idiots on the internet.. not for the faint of heart!

J: "Speaking of leg-humping dogs.. my co-worker told me a funny story the other day.."

I know, I know.. not the conversation you'd expect to have while eating brunch at Cracker Barrel with your best friend (E) and his wife (R) before they fly back to California.. But, what can I say, I married a man with panache. (Yes, I did.. so shaddup.)

J: "So my co-worker knows a lady up north a bit who frequents some of Iowa's illustrious bike trails. One day, she's out on the trail riding and hears a noise, just off the trail, up ahead.. She peeks over as she's passing and there, pretty much out in the open, is a lady who's totally going at it with some dude.. like going way downtown on him. Shocked (and, not to mention a bit disgusted) by her discovery, she just continued on her way and tried to forget what she just saw. She didn't want to let the image linger too long for fear of recognizing them.. it is, after all, a pretty small town. Little did she know, she was in for much worse.."

He paused as the waitress poured more coffee in our mugs and glanced at the kids to make sure they were still ravenously devouring their food (I swear, you'd think we never feed them..) and not paying attention to the boring grown-up talk. He leaned in, lowered his voice a bit, and continued..

J: "So, the next time she's out on the trail, she's passing by the SAME spot and hears noises again. She, rather hesitantly, looks over again as she passes.. only this time she sees a man on all fours with a dog behind him, giving it to him.. well.. doggie style."

R: "No! Are you serious??"

J: "Yes. But wait, it gets better. So when she gets home, she thinks 'That's enough. I need to report this to someone.' So she calls the department of parks and rec or animal control or something, and tells her story. The lady on the other end, a friend of said trail patron, is rather disturbed by the tale at first.. then, she says 'Wait.. what did the dog look like??' So the woman describes the dog to her. 'Oh... gosh. that's MY dog.. um.. shoot... .. What did the man look like?' So she describes the man to her.. 'Oh shit! That's Uncle Bob! Dang it... We told him not to do that in public anymore!'"

(insert shocked laughter here)

R: "No way!"
E: "In public!?! As in 'It's fine at home, Bob.. but please, not in public!'?"
R: "Seriously, who DOES that?? Can the dude not get a girlfriend? or does he just prefer canines?"
Me: "Well.. Some people do.."
J: "True, there's whole p*rn sites dedicated to it. Besides, I guess the guy is a little retarded."
Me: "Um.. yeah. I think you'd have to be to do it in public.. with a DOG."
R: "It really begs the question.. how does one get a dog to DO that??"
Me: "Exactly. I mean, it's not exactly and instinctual behavior.."
R: "Unless, perhaps, he found some way of extracting the scent of a bitch in heat and rubbed it on his nethers.."
J: "Well, apparently it's not TOO hard to figure out.. After all, the guy isn't that bright."
E: "Well, he probably doesn't have to be Einstein. I'm sure any idiot with internet access could figure it out."

Me: "Dude. You just described the entire United States."

passing childhood dreams..

I love the Olympics. Sure, I'm geeky, I know.. but I do. I always have. Seriously though, what kid doesn't watch, pick a favorite sport, and then fantasize about one day winning Olympic gold for it?? I know I did.. maybe that makes me weirder than I thought I was.

I remember watching Mary Lou when I was a kid. She was my hero. I loved gymnastics, never learned to do gymnastics but I loved watching and imaging myself being able to do it. Of course, when the winter Olympics were on, I was all about ice skating. I was in awe of the graceful figure skaters with all their daring stunts and glittery costumes.. though, in reality, if I ever succeeded as an ice skater, it would have been speed skating. I could skate pretty fast as a kid, but I couldn't spin for the life of me.

As I got older and more of my 'natural abilities' emerged it became easier to try and squeeze myself into that Olympic mold. By the 92 summer games, I'd realized my true calling was in swimming. I've always LOVED the water. I think I was around 7 or 8 by the time I had 'formal lessons'. By that time I was a capable swimmer but lacked technical expertise, able to keep myself from drowning but unable to distinguish between breast stroke and butterfly. I still can't do the butterfly very well.. After making my way through all the lessons our local pool had to offer - including all the basic strokes and floats, some basic diving, and rescue swimming - I got my little certificate that said I could indeed swim (and save a drowning person... so long as they weren't too much bigger than me).

It wasn't long after that that my parents had a 'real' pool put in in our back yard. Man... I miss that pool. I swam any day that I could and had some days that I only got out of the pool to eat meals. If I could have, I would have lived in the water.

In the summer of '92, we found out we'd be moving. We all really liked where we were living and didn't want to go.. even if it was way cheaper and my dad wouldn't have to spend 3hrs a day commuting. (Suck it up, Dad.. my school kicks ass.) We moved anyway.. and we survived. That summer, before our move, we took a big family vacation. We went to Disneyland and then drove from the West Coast to Chicago and back - seeing more of the USA than I probably ever will again. Aside from the awesome sights and seeing long lost family members and friends.. I looked forward to checking out the hotel pool each night. The Summer Games had just ended and we'd all watched as Summer Sanders, a 20 yo California girl, had medaled 4 times in Barcelona. My new hero.

I loved swimming in those hotel pools, working on my breast stroke and back stroke and trying to improve my butterfly.. I had more than one stranger comment on my swimming ability and one night even heard "Wow.. will we be seeing you swim for gold in another 4 years?" Then it dawned on me...

"Hey, I could do that!"

Then we moved. We didn't have a pool anymore.. But we did have a membership to the local racket club (yes, Buffy.. the racket club). I spent lots of time there.. not as much as I should have or could have.. but lots. While my brothers spent time pushing each other in the outdoor pool, jumping off the diving board and trying to drown each other.. I spent most of my time in the lap pool (though my oldest brother did join me now and then), honing my skills. (Mad skillz, yo.) I know I asked my parents at some point 'Hey, do you think there's a swim team for kids my age??' Which probably sounded more to them like 'Blah blah blah money blah blah blah?' Lol.. probably figured I was kidding or something. Being a parent myself now, I realize just how often the words coming out of our children's mouths sound just so.

It didn't take long for us to not be able to afford the Club anymore... Dad stopped working for the IT MegaGiants and started teaching at a vocational school instead.. Wow.. hello pay-cut! By that time I'd turned my attention more to theater and band and let those grandiose dreams of Olympic medals fade away long enough that by the '96 games it was a distant, nostalgic memory of 'Wow.. I wish I'd stuck with that.. I could have been good.'

Oh, and my husband has dreams of swimming in the Olympics too... Literally. Last night, after watching Phelps break yet another record, he dreamed of swimming in the Olympics.. and then followed it up with a dream of trying to beat a Japanese female gymnast. It really pissed him off that no matter what he did with his 6'3" 200+lb body, he just couldn't seem to beat that little Japanese Olympic gymnast.. Poor guy.

Then Reality Slapped me in the Face...

I really wanted to start this blog off with something truly creative that would make you laugh your butt off and want to come back again and again for more..

Then reality slapped me in the face. Or was it my 2yo? Either way, I woke up from that dream. A rude awakening, mind you.. Fear not, I'll come up with something funny, witty, and engaging to say.. but right now, I can't unscramble my brain long enough to transfer my words from my thoughts to my keyboard in a coherent fashion.

See that? Just now I had to figure out again where my 2yo Princess was and make sure she wasn't eating glass or bathing in cleaning products again or something.. all while trying to get my 6yo Monkey to shut up so that I could hear her answer my call and try to echo-locate her.. It's hard to echo-locate with interference from a 6yo boy.

Then I struggle to move on to another thought and have to break up a fight between my 4yo Booger and little trouble-making Princess, who's returned once more to the living room to try and rob her brother of his corner of the couch.. never mind that the rest of the couch is unoccupied. It just isn't satisfying to sit down somewhere without making someone cry in the process.

Then, of course, 7yo Captain SmartyPants yells at me for muting his favorite song for a moment to see if the noise I heard was MamaCat's yowling or my Baby Cupcake crying.. Did the screaming match wake her? *sigh*

So, I wonder if J will really make it home for lunch today... as I scold Captain for putting MamaCat on Monkey's head which resulted in a nice 7" trail of claw marks.. Perhaps we shall now refer to him as ScarFace?? J always wanted to have a ScarFace in the family.. he's always threatening to be the one responsible for the nickname. Oh.. I. love. my. life.

And now my husband is twittering about eating cupcakes at work...