Bah-REH-nah-KED LAH-di-ES

We took BratzBasher and her friend to the City Museum on Saturday to celebrate her birthday. It was, as usual, totally awesome. Unfortunately, BB hurt her foot and has been crutching it ever since. Merkin took her to the doctor to get x-rays, and the doctor didn’t get back to us with the results until this afternoon. Meanwhile, BB’s had no protection for her little ol’ footsie besides her tightly laced shoe.

She’s sick and tired of the crutches, so I was looking around yesterday morning for some music to cheer her up and found BNL’s Snacktime cd. Technically, it’s a children’s cd, but adults can enjoy it, too. I also have the Sesame Street box set.  BratzBasher loves it — especially the ninja song — and we’ve listened to it so much in the past couple of days that I’ve had “Pollywog in a Bog” stuck in my head for hours. I found a video of it on Youtube. Points for anyone who can identify who all the animals are. Bonus points for the fox playing the steel drum. I’ll even give you a hint: There are two foxes. Of course, as on that show Who’s Line Is It Anyway?, the points are completely worthless. I don’t even have credits for you to read aloud to an audience.

By the way,BratzBasher’s got a “possible fracture” and an appointment with the orthopedist tomorrow morning. We could’ve gotten her in today, but we didn’t want to take her out of JET. That’s the highlight of her week, you know.

Venus de Milo Was an Aborigini

Today, BratzBasher is eleven years old.  I thought I’d commemorate this momentous occasion by telling one of my favorite BratzBasher stories: The Aborigini.

BratzBasher had a bit of a nudity problem when she hit the terrible twos.  She refused to get dressed.  Merkin finally took to calling her an aborigini.  BB hated it.  She didn’t want to be called anything she couldn’t pronounce.  The “aborigini method” was a very successful way to get her clothed.

“I’m not a aborigini!”

“Then put your panties on.”

When we moved to Missouri shortly before she turned three, BB was properly trained in the modesty department.  Well, for the most part.  She could also pronounce  the word aborigini.

While enjoying an adventure to the art museum, BratzBasher spotted one of those armless, nude statues that you inevitably find in every art museum.  She pointed it out and said, “Poor aborigini.  She’s got no arms to pull her panties up.”

Merkin invented a game to teach our daughter modest dress standards.  While out on daddy/daughter adventures they would rate people’s outfits as they walked by; thumbs up for modest outfits, and thumbs down for immodest.  BratzBasher loved this game.  In fact, she changed from brazen streaker into very vocal advocate for modesty.

Merkin liked to take BratzBasher to the mall for lunch because he could get her a happy meal at McDonald’s and then get real food for himself at the Panda Express just across the court.  (We both did a happy dance when BB discovered orange chicken and turned her back on McDonald’s for good.  Anyway…)  Daddy and daughter were both sitting at a table in front of the McDonald’s counter when Merkin noticed that BratzBasher kept turning around to look at a teenaged boy behind her.  He was wearing the typical oversized jeans — so baggy that you can see a good six inches of boxer shorts — and was trying to chat up the cute girl at the register.  The blatant display of his unmentionables was really starting to bother BratzBasher.  Finally, she turned around, stood up on her chair, pointed her finger at the boy, and said, “Pull your pants up!  Your panties are showing!”  Then she calmly turned around and went back to her fries, satisfied that he’d been properly chastised.  The cute girl at the register (as well as everyone within hearing distance) starting laughing, and the boy pulled his pants up and held them in place as he slunk away in complete and utter embarrassment.

BratzBasher still feels very strongly about modest dress in public, but she’s not so vocal about it these days.  Toddlers can get away with a lot more than their elders.  Shame, really.  I can’t tell you how many times I’ve wanted to tell people to pull their pants up, or button up their shirts, or put a bra on.

HAPPY 11th BIRTHDAY, BRATZBASHER!

Can I be just like you when I grow up?

I don’t get it.

Could someone please explain to me why the heck I should want a boot with a hole in the toe? Correct me if I’m wrong, but shouldn’t a boot keep your feet warm and dry? Especially in the winter? I just don’t get it.

This isn’t even the most hideous one I could find.  I just didn’t want to waste time looking for the worst one.

On the way home from torture – er, I mean, exercise group

I give myself a pat on the back for making it to exercise group today.  I arrived late, but I did stay for the whole time.  Once I’ve learned to actually show up to every session, I can work on being on time.  Anyway…

Before the soreness really settles in, I thought I’d share this song I heard on the radio while I was driving home.  One of my presets (button 6) is Lindenwood University’s radio station.  There’s no commercials (well, except for the ones that tell you they have no commercials), no pledge drives, and they even throw in the occasional news break.  They often play songs you don’t hear on the other radio stations, too.  When Merkin first heard me listening to it, he thought it was a Christian radio station.  I couldn’t figure out what he was talking about until I realized he thought they were calling it “The Word” instead of “The Wood” (you know, as in Lindenwood).  Once I cleared that up, he stopped worrying about me.

So this song I heard is “Hey Girl” by Garrison Starr.  I’m putting the lyrics underneath the video because it’s an amateur recording of a live performance, and you can’t hear all the words clearly.

What makes you think

you gotta hold the world on your shoulders

and handle that load?

Who gave you

the fine tooth comb

to judge your every move

before you’ve even started to make one?

Hey girl

It’s a beautiful day

for flying.

Don’t you wanna open your eyes?

You’re dying.

Subtle was the way

the clouds rolled in on you

to fog up your windows and darken your view.

An unforgiving face

who dared you to escape,

living for the chance to scare you back in place.

Hey, girl

it’s a beautiful day

for flying.

Don’t you wanna open your eyes?

Hey, girl

it’s a beautiful day

for flying.

Don’t you wanna open your eyes?

You’re dying.

It’s no way to live so safe

all wrapped up in my fears

’til I just suffocate.

I will get through

if it’s the last thing I do.

I’ll have Halloween pictures before the week is out.  No, really.

All by my lonesome

So Merkin and BratzBasher are in AZ right now having a grand ol’ time.  Idiot #2’s wife has decided she’s too thrilled with BB to play psycho-in-law, so there are no problems on that front.  I’ve just been hanging out here, watching movies, eating leftovers (I still get Merkin’s cooking even when he’s gone!), and generally goofing off.  I toyed with the idea of just pretending I’m not home tomorrow night, but with both vehicles in the driveway…that’d be difficult to pull off.

I managed to finish BB’s kimono in time.  I even whipped one up for her sidekick Hoppy (a large stuffed bunny) out of an old turtleneck and a headband.  I’ll include pictures in a post next week.  I’ve instructed Merkin to take lots of them.

The dentist’s office called me Wednesday afternoon and told me my crown came in early, so I had that put on yesterday.  Not nearly as unpleasant as when they installed the temporary, let me tell you.  I didn’t even need novocaine.  I was thinking that the top front of the crown was a little high, but then I realized that the spot bothering me was a completely different tooth.  Why it never bothered me before now, I have no idea.  Ah well.  I’ll get used to it again, I’m sure.

So here are the movies I’ve seen so far, courtesy of my favorite video rental place:

Hancock — I wouldn’t have paid full price for it, but it was worth the rental.  I don’t think I’ve seen Jason Bateman in anything since “Valerie”.  He was very funny, playing the role of a less-than-successful PR agent trying to turn superhero Hancock into a likeable guy.  I think the PG-13 rating for the movie was a bit low, though.  Any movie that involves a scene in which one dude’s head is shoved up another dude’s butt should rate an R.  They didn’t show the actual shoving, but the end result definitely got its moment on-screen.  Not cool.

Push – I didn’t expect this to be spectacular, and it so wasn’t.  I’m still trying to decide if the idea had more potential, but I can’t really make up my mind.  I’m not sure Dakota Fanning was the best casting choice.  Maybe it was just a bad role, though.  The rental store had a “rent 3, get 1 free” deal, so I’m calling that one my freebie.

I also rented Knowing (Nicholas Cage and a time capsule) and Phoebe in Wonderland (not sure I know what it is yet).  I’ll let y’all know what I think of them later.

I’ve talked to BratzBasher on the phone a couple of times now.  She always asks me if I’m eating chocolate.  Not when I’m on the phone with her, but I think I’ll go have some now.  It’s a good thing I haven’t purchased any Halloween candy yet.