You'll Go Blind

Every teenage boy throughout the ages has heard the old accolade of "You'll go blind!", most likely from his mother at some point in time.

However, there is not one documented incidence of man, nor boy, having ever permanently lost his vision for failure to heed his mother's repeated warnings.

You may ask yourself, "Why on earth would a mother make up such an atrocious lie to scare her offspring away from such behavior?".  After all, mother's are supposed to be nurturing, loving caretakers put in place to guide their children through the process of learning, growth and maturity.

As a mother, I am here to give you the honest to God, bottom line answer to that question and to eradicate any confusion on the topic of if this act of self can actually endanger your vision.

And that answer is

----------Drum Roll Please------------

Your Mother  wasn't trying to outright lie to you.  It's just that "You'll Shoot Your Eye Out!" was already taken.

Don't Blame The Beer

Okay, so we have all heard stories or watched cliched movie scenes or lived the sad reality of men and women over imbibing on distilled goodness and then waking up the next morning next to someone who is coyote ugly.  Someone, who only a few hours before they would have sworn was somewhere between an 8 and a 10.  This phenomena is often referred to as wearing beer goggles.

I have chosen to stand up before you today and defend the good name of beer and all of it's fermented relations of joyous libation.

Alcohol may indeed lower inhibitions, slow reflexes and have a negative effect on fine and gross motor skills alike, but it does not make someone grow less attractive as your blood alcohol level returns to normal levels.

Lunar Cycles Are The Real Culprit!  

Hear me out here.  The moon has control of the tides, werewolves, expectant mothers, emergency rooms and mental health facilities. Well, it makes people ugly too!

I witness this happen in my own home every night and I'm willing to bet that it happens in your home too.

Each and every evening in Weaselville, I kiss a dapper, distinguished, silver haired Prince Charming goodnight.  He's so good looking that even the Russian judge gives him an 8.75.

Then, through the course of the evening the moonlight starts the transformation. Not unlike what we all witnessed happen to Dr. David Banner once a week.

It causes glands of the body to go into hyperactivity; growing hair and releasing toxic oils and saline-like secretions to ooze from Prince Charming in a manner reminiscent of an iguana.

The gravitational pull of the lunar cycle strangles the bodily organs encased in the torso with such ferocity that odorous green gasses are forced out of his abdomen with hurricane force wind. Simultaneously,  equal force pushes through his diaphragm and airway like a tidal wave of constantly cresting and crashing storm surge.

After surviving the overnight hours of lunar torment, the transformation is complete and instead of the Prince that I kissed goodnight, I wake up to what looks grunts and smells like cro-magnon man.  After all, the poor guy has just been through the ringer!

And no, I don't wake up in the morning looking like sleeping beauty either.  It's much more like Brunhilda.  After all, the stress of knowing the torment that my Prince has suffered all night will wear and tear on a girl.

In conclusion, there is a decent chance that the 4 1/2 that you woke up next to this morning, was indeed a 9 last night.

Just remember, don't blame the beer.

~Now if this made you laugh, I'm going to ask you to CLICK RIGHT HERE and vote for me in the GM Driving The Midwest Photo challenge.  (It's easy one click voting at the bottom of the page.  NO REGISTRATION!)

An Answer To My Prayers

To: God The Almighty Father
cc: St. Peter in Heaven
Re: Answering My Prayers
From: WeaselMomma

Dearest Heavenly Father,
      In this time of faith, hope and gratitude, I would once again like to thank you for all the years we have worked together and the relationship that we have built that has been the cornerstone of the success of Weaselville. 

     However, without diminishing my ongoing gratitude, there have been a few points of miscommunication between myself and your staff that I would like to rectify for our future dealings, so as not to become points of contention in our relationship in the coming years.

1.  When I prayed for a husband that would always be able to provide for me, dirty looks, dirty laundry and dirty dishes were not on the list of provisions that I had in mind.  The dirty mind, however, was an unanticipated bonus.
2.  When I prayed that my home would always have an abundance of humor, I did not necessarily intend for it to be at my expense.  Case in point, I offered Eldest Weasel some useful coupons to consider using when shopping for a gift for me and she replied, "where to? Lane Bryant".  In all reality, this was actually hysterical, but This was not the laughter that I had expected.
3. When I prayed for children that would grow to be independent, but not so independent that they wouldn't need me, I did not intend that they only need me as their personal ATM, personal shopper, housekeeper and personal valet.
4. When I prayed for children that would bring me so much joy that the choirs of Angels in Heaven would sing, I never imagined that those choirs of Angels would be singing the Beer Barrel Polka  and laughing themselves silly with the refrain of "That naive lady only asked for healthy, so we threw in feisty for good measure". 
5. When I prayed that you grant me the Grace of patience to endure family life and struggles, testing your handiwork with challenges that could snap the disposition of a Saint was a little overboard.  In the future, I think it would be best if I learned to crawl before I have to walk.

Once again, I have full gratitude for the relationship that you and I have continued over the years and am grateful for all that you have provided Weaselville.   In the future, I will consider my words more carefully for the purpose of complete clarification and thus diminish the possibility of miscommunication between us during prayer.  However, if the misinterpretations continue in this fashion, I will have to correspond my prayers in written form to you, after having my attorney gloss over them to ensure no further loopholes are to be exploited.

Yours in Christ,
WeaselMomma

A Love Affair

You are my friend. 

You are there for me when I reach for you in the early hours of the morning.

Your warmth wraps around me and I drink you in.

I love your scent when I am holding you close.

You give me a second wind when I feel weary and help carry me through the longest of days.

I love sitting and holding you in silence and I love when I am able to share you with friends.

You are always there for me and for that I am grateful.

Now if only the Weasels would keep their mitts off the creamer.

Paranormal Intervention

The Weasel children live in fear of an unseen force.  An entity that strikes them with fear deep within their souls.  Whenever they feel its presence threaten to invade close to there personal space they are struck with sudden bouts of nausea, headaches or an urgent need to secure themselves into the bathroom until the danger passes.  When directly confronted with it, it causes them to go into terrified fits.  This entity causes them such extreme amounts of anxiety that they can't even speak of it.

Although it does have a name.

Everything that I have come to learn about demons says that you should never say it's name aloud.  Saying the name has a summoning power and gives it greater power and control.  I avoid it's name.

I only refer to it as it's manifestations, and even then only in a whisper.

I tell Eldest Weasel, "Don't fear the vacuum. It can't hurt you".  Still she is scared that I am wrong and that there may be danger involved.  "What if you're wrong Mom?  What if it does bite me?".  Even after my assurances, she just doesn't feel safe enough to push it around a room.

Boy Weasel is a little more brazen in that he will confront the manifestation of the dishwasher, but refuses to load it correctly in any sort of ritualistic manner.  I keep telling him that it is not only okay, but safer and more productive to load it using the ritual that I have taught him, but alas, he fears the demon.

All the Weasels live in such fear of the washer and dryer that it causes extreme amounts of obstinance and pain in Weaselville for them to gather a load a of laundry for me to wash to feed into them.  It often causes Monkey Weasel to hiss and Middle Weasel to speak in tongues.  No wonder our orthodontist makes so much money.

At first I thought that it was the high EMF (Electromagnetic Field) readings that emanate from the manifestations that cause the aversions,   but the mere thought of any kind of chore causes a severe adverse reaction in the Weasels.  So much so  that they find themselves unable to accomplish tasks that do not even involve appliances, such as putting their shoes away or hanging up wet towels when they are finished with them.

I have blessed the Weasels with Holy Water.  I have sprinkled the appliances with Holy Water in the sign of the cross.  I have called a Catholic Priest, because these are the dudes most prepared to deal with such things only to be laughed at told that this was beyond the realm of expertise.  

You know what?  I'm going to go all Harry Potter here and say the name of the evil demon that taunts the Weasels. out loud.  There will be no more fear!  It is time to stand up and take the power out of the name.

The demon's name is Housework!

The only way to defeat this demon is to confront it and complete it, but it always returns.

There has to be a Paranormal Intervention in Weaselville.  We need a class A cleaning lady full blown exorcism to cleanse the house.

At least the Mythbusters Get Paid For their Antics

These are some tough economic times that we are living in.  You and I alike are looking for ways to save money in any area of the budget that we can.  I am not a bargain blogger, but I have decided to share with you some tips on what has worked for me and what hasn't.*

We ladies like to look our best, but professional grooming can get rather expensive.  No, it's not necessary for survival, but it is necessary for our own mental well being.  A justifiable expense, but not at salon prices.  That happy medium?

The Do It Yourself Bikini Wax

Step 1:  Go to your local dollar store and secure yourself a large tub of "Do it Yourself Microwavable Hair Removal Wax" for the the bargain price of $1 a gallon.  What a deal!

Step 2:  Melt wax in the microwave alongside the kids lunch, chimichangas.  I'm all about multitasking and just think what you are saving on your energy bill!

Step 3:  Stir wax, flip chimichangas and continue heating both thoroughly.

Step 4:  Serve chimichangas at the kitchen table and take the wax, that is now more like hot molten lava than wax,  to an upstairs bathroom and lock the door.

Step 5: Apply hot lava wax to your bikini line and start second guessing your decision to save money in this particular area.

Step 6:  After wax cools for 2 or 3 seconds, put thoughts of possible third degree burns out of your head and focus on the task in front of you.

Step 7:  Carefully start to lift the bottom edge of the wax.  Just enough to get a grip on it with your fingers and remind yourself how much money you are saving.

Step 8:  Tear away from the skin in a rapid motion, while you recite every possible offensive word you have ever heard at the top of your lungs.

Step 9:  Do not answer the bathroom door!  Using your most calming voice, assure the children who came running at the sound of your distress call, that Mommy is okay, and everything is fine, from the opposite side of the locked door.

Step 10:  Realize the the hot molten lava managed to tear off lots of skin but somehow left everything else completely untouched.

Step 11:  Start swearing again, but this time in a low grumble to yourself and give up.

Step 12:  Decide that you may not have had success with the bikini wax and decide that eyebrows are still worth a try.  Always be a positive thinker. wash your face thoroughly and try not to freak out that you just applied wax to your face from the same tub you used on, well not your face.

Step 13:  After failure #2, realize that you are a moron and at least the Mythbusters get paid for their antics.

Hope this helps you all to know where not to skimp in the budget!

Tune in next time when I give myself a frontal lobotomy!

Do Not Try This At Home!  I am what we call an idiot.

Only yours truly was hurt in the making of this post.

*If I ever find any bargain tips that work for me, I'll share them.

7 Minutes In Heaven, Revisted

Remember that game that you we all played in junior high? I NEVER did, but I've heard of it.  It was all about taking spin the bottle to the next level.  You would wind up in a closet with someone of the opposite gender for 7 minutes.  It was assumed you be making out, but most of the time it was just 7 minutes of awkward stammering, not that I would know.  It was supposed to be 'heaven'.

Depending on the players involved, it didn't always go that way, or so I've heard.

I never played the game as a juvenile, but I play it now every chance I get.  Only, I have changed the rules.

1. I don't spin a bottle.
2. Usually, it is just me and me alone.  All by myself.
3. It sometime takes the form of a hot shower, undisturbed*, with time to shave my legs**.  Yes, it's more like 20 minutes in heaven.
4. Sometimes it involves hiding on the back porch with a cold beer and resembles hide and go seek.
5. If by chance I am alone with Mr. Weasel and a locked door, it turns into 3 1/2 minutes in heaven. because we get disturbed with multiple knocks at the door.  NOT for any other reason.  I Love you honey!
6. Sometimes it involves those rare moments of a sparkly clean house and that never lasts more than 7 minutes in Weaselville.
7. Most often it is played while cuddling one of the Weasel Children on the couch.

How do you play 7 minutes in heaven?

* Rare that this happens.
** This is so rare it can get on the endangered list.  Heck, if it continues to be this rare, I can get on the endangered species list myself.

Sasquatch isn't some wild man beast, It's a mom who has run off to hide in the woods, because her kids never would let her shave in peace.

You Might Have A Teen.

*Can't get enough of World of Weasels? You're in luck, as I am also guest posting today at Carrying a Cat by the Tail. Friday just got that much brighter!*

If the amount of unsolicited affection you receive is directly proportional to the amount of available cash in your wallet, You Might Have a Teen.

If you lose IQ points daily because you say things like "No, you can't go to a concert 4 hrs away in another state", You Might Have a Teen.

If the amount of help and cooperation you receive with chores is directly related to someone wanting to borrow the car, You Might Have a Teen.

If you have 2 small holes burnt into the back of your head as the result of lasers shooting out of someones eyes, You Might Have a Teen.

If you find that your monthly food bill is equal to the GNP of a small island nation, You Might Have a Teen.

If you have someone living in your house who constantly borrows other peoples things without asking, but freaks out when someone asks to borrow their things, You Might Have a Teen.

If you do indeed find that you have a teen, don't panic and don't call the exterminator. Try to relax and have a drink and this condition will clear itself up in approximately 8 years.

Social Promotion In Blogging

The school system has been working within the concept of social promotion for quiet some time. Self esteem is so very much an important factor in life that you would never want to do or say anything that could make someone feel as if they are less than the best. It might hurt their feelings to know that there are people are out there who may be stronger, faster or smarter than they are. We wouldn't what that.

We make sure to give out participant certificates just for showing up to any given contest. After all, 90% of success in life is just showing up. We don't keep score in t-ball and we dare not ever hold back a failing student. They will excel at a faster rate if we allow them to finger paint their way to the 5th grade, before we expect any crayon work from them. The powers that be have even finally come around to understand that students should be given partial credit on standard testing for wrong answers and/or a lack of answer - it shows the student is at least thinking about the question.

I think that we should adopt these same principles into blogging.

Using myself as an example of proper implementation of this concept, I'll explain to you what I mean.

I write mostly garbage, hence your current reading pleasure, a modest little blog, you may have heard of it (Hint:you're on it right now.) but I showed up and wrote something today. I should get an award and 207 extra comments today out of the deal. You wouldn't want my feelings to get hurt.

I have been writing this blog for almost 2 years now. That alone should be enough for google to boost my ranking all the way to 7th grade. I could get discouraged after 2 years without enough outside promotion.

Companies should want to advertise with me and give me money, even though my audience is not large enough to pass the cost/benefit analysis test, because I am here and I am established as a mediocre blogger. They should want to cheer me on for trying my best.

I play nice with others in the sandbox that is Twitter follow me @WeaselMomma and for that you should be compelled to award me with constant link love and re-tweets to my blog posts, even if you think my writing is, well, meh. After all, I offered to share my sand covered lollipop.

I haven't earned should be granted 300 more followers and subscribers today on World of Weasels, just click the widget thingy in the right sidebar before you leave, because if you have the read this far along into this nonsense excuse for a post, you're diggin' it, you want to come back for more and just think how soon it will promote me up to being trusted to use safety scissors and we all know that safety scissors will boost my self esteem.

Now excuse me while I go dine on some fantabulous paste!

I Won't Be Bullied

No one likes a bully, but we all have to deal with them at one time or another in our lives. There are playground bullies, school bullies, neighbor bullies, work bullies, etc. Basically, in any and every aspect of our lives, we can find bullies.

I for one, while not advocating violence, refuse to let myself be pushed around. I will stand up for myself, never back down from defending myself and take physical action when I have exhausted all other options.

The other day, yours truly was taunted. It started out subtly. I noticed myself being stared down out of the corner of my eye. I gave no reaction, but carefully kept monitoring the situation.

Soon things became more blatant. The staring was more obvious and in much closer proximity. I made full on eye contact to show that I was aware of the presence and the hostility. I needed to show that I was not intimidated.

Before I knew it, we were only about 2 feet apart. I continued watching my back, unafraid and going about my own business. Then I heard it, "You want a piece of me? You think you can take me?".

Surprised and extremely irritated, I did what had to be done.

I showed that cheesecake who's boss.

I'd like to see it just try and taunt me again.

A Woman Has Needs

Yes, we all have needs. Women, myself included, need more than just wistful wants and pedicures urges with erstwhile pacifying effects. We have lustier needs, deep in the core of our beings that will bring us long lasting satisfaction and hot, steamy, emphatic pangs of joy over and over and over again.

Of course I am talking about my needs. My personal, sanity saving, full tension relieving, do-it-yourself everyday to full and complete satisfaction, kind of needs.

That's right. Yours truly, is lacking in full satisfaction. I need to go from 0 to "Oh my, that is incredibly hot" in 10 seconds and maintain it for up to 45 minutes, minimum.

I have been a full time Mom for 17 years now. I live and love my life daily as I try to keep this 3 ring circus running smoothly. I devote myself to my family, but I need a little sumptin' sumptin' just for myself.

That little Sumptin', is a tank-less, continuous, hot water heater.

I can never shower in the morning before I have to leave the house, because the hot water has been already all used up by people who have to get ready for school or work.

I can never shower while someone else is using the hot water in one of the other bathrooms. Or laundry room. Or dishwasher. I hate trying to race and compete for hot water, everybody involves loses.

With a 40 gallon tank and a family of 7 living here, the hot water demands are great. Ever when the Weasels all leave the house for the day and I finally get to take my shower, I must choose to wash and condition my hair or shave my legs. There is never enough hot water to do both.

I need a long, hot, unencumbered, steamy shower. Preferably on a daily basis. I want silky hair and legs at the same time. I need a steady flow of penetrating heat to sooth my sore and tired muscles and relax me enough to carry the stresses of the day.

I need an endless hot water supply. I need a tank-less, continuous hot water heater.

Alas, I'm not holding my breath. My family has so many other needs that come before my own. Orthodontic apparatus, a fence, a paint job on the first floor of our home and a real deck to replace the one that I tried to burn down last summer, just to name a few.

Now all of you who kept reading while thinking this was going to be a dirty post, go wash your eyes out with soap.

We Need To Talk

You know I love you and the special time that we get to spend alone together. I cherish your company and affections, but when I am tired and heading off to bed, I am ready for sleep.

This is not the time to start fooling around. I am at the end of my day and usually exhausted. When you follow behind me and playfully plant yourself onto my side of the bed, with that come hither look in your eyes while I am getting changed, I just get annoyed. I'm not in the mood.

When I climb into bed and you start pawing all over me, you really test my patience. You ignore me all through the day, when I have the energy to offer myself and my time to you. You are never around when I'm ready to spend time with you.

I don't find it nearly as endearing or cute as you do when you stick your butt in my face or start rubbing yourself all over me. It's not attractive. Really.

Not only does NO mean No, but 'leave me alone' and 'get away from me' should be pretty clear cut instructions. I am not your plaything. Don't expect me to be welcoming of your advances when I am tired. Let me rest.

Don't get me wrong. I still love you, but if you continue to torture me at the end of the day, you will find yourself out in the dog house.

What Happens In The Oval

According to The voices In my head and rampant imagination a trusted source, this conversation was had in the oval office last week:

POTUS ~ I want to send the Health and Human Services Secretary to Haiti to ensure that all the aid and relief we are sending in the aftermath of this earthquake is being dispersed quickly and efficiently.

Presidential Advisers ~ Sir, we advise against sending the HHS Secretary at this time. Due to conditions on the ground, we would not be able to guarantee the personal safety of the Secretary.

POTUS ~ In that case, let's send Secretary Clinton.

I will exhaustively try to get confirmation on the validity of this story.

Christmas Tree Awareness

Every December 1000's of homeless and orphaned Christmas Trees are adopted from lots, the back of trucks and grocery stores, some to a good home and some not.

Because of a lack of screening and back round checks of those seeking to adopt a tree, all too often a tree will be tortured by tacky lights and adorned with gaudy decorations. In the worst cases of abuse the helpless tree will even be set fire too, taking its new home with it.
I urge you, my dear readers, to spread the word of Christmas tree safety to your friends and neighbors. Educate adoptive families on proper decorating techniques. Report and shame the abusers.

We can no longer turn a blind eye to these atrocities.
*Photos courtesy of Google Images