Color Me What?

For several months now, I've been volunteering at a cake supply store where my mother works. The store recently acquired a new point-of-sale/inventory program and I've been lending a hand entering thousands of items into the program, a few hours here and there when the hubby's home to watch the kids. Very recently, I've been adding in various food colorings and my head has been spinning with some of the color names. Apparently, saying something is red isn't descriptive enough.

When you say you want to color a gumpaste flower “Red” (since I'm too lazy to explain what gumpaste is, may I introduce you to my good friend www.google.com...), you're faced with a conundrum. Do you want that flower to be “Claret” or “Rouge Flambet”?

Seriously?

SERIOUSLY??!!

Oh and yellow? Not good enough. Do you want Canary Yellow or Yellow Citrine?

Am I the only one who sees “Citrine” and thinks of “Latrine”...which leads me to think of something else that's yellow? *full body shudder*

Moving on...

I've decided to come up with my own colors. I suggest when you're choosing colors, say, for that extensive living room remodel, be sure to use these color names. If nothing else, it'll make you look like the most interesting customer in Home Depot.

No, my loyal readers, that is not the color “Red”. That is “Arterial Spray”

Why go for plain “Yellow”, when you can go for “Liver Failure”?

No...that's not “Mustard Yellow”. That is “Bad Chinese”. Open your eyes! COME ON!!

Why have “Sea Foam Green” when you can have “Unhappy Bridesmaid”?

“Mint Green”, you say? Well, in my house, sweetheart, we call that “Nausea”.

Not to be confused with...

“Anemia”. That color just screams for a t-bone steak and some pureed beets.

You may be thinking that's the color “Black”, but you would be mistaken. That, my friends, is what were refer to as “Mel Gibson's Career”.

Don't gimme that look Mel; you brought that on yourself.

Your eyes are deceiving you. That's not "Orange", it is actually “Dollar Store Bottle Tanner”.

It may look like pink, but it's actually “Subtle Humiliation”. May also be referred to as “I Decided to Skip the Dollar Store Bottle Tanner and Get the Real Thing”.

Which brings us to...

“Melanoma”.

For the record, I'm fully aware of the severity of skin cancer and realize that it's a very unfunny condition.

Which is why I use...

So, please, be sure to correct your Sherwin Williams Paint sales associate when he refers to that icy color as “Blue”. 'Cause you and I both know that color is really “WHO THE FRACK TURNED THE AC DOWN TO 50??!!”

*salutes*

Is it too much to ask?

....for:

1.) chocolate to be a weight loss product?

2.) my children to listen to me?

3.) my dogs to not take forfrickenever to answer the call of nature when it's hotter than the seventh ring of hell?

4.) coffee to wake me up and not make me feel like I drank nuclear waste?

5.) for me to look at the calendar before posting a blog specific to a particular day of the week?

Apparently so, 'cause chocolate is less than physically flattering, my children act as if I speak Japanese, my dogs happily ignore the urgent need to pee in favor of exploring a turtle when I have them on a leash and it's 1206 degrees outside, coffee has a severe dislike for my stomach, and my days are thrown off and all day long I thought it was Monday (hence why I posted a blog about what is normally a Monday tradition in our home, when it is in fact, duh, Tuesday.)

*stalks off*

How We Make Mondays Bearable

This blog post is brought to you by a dorktacular texting conversation I just had with my husband.

Almost every Monday, we end up having Digiorno's pizza for dinner. Hubby works late so he doesn't have his dinner until around 11 when he gets home. Every Monday evening, however, he texts and asks if we're having pizza for dinner, and being the smart ass that I am, I have to give him an off the wall answer every time. I originally started off ages ago answering with something like, "No, dork. We're having filet mignon and lobster bisque." Since then, I started getting more outrageous and it's almost a challenge every week to see how I answer. Warning...this conversation has a bit of an "ewww" factor. Ye be warned.

Below is our conversation from this afternoon:

Hubby: Pizza tonight?

Me: Nope. Deep fried chihuahua served over rice pilaf sprinkled with duck urine. Sherbert for dessert.

Hubby: Hope you got fat ones. Those small ones have no meat on their bones. And please tell me you got a good price on the duck urine. It's in season.

Me: Oh, I had to haggle, but I managed to get it for next to nothing...and fresh! By the way, pay no attention to Daffy in the bathroom. He only quacks when he's nervous.

Hubby: As long as it's male. Females leave a bad aftertaste. You remember last time.

.........Bon apetit!

Mother's Day & Overanalyzing

As of late, I have been waking up in the morning with my four-year-old (the Oldest Boy Child or the OBC) in my bed. I can hear the protesting parents now: You shouldn't let your child sleep in your bed! I am very well aware of this, I assure you. I am a huge fan of being the only one in bed with my husband, however, I am generally unaware that a third party has entered the bed (OMG - get your mind out of the gutter...we're talking about my kid here, sheesh!) until it's time for me to get up. Said third party has either managed to steal the covers from both of us, keep us precariously perched on the edge of the mattress, draped an obtrusive limb across one or both of us (the leg across my face was classic!) or treated us to the putrescent essence of the Ghosts of Pop-Tarts Past bathing our faces in rhythmic invisible waves. (funky Pop-Tart breath, get it? Okay...moving on...) That all being said, I somehow thought yesterday that I would at least have been treated to a half-hearted 'Happy Mother's Day' from the OBC since my hubby had been coaching the boys on the endearment all day Saturday. But no. All I got was a grumble and a request to let him go to my mother's house so he could see his cousin who had spent the night before. Thanks. Love you, too, kiddo. The LBC, on the other hand, pounced me in bed, declaring, 'HAPPY MOTHER'S DAY, MAMA!'

Guess who's getting a car on his 16th birthday?

While waiting for dinner to cook at my mom's last night (which had been delayed due to the epic amount of scalloped potatoes refusing to cook until they were darn well good and freaking ready to do so), my mother, my niece, the boys, and I decided to watch the Dora the Explorer Mother's Day Special. In doing so, I learned a few things: Dora's Papi is a horrible planner, some trees bear large pieces of milk-chocolate in lieu of fruit, and some muggers are polite and will leave their victims alone if asked to.

Dora and her Papi decided to surprise her Mami with her favorite dessert: Chocolate Banana Nut Cake. They realized quickly, however, that they lacked some key ingredients, those being the chocolate, the bananas and the nuts. That's totally understandable, right? I mean, if I had a nickel for every time I forgot the oatmeal and raisins when I went to make oatmeal raisin cookies...but I digress.. So what does Papi do? He sends his grade-school-aged daughter into the woods to do a little grocery shopping. Genius, Papi - I have half a mind to call Child Protective Services on your poor-planning behind. Again with the digressing... So she's sent into the woods with her little grocery list instructing her to retrieve ten bananas, six nuts (which looked suspiciously like acorns, and come on - who doesn't love acorns in their Chocolate Banana Nut Cake?), and one large piece of chocolate from the chocolate tree. Chocolate tree? O.O For serious? Sign me the heck up for the next Arbor Day Tree Plantathon because I'm planting a fricken forest in my backyard for realz. *coughs* Sorry. Where were we? Oh yes. The mugging. Yes, Dora's poor, stocky, blue bovine friend is mugged by a fox for his cowbell. Or was her Rainbow-Bright-Reincarnated-as-a-Squirrel buddy mugged for his bracelet-o-nuts? I can't remember. The action was so fantastic, I could barely keep up. Regardless, one of Dora's friends had something swiped by the fox, but his plans were ultimately thwarted. Is Dora secretly a ninja, masquerading as a super-helpful-friend-to-all-the-animals backyard adventurer? Sadly, no (a shame, that...since such a plot would be epic). All they had to do was simply ask their would-be attacker three times to not swipe their goodies. Who needs pepper spray, right? (totally kidding - don't ever assume your mugger will be this polite - spiced-up temporarily blinded muggers are your best bet).

So the moral of today's post? Wish your mama a Happy Mother's Day and Dora the Explorer is freaking awesome.

What? You didn't get that from my story? What blog have you been reading?

Eye Color and Fanfiction

I woke up this morning with a sudden realization: My youngest son's eyes are blue.


He will be turning four-years-old next month, so his eye color should come as no surprise, however, it was my first thought upon waking up.


Why, do you ask? This is what happened:


Littlest Boy Child (referred to from here on out as “LBC”): Mama.....mama!


Me: (grumbles) Mrnermener..ugh..


LBC: Mamaaaaaaaaa......


Me: (picking my head up from the pillow) What?


LBC: (getting right in my face) I have blue eyes.


Me: (squinting...reluctantly realizing that I'm awake) Yes, baby. You sure do.


LBC: Uh huh. I do. I want some Pop Tarts.


Once upon a time, I used to wake up to, “G'mornin', Mama,” or “I love you, Mama.”


(sigh)


In other news, my oldest son wanted me to read Hansel and Gretel to him this morning. I reluctantly read it to him last night and was actually quite nervous that he would have nightmares. I know the kid's version is a lot less gruesome than the way it was originally written, but still...child abandonment? Cannibalism? This is a kid's story?? He didn't seem to mind though, so I read it to him again today. Of course, he asked me to read it more than once. Afterward, he then decided that he would read it to me.


Me: Go for it, kiddo!


He will be turning five-years-old next month and, no, he doesn't know how to read yet. However, he had the gist of the story memorized and following along with the pictures, he did a really good job. I was proud. When he was done, he asked if I wanted him to read it again and I agreed. This time, though, he decided to make up his own story where the kids stole the witch's candy instead of her jewels and they took the hunter's horse for a ride through the woods.


My son is apparently a fanfiction author. I don't know if I should be concerned or proud.