Ask My Hubby Anything You Want! And... Kid C's First Day of School

Happy Monday Morning y'all.

I just realized the milk in my fridge has an expiration date that is past my deadline for my sequel EVERNEATH 2: Nikki Gets a Drivers License.

The Milk of Doom

Do you know what that means? I have until that milk curdles to finish my book.

So, instead of working on my book today, I will transfer the milk from the fridge to the freezer, in the hopes of slowing down the curdling process.

Thankfully I have more hours in the day to watch milk curdle because today was the first day of school.

FIRST DAY OF SCHOOL! The happiest day of the year.

From Left to Right: Kid B, Yoshi, Sling, Kid C

Kid C looks so old outside our house.

Then we walk him to school, and he looks like this:

Awwww.... Don't even think about touching him, kids! I'm watching you...

He looks so small, with a backpack down to his knees, and straps tangled with his sling. 

Crazy enough, his left-handed handwriting is almost as good as his right. 

[transition]

So, long story short... as a special treat to y'all, I won't be blogging the rest of this week. Instead, we will have a surprise visitor! 

Umm... it's my husband. (surprise)

I thought it would be fun if y'all would leave a question for him in the comments. You can ask him anything! 

ex: Sam, do you feel like you are in constant competition with Rafa for your wife's affection? 

Nothing's off limits! Well... almost nothing is off limits! So please help me with my deadline by asking Sam questions and stopping milk from curdling.

In Which we see Thor, and Sam Learns to Appreciate the Male Form

This morning, I'm one follower away from 300. I only point this out because 299 just doesn't seem like a stable number. 299 is the seconds left before the bomb goes off. 299 is the cholesterol level of a large man. 299 isn't a real number. Nobody wants 299 potato chips. A package of 299 paper clips makes me think one is missing.

So now, with 299 followers, I feel like one is missing. Where are you, little lost follower?

On to the post:

Hubs and I went to see Thor over the weekend. 

And the son of Odin was not amused.

Thor sure is a cutie-pie. At one point, he took his shirt off, and I leaned over to Sam and said, eloquently, "Oh, homina homina."

Has anyone seen my love handles? They must've been left behind as I fell from Heaven.

Sam responded with, "Are you under the delusion that you're with your girlfriends right now?"

And I was all, "I'm sorry, but even you have to admit the beauty of this human specimen in front of us. When Michaelangelo painted the Sistine Chapel, do you think he was all, 'I'm a guy. Can someone else tell me if Adam looks right?'"

And Sam was like, "I think Michelangelo had a pretty good idea of what the male form looked like."

me: "Exactly. Michelangelo wasn't afraid to admit when something was beautiful, man or woman."

Sam: "Yes, but Michelangelo isn't my go-to guy for lessons on how to be a man."

me: "Well then, let's look at Da Vinci..."

me: "He knew all about the human form, and-"

Sam: "Can we at least pick someone from this century?"

me: "Um... J. Edgar Hoover?"

Sam (bored with the conversation): "Look, if I say 'homina', can we just watch the rest of the movie in peace?"

me: "Yes."

Sam: "Homina."

me: "I know! Isn't he, though?"

Anyone else see Thor? Anyone else say "homina"? Anyone know of a man's man in the last century who could openly appreciate the male form?

A List! Including: My New Car, Where Comfort is an Option... And Sam Destroys the Indestructible Miracle Blade

Hey y'all!

Happy Friday.

First off, Chersti Nieveen interviewed me on her blog for Utah Author's Month. Please go visit, and leave a comment! I don't want her viewership to go down just because I'm on there.

For today, a list!

1. So, I finally bought a new car. The best thing about it? The car has a special - nay, magical - button. Check it out.

Yep. That there is a "comfort" button.

Has there ever been anything so wonderful? 

I want to know how this button came about. Were the car makers all, "Let's be the first guys to make 'comfort' an option. Not mandatory. We'll be rich!"

When I first got in the car to test drive it, the button was not depressed. I had to wonder, who wouldn't press the button? Maybe someone who had it all, and was like, "I want to see how the uncomfortable people live. Jeeves! Un-press the button!"

There are definitely times I get in the car, and I think to myself, "You know, life has been a little easy lately. Comfort, off!"

Sometimes I threaten the kids: "Stop fighting, or you know that comfort you've been enjoying? Consider it gone!"

2. It's Mother's Day this weekend. Time for really bad art from my kids.

Here's a preview: Kid C made a card for me, and drew a picture of the two of us together. 

Me, Kid C

Emily Wing Smith was right- I do look the same in every picture. Kid C definitely gets his drawing skills from me. Lately, he's been asking if he can illustrate my next book. 

Judging from this picture, that would be totally awesome. 

3. The other day, Sam was baking buffalo wings, and when he removed the tray from the oven, underneath the tin foil he found this:

That would be our kitchen scissors and a steak knife, melted together, and flat as a crepe. 

I sent the picture to Miracle Blade, along with the note, "I thought your knives were supposed to be indestructible, but apparently they can't withstand 450 degrees for 15-18 minutes. Put that in your infomercial!"

I want to know how Sam took the cookie sheet out of the cupboard, put the knife and scissors on top of it, then placed a sheet of tin foil over the whole thing, and then put two rows of frozen buffalo wings on top of that... and didn't notice!

It's not like they blended in with the background. You really can't get more neon-red than those scissors. And when he was carefully placing the wings on top, was there ever a moment where he thought, "Hey, the wings seem to be pooling on either side of this giant bump in the middle. That's weird."

It's probably an air bubble.

Oh, nope. It's scissors and a steak knife.

So, what are y'all up to this weekend? Any special Mother's Day plans? Have you commented on Chersti's blog? Anyone else ever bake a pair of scissors with a side of steak knife?

Sam's Big Lie, and the Worst Example of a Good Samaritan Ever

Housekeeping: I know that some of you (patients and friends and family) are specifically looking for updates on my dad. My mom is posting again on her blog here: www.ashtonclot.blogspot.com. Any and all are welcome to check in there. Her posts are usually very entertaining. Because cancer is fun. 


On to the post! 


So, the other day, Sam loses his phone. At Costco. 


He takes the kids back to the store and scours the aisles. No luck.

Like finding a needle in a Costco.

He checks with the front. No phone turned in. 


He calls AT&T, and the guy says he can shut down Sam's phone, but he can't locate it. But he does tell Sam that somebody made a call from that phone mere minutes ago. 


What?! 


It was not lost. It was stolen! 


So, Sam uses his mad tech skillz to track down the number that his lost phone called. (Okay, he really just looked at his account). 


And here's where Sam is completely different than me.


He calls that number (the one his stolen phone called). 


Sam: "Hi, I'm calling because I lost my phone, and the person who now has my phone called you."


Guy (groggily): "Huh?"


Sam: "Someone called you at 12:47. That person has my phone."


Stoner guy: "I don't know what you're talking about, dude."


*Repeat above conversation 12 times*


Finally, Sam pulls out the biggest lie he can think of.


Sam: "I hate to tell you this, but I'm kind of important."


Stoner guy: "Yeah?"


Sam: "Yeah. I'm kind of a big shot. And I need my phone. The phone company is tracking it right now, not to mention the police. So I just wanted to let you know that if I have your number, so do they, and they will be contacting you in the next little while, asking you the same questions."


Stoner guy: "Why? I don't know anything!"


Sam: "I'm sure you had nothing to do with it. But they will be checking here, since you're their only lead. So you have to ask yourself one question. Do you feel lucky? Punk?"


Okay, I embellished the last sentence. But, miraculously, an hour later, the AT&T store in American Fork called to say Sam's phone had been turned in. The guy who brought it in said he found it in a chair at Costco.


When I picked it up, the guy at the AT&T store is all, "Wow. We love customers who are honest and turn in lost phones. Like the Good Samaritan. We should send this guy an email, thanking him." Then he gave me a look that said, Maybe you should give him a reward.


me: "Sure you do that. Thank the guy for finding it in a chair at a Costco in Salt Lake City, and instead of turning it in at the Costco, he drives 45 minutes south, to American Fork, to turn it in at an AT&T store, five hours later."

The right, and convenient thing to do.

me: "So, yeah, if the "good samaritan" is the story of a samaritan who beat a guy up, left him in the street to die, and only when he realized there were witnesses did he turn around and help the guy to the hospital, then yeah, he's totally a good samaritan." 


AT&T guy: "Oh. So, you're saying he only turned it in because he got caught?"


me: Ding Ding Ding Ding!


Because the last thing the guy who stole Sam's phone needs is a thank you note! and Money!


What I find the funniest is that Sam's phone is sort of crappy. I mean, it's an iPhone, but it's four years old, beat up, and cracked. And apparently, that's the phone of someone who is "kind of important." 

This is Bill Gates' phone. He's sort of a big shot.

What do you guys think? Do you believe the guy found it at a Costco and drove it all the way to American Fork five hours later to turn it in? Or do you think he got scared that he'd get caught?

Thing #1 and Thing #1: The Australian Open, Sam's Birthday, And what a Rafa Slam really looks like

Howdy y'all! Happy Martin Luther King Day. 

How about a quick... Thing #1 and Thing #1!

1. The Australian Open started today. 

Well, technically it started on Monday, Australia time, which is really Sunday our time. 

We always laugh at their logo. Nobody, not even Rafa, can strike that pose. That shaded man is very bendy.

And that's why the Australian Open is so brilliant... you can see the future. 15 hours ahead. And it looks like this:

The future looks bright. And clean. And apparently designed by a twelve-year-old.

Amazing what we can do with 15 hours!

Rafa will be going for his fourth consecutive grand slam title, a feat that hasn't been accomplished... since... dinosaurs walked the planet. You can take my knowledge of tennis facts to the bank!... of the East River and throw it in.

Rafa. He's comin' to getcha!

Some people are all caught up in saying, "Well, technically it's not a Grand Slam since the wins are not all in the same calendar year... but we'll just call it a Rafa Slam... but don't anyone think it's a Grand Slam."

I respond to these people by throwing bran muffins at their heads. When I hear "Rafa Slam", I picture this:

The Rafa Slam. I'm hungry!

By the way, Rafa doesn't care what anyone calls it. He lets the talking heads talk their heads off while he goes out and dominates the world of tennis.

So yeah, probably most of my posts will go from Revision-centered to Rafa-centered. And if this surprises you, you are probably a very new reader to the blog. Welcome! Don't be scared.

2. It's Sam's birthday today. 

This morning, the kids came into our bedroom and as usual demanded their breakfast rightnowican'twaiti'mdyingofstarvation. Sam didn't budge. For, like, 15 minutes. I was like, "Hello? What's going on here?"

That was my first clue he was feeling a little entitled.

So, let us all raise a pop tart, and toast my main squeeze. (Not Rafa). Happy Birthday Sam! May your days be filled with happiness, and your donuts be filled with jelly!

Feel free to wish him happy birthday in the comments! At the end of the day, I will put all the wishes together in a song, and sing it to him.

So, anyone else going to be watching the Aussie Open?

How I Put My Pants On, and How I'm made up of Two Parts Lazy.

Happy Monday Y'all! 

Today is an exciting day for many reasons, not the least of which is the Men's finals match at the U.S. Open, starring Novac Djokovic and my boyfriend, Rafa. 

Rafa has never won the U.S. Open. It's so exciting. It's on CBS at 4:00 EST.

Our question of the day comes from Debbie:

Q: Do you, honestly, put on your pants one leg at a time?

Excellent question Debbie. The answer is, I don't use my legs at all. I dive head first into my pants, and then because I have a double-jointed pinkie finger, I'm able to finagle the pants down my body, to where they rest comfortably below my love handles.

Thank you for asking!

Thing #1*

I was walking through the kitchen this morning, when I tripped over Sam's backpack. (The one that rides in the baby seat of his bike.)

It was a pretty good stumble, but I recovered and continued on. Sam watched the whole thing with a curious expression.

Sam (laughing): "I can't believe you just tripped over that, and then left it there."

me: "It's your backpack."

Sam: "Yeah, but you just tripped over it! You'd leave it there for someone else to trip over?"

me: "No, you originally left it there for someone to trip over. If you want people to stop tripping, move it. Otherwise, I have to assume there's a reason it's in the middle of the floor, and all of these injuries will be on your head."

He looked at me like he couldn't believe how stubborn one wife could be. But it's not a matter of being stubborn. I think it's more 2 parts Lazy (because let's be honest, I could've moved it), and 1 part Clueless. Okay, and just a dash of Stubborn.

Clueless in the same way as when I see a toddler in the middle of the road, and I think, "Huh. A toddler in the street. Someone obviously wanted it that way. Somebody's obviously okay with what is happening."

I've spent years re-training my brain to do something about it, and now I can happily say that when I see a toddler in the street, it only takes me a few minutes to come to the conclusion I should do something about it.

So what about y'all? Would you have moved the backpack? Or would you expect Sam to move it, and apologize? Or, if you don't want to weigh in, how was your weekend? 


*This was not the original blog, but I wanted to send Sam a message. Zing!

Another Reason why Sam and I are Dorks... and how 2nd Grade Homework Baffles me

Good Friday, y'all.  Time for Thing 1 and Thing 2

Thing 1

Sam and I have been biking to his work in the mornings. Problem is, we only have my two mountain bikes that are about 15 years old. I'll be the first to admit, we look like dorks.

Sam's got it especially bad, since he has to ride the bike with the baby seat. 

Every time we get passed by a group of real cyclists (and trust me, we get passed a lot), they turn to get a look at the "baby" only to find Sam's backpack buckled in tight.

To add further humiliation, the seat's labeled "CoPilot". 

Lately, just for our own entertainment, we've taken to treating the backpack as if it really is a baby. We'll say things like, "Get ready for a turn!" and then when we go down a hill, we say "Wheeee! Wheeee!" We also pet the backpack, and when we hit a bump, we say, "Oh! Poor baby! Are you okay?"

And at intersections, we always take the first turn. If someone else makes a move, I put my hand out and growl, "Make way! Man with a baby!" and then I hold everyone back as Sam goes through. 

I have to admit, it's getting more fun every morning.

Thing 2

Kid C came home from school and showed me his homework yesterday. Here's one of the pages.

Notice anything unusual? How about a zoom.

I wanted to write a note to the teacher, saying, "Yes. An apple do have seeds. Thanks for asking."

Does anyone else have trouble understanding homework these days?

What are y'all doing this weekend? I'm watching tennis. 

By the way, if you want to see what all the fuss is about, Rafa Nadal is playing a match tonight at the U.S. Open, on ESPN 2. Excellent Friday night action.

The Maze Runner Winner... and Happy Birthday to Sam

1. And the Winner of the signed copy of James Dashner's MAZE RUNNER is...

Kayla

Email me (addy in sidebar) your address.

2. Okay, since I had no money to buy Sam a birthday present, bear with me on today's blog...

Dear Sam,

I was in college, dating lots of Bill’s and Joe’s and Steve’s (the names have been changed to protect the super-boring), and wondering if I would ever be slammed in love, or if it was something only read about in books. Like a Tale of Two Cities.

And then you slammed into me. Literally. In the hallway at school. I dropped my books and later my pretenses, and started writing really cheesy lines like, “I dropped my pretenses.” Gag.

It took you awhile to notice me. We were in the same class, but you sat on the other side of the room next to that Heather chick, the one with the giant silver cross necklace and the clear skin and the daring necklines.

I promise she never would’ve converted for you.

Then we became BFF’s, and I thought, “this is it”, but you totally asked that "Sue" chica to the Jazz game, and told me all about it afterward.

And oh yeah, there was that missionary you were writing…

I was a waitress at The Cowboy Grub, and you came in to eat and ordered steak - which is a little silly because the Grub is known for Mexican - and my friend and co-waitress said, “That’s the guy? I totally thought you’d go for someone more… GQ. He’s a little shlubby.”

I love how we still laugh about that.

Now we’re getting older and a little squidgy around the edges, and who knew we’d be so adamant about the rule of the “4 T’s of bedsheets”: (No Tenting, No Touching, No Tucking, No Twisting).

And sure I could go without:

-Your pack rat nature. (Seriously, you still have that Bart doll from the 1980’s? Are you kidding me? Remember that time I secretly threw it away, and you got it out of the garbage?)

-And your habit of singing songs that make no sense? (See: You dancing in the kitchen, singing “Shake shake shake… Shake shake shake… Shake Beckham’s Bottle. Shake Beckham’s bottle” to the tune of “Shake Your Booty”. )

-And your clothes that would scream early 90’s if they could, only they can’t because they are old and decrepit and lost their ability to scream decades ago.

I’ll admit, you did have your snaggle tooth filed down, in a most considerate move, but the gold fillings? Gold?

Ah, but then you understand how year after year I forget the exact date of our anniversary. (The 25th. Booyah.)

And you let me drag you up to Butt-Munch Idaho, ranking just above I’m-gonna-kill-myself-if-I-stay-here-one-minute-longer, Nebraska in the Fun Department, so I could try my hand at journalism.

And we both laugh about those movies that show the couple kissing first thing in the morning, because all we can think about is gross morning breath.

And we make fun of the newscasters and their dangling participles and faux-excitement. (“Is your water poisonous? Find out at Ten. If you’re still alive.”)

You allow me my crushes:

And I yours:

And no matter how many times we see “Shaun of the Dead” we still laugh our arses off.

I love that in a funny movie, you laugh the loudest of the entire theater, even though it’s totally embarrassing for me.

So what if you have a strange attachment to actual newspapers (we subscribe to two dailies), and Tab, and beef, and sports boards, and spandex jokes, and yelling, “Who’s yo Daddy?” You still laugh every time I answer, “Dennis Ashton.”

You didn’t kill me when I did this to your hair:

So what if the first time you met my dad, and he asked that Dad Question, “Sam, what are you going to do with your life?” and you said, “I don’t know. I like sports, so maybe there’s a way to like sports for a living.”

You stayed with my dad in the hospital while I went to his own mother’s viewing because he couldn’t make it. You got him out of the anesthesia and back to his home.

So I think my dad has completely forgotten about the time you told him, “Shakespeare is okay and all, but I prefer mysteries.”

You’ve always thought I could write, even when my words resembled alphabet soup puked onto the computer screen.

And now we’ve had to tighten our belts, and all I can give you is a bunch of words. You married me, and all you got was this lousy blog post. And your perfect evening:

Happy Birthday Sam.

Me. You. The boys. Against the World.

Free Book Friday Contest winners: And Sam's Latest Offenses against me

Book Contest Winners:

Thanks to all who entered by answering the questions, or following the blog. To kick off the "Free Book Friday", Smokey the Hairless Cat has chosen THREE winners.

1. Brittany Landgrebe
2. Briana (Book Pixie)
3. Jessica Christensen Congrats to the winners.

And for the rest, another contest Friday. (No hard questions, I promise).

Winners, please email me at brosam (at) gmail (dot) com with your book choice from the pictures below. (These are all autographed. I was too lazy to type them out, hence the picture). Choose at least two, in case there is overlap. Rafa Watch: My lover is back in top form, beating flamboyant frenchman Gael Monfils. You know what I really like about Rafa? He's full of quirks. All writers have quirks, most are mad as snakes. And I'm betting a high percentage of my blog readers have quirks.

Rafa's quirks:
1. He picks his wedgie between every point. (I found out the polite way to say this is, "He adjusts his pants.")
2. His water bottles have to be placed under his chair just so, and on every changeover, he takes a sip from each one and then returns them to their exact position.
3. He doesn't step on the lines in between points.
4. He tucks his hair behind his ears before each serve.
5. He towels off between every point.

Maybe that's why I love him so. He's mental.

My Holiday weekend in a nutshell:

Sam is Heartless
On Monday, Sam’s sister had a poolside barbecue. Halfway though my hotdog, I started to choke.

Sam’s offenses:
1. At first, he looked annoyed that I was interrupting some story someone else was telling.
2. Then, he patted my knee. As if that action would dislodge the hotdog stuck in my throat.
3. He asks if I have a drink. When I shake my head vigorously, he puts on a concerned face and (subconsciously) takes a sip of his Tab as he watches me sputter.

Um, I guess the honeymoon’s over?

COURAGE CORNER

In my quest to become Hott!TM Friend A and I have been lifting weights at the gym. Friend A is a star. If we were Crockett and Tubbs, she’d be Elle Macpherson, and I’d be Tubbs.

In one mirrored corner of the workout area, there is a padded floor, and a large sign above it that says, “Courage Corner.” I used to think it was really lame. And every time I felt tired, I’d growl to Amy, “C’mon. It’s Courage Corner. We cannot fail!”

But on Monday, we went to Courage Corner to do abs, and found it was full. So we had to settle for another area of the gym, a corner I now refer to as “Judgment Alley.”

The entire wall in this corner is a window, instead of a mirror. And on the other side of the window are the Yoga nuts. They face the window, twisting their bodies into shapes that can only be described as alien. And they just stare through the window, into our little padded corner.

You can see how close they would be... noses to glass

I got a hernia just watching them. There’s an army of them, perfect little rows and rows. And they were watching me. Waiting for me to lug my big fat human butt over to the padded floor (directly in front of them) to do my “crunches”. (I use the quotation marks purposely there).

For a minute, I couldn’t help feeling like the entire world was made up of yoga nuts, and I was a caged animal in the zoo, and they were all watching me, saying, “Look at the fat chick. A rare species, seldom seen out of the wild.”

Nut #2: “Ah, isn’t it cute? It thinks it’s doing crunches. Sweet, tubby little thing.”

Nut #3: “Don’t feed it, though. It may snap at the slightest provocation.” Can anyone relate?

Happy Anniversary, Sam... When the Epileptic Eel fell for the Flopping Fish

A moment of silence for Michael Jackson and Farrah Fawcett.

I have to admit both of these people left their mark on me and that mark wasn't pretty. Farrah influenced my own version of "feathered hair", which really turned out to be "sticky wings above my ears".

And Thriller defined a few very awkward years of my childhood, involving a Levi Jacket with MJ buttons, a white glove, and white socks.

Happy Anniversary Sam! (Only One Day Late)

Okay, so some of you already know I blogged about our anniversary being today, only to be corrected by Sam in the comments. (It was really yesterday).

For the record, this does not count as forgetting, like in years past. This counts as remembering wrong. I am one step closer to becoming a responsible adult.

Instead of posting all the things I love about Sam (he'll do that on his own blog, I'm sure) I shall post about why it takes a strong, unique man to stick around me.

Sam Didn't Leave me When...
1. after three months of marriage, I made him quit his job so I could uproot our family and move us to Blackfoot Idaho for my job which paid considerably less than his job.

2. I accidentally spent almost $300 dollars on a book for one of my blog readers.

3. I threw a hair dryer at him.

4. I told him if he wanted another child, he would have to be up nights and wake up mornings with said child. (Beckham's here, so you know Sam agreed).

How Did Sam Get Me? (aka How Did Sam Get Stuck with Me?)
1. He played hard to get. (Meaning, he kept talking about another girl he wanted to ask out. I'm not kidding. He took her to a Jazz game.)

2. He danced for me. Have you ever seen an epileptic eel do the cha cha? Then you've seen Sam dance. It was that moment I knew he completed me, because I do a dance that resembles a fish out of water, flopping about. So, his epileptic eel completes my flopping fish.

Weirdest Thing about our Wedding Day
I don't know why this cracks me up.

Our wedding ceremony took place at about 10 in the morning. Sam and I got married, took pictures, and then went to lunch at the Lion House. Then we had about six hours to kill before the reception, and we didn't know what to do. (We were young. And stupid.)

I think the conversation went something like this:

me: "So, what do we do now?"

Sam: "Beats me. I guess we go home?"

me: "Okay, I'll just grab a ride home with my parents, and then we can meet up at the reception."

Sam: "That's great, cuz I've got some errands to run anyway."

me: "Um... Kay. Bye."

Sam: "Yeah. See ya."

It's true. So, I went to my parents' house, took a nap, watched a movie, and then Sam and I drove separate cars to the reception.

We so didn't know how to be married.

Coming up Monday, author Emily Wing Smith answers our questions, and we pick the book winners.

Anyone doing anything fun this weekend? I'm going to the Melting Pot to celebrate our anniversary. I don't know where Sam's going.

Sam's a Greater Man Than I... and He's Conspiring Against Me.

How about some very important status updates?

Solitaire games played: 520
Win percentage: 15.3%

WHAT I LEARNED FROM SAM'S POST

There seem to be two camps of people:
1. Those who think I should have noticed the $282 total charge for one book.
2. Those who think Sam shouldn't have left the stupid doorknobs in his virtual basket in the first place.

So, which camp are you? You can tell me. I won't hold it against you. It's not like I know where you live. Or do I?

Sam is much more magnanimous than I am. What he calls my "adventurous spirit", I refer to as "attention deficit disorder."

He'll often say to me, "Honey, if I die first, I just want you to be happy. If you find someone who makes you happy, get married."

me: "Thank you. And if I die first..."

sam: "Yes?"

me: "I want you to follow soon after."

sam: "But what about the kids?"

me: "If they're over 18, with good prospects, then follow me."

sam: "What if they're still little?"

me: "Stay and raise them until they are viable. Then hit the gas pedal and head for a cliff."

sam: "Wouldn't you want them to have a mom?"

me: "Nope. They've got my mom, your mom, and my sister. That's enough mom for anyone. And trust me, if you feel tempted to find someone else, I shall haunt her all of her living days."

sam: "You don't believe in ghosts."

me: "I'll find a way."

So, yeah, there is a total double standard. And you ladies who were waiting for your chance with Sam? Consider this a threat.

THE MOCHA HONEY

Speaking of double standards, my lovuhh Rafa will be playing in the French Open starting next week. (It's a double standard because Sam would never be allowed to call someone his "lovuhh". Except Rebecca DeMornay. He's always had a thing for her, and I don't really mind because she's not so much this...

she's more this...

And that's not to say she's not beautiful or anything, because I'd give up a lot to look as good as she does, but still... Sam is welcome to date her. Magnanimous, right?)
Anyway, back to Rafa. The French Open is played on clay courts, and Rafa was born on a clay court. (I think that's actually true.) So tune in when you get a chance.

LOST SEASON FINALE

Holy Brain-blower Batman. Does anyone else feel like the creators of Lost have crossed the streams, causing total protonic reversal? (Can anyone name the movie?)
I won't ruin anything for those of you who haven't seen the finale, but I will say I bet you a meeelion dollars the writers are just as confused as we are. Only they've taken it so far, there's no way we can prove it.

Oh, and detonating a hydrogen bomb should never be a "go-to" plan of action. Just as a general rule.

CAFFEINE UPDATE
So, the key to quitting caffeine is not blogging about it. I haven't quit cold turkey, but I've significantly reduced my caffeine footprint.

The problem is, last night when I had my first Diet Coke in a long time, I went crazy. Like, in the literal sense. I started accusing Sam of "conspiring" against me. Who says stuff like that?

But I was so enthralled with the word "conspiring", I couldn't stop myself. Normally, I would never act like that, so I can only assume it has something to do with caffeine. Perhaps I shouldn't have quit?

Sam is one confused unhip white dude today.