked me too when we were freshmen but I didn't know what the heck to do with a boy at that age so nothing came of it.

It seemed that for a short time I came to my senses and found love with a blue eyed, wrangler wearing guy named Brad Pitt.
My crush was short, mostly a fad because that's who everyone else liked at the time. But I liked to march to the beat of a different drum. I should have just followed the crowd since I didn't have a very good track record of my own.

Realistic Crush: Michael Russell. He was a year my junior but he was the varsity baseball teams catcher and I'm a sucker for a catcher. He was beautiful with blue eyes and nice teeth. He was also the cause of my most embarrassing high school moment. I'll tell you about it sometime.

This would be a crush of my own creation. Mr. Alex Rodriguez, the new up and coming "it" guy of the Seattle Mariners. I don't know if it was his eyes, his smile, or the way his booty filled out that baseball uniform but I was smitten through almost all my high school career and into my 18th year.
Never did a heart break as loudly as mine when my beloved was traded to the Rangers thence on to the Yankees where he lost his innocence.

Realistic Crush: During this time I had too many loves to list. They were short as my relationship commitment ADD kicked in. So from about age 18 to 21 I enjoyed a little fishing, but my fishing was purely catch and release.

Legolas, you hot little piece of Elvish booty! At 20 I found myself breathless every time I watched Lord of the Rings.
I had to figure out a way to make him mine. His heart wasn't likely to be given away very easily.
Fantasy is a cruel cruel world. Can I get an "amen" from the Twilight/Edward fans out there?

Realistic Crushes: After my mission/de-obbsession with Legolas, I decided to stick to the real guys and not get pulled the heartbreak of hollywood. The next few years I spent dancing, dating and dumping the long list of unworthy men who tried to catch my heart.

Then one day I found the guy who truly stole my heart. He wasn't like anyone I'd ever dated before. I fell for him hard and fast...

...and I think I made a good choice.

"What's this? We don't have a candy machine in the boy's room!"

2010-03-08T10:10:00.006-07:00

In a financial blunder, the tampon machines will be removed from the building where I work. It seems that the financial genius who first had the machines installed thought that in a few short months he would be a millionaire and retire. He must have done his math wrong when he multiplied $.25 per tampon according to the number of women in my building and the number of times they'd forget their own personal hygiene tools and purchase his own brand of preference. Rumor has it that he was losing money in his venture.

"We don't have none of this stuff in the boy's room! Wait a minute! We don't got none of this... we don't got doors on the stalls in the boy's room, we don't have, what is this? What's this? We don't have a candy machine in the boy's room!"

Pain from the past

2010-03-03T11:02:00.007-07:00

There's a part of Nate's past that isn't well known to many. I think it's too painful for him to talk about. They were both young and in love, they didn't know what real life was about. With Nate's permission I share his story of love won and love lost, in the most romantic story of our time.

She was the beloved only daughter of the richest family in town. The beauty of the county, homecoming queen, prom queen, head cheerleader, president of FFA and FHOA. Her family disapproved of the relationship right from the beginning. They were high school sweethearts. Then Nate joined the military to create a life for her and to become a man. You see, he wasn't a man yet and she needed a man.

Their love was to be tested as he was away at basic training. She wrote him everyday promising to wait for him as he learned to peel potatoes and scrub toilets with his toothbrush. Occasionally a wandering fellow caught her eye but it was nothing serious, her heart belonged to Nate.

Nate worked his way up and soon found himself where he never thought he'd be before, as a contender for Top Gun. It was truly a miracle since he had joined the army and Top Gun wasn't even a part of the army. Nate, aka Ninja, and his trusty co-pilot, Duck, were masters of the air. Ninja flew like he loved it, but he only had one love and she was a thousand miles away.

The weeks passed, long and tortuous. Nights were spent dreaming of a time when they would soon be in each others arms again.

The night before Ninja was to return to his angel, he decided it was time for him to ask for her hand. She was the most beautiful girl in the world and he knew he had to have her. He needed to lock that down.

Like a movie she ran to him and jumped into his arms. He twirled her around and around. Then he took a deep breath, dropped to one knee and asked her to be his wife.

It was a beautiful ceremony.

Nate's Lost Innocence

2010-02-19T14:59:00.003-07:00

His eyes don't shine quite so bright as they use to, his smile isn't near as big nor as happy, and his walk is hesitant; he doesn't have the same confidence that he once had.
Nate has lost his innocence. In the dark of night, dreaming of m&m's and GI Joes, he was robbed of his childhood.

Two nights ago it happened, as he slept next to his wife. As was their custom before going to sleep they cuddled a little. He squeezed her knee, she squeezed his. That was their thing, a sign of love and affection shown by a simple knee squeeze.
He was lying on his side, facing towards his sweetheart with his knees pulled up toward his chest. He slept. A deep refreshing sleep. A peaceful, happy, worry free sleep.
His wife got out of bed to use the restroom (she cursed "Dr." Oz under her breath). Nate awoke slightly but then rolled over and pulled his legs back up towards his chest.
In the darkness his wife carefully walked back to bed. She slid under the covers and reached out to slip her hand between his knees to give him a little knee squeeze. She didn't know he had rolled over, she didn't know that when she reached her hand out she was reaching for his exposed (though clothed) tushy. She DIDN'T know!
All she does know is that she was going to give him a knee squeeze not a full on colonoscopy/full on left tush cheek grab. She DIDN'T know that a hand could slide up that far between....
With tears in her eyes she whispers "I didn't know."

Nate awoke in an instant, instinctively squeezing his cheekies together but it was too late, the damage had been done and the innocence stolen, never too be returned.

And now you know why Nate is afraid of the dark, now you know why he's always looking behind him with a hint of fear in his eyes. Now you know why he's the way he is...

...now you know.

Please answer the following question:

2010-02-15T08:00:00.000-07:00

What is the point of the game Hide and Seek?

RIP Nate Judd

2010-02-12T09:27:00.007-07:00

Nate likes to pick on me. It's not very nice because of course I never deserve it. I think he likes to pick on me because, well, it stems from a inferiority disordered caused by his good looks and futuristic hair. He lashes out to the ones he loves most so that they don't envy him too much therefore sparking even deeper and harsher feelings of resentment. Oh, and also, it's all his mother's fault. (This is purely the opinion of Haley who is not a psychiatrist, has never studied psychiatry nor does she ever plan on studying the before mentioned profession. Oh, I don't really thing it's his mother's fault).
The other day when Nate was feeling particularly bullish, which included him asking me if I could see into the future with my thick coke bottle glasses and also to quit looking at him so lustfully since my glasses also held x-ray powers.

I finally told him he'd better hope that when he dies I've forgiven him for all his trespasses against me because I would be taking care of his funeral arrangements. I then began to tell him the plans that I would put in motion the moment he breathed his last breath.

First I would order a casket from Costco. I would have purple satin on the inside. Though this one is not purple I do like the Lady Guadalupe decals.

I would make sure to have "Macho Man" by the Village people playing over and over during the viewing with a special musical number of Taylor Swifts "Fifteen" during the actual service.
It would be a closed casket service, actually just the top would be closed. The bottom would be open and since he likes to be nakey so very much he would be buried as naked as the day he was born. And since he has such a cute little tushy I would have him laying on his stomach so that people would remember the best of him.
At this point Nate laughed and suggested that maybe as a sign of love and respect people could slap his rear and tearfully say "Good game Nate, good game." I thought it was a great idea. I would post a sign next to the casket saying:
It's going to be a beautiful funeral. We'll bury him and his gravestone will say:

Here Lies Nate Judd,
Son and husband
Who can see into the
future now, ninja?

I must out live Nate.

White trash? I think not!

2010-02-08T11:06:00.006-07:00

I went to visit my favorite doctor last Friday. Not my young, inquisitive IBS doctor. My other favorite doctor; my woman doctor. No, not my doctor who is a woman. He's not a woman, he has a beard that any man would envy. You know...the doctor that makes you nervous for a week before your appointment. The guy who you spend an extra 30 minutes in the shower on the day of your appointment just to make sure everything is "presentable." The guy who's really nice but no matter how nice he is, it's still really uncomfortable to talk to him while he's examining certain things.
Ok? Now do you know which doctor I'm talking about? Good...

Nate was kind enough to accompany me on my little visit. He seemed to think that it wasn't bad form for him to wear the following shirt:
I decided that a little white trash never hurt anybody. So I wore the following, a gift from Hil:

We were kindly escorted off the premises with a request to find a new doctors office. I hate closed, narrow minded people.
I wonder if "Dr." Oz is taking new patients.

"Dr." Oz, I curse your name

2010-01-25T12:03:00.002-07:00

One day I found myself watching TV, flipping through channels, trying to decide which show was the least painful to watch (I know, I'm pathetic, leave me alone). I paused for a moment on the Dr. Oz show. I swear on all that's holy that I do not watch this show. I can't stand "Dr." Oz. I would as soon punch him as look at him. Anyway, for the short time of my life that I paused, I learned that our bodies don't decipher whether we are hungry or thirsty. I would, at a different time, like to dispute this statement or submit my body for scientific testing since my body knows very well whether I've eaten chocolate cake or drank plain old water.
It was brought up on the show because someone complained that they felt hungry right before bedtime so they ate something but then they would wake up in the middle of the night from hunger pains at which point they would eat some more. "Dr." Oz said to try drinking water before bedtime or if you wake up in the middle of the night. More than likely you were thirsty and not hungry. "Interesting...did you look that up on Ask Jeeves "Dr." Oz? " I thought to myself as I recalled the pre-bedtime munchies that sometimes attacked me when I was at my weakest. I decided to try a little experimenting to see if this worked. The following is a log of my discoveries.
"Dr" Oz's Drinking Experiment: Day 1-
9:45 Starting to feel a little hungry. That's not good, want to be in bed by 10:30.
Light bulb! Drink a nice big glass of water. Feeling good.
9:55 Still a little bit hungry. Maybe I'm really dehydrated, that's not good. Drink another big glass of water.
10:00 Go to the bathroom.
10:03 Brush teeth, wash face and count my new gray hairs.
10:10 Go to the bathroom.
10:13 Say prayers whilst stomach is grumbling from hunger.
10:20 Go to the d@mn bathroom, again.
10:30 Climb into bed and close my eyes to sleep.

I can tell all of you that I didn't not wake up one time in the middle of the night from hunger. Not, once. I did, however, wake up 7 times between 10:30 pm and 6:30 am to relieve my enlarged bladder and each time I muttered a curse to "Dr." Oz praying that certain extremities fall off...after all he is a "Dr." I'm sure he has a brilliant way to reattach whatever needs to be reattached...
PS: There is no more log past day one, I'm never doing this again!

The Prodigy

2010-01-21T09:18:00.011-07:00

I have bad news to report to my blogging BFF's. You see, I started taking violin lessons from my good friend Cleo.
This is Cleo, she's so great. I love her!

The actual "taking lessons" part isn't the bad news. The bad news is that I'm not the violin prodigy that I was pretty certain I was. Is it possible to be a prodigy at age 28?
When I was young I took violin lessons with a small group of kids. I wasn't a prodigy then either but I did win an award for "most improved" player (that award pretty much says "At least you don't stink as much as you did before.") my award was a little pink ice cream cone shaped key chain. I remember that award with pride. I ended up quitting violin because I couldn't read music notes. I didn't understand them and so I would just sit in my chair with my violin in my lap and tears in my eyes waiting for the lesson to get over and praying that the teacher would be so busy with the other kids that she wouldn't notice me.
Years later I learned how to play the piano and read notes.
I can read notes! How hard can the violin be now? In my mind I began to plan my first concert. I would start with "Jesu, Joy of Man's Desiring" followed by "Pachelbel Canon in D" and I would end the evening with a magical piece I had written that I called "Prodigy" which would lead my audience through a musical story of my life as a violin prodigy. I would dedicate my success to Cleo for the one violin lesson that she gave which in turn I shared my gift with the world.

I imagine my publicity photo would look something like this:

Of course there are two big "cosmetic" issues that I'd have to work out...

Anyway, Wednesday was my second violin lesson and it was not pretty, not pretty at all. How can I read the notes if I can't even hold the stinkin' bow right? I kept waiting for my raw natural talent to reveal itself, but to no avail. I felt my dream slowly slip away as I kept locking my thumb and played the wrong string.
Good bye fame, good bye my hopes and dreams, good bye my two beautiful fake breasts that would looking so striking next to a violin.
I will have to just be a normal person struggling to play a violin and hoping that in the near future I'll at least be able to play "Twinkle Twinkle Little Star" in a way that won't make cats hiss and Nate cry. **Sigh***

A friendly warrning to all my blogging BFF's

2010-01-13T08:00:00.001-07:00

Nate and I were watching TV when we saw a commercial for a product called "Booty Pop." You can imagine what a classy well funded commercial a product like Booty Pop would portray. The product is a pair of panties with two big stuffed pillow things in the cheekie region. When you wear these you'll finally get the shapely booty that you've always wanted. Oh boy!
We laughed about how I had my own built in booty pop (at least Nate laughed, I cried).
So, ladies who need a little pop in their booty, there is now a product for you.

Here is where the warning comes in to play. Please, please, please do not, especially while you're at work, look up the word "booty pop" on google so that you can get a funny picture for your blog. I would just like to say that there a lot of women excited to show their natural booty pop. And I have also learned that my booty pop is not near as umm...extreme as I originally thought.
Please heed my warning and save yourself the embarrassment that I felt when my boss walked by and saw my screen filled with dozens of booty-licious babes in an attractive variety of thongs.

The cons of living with a Ninja

2010-01-11T10:11:00.010-07:00

At first glance one wouldn't think there was much of a threat from this delicious little treat...
but if you live with a Ninja, like I do, this is as deadly piece of weaponry as I have ever been inflicted upon. My Sunday started wonderfully but ended with a trip to the emergency room and 57 stitches...ok, I grotesquely exaggerate my injuries. But it felt like I needed 57 stitches, and a chocolate dipped ice cream cone to make my pain go away.

This unfortunate incident did not, I repeat, did not start because I threw a couple chocolate coins at my husband. This was an unprovoked attack on a innocent person.

That being said I would like to relate my side of the story:
I was walking through the house, minding my own business, reading my scriptures, singing hymns and thinking about what a good person I was. When all of a sudden a black figure leaped out of the shadows of the bathroom. His face was covered and his whole body was clad in skin tight shimmery black spandex. His outfit was completed with a manly purple sash tied smartly around his waist. I would have stopped to admire the whole outfit if I didn't see the flash of gold coins in his hands. Instinct seemed to grip my mind and body as like lightening I sprinted around the corner to dive under the protection of a blanket (not the nakey blankey). As quick as my reflexes were, they were no match for the shimmery ninja who had honed his skills to pure perfection. For in my dive under the blanket, my pants slipped down leaving a 1 x 2 inch gap of bare skin. One moment I was starting to congratulate myself on my cat like reflexes, the next I was lying on the living room floor trying to find something to stop the bleeding.
Yes, my friends, it's true. That shimmery ninja threw the chocolate coin at me ninja star style which miraculously/skillfully/luckily hit that small patch of bare skin. The result of which left a (very un-lady like) red chocolate coin mark on my sensitive left bum cheekie.

And so, as I sit at my desk at work, I have to lean forward so I don't put too much pressure on my stitches. I try not to grimace in pain or draw attention to myself because us cowgirls are suppose to be tough. No stinking spandex ninja is going to get this cowgirl down.

Shimmery Ninja, if you're reading this blog:

Sincerely,
Tender Tushie Haley

PS: You owe me a chocolate dipped ice cream cone!
PSS: I want my shimmery spandex back, weirdo.

The big 04...you know, instead of "the big 40"...never mind

2010-01-07T13:46:00.003-07:00

Four years since the day that Nate and I said our "I do's." Both alive and pretty darn happy (to be alive...).

Love you Pirate Natey!

My Top 3 Most Annoying Actors/Actresses

2009-12-29T11:06:00.016-07:00

I'd like to announce the nominees of Haley's 2009 Top 3 Most annoying Actors/Actresses. The rules to be nominated are simple, actually there are no rules. I just happen to find these people and/or their acting to be so annoying I pretty much refuse to watch anything with their names connected to it. Here they are in no particular order:

My first nominee is Charlie Sheen. I can't stand him because he's a spoiled little boy who rode into Hollywood on his daddy's coat-tails. I'll admit that in some of his first movies he showed potential but drugs, booze and being a brat quickly made him a sell-out. I bet his daddy's a little embarrassed by him. Especially in his current tv show "Two and a Half Men" with Charlie delivering stupid one liners as canned laughter waits for his next side splitting, witty line.
I know he's in the news now for something or other. I know know what for and frankly I don't really care. I just think this adds to my dislike of him as a person and makes it a lot easier for me not to see any of his ridiculous movies.

My second nominee is Ralph Macchio. This karate kid drives me nuts. Every time I see any of the Karate Kid movies I pray that this version might be the one that he dies in the first 2 minutes. I can't believe anyone can be a stupid as he can and still survive. Mr. Macchio delivers the stupidity of the character with such ease, I suspect it's not him acting. In fact there are a few parts where acting was required but I believe not only was the balled dropped, I don't think Ralph Macchio ever even saw the ball.
Though he looks fabulous with those skinny little arms and his tight pants, I'm afraid he can't use his looks to get out off my list.

My third nominee is Kirsten Dunst. I think she's really cute (I'd kill for those thighs, seriously, kill for them) but no matter how cute you are or how hot you bod is, there are times that you have to actually act. Don't get me wrong, she's got one character down pat but the revolutionary idea that there are different characters in different movies hasn't made it to her door yet.
She's young so maybe she'll figure it out...someday...nah, probably not.

And the winner of Haley's Top 3 Most Annoying Actors/Actresses is....(drum roll)....

Ralph Macchio

At the risk of my marriage (Nate is a huge Karate Kid fan, he's blinded and won't hear me say anything bad about Ralphie) I'd like to present Ralph Macchio this special award:
This seemed to be the perfect trophy for how I truly feel.

I do want to end on a good note so I'd like to name three of my favorite actors:

George Clooney
Favorite Role: Ulysses Everett McGill in O Brother Where Art Thou?

Will Patton
Favorite Role: Coach Bill Yoast in Remember the Titans
(I like him in every role I've seen him in)

Sean Bean

Favorite Role: Borimir in Lord of the Rings

Well folks that's it. Thanks for attending the awards and I look forward to seeing you all next year.

George, stop showing off. Don't make Ralphie come karate chop your cute booty!

A Christmas Story: Love it or Leave!!!!

2009-12-22T12:28:00.001-07:00

Merry Christmas to all my bloggind BFF's I hope you have a wonderful holiday and here's a little laugh to make your day better.
This is from the movie "A Christmas Story."
Love
Haley

More public appeal

2009-12-21T09:27:00.006-07:00

I was asked to sing in church yesterday. I was honored since it was for the Christmas program. My friend Cleo and I practiced "Still, Still, Still." We were ready to go.

Sunday:
Walked into the chapel and picked up a program to see when we would be singing. What I didn't expect was to see that I'd been replaced by someone with more public appeal.
I didn't even know Ashley sang. I thought it was just Naomi and Wynonna. Talk about a mind blower. Then the bishop (who knows who I am) announced a duet by "Ashley Judd and Cleo Barlow."
People pulled out their phones to text friends "Get to the church ASAP, Ashley Judd is singing!"
I observed many looks of disappointment when people saw me walk up to the stage and not Ashley. Sorry people!
Then after church everyone was asking me if my real name was Ashley and they'd been calling me by the wrong name.
I'd have been flattered if I look like AJ and everyone was telling me I'm the spitting image of her. But no, that's not the way that's going to roll.
Dang you Ashley Judd! You've ruined me life! PS: Please send money, since we're family and all...

Dear Santa,

2009-12-16T14:33:00.009-07:00

Dear Santa,

Over the course of my life I've figured that you're a pretty nice guy. I mean, you spend all night Christmas Eve delivering presents to kids who may or may not deserve it. You receive more mail than possibly Hannah Montana (I have not proof of this statement nor do I care to know if it's correct) and not one letter is solely to say "hey, how the heck are you?" Really, does anyone ever ask Santa what he wants for Christmas? I've always wondered if there were any extra perks, you know, besides the gift of bringing laughter and joy to children all over the world.

I'm writing you this letter because I'm a pretty nice person too. You see, I'm married to Nate Judd. What? You remember him? Yes, I know he was on the top of your Naughty List. He's not so naughty anymore even though there are some days that I'd like to put a piece of coal in his stocking and hit him over the head with it. Anyway, I'm married to Nate Judd and I just wanted to warn you not to bring him a Snuggie.
From personal experience of my youth I've learned that you, Santa, sometimes bring presents that children don't ask for (aka: socks, undies, toothbrushes, fluffy pink bunny footsie pajamas...wait, that's Aunt Clara) and that's great. Kids really don't appreciate a nice new pair of unmarred undies until they...actually, kids never really appreciate clean undies. But they don't complain when the undies magically appear in their drawer. Enough about undies, that is not what this letter is about even though Nate could probably use a few new pairs himself. My point is that sometimes we don't ask for things that we recieve but you are thoughtful enough to know that the waistband on little Johnny's whitey-tightey's can't hold out much longer. Please don't be kind and think that Nate really does "need" a Snuggie. I've tried to talk to him about it in the past but for some reason just the word "snuggie" gets his blood boiling and the next thing you know, he's back at the top of the Naughty List with a knot in his head the size of a piece of coal. Not even "A Christmas Story" (yes, I found one) or a U of U Snuggie can tantalize this man who is apparently never in the need for a "blanket with sleeves."

I just wanted to send a friendly warning to you from one nice person to another. We're kindred spirits you know and if we don't watch out for each then we'll have to depend on the naughty people, clad in leopard snuggies, to watch our backs.

Merry Christmas, hope you get something good (maybe a little lovin' from Mrs. Clause).

Thanks,
Haley

Phone conversation with my mom

2009-12-14T10:42:00.006-07:00

Haley's phone rings:

Ring, ring, ring
Haley looks at her caller id it says "Folks." Haley thinks to herself "How nice, mom or dad are calling me."

Haley: Hello
Mom: Is Marshall there? (Marshall is Haley's brother)
Haley: No (In this moment Haley realizes that Mom probably called the wrong number).
Mom: (Weird pause) Um, do you know when he'll be around?
Haley: No.
Mom: (Longer, weirder pause) Do you know where he is?
Haley: He's probably in Provo mom, I have no idea where he is.
Mom: Who is this?
Haley: It's Haley...
Mom: (Sigh of relief and a short pause) Oh, I must have called the wrong number.
Haley: You were a little worried that a girl was picking up your baby boy's phone weren't you?
Mom: Yes, I was really concerned.

Blah, blah, blah we talk.

How the conversation should have gone had I paid more attention to my father growing up or if the naughty Judd humor had rubbed off on me:

Ring, ring, ring

Haley: Hello
Mom: Is Marshall there?
(Haley realizes that mom called the wrong number)
Haley: (Haley changes her tone to a breathy, sexy voice) Yes, he's getting out of the shower right now. His apartment has lovely water pressure...He told me to make myself comfortable on his bed.

And scene...I have many lovely scenarios in my head about how the rest of that phone conversation could have gone. None of those scenarios include a happy ending for my mom, Marshall or that naked blond waiting on Marshall's bed.

Nothing ruins a good Christmas season like a funeral, a brother in the hospital and a mom in prison.
Maybe it is a good thing that I wasn't that quick on the draw, maybe Christmas miracles really do happen.

Dear Cute Little Mouse in my Desk,

2009-12-09T11:43:00.007-07:00

Dear Cute Little Mouse in my Desk,

Apparently you don't know who I am. Let me introduce myself: My name is Haley, I am a Leo who truly enjoys long walks on the beach and dancing naked in the rain. I have a long list of friends and an even longer list of enemies. As you've probably guessed I also enjoy eating salt and vinegar chips since you found a bag in my desk and helped yourself. I've seen and done things that would make your hairy little tail seize up in terror. Ever heard of a boa constrictor? Look it up on Wikipedia maybe you'll learn something that will save your furry life.

I'll admit that I was a little put out when I found your nasty droppings in the bottom of the drawer last week. I forgave you though because when you've got to go, you've got to go (I understand that pain more than you'll ever understand) but eating another persons chips is near unforgivable. In fact the last cute little mouse in my desk that ate my chips was fitted with a set of cement shoes and sent on a permanent vacation, if you get my drift. Do you get my drift?

Oh, cute little mouse in my desk, I remember when I was a mouse. Those were good times, running around without a care in my little mouse mind. The world was my oyster and I ate and pooped where ever and whatever I wanted ACCEPT FOR SOMEONES SALT AND VINEGAR CHIPS!!!! Some things are sacred never to be touched, you're best friends wife or his golf clubs are two examples of the top items that are to be left alone. I'll let you guess what the close third item is.

Let me propose an idea to you. I'll give you three options, you pick which of the three suits you best.
Option 1: You leave Utah and never come back. You pack up your little stinky mouse family and head to Las Vegas where you will feel really at home.
Option 2: Two words: Mouse Trap. It will be a little messy but I have guys who don't mind stuff like that, we'll send your wife your little vermin body dressed in a pine overcoat.
Option 3: Two more words: Boa Constrictor. There won't be nothing to send back to your family unless I'm feeling really nice and decide to just send them the whole snake.

The choice is yours. I'll give you 24 hours to get out of town before I set the cats on you.

Yours Truly,

Haley
aka Lana the Assassin

Thanksgiving: Take II

2009-12-02T12:39:00.017-07:00

Hurrah for Thanksgiving! Another year has passed and we didn't burn a house down and so far no one has reported symptoms of ecol i. Talk about having something to be thankful for.
This Thanksgiving Mr. Judd and I went to sunny San Diego where we spent 4 great days with Dustin and Jess (aka Dessica or Justin) and their puppies.

Jess and I preparing to make the best Thanksgiving meal ever...
a meal filled with sweat, tears and a few swears.

No, I'm not being paid to model with that can of sweetened milk, I'm flattered that you would think so though.

Some things are better to just leave alone, don't ask.

No, Nate, don't you wake your pretty little head...we're saving dishes for you.

Jess just couldn't wait. Can you blame her? A pumpkin and apple pie (both made from scratch) are hard to resist.

Just trying to gross out Hillary. Hil, did it work?

The finished bird. This was the point that Jess and I realized that our true callings in life were to be Thanksgiving Caterers. Our catch phrase will be "We won't give you ecoli like the other guys will."

And now presenting:
Jess, the master turkey cutter
with a guest appearance by Haley's booty.

The finishing touches on a great feast.

Many thanks to our photographer/dishwasher, Dustin.

Hope everyone had a great Thanksgiving...

I know Nate did. Poor little guy, he's all tuckered out from eating.

What kind of friend are you?

2009-11-23T11:46:00.008-07:00

I had a startling revelation this weekend as I sat underneath a tree next to my friend, Vonda, watching a men's slow pitch softball tournament. As I sat underneath the before mentioned tree, trying to show interest in a game that was about as exciting as a pack of racing turtles (no offense to turtle racing fans out there), my revelation was not that there was possibly a sport less interesting to watch than golf (no apologies to golfers out there), but that I'm not a very good friend. As Vonda was talking/flirting with one of the cute softball players I was gratefully distracted by a blackbird high up in the branches above us. This little blackbird was furious at us for some unknown reason, he made his displeasure known as he swore at us in birdy language (I will not begin to repeat what he said as this is a wholesome family blog). It could possibly be my loud snoring or perhaps Vonda's giggles as she continued her attentions towards the cute softball player that put this little fella out of sorts. I contemplated throwing Vonda's car keys at the bird but the prospect of having to climb a tree in my cowboy boots (because you know the keys would get stuck in the branches) while three fields of softball players watched in awe at my tree climbing ability didn't seem like it would be worth the trouble to shut the bird up.
As he perched in the branches above Vonda's head I had humorous thought, which I vocally shared with Vonda, that there was a very good chance that that little blackbird was going to poop on her head. We both had a good laugh over that, my laugh was hearty and Vonda's was a little nervous as she inched her way out from under the branch that the little bird was sitting on.
This is where "I'm not a good friend" comes in to play. You see, in the event that the bird did poop on Vonda's head, a good friend would try to distract the cute softball player so he wouldn't notice the white speckled nastiness as it dripped from her hair onto the tip of her nose. A good friend would scream because "something" just bit her. A good friend would fall into a fit of convulsions so all attention was on her. A good friend would point and yell "Look! There's a naked girl running across the field" or heck, a really good friend would be that naked girl running across the field (though that might not be a well planned out distraction, it could quickly backfire into a night in jail and a story that would be really hard to explain to your husband) just so the cute softball player would look in a different direction while Vonda quickly (and miraculously) solves the bird poop problem. As I played multiple scenarios in my head, each one ending with me being Vonda's hero (and possibly making my depute on COPS) as she and the cute softball player ride off into the sunset on a white steed, a smile crossed my face at the thought of a bird pooping on her. I couldn't stop smiling and occasionally laughing at the thought, which made the cute softball player think he was the funniest guy around (he was funny and really nice).
It was during this train of thought, I realized that I would not distract the cute softball guy in the event of a bird poop incident. I would laugh, I possibly would run onto the softball field in the middle of the game and entertain the whole team with the story of The Blackbirds Revenge. The team would start laughing but amidst all that male laughter would be my high pitched squeal, rising up higher and louder than the rest. What the heck is wrong with me? Why would I take so much pleasure in a little poop and humiliation? I've always been this way, ask anyone who's been my friend for more that 5 minutes. Not one friend can recall a time where I faked a seizure to spare them, my sister most of all can tell story after story as the memory of my laughter echoes in her scarred ears.
I'm just really glad that the bird didn't do anything I might regret because it's a long walk from where we were to where we were going and it would have been horrible for Vonda to have to walk home because I didn't want bird poop to get in her car, gross. I guess I am a good friend.

Don't envy me, I'm struggling

2009-11-19T09:30:00.003-07:00

I don't mean to be the envy of the town but umm...two weeks ago I was privileged enough to see the Pioneer Woman at her book signing. Now, I wish that I could brag to you all that I met PW but there were a few things working against me.
The signing was scheduled to start at 7:00 pm. I figured I'd leave my house at 6:30ish, buy a book at the bookstore hosting her (you know to support the local stores), 7:00 meet PW and say something clever that would make us instant friends, 7:05 I'd be out the door with a signed book, 7:15 sitting in my living room watching the World Series looking through my newly signed book where PW would have written "Dear Haley, I love reading your blog, you are so hilarious. You and your husband should come stay at the ranch. Will you be my best friend? Love, PW."
Easy as pie (by the way, who ever made up that saying has obviously never endeavored on the adventure that is pie making).
Things did not go as planned. Nate suggested I leave before 6:00 (I thought he was crazy, turns out he's a pretty smart guy). He sacrificed watching the beginning of the World Series to come with me. So we arrived at the bookstore, it was empty. Awesome, I'd be back home ahead of schedule. I went to buy a book, I was considering buying a few so I could give them away as gifts. Luckily I went with my instincts and only asked for one at the register. Amazon sells PW's book for about $15.00, I nearly peed my pants right there in public when the price was $30.00. THIRTY STINKING DOLLARS! I paid for my book, swearing under my breath, and turned around looking for PW. I was then told to walk down the street and wait in line because she was first going to speak to people at the little gallery. I walked to the end of the line, I felt like Ralphie in A Christmas Story as he waited for Santa, there were 240 people in front of me. Nate called from where he finally found a spot to park the car. He kindly asked if I wanted him to wait in line. He was hoping I'd say no, I said yes. As he walked down the line to where I stood, mothers pulled their children closer too them. Groups of women avoided eye contact and shifted their purses to their other side. A few ladies even pulled out their mace to be used as self defense. Nate hadn't planned to be seen in public so his 2 week beard growth, his baseball hat on backwards, his shirt that said "I (grenade) NJ" made him look like one scary fella. If I had been smarter we probably could have cut to the front of the line and no one would have said anything because he would have destroyed them with one look.
I was given a ticket so I would know what group I was in when it my turn to meet her. We all squished into the little gallery, waiting and waiting. Nate had left me by this time, he doesn't do crowds.
Finally she walked in, she walked by me. I could have reached my foot out and tripped her if I wanted to (I would never do that). She moved to the front of the gallery where she began talking. I was not meant to hear her words. I was too far in the back. All I heard was the laughter of the people in the front as she told her clever stories.
Around me babies cried because they were tired, children cried because they were bored, husbands cried because they had been dragged to this estrogen consumed place and were missing the World Series.
I began to feel claustrophobia stricken me as people pushed in closer and closer. A million thoughts rushed through my mind "PW is really tall." "I like her hair" "This woman behind me is getting a little close" "Why did this woman cut in front of me?" "I wonder what the score is?" "Maybe I should have borrowed/stole someone's baby because PW loves babies."
I had to leave, I couldn't endure one more moment. So I walked out the door, losing my place. I still had my tickets so I saw two women talking on the sidewalk. I started to walk over to them to offer them my tickets. Right as I was about to open my mouth to speak, I realized that one of the women was PW's mother-in-law. I almost humiliated myself by asking if she wanted a ticket to see her own daughter-in-law. I caught myself, turned, tripped, didn't fall, passed off the tickets to some other ladies and dashed to the car where Nate was listening to the World Series on the radio. We drove home in silence. I clutched my $30.00 book close to me and started to plan the time I would return it then go buy it on Amazon.
PW, sorry we never meant to be. We could have been great together.

Dracula's Masquerade Ball-Logan's 21st Birthday

2009-11-16T10:34:00.013-07:00

November 1st was Logan's big 21st b-day. Because she loves karaoke so very much, I was going to take her to a karaoke bar. That would have been great except for the bar part.
So, I thought she might enjoy getting all gussied up and going to a dinner/murder theater. We ended up going to Dracula's Masquerade Ball. Sometimes a girl just needs to dress up, am I right or am I right? I was suffering from the swine flu or maybe the bovine flu. I don't know, I was so sick I didn't care what it was called, I just wanted to be put out of my misery. Anyway, below are pictures of our masquerade.

The birthday girl with the Bride of Frankenstein

Vonda being man-handled by Franky

Logan and Vonda

Showing a little skin.
(No, no boys!)

Bad lighting

Logan and one of Dracula's brides. She's pretty feisty.

Haley and Vonda

Dracula and his Brides

Happy Birthday Logan, love you!

There's no logic to it!

2009-11-13T08:58:00.009-07:00

As Nate and I have matured and progressed in our marriage we've found a simple solution that not only gets the dishes washed but also resolves arguments.
We use to argue over who's turn it was to wash the silverware and there was more than one occasion that Nate slept on the couch (his idea, not mine) because of a spat. It makes me laugh (ha ha) to think back on those silly times when we used conventional arguing. Now we settle everything with a friendly/deadly serious game of "Rock, paper, scissors." It's so simple, I would highly recommend it to anyone who can't settle issues with their spouse.
I once heard someone say that if a couple is fighting they should strip down nakey and finish the argument el' naturel . I suppose looking at your spouses white (and maybe dimply) hiney would defuse the situation. That may work fine for some (and end things on a happy note, if you know what I mean...) but for us, that is not an option. I'm all about being nakey, I would run around nakey all the time if I could. In fact, Aramie and I have even discussed starting our own nudist colony. So, I would strip down in two seconds flat. The problem is Nate. You see, Nate, doesn't like being naked. In fact he only gets naked for 2 1/2 reasons. We will not be discussing these reasons at this time. Just know that none of those nakey times include a commando argument.

"Do these sufficiently hide my thunder?"

I have the alarming signs of a chronic gambler because I always challenge Nate to RPS for silly little things. Who has to turn out the light? One, two, three....rock...I lose, dang it! Who has to return the dvd to redbox? 1, 2, 3...rock...I lose, crap! Who has to wash the 2 day old dinner pot? 1, 2, 3...PAPER...I lose, I hate this stupid game! I just can't seem to stop no matter how many times I have to wash dishes (I HATE washing dishes) just that 50/50 chance that I might win just makes me start to sweat with anticipation. "One more time" I tell myself "I can beat this, just one more game and I'll stop." But it never stops. Nate sometimes just takes pity on me and won't even play, at that point you know I'm in a sad state because Nate's lack of compassion is legendary. It's pretty pathetic when a person has to do the dishes 5 nights in a row because she's too dumb to stop the insanity.

Who came up with RPS anyway? It doesn't make any sense. Why would paper win over rock? Scissors cutting paper, yes, that has logic. Rock smashing scissors (my personal favorite), completely understandable. But paper covering rock that's a load of bull if you ask me. It's also my everlasting downfall.

So next time you see me, be kind. Wash my dishes for me and don't tempt me with rock, paper, scissors because I don't think I can handle anymore heartache.

IBS is a pain in my...

2009-11-10T09:26:00.007-07:00

Would any of my brilliant blogging BFF's care to finish the title of this post for me? I'll wait...and I promise it is the first thing that came into your naughty little minds.

I guess I haven't spared any details about my life so far, why stop now? Hi, my name is Haley and I have IBS. It's horrible. Now I realize that there are so many other things that are worse and I should really shut my ungrateful mouth and be thankful for my raw, chaffed rear-end, but when I'm running around wal-mart praying that I make it home because I would rather die than sit on a wal-mart toilet (I don't have enough strength in my thighs to hover that long)it's hard to appreciate the worse problems that other people have.

When I married into the Judd family I learned their secret family motto "Wipe until it bleeds, then keep wiping." As I recall, I had to raise my right hand to the square and pledge my obedience to this creed before I could marry Nate. Sometimes I really regret making such a rash decision.

I finally decided that I needed to nip this thing in the bud (or the butt...ha ha, not funny) so I threw aside my pride and went to the doctor. Hello young male doctor, please let me tell you all about my digestive problems and bowel movements.

Our conversation went as follows:
Dr: How are we feeling today?
H: Awesome, that's why I came in. I just want you to see what a healthy person looks like since all you see the whole day is sick people. Would you like to give me a colonoscopy so you can see what a healthy colon looks like?
(That's not what I really said)
H: Doing ok.
Dr: What seems to be the trouble?
H: I can hardly eat anything without getting sick. Crohn's disease runs in my family so I want to check things out.

Blah, blah, more boring questions, blah, blah...answers that I won't share with those of you that are so dear to me, just know it involves words like greasy, floating, and scrum-dittaley-umpshous.

Dr: Well, I don't think you have Crohn's, I think you have IBS (Irritable Bowels Syndrome) caused by stressed. Is there anything stressful going on in your life?
H: (I laugh as I self-consciously stroke my head of gray hair) Yes, there are a few things.
Dr: Have you taken immodium when you've had problems?

This was the one question that actually made sense. No, I hadn't even thought about taking immodium. I figured if my body rejecting this food maybe I better get it out of my system.

H:No I haven't. This has lasted more than a few days and medicine labels always say to consult a doctor if you have constant problems.
Dr: Well, I suggest taking immodium when you feel sick. Also, we'll need a sample.
H: A sample of what...?
Dr: ................(use your imagination, I can't do everything for you).

Haley's eyes get wide and at that moment she decides that she'll get a lifetime supply of immodium and never ......... again. The doctor has yet to receive his sample, he wanted Haley to send it in the mail THE MAIL!!!! Gross!

End of doctors visit. Good news is that I didn't have to experience a colonoscopy.

So anyway, the next day I ate something and felt that familiar rumbling in my stomach. I quickly downed an immodium. The rumbling stopped. Awesome, no sicky sick for me. That was a Tuesday morning. Wednesday passed, but nothing else did...if you get my drift. Thursday, nothing. Friday, starting to feel a little uncomfortable and nervous. I didn't realize immodium was sent by Satan to seal your intestines shut. They didn't write that on the label.

Long story short, all is well in the Judd household. I just avoid ice cream and lettuce. I keep half an immodium pinned inside my undies, just for emergencies. And my little red cheekies are not so red anymore.

Thank you, you wicked, wicked little pill.

The answer to an age old question

2009-10-26T12:16:00.003-06:00

Well a Scotsman clad in kilt left a bar on evening fair
And one could tell by how we walked that he drunk more than his share
He fumbled round until he could no longer keep his feet
Then he stumbled off into the grass to sleep beside the street

About that time two young and lovely girls just happend by
And one says to the other with a twinkle in her eye
See yon sleeping Scotsman so strong and handsome built
I wonder if it's true what they don't wear beneath the kilt

They crept up on that sleeping Scotsman quiet as could be
Lifted up his kilt about an inch so they could see
And there behold, for them to see, beneath his Scottish skirt
Was nothing more than God had graced him with upon his birth

They marveled for a moment, then one said we must be gone
Let's leave a present for our friend, before we move along
As a gift they left a blue silk ribbon, tied into a bow
Around the bonnie star, the Scots kilt did lift and show

Now the Scotsman woke to nature's call and stumbled towards a tree
Behind a bush, he lift his kilt and gawks at what he sees
And in a startled voice he says to what's before his eyes.
O lad I don't know where you been but I see you won first prize
Ring ding diddle diddle I de oh ring di diddly I oh
O lad I don't know where you been but I see you won first prize

My Recent Love

2009-10-23T12:37:00.012-06:00

I have Nate to thank for introducing me what has become one of my new favorite pieces of art.

I don't even know how to put into words the deep feelings in my soul when I look at this sculpture created by Michelangelo. He was truly a master.

Michelangelo's Pieta:
Piety: reverence for God or devout fulfillment of religious obligations.
Pity: sympathetic or kindly sorrow evoked by the suffering, distress, or misfortune of another, often leading one to give relief or aid or to show mercy.

Michelangelo sculpted Mary's face to be young and beautiful because he wanted her to look pure; as she looked when she was first visited by the Angel Gabriel.

The spear wound in Christs' side.

The face of the crucified Christ. At peace and free from the pain of the world.

Have you ever seen anything more sad yet more tender? A mother holding her first child, perhaps thinking about how she use to hold him like this when he was a little baby.

Every time I see the Pieta, it takes my breathe away.

Scary beyond all reason

2009-10-16T08:53:00.015-06:00

Have you ever watched Judge Judy? You know, Judge Judy, the T.V. judge who is scary beyond all reason.

I've always had a healthy respect for Judge Judy, well, I suppose respect isn't the correct word. Respect would imply we had some kind of healthy relationship. I'm just plain worried that one day I might be walking down the street of SLC and bump into her. In fact, I'm a little nervous to post anything about her on this blog, I'm half tempted to just delete it and pretend that I never wrote it. If JJ found out about it she would probably reach into my chest and pull out my beating heartIn fact, in the top 5 things that worries the h@ll out of me, Judge Judy would rank up there between driving in snow and spiders in my undies.

I occasionally watch those poor saps who go to her for help and think what fools they are, why would someone purposely go to hell? Just for a few humiliating moments of fame?
Most of my legal knowledge has come from JJ's own scary mouth. For example:
Breaking the windows out of an ex's car and using the defense that "the SOB had it coming to him." Isn't going to hold much water in court, especially in JJ's court.

I didn't think it could get more unnerving than an angry JJ yelling...and those eyes, those eyes that will pierce your very soul and leave you in a stammering confused state of babble and urine.
Nothing more unnerving until I saw the following pictures:

I think she's using some kind of legal mind power to control that baby. Actually, I think that the baby is so scared that it can't even cry. In it's tiny mind it's repenting of all it's little sins and preparing to meet it's maker.

The human mind is an interesting thing. You see, we fear what we don't know. Well, not in my case, I fear heights and know that if I fall off a cliff, I die. That doesn't make me want to go running by any cliffs anytime soon.
But usually if we don't understand something, we are afraid of it. I understand that JJ is a short-tempered/non-sufferer of fools/mean lady. That's doesn't make me tremble any less when I watch her show and she somehow seems to look right into my eyes and tell me that I have done a stupid stupid thing. That means, I expect her to be the way she is.
What really really scares me is when she does the unthinkable...

...and she smiles. Oh, the icy fingers of hell grab my very soul and I shudder, cry and look for a small child to offer to her as her lips curl up and her eyes widen. I'm stricken with a terror that no person should be able to go through.

Awwww!!!
(I just fell off my chair)
Stop the terror, Judy, do it for the children.

New arrival in the Judd family

2009-10-14T14:13:00.004-06:00

Nate and Haley Judd would like to announce a new arrival to the family

K A Ice
arrived October 10/9/2009
between 10 am and 5 pm

Weight: 22lbs
Length: 16.4 inches

Now our family is complete!

Rats and Snakes and Lizards, Oh My!

2009-10-02T16:16:00.000-06:00

I learned very early on in my relationship with Nate that he's not a huge fan of our reptile cousins. This did concern me for a moment as I had one day hoped to once again be the proud momma of a Savannah Monitor but I quickly decided that I'd rather cuddle with Nate than with a giant lizard.
As Nate and my 4th anniversary is approaching, I believe that I made the right choice (most of the time).

I've told Nate a time or two that I grew up with reptiles but I don't think he's fully grasped the extent of the reptile love in our home. My mom was not ever a big fan of the snakes and lizards but she allowed them into her heart because she was married to my dad and they came with the territory. Dad enjoyed the reptiles but was faced with a problem when his reptile collection began to eat him out of house and home.
At the time he had around 10-12 (I can't remember the exact number) boa constrictors and monitor lizards that lived on a rat diet. The amount of rats that my dad had to purchase had become a burden and so he was faced with the most terrifying decision of his life: Get rid of the snakes or raise rats. To some, this would be a simple choice: Get rid of the d@mn snakes. But my dad dearly loved his scaly friends so getting rid of them wasn't so easy to do.
I remember my dad saying many times "If I were on a road and there was a bear at one end and a rat at the other end, I would run toward the bear." So raising rats for my dad was the equivalent of me making my living jumping out of planes. "If I were on a road and one end dropped off into nothingness and the other end had a spider, I'd curl up in a fetal position and wait until I starved to death."
My dad faced his fear and soon we had a lively little corner in our basement that became the nursery for the little rats who were born on what seemed to be a weekly basis. Our lives then resumed as our rat problem was solved and our snakes and lizards ate like little cold blooded kings.
As a whole there wasn't anything out of the ordinary by having these pets. It was fun to show our friends. Dad would go to schools and local parks to show off his 12 foot long boa whom he called "Big Mama." There was the time that mom was standing next to dad as he opened the cage of his big iguana. The iguana took a flying leap and landed on mom's face. And there was the time that Captain ran up to my dad with his fingers bleeding. My dad told Captain he needed to be more careful with his pocket knife. Turns out that Captain stuck his fingers in the water monitor cage and the lizard bit him.

The story I really want to tell is about a little girl who lived in the basement of her family's home. Every morning she woke up to go to school. She would grab her clothes, run down the dark hallway, hop up the stairs and get dressed by the warm radiator.
One day her father's favorite snake escaped from it's cage. This was not a favorite snake of the little girl's. It was a milk snake and had a very ill-favored look about it. Such as this:

After a few weeks, the family decided that the snake had probably escaped outside and froze to death. It was a very hard time for the little girl's father. He mourned the death of his pet. The little girl didn't really care/jumped for joy.

One morning as to her usual custom, the little girl grabbed her clothes and began to run down the dark hallway towards her beloved radiator. In the darkest part of the hallway the little girl placed her foot down and stepped on something cold and slithery. It moved! She screamed, threw her clothes in the air and ran half naked to her parents room to tell them that she had bravely found the snake.
When she and her father arrived back to the hallway and turned on the light all they saw on the ground were her clothes. She picked up her shirt and pants...or her father picked up her shirt and pants (it doesn't really matter who picked up the clothes) but there was no snake to be found. It must have slithered back to it's hiding place. Rejoicing because the snake was still alive! Yay!!!
The little girl climbed the stairs and sat by the radiator as she pulled on her shirt. Then she stuck her foot in the left leg of her pants...something slithered in her pant leg and brushed her ankle. She bravely screamed again and went running without pants on to find her father. This time owner and pet were reunited in a teary hug.

And the little girl, well from that day she began to go gray. And she never took her clothes up to dress by the radiator again.

Embarassment knows no bounds

2009-09-23T13:11:00.003-06:00

I would like to try to explain an incident that happen last evening...but I don't think any amount of my explaining would make it sound good. Let's make this fun, like a mystery that you get to solve I will include the clues and you guess what happened.

Clues to the Mystery of the Butt Nakey Girl:

-I was sitting on the toilet, pants around my ankles
- A spider crawled across my shirt
-I brushed off spider, it fell into my pants
-I screamed and kicked my drawers (undies and all) off
-Nate came running in to save me
-Found me standing in the bathroom corner nakey from the waist down, except for tube socks.

I guess there's not much to solve, just a gross image that you're trying to get out of your head, I know Nate is.

All I can say is that it will make for a great movie.

Happy Birthday Baby!

2009-09-16T09:03:00.003-06:00

32 years ago today my hubby was born. I'm sure he was squealing and squalling (since that's his style) when he came into this world.
I just wanted to tell Nate "Happy Birthday!" I look forward to many more birthday's and many more adventures.
Love you, babe!

We're sisters, and we kind of like each other.

2009-09-10T10:18:00.004-06:00

As you all know, I have a baby sister named Logan. Actually, she's not really a baby...come to think of it, she's not really a little sister either. (clears throat) Ok, I've got it: As you all know, I have a younger sister named Logan. She drives me crazy because I always have to tell her what to do. I drive her crazy because I'm always telling her what to do. That's how we roll. Every once in awhile we get annoyed with each other and don't speak for a whole day but eventually she forgives my bossiness and we move on.

I'm going to share with all my blogging BFF's something that I wouldn't share with just anyone. I must disclose that what I am about to reveal is really immature and gross. I would advise against creating any mental images as that would ruin your day.

Usually once a month or so, Logan and I have the following conversation through text. I kid you not, she always says the same thing. I can't believe I'm sharing this, please don't think ill of me.

(Through text)

Haley: I just pooped in my pants

Logan: Really?

And that's it, that's the end of our conversation. I don't know if she just humors me by her reply or if she is sad and embarrassed that her older sister is having problems making it to the bathroom. I just know that for some reason I get a big kick out of it. Does that make me a bad person? And immature person? A nasty person? Perhaps, perhaps but don't you dare judge me until you try having the same conversation. And if you're lucky enough to have a sister like Logan, then you'll know what I'm talking about.

Love you Logan and thanks for your support during the one day a month that I poop my pants.

If I can quote the great Gob Bluth

"After all, we're sisters. And we kind of like each other."

A letter to my husband

2009-08-28T08:00:00.002-06:00

Dear Nate,

As I've recently turned 28 I find that there are a few things in my life that I'd like. I've narrowed the list down to three lovely items. In a perfect world I would want all three at the same time but seeing how that's not the case, I'll settle for one:

Option #1
Option #2

Option #3

You choose, no pressure. Just pick what you think would make me the happiest.

Love,
Haley

PS: This is not a trick question, there is no wrong answer...

Oh, Nate you are a silly silly boy

2009-08-27T08:00:00.001-06:00

Haley is sitting at home watching her favorite movie, P.S. I Love You. Nate walks in and stands there for a moment. The following conversation then commenced:

N: You know you shouldn't watch that movie so much.

H: Why? I like it.

N: I just don't think it's healthy for you to be lusting after Gerard Butler like you do.

Haley pauses thoughtfully

H: I agree Nate, you are right it's not healthy for me to be lusting after Gerard Butler. Thank you for sharing that thought with me.

Haley then turns back and continues to watch the movie. No more is said on the subject. Haley smiles to herself and thinks "Lusting after Gerard Butler. What does he take me for?"

Below is the reason Haley enjoys P.S. I Love You so much:

Blogging BFF's, this is Jeffery. He's new so please make him feel welcome. If you're really nice he'll whisper sweet little nothings in your ear with an Irish accent. And if you're really nice you might catch a glimpse of his cute little tushy (or so I've heard....).

Gerard...ha! Oh, Nate you are a silly silly boy.

Alcoholic Ninja

2009-08-24T10:41:00.008-06:00

Since the time of the "incident" I find myself wracked with guilt. It's not constant, it just comes and goes whenever I see a child in a karate outfit or a brown beer bottle. I was too young at the time to really know what to do or say, so I just didn't say anything...(my eyes cloud over as I remember the particulars of that night).

I was about 12 years old, I thought I knew everything but I was mistaken. I've always been the type of person to ignore an uncomfortable situation, I figure if I don't acknowledge it then it doesn't exist.
A lady at my church had some friends who were looking for a baby-sitter for their two kids. They were looking for someone they could trust to be a permanent sitter. I was the one for the job. "Trust" was my middle name; even though after that night, my fleeting employers probably suspected that my middle name was really "Lush."

I arrived and met the two cute little kids I would be sitting. A boy about 7 who we will call Bucky and a 4 year old girl that we'll call Wilma. Bucky was dressed in a karate outfit and spent a lot of the night showing off karate moves that would render an enemy unconscious. You can imagine the effectiveness of a 7 year old teaching a skinny 12 year old karate.

It was a very enjoyable sitting job. We all had fun playing games and pretending we were ninjas out to save the world. After we had won our battle and released all the prisoners from their cages we decided we were thirsty.
Bucky grabbed a brown bottle from the pantry and asked if he could drink it. He said that his dad and mom let them drink it sometimes. Keep in mind that my folks don't drink. I didn't know what alcohol looked like, smelled and apparently I didn't know how to spell alcohol, I figured "Dick's Pale Ale" was probably a wonderful new root beer that I'd never heard of before. I excitedly grabbed myself a bottle then proceeded to pour the kids a glass of Dick's famous root beer.
We toasted our recent victory and I threw my head back, closed my eyes and let the root beer fill my mouth. Immediately my eyes popped open, something wasn't right. I didn't know what it was this tasted like no root beer I'd had before (and I considered myself a connoisseur of root beer, even at the young age of 12). I spit out Dick's Pale Ale all over the kitchen and startled faces of my charges. "Don't drink the root beer, the root beer has gone bad!" I yelled. I quickly grabbed the cups of nastiness away from the innocent children (before they had taken a drink) and poured it all down the sink. I then threw the two empty beer bottles in the kitchen trash.

When the parents came home I didn't say a word about the incident. I was too embarrassed at my lack of alcoholic knowledge to admit that I almost started their kids drinking at the ages of 7 and 4.

I was never asked to baby-sit again. I can only assume that they found the two empty beer bottles in the trash and couldn't trust their children with a 12 year old ninja alcoholic. What kills me is that I never said anything, I never explained what had happened. Had I said something I probably would be a multi-millionaire still baby-sitting for them.

The moral of the story is to never drink Dick's Pale Ale while you're baby-sitting...oh, and being a ninja is awesome.

My latest art piece

2009-08-20T15:11:00.001-06:00

My sister and I made the cake below for a "Dirty Thirty" birthday. You'll notice that the ladies are a little bit lumpy. I blame my Logan. She's the one that molded and shaped them.

I figured she was an expert on...well...on the subjects.

I beat my husband

2009-08-14T09:27:00.003-06:00

Since the time we were first married, I've hit, kicked, kneed, elbowed, headbutted my husband. Did he deserve it? Maybe he did, maybe he didn't; that's not the point. The point is I did it.

I guess I would look like a horrible person if I didn't tell you that my abuse was done while I was in a deep deep sleep.
I don't know, perhaps is was pent-up frustration or maybe I just wasn't use to sharing a bed with a fellow human. All I know is that after the seventh time that APS (Adult Protective Services) was called because Nate had "fallen down the stairs" again, I had to learn a little control.
And I have, it is now a rare occurrence that I beat Nate while I sleep.

The following conversation took place in our household this week:

Haley- Hey babe, did you sleep well?
Nate- I slept alright.
Haley- Did you wake up when I punched you in the back?
Nate- No. (pause) Did you punch me in the back
Haley- No.

Peace \/

Jackson Hole 2009 Part II

2009-08-07T08:00:00.000-06:00

The ladies enjoying a picture perfect moment...well at least the behind view was perfect I'm not to sure about our early morning "hung-over" faces.

Logan wearing "the biggest mistake I've ever made in my life" shorts. It was a mistake to give them to her. I will not rest until those shorts have been destroyed.

Me after a meeting with my new best friend, Dramamine. I mentioned in a previous post that my stomach isn't the same stomach that it was 10 years ago. This was true as I sat in the back seat while driving along the twist roads of Hell aka Yellowstone National Park.

It would have been a very miserable trip for everyone if Dramamine hadn't been such a dear, kind, giving friend.

At our chuckwagon dinner.

Jackson Hole, we ate lunch at some kind of little tavern. It was the only place open at 2:30 pm which is really weird. Anyway, they had the best onion rings I've ever tasted and I hate onions.

Logan and her "Grand Tetons" shirt. Hehehe, hahaha (Haley laughs immaturely). Vonda, Megan and I were going to buy shirts that said "Not all Tetons are grand" that would have been pretty funny. I don't know why we didn't do that.

One of our rare group photos. This picture is taken courtesy of Vonda's long monkey arms. It's amazing really, this was a mere hour before Vonda drank part of her margarita and promptly began babbling about wanting to buy a pair of moose hair panties with a matching bra, then she accused some guy of hitting on her. Light weight!

Breakfast at a little podunk restaurant that served some really good biscuits and gravy.
Did I mention that I love my sister?

Here's me sporting Vonda's shorts that are too tight for my generous booty. In case you can't tell, I was cold.

My Cute little Nieces and Nephew and then....

2009-08-06T08:30:00.007-06:00

Look how cute my little nieces and nephew are!

I mean, LOOK! Have you ever seen genetics like these before? Do you realize how fortunate you are to be able to gaze upon such perfection, such utter beauty?

The little ladies here are getting ready to leave for church so not only are they gorgeous but they also love Jesus.

Harvey loves Jesus too, but this picture captures the wild beauty of a baby enjoying a chocolate chip cookie. I don't know if he has actually tasted said cookie but the color really brings out his eyes.

Then there's little "Josephine" who will be the cousin with the "great personality."
Boy, she'd better have a great personality...

Just for the record

2009-08-03T09:07:00.004-06:00

I want to let 82% of my blogging BFF's know that you chose the wrong call sign. I don't like to tell a fella his business but I was a little shocked that Longshot killed the competition. I just made up that call sign for Logan to throw everyone off. Apparently it worked, I tricked 82 percent of you.

***UPDATE***Cindy just voted for Hijack. Thanks Cindy!!

Vote totals:

LongShot- 7
Hijack- 2 with a late vote from Cindy which totals 3
You guys are big nerds- 2 (I was really hoping no one would vote for this one...)
Ninja- 1

The following information is highly confidential, anyone caught sharing the following will die a painful death.

Call Sign:
Longshot= Logan
Ninja= Nate
Hijack= Haley

I think we need to vote again!!

This is only for Little Orphan Annie's Secret Circle

2009-07-27T11:20:00.004-06:00

This is only for Little Orphan Annie's Secret Circle:

I need the help of my closest blogging BFF's to end an argument that Nate and I have been having for the past week. Your answer could save my marriage...and the world.

It may come as a surprise to some of you that Nate and I don't always have serious conversations. I know right? Last night we had an invigorating conversation about "The Epic of Gilgamesh." We have some excellent religious discussions but every once in awhile a silly/nerdy/what the h%ll topic comes up and we humor ourselves with it.
For example after watching an American Idol episode I asked Nate what rock song he would sing if he were on the show?
If Nate created a country group what would he call the band?
If Nate was a superhero what would his superpowers be?

You know, important pertinent (is that a little redundant?) information that is vital to our eternal salvation.

Note: If you have not seen the movie "Top Gun" please do not read further. Go rent it, watch it, fastforward the naughty scene, laugh, cry, lust and then come back and finish this post.

Last week we were discussing how cool "Top Gun" is. Nate also said that I'm his best wing man which is ok but why can't he be my wing man? He called me his "Goose". I don't want to be Goose, who wants to be Goose? Then our topic of discussion continued as to who is cooler/hotter Maverick (Tom Cruise) or Ice Man (Val Kilmir). Our conversation then evolved to what our call signs (pilot names) would be. This is where the claws came out. I maintained that my call sign was way cooler than his. Nate's was pretty good but mine was awesome.

And so this is where I need the help of my blogging BFF's on the right of my blog is a poll for the coolest call sign. I'm not going to tell you which name belongs to which Top Gun pilot. Please vote and B-E S-U-R-E T-O D-R-I-N-K Y-O-U-R O-V-A-L-T-I-N-E.

What happens in Jackson stays in Jackson

2009-07-24T08:00:00.000-06:00

This last weekend found me and three of my best girls out raising Kane in Jackson Hole, WY. We had a blast going whitewater rafting down the Snake River, horseback riding, shopping and just enjoying the absolute beauty of the Tetons.

I'm trying to convince Nate that we should move there. I'll open a cake decorating store that specializes in moose and rafting cakes. It will be awesome (I have yet to convince him but I know once he visits he'll be hooked).

A few hilarious conversations that we enjoyed:

"We should go to Mt. Everest, that's in Alaska right?"
"I want a pair of moose panties. And a moose bra, I want a matching moose bra."
"I don't know, I'm not actively sexual."
"No horse, now is not the time to run."

Here are a few pictures of our fun trip:

Due to the graphic contents of this photograph it has been censored to protect the innocent. (But it is proof that I, Haley, can achieve cleavage in extreme circumstances).

This is probably how my face would look if I ran into a live polar bear, the only difference would be that there would be a warm stream of liquid running down my leg.

Right to left: Logan, Haley, Vonda, Megan

This was right after our chuckwagon dinner. Life was very good at that moment.

Vonda and Meagan enjoying the biggest margaritas any of us had ever seen.

Logan and I enjoying our water. Yum, yum!

Our trail ride at Heart 6 ranch. This is FireFly, I called him Dragon. We didn't really bond we just kind of tolerated each other. It was a "no strings attached" relationship, once the ride was over we parted ways without any regrets.

Overlooking the valley. It was a gorgeous ride. It made me miss my wild days wrangling.

Right to Left: Haley and Dragon, Vonda and Rizzo, Megan and FirTree, Logan and Clyde.

I wish we had gotten a picture of our cute little wrangler, Miles. He had the girls hearts a flutterin'.

Just posing for a pic. I think Dragon is looking at a bear, he kept looking back with his ears perked up like there was something in the woods...

Our last picture together. I couldn't hardly move after our 2 hour trail ride. I truly walked like a cowboy, it would have been kind of cool if it didn't hurt so bad.

Here we are right before we went whitewater rafting. That was a blast and Logan found love with her rafting guide.
You can't see my shorts and you should say a prayer of gratitude for that blessing. Vonda let me borrow a pair of her shorts since I forgot mine. The problem with that is her butt is two sizes smaller than mine which resulted in a perma-wedge, that was neat.

That's enough for today. More pictures to follow!

It may not be a good idea for Nate and I to reproduce...

2009-07-22T12:02:00.007-06:00

While I should be working, I've been focused on more important things.
**Disclosure: I'm not pregnant***

Nate and I have always had a running joke that our kids are going to be mutant freaks. Here is what we have decided:

-They'll have transparent skin (we are both VERY light skinned)
-They'll have big feet with long toes
-Boys and girls will have man calves (that's my contribution)
-They'll all be hairy (instead of giving our daughters' a car for their 16th birthday we'll get them laser hair removal)
-They'll be blind (we both have bad eyes)

That's just the basic list, I could go on and on. Like I said, it's been a joke between us until today. Today I found a couple websites that will "morph" you and your spouses' picture resulting in what your baby will look like.

I haven't talked to Nate yet but once he sees these pictures I'm sure he'll agree that reproducing probably won't be the best choice for us.

Nate and Haley
(We're a pretty cute couple right? You would think we would have cute kids.)

(I had to make Nate a pirate because he doesn't like me posting pictures of him on my blog so I had to cover his face)

And now I present Baby "Maybe I'll have half a chance"

I know you're thinking "This kid is kinda cute."

Just wait!

Baby "Troll"

If this is what my kid will really look like I might march Nate right to the doctor right now to have a few things snipped.

Seriously, look at this little troll baby.

...But I saved the best for last. If you think the Troll Baby was bad, please don't scroll down unless you have a strong stomach...

Baby "What the holy h%ll"

I really don't know what to say except "She's as cute as she can be..."

I really don't know what to type as I try not to loose my lunch. I mean she's not even the "so ugly it's cute" type. She's the kind that you don't want to look at but just can't stop staring, it's memorizing really.

So there's a one in three chance that my kid my actually look like a human child and not J.R.R. Tolken character. I'm not much of a gambler...

To My Folks and Nate's Folks,

Due to recent developments please do not expect any grandchildren from us. Believe me it's for the best.

Thanks,
Cute couple that produces mutants

In my Old Age

2009-07-09T17:51:00.006-06:00

In my old age I've found, along with hairs sprouting where they've never sprouted before and my thighs are rolling hills with the consistency of cottage cheese, that my stomach isn't the steel trap that it once was.
I remember being able to go on any amusement park ride over and over again only breaking to eat greasy corndogs and cotton candy. I began to feel the change at about 18 when I exerted all my energy not to throw up on some poor child on the merry-go-round. Merry-go-round? Who came up with that ridiculous name? I dubbed it the Vomit-go-Round.
I avoided most situations that might make me a little sick until one night shortly after Nate and I were married we were walking around the mall and saw a small amusement park set up in the parking lot. You know, the kind of cheap traveling rides that your grandmother warns you never to go on.
We had had a lovely greasy pizza dinner and thought to finish the night off a couple of rides would do the trick. We first went on a ride called the JackHammer the only problem was that the guy closing the doors to the ride had a hard time with the security lock on our seats because Nate was so tall. This did concern Nate a little so he didn't really enjoy the ride as he was searching for anything to hold onto when the door swung open while we were 75 feet in the air.
After the JackHammer we saw a simple ride that had seats just right for two people in love to squeeze into. We cuddled up together, holding hands with big smiles on our faces. Immediately after the ride began I started feeling a little funny. All the stupid ride did was swing us around and around in a big nauseating circle. "Nate, I feel sick." I yelled as quietly as I could. Nate looked at me with big eyes of worry as he tried to remember everything I had eaten that day that might soon appear on his lap.
"Nate, I'm going to be sick." I felt my eyes roll into the back of my head as the ride-o-nausea picked up speed. I slumped back in my seat praying that the ride would break down or at least someone would throw up before I did. After an eternity of hell the ride finally stopped, I jumped up and stumbled away from the crowds of people. I was looking for one thing, I ran like a drunken sailor to the least public trash can I could find; where I immediately proceeded to clear my stomach of all it's contents. Nate stood behind me trying to look supportive but also hoping that no one he knew happened to walk by and see his bride vomiting in a stinking, nasty trash can. Once there wasn't anything left for me to throw up I slowly lifted my head up and stared right into the face of a 4 year old boy trying to enjoy his little boat ride as he sailed past me. Another child slowly floated by staring at me in her little purple boat. In my haste to avoid the crowds that were behind me I forgot to look for anyone in front of me. I take full responsibility for the questions and nightmares that those poor kids must have had and the fact that they'll never again eat pizza from Pizza Hut.

I now steer clear of rides that spin around in a continuous circle but lately I've noticed riding in the car, riding the train and sometimes even just looking out a window I sometimes feel nauseous and then start faintly to smell a Pizza Hut personal pan pizza with peperoni and olives.

Let me tell you about my tanning life

2009-06-25T16:34:00.000-06:00

So, I grew up in Washington State. Our state motto is "We don't tan, we rust." The celestial beauty of Western Washington comes at a cost of 120 inches of rain a year and our feet evolving into cute little webbed duck feet. Tanning isn't something we do where I come from. We're proud of the transparency of our skin. Just like in some cultures large women with good child bearing hips are considered desirable, in Washington the whiter your skin, the more fertile your are. I never laid out in a cute little swimsuit after lathering myself with suntan lotion, I was busy with the daily maintenance of making sure no moss grew on my north side.
You get the picture right? No tan, transparent skin, I'm ok with that. Then I moved to Utah where weird, tan girls walked around proudly sporting their sun kissed skin.

After a time I eventually decided to conform to society but was somewhat limited in my skin darkening choices:
-I couldn't lie out on my front lawn because I would probably get shot. Also since skin cancer is the only family heirloom that my family seems to pass down, I decided to veto that option.
-Fake and bake was another choice that I didn't want to mess, again, with skin cancer running amuck in my genetics.
-Spray tan, I had watched "Bride Wars" and there was no way I was going to risk looking like a construction cone. Or end up looking like Fabio (he has a much better body than I do, he can pull off orange). And I just didn't want to spend the money.
-wal-mart, I could just try my luck with with a $6.00 bottle of self tanning lotion.

Tan in 2008:
I went with wal-mart. My sister, Logan, and I decided to give it a try. Before I bought the lotion I researched a little bit to see what the most successful tanning lotions were. I read people's accounts, do's/do not's and prepared myself for making a decision that would last 7-14 days.

One of the biggest boo-boo's that people talked about was being careful not put too much lotion on their elbows, knees or heels. I noted that very carefully and also saw it on the warnings from the bottle of tanning lotion I eventually bought.
Logan was not so fortunate as to pay attention to the label. I found myself with a nice, comfortable sun-kissed look to my pasty man legs. Logan enjoyed two weeks of African-American knees and elbows. She was pretty mad, I laughed then she tackled me like it was my fault.

Tan in 2009:
My good friend, Vonda, called me on Friday evening and asked me if I wanted to do something wild and crazy. Now wild and crazy might have been fun about 10 years ago but I tend to get a little worried at the combination of the two words. They could range from getting a brazilian wax (done that) to sky jumping (will never do that, I'd rather sleep in a cage with rats than let my feet leave the ground. Why jump out of a perfectly good airplane?).
Vonda wanted to go get spray on tans because she was going out for her birthday and wanted sexy tan legs. I volunteered to go with but I wasn't really interested in spray on tans for myself. Eventually I gave in to peer pressure. Saturday morning found us at European Tan. We were greeted by two, tan blonds with big boobs. Awesome, as I self consciously crossed my arms over my flat, white chest.
Vonda chose that option of immediate color. I went for a clear spray that would develop over a few hours. Vonda went first, 15 minutes later she walked out looking like a little Mexican senorita. I didn't recognize her at first. "Do I look orange?" she asked. "No." I answered truthfully, she did not look orange she was just very very brown. We looked at each other and our eyes widened as one of the blonds said "Don't worry, you won't stay this color it will darken by tomorrow." Vonda searched for a chair so she wouldn't pass out. "Your turn." the blond said to me. I slowly followed her down the hall. I felt like I was walking the green mile on my way to be electrocuted. "Am I going to be that dark?" I asked. "Yeah, that will be the color you'll turn out." she said. "I don't want to be that color, I just want to be able to wear a skirt and not blind people with my legs."
"Don't worry, you'll look great." she said. I didn't believe her.
I walked into the little room that was to transform me and found myself staring at a machine that looked like a teleporter from Star Trek (I momentarily warmed up to the idea. Beam me up Scotty). The blond gave me a long list of instructions followed by a quick demonstration on the four positions to stand in when you get sprayed:
Position 1- Face the nosel with arms in L shaped turned downward
Position 2- Turn to the right and pose like an Egyptian
Position 3- Turn to the left and pose like and Egyptian
Position 4- Back to the noel with arms in L shape turned downward

Easy enough? No, it's not. I stripped down nakey trying to come up with a good excuse to run out of the room but as I turned I caught sight of my white, nakey rear-end reflecting in the circus mirror that are strategically placed to make bums look 3 x's bigger than they really are. Heavens help us all. That was all it took for me to jump in the the tanning teleporter, if a tan couldn't help my bum nothing would. I pushed the flashing green button.
"Assume position 1." The tanning teleporter directed. Ok, position 1. A cold spray hit me as I clenched my eyes close and tried not to scream.
"Position 2." the voice told me. "Walk like an Egyptian" flashed through my brain.
"Position 3." This was old hat, I had it down no problems.
"Postion 4." My little cheekies clenched involuntarily as the cold spray followed by a squirt of cold air swept over my body.
Was I done? I prepared to jump out when the tanning teleporter said "Assume position 1." Ok, maybe I'm getting another spray. I swiftly posed in position 1, cold spray. "Position 2..." I turned to the right and did my best Egyptian pose "...with your back to the spray." Before I could react I was sprayed my eyes wide and my mouth open.
I quickly went to position 3, praying that I'd get another spray. No, it was not meant to be. I had been sprayed a second time on just the left side of my body. Panic filled my being as I jumped out of the cursed tanning teleporter and desperately tried to wipe the left side of my body off.
I quickly put my clothes on before I was dry which resulted in me walking straight/spraddle legged out of the salon.

And so Vonda left the salon as a senorita and I left waddling with my left side tanned darker than my right. We had accomplished our wild and crazy adventure.

*I later learned that the second spray that I was subjected to was only a moisturizer. I ended up with a lovely tan that slowly faded over the course of the week leaving me with a single stripe down my front.

PS: It did make my bum look smaller. Now what do I do to make my chest look bigger?

Filling the Void

2009-06-19T15:03:00.011-06:00

As my obsession with Star Trek slowly dwindled away and eventually diminished at about 14 years of age, I found myself feeling empty and lost. The walls of my room were bare due to the disposal of all my Star Trek memorabilia. I walked the world without any real direction, in a haze, a shell of the talented, budding Ensign that was as one time to be my chosen profession.
Other interests amused me from time to time: Alex Rodriguez, Michael Russell, Whoppers, Ninja Turtles. But none could truly fill the void.

One day many years later, in fact I was 20, my dad drug me (literally drug me kicking and screaming which is not very becoming of a 20 year old) to the world wide anticipated "Lord of the Rings: The Fellowship of the Ring." I didn't want to go, I didn't care. I had never read the books, I didn't know what the story was about and I just DID NOT WANT TO GO!!!!

Moments after the movie started my eyes stared mesmerized at the screen as slowly the empty void in my poor little broken soul filled with the broth of Middle Earth healing. Oh my, so many strong good looking men and what a story. I don't think I took one breathe during the whole movie.

By the end of the first epic adventure, my love for Worf had been replaced by the tall willowy Legolas (things never would have worked out between Worf and I anyway. We're both too proud plus I didn't want kids with wrinkled foreheads) with his flowing hair and little tights. Good-bye Worf

From that moment on my world was full of color. I frolicked happily from day to day with Legolas on my mind and at night with him in my dreams.

*Note: The next part of this story is embarrassing and should not be mentioned outside of the blogging world. What happens on the blog stays on the blog.

My obsession with Lord of the Rings reached a point that I imagined myself in the story, I became one of the Fellowship. What type of creature was I? I was hoping you wouldn't ask. I imagined myself...I can't believe I'm admitting to this...I imagined myself as a sort of Amazon woman with the ability to morph in to a horse. I was a mixture of Indiana Jones/Tarzan/Sara Croft and I was amazing.
I was right next to Aragorn and Gimley as we defended the Hobbits from the Oraki. I cried when Boramir was killed. Legolas and I had a secret wedding while we were in Rivendale. Frodo had a little crush on me which caused much contention between him and Legolas, my husband.

What differed from this more "mature" obsession and my childhood Star Trek obsession was that I lived and breathed Star Trek publicly. If I had a Star Trek uniform I probably would have worn it to school every day, my mom would have had to wait until I fell asleep at night to peel it off me so she could wash it.
My "thing" with LotR was that I didn't let many people know that I couldn't think of anything else except saving Middle Earth from the destruction of Salron. People didn't know that when they were talking to me and I was responding, I really saw Legolas' face. I was really smiling at him and staring lovingly into his eyes. In retrospect this may have sent the wrong message to many of the single guys I spoke to. Sorry guys.

My part in LotR was short lived. I guess I should have heroically killed myself off in the first movie. I ended up serving a mission before the other two movies came out. My mission probably saved my life from being wasted as a Ringer. I would have ended up moving back in with my parents, living in the basement watching the LotR trilogy on a daily basis, eating only Elven bread, and learning the language of Mordor. My mom would have to sneak into my room at night after I fell asleep so she could wash the Hobbit costume that I wore everyday.
The 18 months I spent melting in AZ cured my lust for Legolas and the works of J.R.R. Tolken.

I still really enjoy watching that great trilogy which is Lord of the Ring. I've read the books and for a time hated the movies because they left so much out.
My eyes and mind have matured to a new level and I've outgrown my love of Legolas. I will warn you that I still am a little touchy about you calling Legolas a fairy, he's an Elf. Elves are suppose to be dainty and feminine. He is NOT gay despite the numerous reports for jealous fools. (Haley catches her breathe) Let's not quarrel.
Let's just all enjoy the wonderful works of J.R.R. Tolken

The True Fellowship of the Rings

Mandles Candles for Men, Manly Men

2009-06-19T12:05:00.001-06:00

Need a last minute gift for Dad? It doesn't get much better than this.
Happy Father's Day!!!

I made a promise...which I meant to keep until I saw the following:

2009-06-17T10:28:00.007-06:00

I just want to go on record that my word is my bond (unless I promise to call you, that's a whole other story). If I tell someone that I'll do something I will do everything in my power to make it happen.
Something has recently transpired to make me break my word to that one special guy in my life.
I made a promise to Nate that I wouldn't put any pictures of him up on my blog. He's a little camera shy so I would like to respect his wishes.
Unfortunately, this little guy happened

Oh my goodness, I just could not get enough of this happy little boy. I just wanted to grab him and run away.
Here's one of my kidnapping attempts

Back to my broken promise, which might result in complete destruction of my marriage. As we all know a good marriage is built on a strong foundation of trust.

Nate would not hold that baby at first, he was afraid Harvey would start crying. Then out of the blue he finally gave into his fear and offered to hold his little nephew. The result of which is a picture that my sister caught while Nate was paying attention to the sleeping baby in his arms.

Every time I look at this picture my uterus does a little dance of joy.

I've become a 5 year old

2009-06-15T08:15:00.003-06:00

The Set:
Nate and Haley are laying on their bed talking. They discuss the days events which include Nate giving Haley his back pain pills because she had such a horrible headache. The result was Haley sleeping for 7 hours and laughing like a maniac the few minutes she was awake.

Haley- Do you know that I have allergies to medication?

Nate- You have allergies to medication?

Haley- Yes, you don't know what they are do you?

Nate- You don't have any allergies to medication.

Haley- Yes I do, call my mom and ask....

At this point Haley realizes what slipped out of her mouth and hopes Nate wasn't paying attention. He was.

So, please note the following:

-If you don't believe me you can call my mom
-My dad can beat up your dad
-My dress is prettier than your dress
-I have the mentality of a 5 year old

Learn from me my blogging BFF's, don't be vain and prideful

2009-06-05T15:08:00.014-06:00

I just renewed my 2 year contract with Verizon. When that happens, I get a new phone (FOR FREEEEEEE, I love getting things for free).
See this pretty little thing?

This was my new phone the Samsung Glyde. Doesn't the name Glyde just sound sophisticated and trendy.
With it's keyboard that slides out and it's pretty little touch screen. The dark blue sleekness of it just pulled me in to it's cool little world. It made me feel special, I couldn't wait to whip it out and send a quick text so my friends could be impressed.

After 1 month with my new phone I was ready to break up with it. It's not all about looks my blogging BFF's. If I can quote the great Jimmy Soul

"If you wanna be happy for the rest of your life
Never make a pretty women your wife
Go for my personal point of view
Get an ugly girl to marry you"

That is the advice I give to you all. It's not all about a pretty face and a slamming keyboard. DO NOT GET THIS PHONE! DO NOT GET THIS PHONE! WARNING! WARNING!

I don't think I've ever sworn at an inanimate object as much as I did at this phone (just kidding...or am I). The worst part was when the alarm would go off at 6:00 am at which time I would lean over to hit snooze but the phone had frozen so it wouldn't turn off. Do you know how happy a sleeping husband is when his wife's current love won't shut it's mouth.
Not good for Haley.

That's just the beginning of my day with this horrible little devil from hell. I just want to drop it in the toilet and watch it swirl away from me. Of course then I wouldn't have a phone so I have to come to my senses and pull it back over the edge. Darn technology. Five years ago I could have survived without a cell phone but now (pause as I check my phone real quick to see if I missed a call) it's like a drug. A beautiful, stupid, useless drugphone.

Finally I had enough. I couldn't take the fighting, the name calling, the obstinate way the screen mocked me. I put on my big, tough girl pants and marched into Verizon and told them if they didn't exchange my phone I would cancel my plan and find someone who would take care of me the way that I deserved. My bluff worked, they bought it. I didn't even have to cry or show a little fake cleavage. I AM THE MASTER OF MY UNIVERSE!!! I was pretty excited.

They exchanged my model for a sweet, caring EnV. Whom I love and will love forever (or at least until I can upgrade in two years).

My friends, I'm happy to introduce you to my EnV, actually my EnV doesn't look exactly like this and it's black...but the material point is it's not a Glyde. It makes me happy and it doesn't make me cry and swear like the Glyde does.
I'm going to propose this weekend, hope Nate doesn't mind.
Now...where do I trade Nate in for a newer model?

I'm just kidding!!!!

Marseilles Dress SHABBY APPLE GUEST GIVEAWAY!!!!

2009-06-05T08:46:00.000-06:00

Marseilles Dress SHABBY APPLE GUEST GIVEAWAY!!!!

A precious moment in the life of Cowboy Boots and Basketball Shoes

2009-06-03T11:05:00.004-06:00

Cowboy Boots and Tennis Shoes are residing peacefully in their bedroom. CB is reading her favorite book "To Kill a Mockingbird" and TS is sitting at his desk looking at his stacks of books trying to decide what to read.
The following dialogue preceded:

TS looks up: You know, you would be really pretty if you lived in the 1800's.

CB: Excuse me?

TS: You're face would be considered really pretty back in the 1800's.

CB did not reply but a few thoughts were running through her mind. First, am I not pretty now? Second, how would you know if I would be considered pretty in the 1800's? Third, what the heck is wrong with you?

It's precious moments like that that I savor: The brutal honest of marriage.

Tarantula, it will cure what ails ya!

2009-05-28T09:10:00.010-06:00

The other night I had a dream that someone threw a tarantula on me. I woke in a cold sweat, even now, as I write this I get the shivers thinking about a big hairy spider being thrown on me.

It took me back ten years to when I was 17 and working at Eagle Hardware. I worked in the gardening department which was awesome. As I worked there I learned that one of the cute Vietnamese twins, Jake, had a crush on me. Score!!! A boy liked me, how was I to proceed? Should I go flirt with him so he knew that he had a chance with me (conceded, I know)? Should I completely ignore him so that he would want me more? I was new to this game called Love so I didn't really know the rules or how to play.
I did end up flirting with him, at least I think it was him. He and his twin were identical and if I can be completely honest with you, I couldn't tell them apart. It was a time like this that I really appreciated the "mandatory" name tags that the store had.
When Jake finally drew upon his courage to ask me out, I said yes but told him that we should go on a double date. My best bud JD could appreciate a good looking Asian man as well I did so I figured nothing would be better than her coming with and Jake could bring his brother (I don't remember his name). We ended up spending an awkward few hours going to a movie. JD and The Twin didn't hit it off like I had hoped. Jake and I were really really uncomfortable and only really said "Hi" and then "See ya" after the movie was over. I don't think we even sat next to each other at the movie, I do believe we sat in the same row at least which was good.
Most of the time we spent talking was at work while we were stocking shelves. Our conversations were deep and meaningful, we talked about me. I give credit to Jake for his instinct to flatter my vanity.
At one point our conversation turned to dislikes. I will tell all of my blogging BFF's the same thing I told Jake: I'm not afraid of spiders, I just don't like them.
I told Jake that one day I would like to face my fear...I mean, dislike, and buy a tarantula to help me overcome my "dislike" towards spiders.
A week later I was working in the fertilizer aisle when Jake excitedly walked up to me and asked me to come with him to his car. Cool, I thought, maybe he'll give me some flowers and chocolate and I'll get my first kiss. We walked to his car where he ceremoniously pulled out a box covered with a cloth. How exciting, I began to prepare a gracious speech on how much I loved chocolates and how he shouldn't have. My speech would end and there would be a sweet, romantic kiss followed by fireworks.
He pulled of the cloth and I found myself face to fang with a Chilean Rose Tarantula. It was trying to crawl up the plastic wall that was it's home. I strategically grabbed Jake's muscular arm as I "pretended" to get dizzy with fear...I mean, dislike. The only thing that kept me from hitting the ground was that Jake would try to save me which would mean he would drop the thin little plastic box holding my new pet. There was no way I was going to pass out and wake up to a shattered plastic tank and huge hairy spider sitting on my face, staring down at me. I looked a Jake thinking that he was crazy and forced a big smile. "Oh, a tarantula" I said "you really know what to get a girl to make her feel special." At the time it didn't know how lucky I was to have a guy really listen to what I want, the problem was I didn't really want a tarantula. Jake held out the tank for me to take. The spider was again trying to crawl up the wall, planning it's escape. Taking a deep breathe I grabbed the handle of the tank, patted Jake his muscular arm and began my shaky walk back to work.
Things never ended up happening with Jake. It was my fault, my fear of commitment and perhaps my fear...dislike of spiders. Don't beat yourself up about it Jake, it was me not you.Incidentally, I named my spider Mikey (I should have called it Jake) and though I finally reached a point that I could pick it up and hold it, I never really got to a place where my hand would stop shaking as it's hairy legs walked up my arm.

Monday I was laying on the floor when out of the corner of my eye I saw movement on my blanket, a spider. In less than 2 seconds I had thrown off the blanket, leaped on the couch and tore my shirt off in one fluid motion. Nate didn't even know what happened, all he knew was that one second I was sitting next to him and the next second he looked up and his wife was standing on the arm of the couch with no shirt on. Then I made him kill the spider.

Have I gotten over my fear...dislike of spiders? Nope, I've just learned to move faster than they can.

De-Evolve

2009-05-26T10:11:00.008-06:00

Is it possible for a person to de-evolve? Before you answer this very important question let me explain why I ask it.
This is my brother, Captain.

You'll remember my Grand Canyon experience, yes, that Captain. He looks nice enough, in fact one might think that he looks very handsome in his Army uniform. I must warn you though, that uniform is just a cover-up for what he really is.
Since last time I met Captain he has become a father to Harvey. Say hello to Harvey my blogging BFF's.

How stinkin' cute is he? I almost stole him a couple of times. Unfortunately for me Leslie, his momma, knew what I had planned and wouldn't leave me alone with him.
He even stole Nate's cold, dead heart.

I digress, so, back to Captain. This last weekend my dad, Captain, Leslie and Harvey drove through on there way home to Illinois. We had some good laughs, family pictures and I tried unsuccessfully to steal Harvey. That was about the extent of their stay. Except for one thing.
See anything weird about this picture?

This would be my siblings. Left to right: Logan, Marshall, Captain, Haley

It's nice right? The first time in 7 years we've all been together.
Look, we all have matching belly's! Looks like we're all preggo, except none of us are.

Let me share another precious moment:

This picture was taken about one-millisecond after my dear sweet brother licked the side of my face. I'm not talking a little slobber, the whole side of my face could have been used to water the lawn.

And that is why I ask if a person can de-evolve. He went from a soldier in the US Army, husband and father to whoever the heck this is, Slimmer or something like that:

AND IT WASN'T THE ONLY TIME HE SLIMMED ME!! What the heck is wrong with that kid?

My apologies

2009-05-19T15:43:00.003-06:00

Apparently there are more NASCAR fans among my blogging BFF's than I originally though, judging by the lack of comments. My apologies for those who I've offended. As a token of my apology I'd like to tell you that about two months ago, Nate and I were going to move into a trailer...in a trailer park. Nate was growing his hair out to prepare for the narley mullet he'd one day have and I was stocking up on tube-tops.

It began when my Great uncle Reg and his wife decided to get a divorce. I'm not going to go into too much detail about uncle Reg, I'm still pretty angry at him for taking away forever my dream of living in a trailer park.
Uncle Reg bought a trailer for himself to live in. I guess he got a killer deal, I don't care. After buying the trailer he and his wife reconciled so he prepared to move back in with her but there was one problem, he had a trailer. So he decided to rent it out but he wanted to rent it to someone who he could trust. Enter Nate and I. I guess word got around to uncle Reg that we were dying to move from our comfortable apartment, perfectly situated for school and work, with great landlords to squeeze into a trailer, excuse me, a mobile home.
After quite a bit of pressure from my family (I hate family-pressure) we decided that maybe it would be a good move to save a little money. We would do a favor for my uncle and save like crazy.
I called to say that we would take the trailer. My mind shifted into "moving" gear. I hate moving, I hate moving into "mobile" homes too. I hung up the phone and walked over to our landlords to give them our 30 day notice. As I trudged home I wondered what the heck was wrong with me, I had just agreed to move into a trailer...and I was starting to get excited about it. I walked into my house as my phone rang. I answered it. It was my grandma telling me that Uncle Reg just found out that he couldn't rent the trailer to anyone (even though the couple in the trailer previous were renting) and that he had to live in it himself. In that same breath he had asked my grandparents to drive 6 hours to move him and his wife to the trailer.
There are no words to describe the anger, rage, hate or absolute disdain I felt for my uncle at that moment. I then went back over to my landlords to beg to keep our apartment.
By the way, the morning that my grandparents were suppose to go help good ol' uncle Reg move, he called and said he decided not to move into the trailer.
I think that some one's full of it and he's on my permanent doo-doo list.

And so, that's how Nate and I narrowly missed our dreams. I was so excited, there was a place for a little garden and I had already planned to stand half a bath tub up in the yard with the virgin Mary inside, just like the people in upstate NY do. I think that's just lovely.

Please understand...

2009-05-18T10:00:00.005-06:00

I'd like to take a moment to complain. Now, I don't usually like to use my blog or my blogging BFF's as a way to release anger and frustration. That's what Nate's for, I just beat him when I need to get all my bad feelings out. But no matter how hard I beat Nate, this time the anger wouldn't go away.

It started roughly about 2 months ago. Nate and I excitedly sat down for our usual Saturday 7:00 pm program. It's kind of a tradition for us, we each have a little treat. Cuddle closer together, laugh and cry as we are pulled into the life of the people we see on the program. It's our little date night because we're too broke to go out on a real date, very romantic.
Anyway, about 2 months ago "NASCAR season" started. I can understand basketball, football and baseball season but NASCAR? Give me a break, there is nothing, absolutely nothing more trailer/white-trash than NASCAR. I hope I don't offend any of my blogging BFF NASCAR fans, but it is what it is. Most NASCAR fans are self proclaimed white-trash, they're proud to live in trailers, wearing wifebeaters and tubetops sharing daisy-duke cut off jeans. Gentlemen strutting around like peacocks proudly trying to out swagger fellow Mullet-teers. I know, I lived in AZ and spent some time with them. I recieved many tempting marriage proposals but for some reason just couldn't commit.
Focus, focus, Judd, you're not mad at the trailer-trash, they didn't put NASCAR on channel 13 on Saturday's at 7:00pm.
Channel 13, I will find you and when I do...you will pay.

What? What's that my blogging BFFs? Oh, you want to know what the show is that NASCAR so rudely interupted?

The ever classy COPS.
I wish I could wear those shorts, I'm so jealous. I would kill for those thighs.

I broke my bum once...

2009-05-15T08:57:00.005-06:00

I broke my bum once, sometimes when storms a' comin' I get a peculiar tingle in my cheekies.
I was a junior in high school, summer was coming to an end so some of my friends and I decided to go to one of the local lakes for swimming and cliff jumping. Already three problems with that- 1. It's western Washington, the sun was shining but it was still about 70 degrees with a breeze and a probable chance of rain. The water was probably >50 degrees so we were going to have to swim pretty hard to ward off hypothermia. 2. I'm terrified of heights so the highest that I was planning to jump off was from the car to the ground. 3. I'm very prideful, very prideful and not in a good way.
The water ended up being too cold for a leisurely swim so my friends began jumping off the rocks then floundering around in the freezing water until they flopped up on shore shivering, it wasn't pretty. I watched for awhile but then decided I was only young once. Then I did it, I jumped off. "I'm a maniac, no one can stop me. What a thrill, I can't believe I let my fear of heights hold me back for so long, I was missing so much." I thought to myself as I jumped again off the two foot high rock into one foot of water. Victory!!!
Slowly I found myself jumping off higher rocks, by the time I was gracefully leaping off 6 foot rocks my friends were at the top of the highest cliff they could jump off of. I stood in the water, my eyes widened and I quietly peed myself as the 30 ft cliff loomed over my head. Soon my "friends" started yelling at me to just "climb" the cliff, I didn't need to jump. I gave in to peer pressure and found myself crouched down in a fetal position wondering how the h%ll I was going to get back down to the ground that I love so dearly.
One by one my "friends" tried to jump but no one had the nerve. They would back up for a running start but right before the edge of the cliff they'd veer off course for some reason
"I twisted my ankle, ouch, that's why I couldn't jump"
"I thought I saw a small child swimming where I would land, I didn't want to squish him."

After about 25 minutes of the cowards not jumping we were joined by a rugged, well built, brave group of college boys. I tried to unroll from my fetal position to a sexy pose but my body wouldn't listen to my crazy hormones. I did manage to flip to my other side, like a limp fish, so I could study the beauty standing before me.
The rugged, brave college boys were getting each other revved up about jumping. It was cute, I think they were even slapping each other on the tushy to get themselves psyched up. One by one they backed up and started sprinting to the edge of the cliff.
"I twisted my ankle, ouch, that's why I couldn't jump"
"I thought I saw a small child swimming where I would land, I didn't want to squish him."
"I think there's a shark in the water..."

Then something snapped in the brain of my friend, Trisha, she took a deep breathe and before anyone could blink she took a flying leap off the cliff. Her screams echo in my brain to this day. Then one of the rugged college boys said "Man, she's brave. That's hot." My pride trigger had been activated. I couldn't let Trish be the only brave, hotty. Like a bullet I shot up from my comfortable fetal position and without even looking over the cliff I ran as fast as my short little legs would go. I lifted off the edge of the cliff and for one millisecond I was an eagle, the wind whipping through my hair. I could fly. My ill planned intention, which was to keep my body straight and land feet first in the water, disappeared when I stopped flying and started falling. My high pitched girly scream turned into a deep throated yell of a black man as I balled myself up into my trusty fetal position. That's right my blogging BFF's, when I am truly scared I don't scream like a girl, my voice turns really deep and I'm often mistaken for a man. I'm not talking adolescent male on the verge of puberty who's voice cracks. I'm talking Louie Armstrong "What a Wonderful World" vocal range.

So there I was falling from a 30 foot cliff, cursing those rugged college boys and my d@mned pride. As with the law of gravity, the heaviest part of my body hit the water first, my bummy-bum bum. It was like hitting a cement sidewalk. As I sunk into the cold waters, I was thankful that it was so cold. It numbed everything so for a few blissful seconds I felt peace. Then I tasted a spandex/cotton/rayon blend in my mouth. What the heck? I felt my body, searching for my one piece swimsuit, it was like it had magically disappeared. I finally found it lodged so far up my _____ that I wasn't sure my first aid training had taught me the correct way to removed objects from that particular region.

I surfaced like a crocodile, just my head poked out of the water as I assessed my situation. The rugged, cowardly college boys were looking over the cliff (none of them ever did end up jumping and I never even got a kiss for my bravery). I needed to somehow get to a place where I could stretch out and hope my swimsuit would bounce back to it's normal position, that or find a crane with a hook that could dislodge the unwanted spandex blend.
With much difficulty I was able to get my clothing back into it's proper place, I laid on my side in the car until my "friends" were ready to go. I couldn't sit on my bum because the combination of hitting the water so hard and the world's deepest wedgie had done some serious damage to my tailbone.
Months later I still had a slight limp, years later I still couldn't sit on a hard chair for more than a few minutes at a time. And even now, sometimes late at night I can still taste spandex/cotton/rayon as I dream and uncomfortably clench my cheekies together.
This guy has the right idea, nakey cliff jumping would have made a lot of my problems disappear...

Why can't Mormons send flowers?

2009-05-11T15:36:00.001-06:00

The age old question. Those crazy Mormons!!!

Sorry, I'm the worst daughter in the world

2009-05-11T12:06:00.004-06:00

Not only did I get Mother's Day cards and gifts sent off too late for them to arrive in time for Mother's Day, I also didn't post a blog about how grateful I am for all the mother's out there who taught me a little bit here and there to make me the wonderful/humble woman that I am today.

If I may continue my usual tarty pattern I would like to say "Happy Mother's Day" to all you out there who have taken someone under your wing, showed a little kindness to someone that may not have deserved it, put others before yourself, smiled when you wanted to cry and gave a hug instead of a lecture. Because that's what being a mom is, whether you have your own kids or not, we women have that need to help.

Thanks to my mom, Betty Jo, for her strength and support even when I did stupid things. No one's perfect and she's the first to admit that she's not but I think that's ok. I wouldn't want a perfect mom, then I'd have to be perfect and that's not on my list of things to do.
I appreciate your dedication and admire that when you decide to do something, you do it, and you do it well.
Love you and thanks!!

Also thanks to my mother-in-law, Cindy, who raised my husband. Cindy is so patient and loving to everyone and everything. She's great with her grand babies and spoils everyone.
I'm so glad I get to be a part of your family.
Love you!

I hope all you women out there had a great Mother's Day!!!

Remember when...

2009-05-07T15:53:00.006-06:00

Remember when you were a puppy and it didn't matter if you let your stomach hang out?

Remember when you were a toddler and how everyone said how cute your little pooch was?

Remember when you were eating oreos and watching "The Biggest Loser," laughing at their pain?

Remember how you were going to do the 30 Day Shred so you could have abs like Jillian?

Remember waking up this morning, looking in the mirror and doing your own rendition of the "truffle shuffle?"

You don't....?

(awkward pause)

Oh, yeah, neither do I...um...

Dear George,

2009-05-06T09:10:00.008-06:00

Dear George,

I would like to write a letter to you to tell you Happy Birthday and now that you're 48 maybe you should realize that you're not the hottie you were 10 years ago. I would like to say that maybe you need to rethink this whole eternal bachelor thing and find some desperate girl to marry you because you're at an age that no one will want you. But all of those would be a lies, horrible, terrible lies. Like a fine wine you only get better with age.

In regards to your last letter to me, I'm flattered by your attentions but I think we both know that I would never leave Nate. Besides you know that I could never be with a man who's fabulous rear-end has been on the big screen for all women and gay men to enjoy. Or was that a stand-in bum? Either way, you missed your chance with me as I've told you numerous times before.
And yes, Nate is a lucky guy. I tell him that daily so he won't forget.

Please stop writing and calling, I am perfectly happy living in the ghetto, two blocks from the homeless shelter, across the street from one of the most profitable hooker corners in SLC, next door to a drug dealer and a 1/2 mile away from Weinerschnetzel. Life is too good right now to mess it up with the glamor of Hollywood.

I know you'll understand why I can't come to your birthday celebration. Please enjoy and let me wish you many happy returns.

Your ex-lover,

Haley

I'm in Love

2009-05-04T14:01:00.026-06:00

Here's the deal, I am hopelessly and completely lost when it comes to the 1940's. I just love that time period. I know war isn't romantic even though this picture makes every red blooded woman want a sailor of her own:

Back to the subject at hand, I absolutely love, love, love, love, love the styles of the 1940's. I think they are so sexy/elegant/beautiful/romantic. I've found a site that has some really wonderful reproductions of the 1940's called Daddy O's. I know the dresses aren't exact but they sure are cute and as soon as Jillian helps me get rid of my muffin-top waist (because these dresses don't suffer fools and their love handles) , I'm going to buy one. I haven't told Nate yet, I don't know if I will...maybe if he's nice.
Anyway, I want to post my favorite dresses and perhaps my blogging BFF's would be kind enough to tell me which dress they think is the cutest because, heaven help me, I can't. I want 'em all.

Ready? I'm so excited!!! When you leave a comment tell me which one you like best. Now I know I won't necessarily have a reason to wear one of these dresses, but that's not the point. The point is I have to have one...or 5...

1. How cute is this little sailor dress? If this was the uniform, I would so sign on for the Navy.

2. I love the cut and style, it's one of my favorites.

3. Pink, not really a pink girl but I love it!

4. I don't usually wear red but I'm will to take a chance with this sexy little thing.

5. Another simple but elegant dress. I wonder if the bosoms are included in the purchase.

6. Another pink but this dress makes me so happy. This is another one on the top of my list.

7. I might need her legs to pull this dress off but I love how sweet/sexy it is.

8. Another red hottie, I want this dress.

9. I think this is so cute but I don't know when I'd wear it.

10. Love this dress, I need a cute little black dress since I don't have one.

11. Another one that I don't know when I'd wear it but it's still cute.

Ok, did I use the word "cute" enough. Gross, I'm turning more and more into a prissy girl each day.
Seriously though, aren't they great? Don't you want one too? Well, as soon as Jillian helps you with those love handles, you buy one right along with me.
Shred Pack Unite!!!

Since Hil brought it up...

2009-04-29T15:27:00.005-06:00

If you read Hil's comment in my last post and I quote: "I remember the first time I stayed at Haley and Nate's place. They were the most caring hosts ever. Then I was warned not to use the "nakey blankey." That was the funniest thing I'd ever heard and loved Haley forever for being unembarrassed that they had a nakey blankey and that her new sis-in-law and bro-i-l knew about it. So awesome." End of quote

Yes, I have a nakey-blankey and I'm not sorry. My folks gave me the blanket when I left on my mission (not that you really need a blanket in Phoenix). After which the blanket followed me through my single years as a reminder of good times and fond memories. After Nate and I were married we both gave each other the blankey space we needed. I wasn't to touch his baby blanket (yep, he still has one...don't tell him I told you) and he wasn't allowed borrow my nakey-blankey no matter how much he begged.

There's something comforting about having a cheap, scratchy Mexican horse blanket to wrap around my naked porcelain tushy before I put on my undies. I think it's even more comforting for my guests to know that the blanket they've snuggled under wasn't, just hours early, being used as a over-the-shoulder toga/loincloth (I was playing a game I like to call Greek Goddess).

I hope none of my understanding blogging BFF's are judging me. Would you rather I used any and every blanket I own whenever I wanted to. Just think it would be like playing Russian Roulette when you stayed at my house. Or on the other hand, it could be like a Elvis throwing his stanky sock into an adoring crowd. Maybe all of my guests would dive, tackle, kick, bite, pull hair and give wedges to be able to touch the infamous Haley Nakey-Blankey. Piece by piece it would be ripped apart so everyone could take a little bit of the nakey-blankey home with them.
Over the years the nakey-blankey would slowly be ripped down to a 4 x 4 inch square. That wouldn't discourage me though, I would carefully spread it out and settle my booty right in the center.

As a closing thought, I would highly recommend that every household has at least one nakey-blankey and if you can afford it, one nakey-blankey per person. I guess you could have one huge family nakey-blankey but that's just a little weird, you think?
There will be less fighting and more family bonding with a nakey-blankey to help keep the peace in your house. If you don't believe me, try it yourself. Please use a little common courteousy and warn your guests about the Nakey-Blankey, after all that's just the good Christian thing to do.

The Legend of Full-o-Bull

2009-04-27T14:32:00.006-06:00

A couple of weeks ago two of my siblings spent the night. We'll call them Wake at your own Risk and Full-o-Bull just so I don't embarrass anyone. Wake at your own Risk likes to sleep in so she snuggled down in a buffalo robe preparing for a nice Saturday sleep-in-day. Full-0-Bull likes to wake up at the bum crack of dawn, it's old hat to him now since he likes to go hunting early in the mornings.

Nate, who we'll call Ornery Buzzard, was on lookout for enemy scouts so he was gone that night but arrived at 7:30ish exhausted and ready to sleep for a few hours. As for me, you can call me Saucy Tang, I like to sleep in but I had a bunch of errands (gathering berries, getting the oil changed in the horse, making Ornery Buzzard a new loincloth) that needed to be done so I was planning to wake up about 8:00 or so.

I'm just setting up the story, remember a few key points:

-Ornery Buzzard had worked all night and was ready to fall asleep as soon as his head hit the tepee floor

-Full-o-Bull had been awake since 6:00 am

-Wake at your own Risk slept through the whole thing

-I went into the living room at about 8:15 or so to see if my siblings needed anything, you know, play a good hostess

The following conversation then commenced:

Full-o-Bull- You're water pressure sure isn't very good.

Saucy Tang- Oh, you took a shower already?

F-o-B- Yeah, I've been awake since 6 am.

ST- Did I have clean towels in the bathroom?

(short pause)

F-o-B- No, I just used one of the towels hanging up in there.

(long pause)

ST- Really? (Thinking to myself, "gross I haven't washed any of those towels in at least a week")

ST- Why didn't you come wake me up? I would given you a clean towel.

F-o-B- I didn't want to go in your bedroom, I didn't know what you and Ornery Buzzard might be doing.

ST- Sure that makes sense, he just barely staggered to bed but first let's fool around a little bit while my siblings are in the other room. I've got a little more class than that.

F-o-B- Well I didn't know.

ST- Out of curiosity, what towel did you you?

F-o-B- The brownish/tan one.

(Saucy Tang wrinkles her nose at the thought)

End of Conversation

The tan towel belongs to Ornery Buzzard. Ornery Buzzard is very clean and showers at least once and occasionally twice a day. Once Ornery Buzzard has cleaned every inch on his body he reaches for his towel and promptly dries every crevice on his body. If you need a visual please imagine his towel as a piece of floss and his tushy needing to be flossed. Nate likes to make sure everything is dry to the fullest extent. (End of visual). Ornery Buzzard had just happened to have taken two showers the day before so there was a week and 1 days worth of unwashed, flossing towel hanging on the bathroom rack.

I can just imaging Full-o-Bull turning off the shower, opening the curtain and reaching for the first towel he laid his eyes on. He reached out and snagged it off the rack and vigorously began to dry his face off. Perhaps he enjoyed the sent of the fabric softener I use, he makes a mental note to ask me where he can get a bottle of such good smelling stuff.
I would have told him it was called "Tushy Sweet with scent Guard."

Full-o-Bull, you nasty brother, you nasty!

I Hate wal-mart*

2009-04-24T10:50:00.004-06:00

Do you ever find yourself at wal-mart, standing in one of the three open lines and wondering if saving $.50 on bum spray and hair dye is worth the wait?
I hate wal-mart, every aspect of it and yet to save two quarters I drive around trying to find a close parking spot so I don't get hit up for money by a lady who has a newly purchased pack of cigarettes in her hand. Then I walk through the doors and try to smile at the poor old guy working as a greeter because his retirement isn't enough to pay for his small expenses. After which I have to walk down the isles dodging parked shopping carts because most people don't have enough common courtesy to pull their cart out of the way. Then I have to go to the bathroom but there's no way in h*ll that I'm going to use a wal-mart bathroom so I spend the rest of my time waddling down the feminine products isle as fast as I can.
AND to top it all off I try to find which of the three checkout stands has the shortest line, none of them do so I take a gamble and go to the "20 items or less" line. I lose my gamble as I stand behind either a group of Mexicans who have two cart loads of junk thinking that the sign says "20 carts or less" or an old lady who takes 10 minutes to write a check and then has to wait at the check stand to make sure she wasn't charged twice for her package of prunes.
Ok, I exaggerate but you all know exactly what I'm talking about.
Do you ever find yourself counting the number of items of the cart in front of you? Like you're going to do something like tattle to the ever friendly wal-mart manager that the person ahead of you as 23 items.
The absolutely worst part about wal-mart, you go there to save money on your bum spray and hair dye but you still end up paying around $100.0 for all the little things that you find there. You might not really need them but you see them and they cost $1.99 and then next thing you know you need a shopping cart (which the wheels don't work) because the little basket doesn't hold all the cosmetics it takes to make you beautiful and keep your bummy-bum smelling fresh.
Did I just about capture everything? Of course as you drag your germ infested shopping cart around the parking lot trying to find your car you have to dodge drivers who are busy trying to find the closest parking spot to the door. It's just a vicious cycle.
I hate wal-mart. "Why does she shop there then?" You're asking yourself. I know what you're thinking.
BECAUSE I'M BROKE and broke people shop at wal-mart. Leave me alone.

*You'll notice I didn't capitalize wal-mart, that's because I hate them and I'll do anything I can to get back at them.

Shred Pack

2009-04-21T09:17:00.008-06:00

Sunday night I made the fatal mistake of watching the Miss USA Pageant. Inspiring? No. Enlightening? Hardly. Exciting? Not in the least. Depressing? Yes.
I don't know why I watched it. There's not one uplifting (well, their bosoms were uplifting...bad joke) thing about watching 50 perfectly plastic surgery molded women strut around in little bikinis and spout off their opinions about politics.

That's not what I want to focus on in this post. But first, before we get down to business, I want to give props to Miss California, Carrie Prejean. She was asked what she thought about same-sex marriages and her answer might or might not have cost her the crown.
She said that she was grateful to live in a country where people could make their own choices but she herself grew up believing that marriage was between a man and a woman. The judge that asked her the question happened to be homosexual himself so obviously he wasn't happy with the answer. I personally thought it was very diplomatic and I respect Carrie for standing up for what she believed. She came in second place.

Again, I'm focusing more on this than I'd like to. Back to the real post at hand, I'm excited to announce the formation of the gang to be known as the Shred Pack. That's right, I've joined a gang that might or might not be unsavory. So far our members include:
Hil "Sugar Britches"
Jess "Honey Buns"
Aramie "Sweet n' Sour"
Haley "Saucy Tang"

(all unsavory characters if you ask me, actually those names are making me hungry)

This is our gang symbol, we're all going to get this tattooed on our left bum cheek. I haven't mentioned the tattoo to the rest of the gang yet, I think it will go over well though.

We've created the ultimate gang and our leader:
Sensei Jillian Michaels

I know she looks looks like a man but look at those abs. I really think I know how she got those abs. It's all about the 30 Day Shred which is broken up into three seperate workouts. Strength training, cardio and abs in a 20 minute workout. Seriously, it's a 20 minute workout, that's it. The first day I tried it I was thinking "This isn't so bad. Jillians not that mean." Then I went to pause the workout to get a drink but she read my mind "Don't you pause this dvd." She yelled at me. "You don't get abs like these without pain!" My eyes teared up as stumbled and floundered like hippo on ice skates. I had to take a break, just one second..."Don't you quit now, you want a 20 minute workout? You workout the whole time!!!" Jillian was in my mind, how does she know?
As we finished our last set of abs I was laying on the ground thinking that it really hadn't been that bad of a workout. Maybe I wasn't as out of shape as I originally thought. "OK, good job guys. Let's get up and stretch a little." Jillian's voice sounded so kind, like an angel, a sweet, sweet angel. I rolled on my stomach and tried to push myself up. I couldn't, my arms weren't working. I couldn't get up. I spent the rest of the stretching laying on my stomach. Once I got a little strength in my arms I dragged myself to the kitchen to raid the leftover chocolate in the easter basket. The next morning I cried as my arms hung uselessly at my side. I had to get shower and get dressed by using my feet. Picture it, just picture me washing my hair as my toes massage my scalp.

Anyway, I was fairly dedication to the 30 Day Shred last week. Hil left me a message that she had moved on to the second level of workouts. GO HIL!!! I decided I needed to man up and do the second level too...
Holy hell, I move that Jillian's name be changed to Satan. Motion passed! I won't go into to too many sweaty, tearstained details but just know that I didn't finish the whole workout. I think it's going to be good though because I didn't even have the strength to go find some chocolate, I just laid in a quivering, stinky ball. Yes sir, I think this is the workout for me.

If you'd like to join the Shred Pack please send your name, address, a 200 word essay to prove you're tough enough to join the Shred Pack. Also include a video or picture of you in bright yellow spandex because we can't have any Miss USA contestants in our midst.

Haley + Estrogen= Nate's worst nightmare

2009-04-13T11:45:00.008-06:00

We can talk to each other about everything, right my dear blogging BFFs? I mean, I spared no details about the Great Valentines Disaster of 2009. You laughed and cried with me as I attempted my own Photoshoot and you stuck by me as I went through my Trekkie Rehab. My thanks to all of you as you've loved me for better or worse.
There's a chance that I might cross the sharing boundaries in this particular blog. But it makes for a funny story and I can never pass up telling you all a funny story.

This last year of my life has been very stressful. Work, finances, church and life have been at times more than I can bare. For this reason my body has been rebelling like a colt to a bit. My face which has usually been clear and zit free has decided to make me pay for my worry free teenage years by exploding into an artistic masterpiece of irritation. My right eye now has a permanent twitch which gets especially bad when I hear my bosses nasally voice. And lastly my uterus has become...umm...well it just doesn't really do anything right now (I told you I was giving out a lot of information).
A hibernating uterus was fine at first, what woman doesn't mind missing a period? But it had been going on a year which was a little concerning.
So I excitedly skipped to my OBGYN's office, happy as always to be there. My OBGYN is a really nice guy but he makes me a little uncomfortable because he has a big burly beard (like my dad has) and because every time I see him he brings up the fact that my husband is from New York and asks me how my in-laws are doing since they still live there. So as I'm trying not to make eye contact in the southern region I'm telling him about my father-in-law in the border patrol.
I had to fake a look of disappointment when I found out that my appointment was canceled. "Hip-hip Hooray!!!!" I screamed inside my head, even though I wasted a good bikini-line shave. I ended up talking to his nurse who eventually prescribed me with estrogen pills because my body may not be producing the estrogen it needs. I happily accepted what could be worse than the the stirrups-o-humiliation?

The following is a journal of the 10 days I took my estrogen pills:
Day 1- I have nothing to report on this day. What did I expect? Don't really expect much, what the heck can a little estrogen do?
Day2- Still nothing really exciting going on with my uterus. I think I'm getting cramps but realized it's just the burrito I had for lunch
Day 3- Nate goes to work, I cry. Watch Cops alone, I cry. Think of Nate at work, I cry.
Day 4- Major cramps, I curse the makers of estrogen, I cry. Nate leaves for work, I cry. I leave for work, I cry. I get in a fight with my boss, I bawl.
Day 5-Nate goes to work, I cry. Watch PS I love you, bawled my freakin' head off. Go to pick up Nate from work. On my way I almost run over a little pair of ducks, they're so cute, I cry because I almost ran them over. Nate gets in the car, I cry as I tell him that I almost ran the cute little ducks over.
Day 6- Nate kindly suggests that I stop taking the estrogen pills. He says it's not worth it. I love that sweet, caring guy, I cry.
Day 7- Learning to work through the pain of the cramps, I'm almost beginning to enjoy the pain as I cry.
Day 8- Only cried 3 times today. Made Nate cry (just kidding...).
Day 9- I'm pass the crying stage and on to the homicidal leg of my journey. Red hot hate and irritation pulses against my temples. List of things I hate: doctors, nurses, estrogen companies, bad drivers, fast food workers, my neighbors, the government, channel 13 news, washing dishes and my phone. I still love cute little ducks though.
Day 10- The end, I just need to push through one last day. Finish strong and try not to strangle my husband. One step at a time, one little positive step at a time. Smile Judd, just smile.

And that my BFF's is my steps back to womanhood as we all know it. It's not fun, it's not pretty and right now, it's not worth it.

This is me:

This is me on drugs:

Any questions?

Easter Eggs!

2009-04-10T10:15:00.000-06:00

Happy Easter!!

2009-04-10T09:58:00.002-06:00

Acting vs. Modeling

2009-04-09T09:10:00.010-06:00

Monday evening found me sitting next to my sister, nervously waiting for our names to be called. My mind was focused on the words that would come from my lips as my eyes looked around the room at strangers also waiting to hear their names. Like me, some were nervous, some greeted each other and talked excitedly about the last they had seen each other.
My sister, Logan, was also watching other people in the room. Her interest was more on the male species. I would see her eyes focus in on a man whom she found attractive. Her mind would calculate the best way to initiate a conversation. She could walk by him and trip, falling into his arms, then he would dip her and plant a soft kiss on her lips. "My hero." She would breathe and they would run off into the sunset, hand in hand, never to be apart for the rest of their days.
Oh, wait, that's not going to happen. We're not at a rodeo, we're at a play audition; so the chance of Logan falling into the arms of some cute, extremely well dressed guy is probable but instead of dipping and kissing her he'd probably say (with a lisp) "Careful darling, those heels are dangerous but soooo fabulous. Where did you get them?"
I tried to soften the blow when I saw that she had a target. I'd notice his perfectly styled hair, they long square toed shoe and the amazingly smooth, blemish free face. I'd shake my head at her, knowing that she'd be disappointed. She didn't pay attention to my warning and held on to hope until she saw him hug a fellow perfectly styled male. We're not talking a quick chest hug with a pound on the back, you know the kind, when the body from the bellybutton down keeps a safe heterosexually male allotted distance. You know the kind I'm talking about.
Enough of that though. I knew she'd have to find love somewhere else.
Our audition was for "Hello Dolly" at the local theater. Don't go rushing out and buying your tickets, neither of us were offered one of the lead roles or even a position as a prop. Disappointed?... No, it was almost expected, I knew we were in trouble when a group of 8 of us walked in and the director and producer greeted all the other actors by name. It's a little intimidating standing in front of a group of 5 people judging your singing skills while from behind a group of six homosexual males are judging the cut of your pants and the color of your blouse. So nerve wracking that I ended up missing one of my high notes in the song, dang it. Live and learn my blogging BFF's, live and learn.

Well, at least we looked good. Maybe we'll go be models instead of actresses. How 'bout it Logan? Want to go be Victoria's Secret models? You can model their sleek line of extra endowed bras called "XXX Voluptuous" and I'll model their brand new line of pre-teen training bras happily named "This is as Good as it Gets."
Below are our head shots for our auditions. Sexy undie pictures to follow.

Not, Pretty in Pain

2009-04-06T10:42:00.000-06:00

I mentioned in one of my previous posts that I'm not a pretty crier. Some girls will let tears glisten brightly in their eyes, a solitary teardrop will slowly roll down their cheek. A rose colored blush will sweep across her cheeks as her lip quivers slightly and a delicate sigh makes any nearby male rush to her side to take away her pain. Yeah, that's not me....at all.

I won't bore all my blogging BFF's with the details of how my face turns bright red and my eyes swell shut. Mascara mingled with tears create a black dingy river down my cheeks. If I cry hard enough blood vessels break under my eyes leaving small purple bruises for days (No, officer, my husband didn't beat me...I fell down some steps...). It is not good and I think Nate tries everything in his power to stop the tears from flowing just so he won't have look at my face and then pretend that he still loves me no matter how I look.
The other day I spun around quickly because I was in a hurry...ok, I wasn't in a hurry, I was dancing like a drunken pirate and spinning around like I was the lead in the Nutcracker (there's a slight possibility that I was dancing to "Get yourself a bad boy" by Backstreet Boys....). ANYWAY, I spun around and hit my hand on the corner of the counter. It hurt really bad so I said "Ouch" and turned to Nate for comfort. I held my hand to my chest, made an "ouchy" face and stuck out my bottom lip, hoping for some sympathy from my sweet husband.
He grimaced at me and said "Boy, you are not pretty in pain."
As my hand swelled up, turned black and fell off; he said "Some of your facial expressions are just not attractive."
Thanks a heap Nate, I would have punched him in the nose if my right hand was still attached to my wrist.