Run, Don't Walk to the Blob Identification Winner's Circle

Well, well, well. I must say, you are a creative bunch. Not content to accept the obvious, the immediate, the elegantly mundane. No not you, dear readers. You prefer flights of fancy upon the wings of swollen pancreases, pop art dog poop and the ovaries of pop princesses who flash their pants-less genitalia without awareness that they are the harbinger of the downfall of society. Or, to put it more plainly, y'all are some funny futha muckers.

So without further blustery bulldinkies from me, I present to you the guesses, the truth, the winner(s) and the prize from Thursday's name that blob contest:

The Guesses

Foam Insulation - Angel Believes, The Empress
Cheeze Whiz or Velveeta, processed through my dog - Sue
Breast fed baby poop - Sarah Lindahl
A giant pile of mango slices - Sarah Lindahl
Brittney Spears' ovaries - Linlah
Ronald Mc Donald's Hemorrhoid - Mom of the Perpetually Grounded
Puff paint - Mom of the Perpetually Grounded
A bowel movement from the Mutha Effin Thing - Barry G
Super Elastic Bubble Plastic - Jen Chandler
Results of a nasty ear infection - Jen Chandler
Sweetbreads - Erin
????? - Foxy
Egg yolks - Aunt Juicebox
Cake Icing - Aunt Juicebox
Elephantitis of the pancreas - Heligirl

The Truth

I went into 7-11 for a cup of appallingly bad coffee and as I walked past the nacho cheese machine, I noticed this strangely configured pile of cheese that had dripped out of the machine. Similar to Barry G's thinking, this reminded me of something that fell off The Thing. Intrigued by it, I took a picture, intending to post it on my blog - because, let's be real here, this kind of nonsense is the exact reason I have a blog. And here we are.

The Winner(s)

For guessing what the blob actually was, there was no winner. Nobody correctly identified the orange mass as 7-11 nacho cheese drippings (though some got into the cheese ballpark).

For funniest, you really challenged me with this because, I found all of these to be hysterical. So because I only had two prizes to give away, I am going with:

Linlah (because she made me laugh and got a supporting vote from Mom of the Perpetually Grounded)

Barry G (because he pretty much saw the same thing in the orange pile that I did, which is either scary or cool as hell)

Honestly, if I could have given a prize to everyone, I absolutely would have. A round of applause and an honorable mention to all.

The Prize

Because most people (other than me) actually like the appallingly bad coffee at 7-11, I have a $10 7-11 gift card for each of the winners. Congratulations!

Winners, please e-mail me your snail mail information at diaryofamadbathroom(at)gmail(dot)com.

Have a Happy Memorial Day and look out for THE BLOB!

I Give and Give Until I Produce an Amorphous Blob (or blog, depending on your opinion of my writing)

In quiet moments of reflection, I like to think about what I am giving on my blog. Because really, it's about you dear reader and what you get out of the experience. Is it enough to tickle your funny bone? To make you laugh on occasion? To make you thankful you don't have teenagers?

I say NO!

So because I like to think of myself (in my most deluded moments) as a caring, sharing, giver, I offer this:

THE MEMORIAL DAY 2010

NAME THAT BLOB CONTEST

Here are the details:



1) The first reader to correctly identify the mystery item wins a prize. Specificity counts. Must be accurate in your description of what it is and where it came from to win.




2) Most blisteringly funny guess at what it is, wins a prize. This means funny to ME, so you might send yourself into fits of yuks, but if it's not a barrel of hilarity to me, then it doesn't count.



That's two ways to win kiddies, so use those comments and use them well. I can't say what you'll win, but it will most certainly be of greater value than what's in the picture.

Entries accepted until 6:00 AM EST, Saturday, May 29th 2010.

What Would You Do

If someone said to you "I wonder what would happen if I drank fifteen large coffees from 7-11"

• Would you try to stop them?
• Would you have them committed?
• Would you join them?
• Would your answer be different if I told you that they were 15 years old?
• What if I told you that they did this on a school night?
• Would you be surprised if I told you that they did not sleep for the next two days?
• Would you be surprised if I told you that they spent the next 24 hours in and out of the bathroom at hourly intervals?
• Would you be surprised if I told you that they shook like Kate Hepburn on water skis until lunchtime the next day?

Would you be surprised if I told you that they didn't ever pull a dumb-ass, douchebag stunt like that again?

No? Me either.

Away For the Weekend

I am away from my beloved computer this weekend, so I thought I'd leave you with a pic...

"I think something is coming between us."


Back Monday. Enjoy the weekend!

Post It Note Tuesday

Welcome to Post It Note Tuesday, hosted by Supah Mommy. Go here to link up and get in on the fun.

Pat Boone For The Win!

I was watching the Bill Maher show the other night and his guest was Sarah Silverman. Say what you will about her comedy, it is clearly not everyone’s cup of tea, but I find something endearing about her and I think this interview helped me to identify what the endearing quality is. I am clearly in step with her awkwardness. As I watched her squirm through the interview and project a general air of discomfort, I was SO with her. Like Pete Townsend knows what it is to be a woman, so do I know what it is to be awkward.


Until I saw Ms. Silverman’s interview, I was pretty sure that if you looked up the word awkward in the dictionary, there would be a picture of me on a particularly bad hair day. Now I am pretty sure that they alternate pics of her and I on an odd/even schedule.

I guess it's only fair to state for the record that I am not 100% awkward 100% of the time. There are times that I am so confident and so possessed of competence and self-control, that I barely recognize myself. But those moments are fleeting and they mostly happen on the job or in the course of decorating my house (trust me when I tell you that I EARNED the title “Interior Dictator” with my blood, sweat and color swatches). But like the true Gemini that I am, there is a yin to that yang, a sour to that sweet, a Pat Boone to that Miles Davis. And sadly, the Pat Boone moments are the 80 in my 80/20 rule.



There are most definitely triggers to my awkwardness. Generally speaking, I am mildly awkward, offering conversations that are full of uncomfortable silences or perhaps tripping in public. Then there are the things that push my awkward factor to 11 (that’s one louder, innit?). The greatest of which seems to be the parents of my children’s friends.



I don’t know if I suffer from arrested development or some other psychiatric gift from the DSMIV, but I immediately assume the persona of a rebellious 16 year old in the presence of some (ok, most) parents. It’s almost like I can see myself peering back at them through the thick black eyeliner of my youth. Never one for idle chit chat or small talk, I find myself giving cordial, but short, one word answers to their questions and attempted conversation, not exhaling until they are safely in their cars and down the driveway.


There are, of course, exceptions to this rule. There are a small number of really cool parents that I can comfortably talk to, because they don’t give off a vibe that screams “Free spankings and other disciplinary actions – just ask me how”. These are the parents that I treasure and have managed to forge real relationships with.



On the other end of the spectrum, when a parent comes along that has an exacerbating factor, like being someone of local notoriety (local politician, president of the PTA, baseball league chairman), my awkwardness is so palpable, you could ice it and put a cherry on top. I will spend most of the conversation with these people, trying to stem the tide of my verbal diarrhea, which is so befouled with stupidity that I will regret not starting my day by having my jaw wired.



When I was younger, I felt like I was the only awkward person on the planet. Now, as an older person, I am able to see the awkward in other people and have come to realize that I am clearly not alone. The world is full of us. And despite the picture that I paint here, I am actually a functioning and productive member of society with family and friends that are willing to hang out with me. On purpose. Not sure how that happened. I guess they were able to see past the awkward beginnings, or maybe they are just so entertained by the Miles Davis moments that the soldier through the Pat Boone. I really need to thank them for that.

Post It Note Tuesday

It's time for Post It Note Tuesday, hosted by Supah Mommy. Go here to link up and get in on the fun.

Blue Sky Gift

I woke up this morning to the most glorious gift - the most favorite weather of my childhood. The sun is shining, the sky is clear and blue and the wind is kicking up just enough to put a little snap in the air.

When I was a kid, this was the kind of day that would find me bounding out of bed at 7:30 and out on my bicycle exploring the neighborhood until it was a decent enough hour to call for a friend.

I plan to be outside with my kids and my mom today, sharing stories of my childhood and theirs and just loving and appreciating all that is good in my life.

I hope you all spend the day with people that are special to you and that you have a tiny taste of this gorgeous weather.

Happy Mother's Day to you and yours!

Calling All Bloggers

This June, I would like to bring back "Look What Fell Off My Family Tree Fridays", with a twist. I am looking for three guest posters to share their experiences with teens.

That's right, I said teens. You know, the creatures that empty your cabinets, sneak food into their rooms, feed the contents of your refrigerator to every friend they ever said hello to, tell you stories about the stoner in English class, hoover the cash out of your wallet at light speed? You know. Teenagers!

For those of you that don't have teenagers (don't worry, your day will come. muah hah hah), you can write a story about a friend, neighbor, relative or even your teenage self.

To sign up, just e-mail me at diaryofamadbathroom(at) gmail(dot)com. Go ahead, I dare ya!

I Don't Know Why You'd Want to Say That You Have This - No Less Memorialize it in Song

The boy walked into the kitchen last night, just as I was putting the groceries away from food shopping. He immediately broke into some kind of goofy song and dance (very normal for him), but I was in no mood. I needed to talk to him about a household matter of critical importance.

Our exchange went a little something like this:

MOM

Woa, woa, wait a minute. Stop that. I have something important to tell you.

SON

(mumbling and dancing) But mom I'm glarbin a shanky, get it get it.

MOM

What? OK, just stop for a second.

(Son stops dancing and looks at mother. His friend who is sleeping over wanders into the kitchen)

Oh good, Jay, I want you to hear this too.

See all this? (gestures broadly around the kitchen at food) Don't eat any of it!

It is for this weekend's parties. Don't eat the chips or drink the soda or have any of the candy. General rule of thumb, if it's delicious, don't eat it. Ok, ok, you can have the icecream sandwiches and the Fuze drinks, but not the Iced Tea. Oh, yeah you can have the Lemonade too, but not the salsa.

SON

(blink, blink)

Is that it?

MOM

Yeah. That's it.

No, wait a minute. . .Don't eat the pineapple.

SON

Now can I do my "Stanky Leg" dance?

MOM

Your what?

SON

Don't you know the "Stanky Leg"? It's the new "Jerk"

MOM
(curiosity piqued)

Really?

SON

(running over to laptop)

You've got to see it.

(pulls up YouTube, types in Stanky Leg Dance and plays the video)

MOM

(Laughing almost too hard to speak)

Why would anyone want to say they have a Stanky Leg? Where did you hear this?

SON

(grabbing ice cream sandwiches from fridge)

Travis.

MOM

Who is Travis?

SON

You know, the stoner from my English class.

MOM

(sarcastically) There's nothing like learning from the best and brightest minds out there.

SON

(Dancing out of the kitchen)

I have high academic standards.

MOM

Great. As long as your standards are all that's high.

(Son dances up stairs)

END

Funny, I would say that this is begging for parody, yet it almost seems like a parody of itself. Talk amongst yourselves. . .