mento bomb

My boy has big ideas. Sometimes he gets inspired to try an experiment. Much like his delightful mother, when my boy gets a notion he becomes keenly focused on the making of it to happen. He will speak about little else, he will think about little else. He will request the time and materials to get 'er done at millisecond intervals.

The most recent dream has been an, um.... explosive device involving mentos and coke (Don't ask me, I have no idea).

I encouraged him to go for it, but he had a substantial obstacle thwarting his progress: the dude is broke. I was willing to support this depraved endeavor emotionally, but financially? Not so much.

He is no longer allowed to ask his sister for money, because she always says yes and then regrets it and tries to repo and things get ugly. If my boy wants cash, he has to earn it. The kids' bathroom is always up for a good cleaning!

Cash in hand, he hit the market and came home with a coke and three packs of mentos: two of the mint variety (also known as toothpaste candy) and one fruit flavored roll, strictly for eating, because every dummy knows that the fruity ones won't blow up. Duh.

I almost didn't take photos because the table was so messy, but then I realized: 1. I smelled a blog post, and 2. next time anyone needs money they have to clean off that table.

He had constructed a clever model for this experiment. The idea was that the water bottle/rocket would be filled with mentos, then suspended above a container filled with coke.

Earlier versions included a small cardboard disc tied to a string. The disc would prevent the mentos from prematurely falling into the coke. Once the stage was set, my boy would tug the string to release the disc and the mentos would fall into the coke and explode with a force great enough to propel the rocket, presumably into outer space.

The disc was tested, but failed, so a wax paper substitute was quickly constructed. Please note that my girl tuned in to my constant bitching about the building of rocket projects on top of a mess, so she erected a helpful napkin backdrop for my photo.

Once the model was complete, we headed outdoors to avoid blowing the roof off the joint, except in a figurative sense.

  

 And then, the moment we had all been waiting for:

Rocket science is an imperfect art, but you learn more from your failures than your successes, right?

He's already got plans for an improved model. I can't wait to have the windows washed!

And although the mento bomb was a dud, there was a silver lining:

And no one blew up.

Weekend 3 way: many limbs and ears

Is it me, or are there too many limbs in this picture?

Limbs a-flyin', screech owl a-screechin' in my ear . . .

"Hello Yoda gargoyle. May I peer into your ear?"

On the road hiaku

bags packed up again
half full of dirty laundry
one more stop for fun

ITAM 2011*

Subtitle: Let's Try This One More Time.

It is, once again, International T-Shirt Appreciation Month.

I know, I know. Last year's I-TAM got derailed and ended prematurely. But that's not going to stop us from trying again. Oh, no, it's not. It's a new year, afterall. So let's get those tees out, let's get rid of that hyphen, and let's try again . . .

Because it's July. It's International T-Shirt Appreciation Month. It's Eye-Tam, people. Wear those t-shirts with love and pride.

Look! Mistah Schleckah is!

July 1: Thomas Wolfe

Photo taken by me lying on the couch because
I was too tiyed to get up.

July 2: Hygienic Art XXX

That is a killer T.

July 3: Huskies, baby.

July 5: Kat Murphy original*

*July 4? Oh, we've got July 4. Be patient, wouldja?

July 6: Long Hair Ranch.
We'd tell you where it is, but then we'd have to,
well, you know the rest . . . 

July 7, Today! Florida State Parks.

A proud tradition.*

*I just made up that slogan. Pretty good, right?

Well, I'd say we're off to a flying start this year.

Happy ITAM peeps! Wear 'em proud.

independence

We indulged ourselves a little bit this fourth of July. After all, Independence doesn't come every day of the year! It's a tough day for driving and parking, and our friends were going to be staying down by the bay for the duration. Rather than lurk at their doorstep and crash their party, we opted to book ourselves a lovely room of our own! And crash their party.

First things first, though. What's the first thing you do in a hotel?

Jump on things! Get your mind out of the gutter. My kids have always called this activity "mosquito." You stand on one bed and go "muh... skeet...." then as you jump you scream "TOE!" muh skeet toe. Get it?

It was a beautiful room with a beautiful view, this vantage point doesn't do it justice.

Ah, yes. That's better.

It really wasn't shabby at all.

Now that we've got the viewing out of the way, what's the second thing you do in a hotel?

Cartwheels down the hall, of course!

I kinda like this one sideways. I really want to manually point my own toes, though.

Perhaps my favorite thing about this series is that the maid's cart is right there. Did she see us? We weren't quiet by any means. She should have come out and taken a photo of the three of us! How rude.

This just so happened to be the very hotel where we had our wedding reception back when dinosaurs roamed the bay.

We just stayed one night, enjoying a fun evening with our buddies at the hotel next door while hooligans blew up shiny things. We were very smug to wake up by the water on July 4, our westy firmly ensconced in a parking space while the multitudes inched their way west.

I began my Independence the day at the fitness center. I'm not much for the machine work out, but the fridge full of cool towels, the chilled water, the free bananas.. who could complain?

Here's where I sat on my ass and pedaled while watching Rachel Ray and playing Words with Enemies Friends

Then our friends at the hotel next door came over to OUR hotel, and boy oh boy was there fun to be had with the festivities and the water slides and the body-checking duels over poolside chaise loungers. Much like a cruise ship, the staff were all foreign and gorgeous. Our most quotable line was when the German bingo caller got mad at kids for calling out BINGO without the numbers to back it up. He said: "You can't call bingo you don't have!" (be sure to read that with a German accent). At one point we heard a winner being announced after a hula hoop contest, and when herr bingo put the mic up to ask the winning kid his name, we heard an unmistakably familiar boy introduce himself as Ricardo.

Well done, Ricardo!

The girls were up next, as if anyone had a chance against my girl. She learned to hula hoop in the womb.

We finally scored two chairs, and pushed them together to create ass island.*

See the boys playing chicken? They kept getting in trouble so we had to pretend they weren't ours.

*Ass Island

*The Isle of Arses

We eventually made our way back across the street to the party where it was at. I hardly took any photos, I suck. But it was beautiful, and fun, and summer.

And all my favorite knuckleheads were there, running away from my camera.

I already booked the same room for next year. Who's in?

A first for 4ths

This 4th of July was a bit different than those of years' past. For starters, it wasn't spent in San Diego. And we didn't get anywhere near a beach, which is a bit sad. And there were no fireworks. But we did have plenty of majestic red rocks about, and my family was all together, which very rarely happens, even though we are so few in number.

So there was ample reason to celebrate.

We may not have had any boomers, but that didn't dampen our 4th of July spirit, we were rich with swag...

But at some point, as always..............."the party's over..."

Hope your 4th was all sparkle and pop.

235 Years and Counting . . .

Have a fun-filled, firewords-filled, music-filled, cookout-filled, beach-filled, beer-filled, safe and fabulous day, kids.

Happy Independence Day!

Weekend 3-Way: Baby, baby

Sam Summer, Baby.

Booze barrels, baby.

Um...... baby, baby, baby?

the 1001st post on Me, You, and Ellie

I just so happened to take a glance at the ol' blog dashboard yesterday, and guess what? Beth's Leaving Las Vegas was post number 1,000! How cool is that?  Seems like the first of our second grand should be a masterpiece, a literary milestone, an onus.  


Sorry, suckahs. You get classic Friday Hodgepode.


Three things:



1. Recently rejected facebook status updates:

Women who roll suitcases into the locker room frighten me.

Women who apply make up wearing nothing but a thong in the locker room both frighten and impress me.

If you see me naked in the locker room, please don't speak to me until I am clothed.

I think I just washed my hair with dial body wash. Again.

Farts in the group X room are particularly noxious.


Hmmm, seems that I compose a fair amount of empty existential statements in my head at the gym. I think it's because the gym is the only place on earth that I'm ever alone, and when other people aren't making noise in my face, I'm making noise in my head. THAT could be a status update. But there's more:

My girl wants to know where the homeless people get sharpies to make their signs.

Breaking News! My son just texted me from school. He does not like his sandwich. Thank God he didn't wait until we got home to tell me.

TJ Maxx offers the opposite of retail therapy. Why is everybody yelling?

Kale chips are vile (turned that one into an entire blog post)

I'm using Words with Friend to make enemies (user name Jacquie ck - challenge me)

I  feel guilty for using a vons bag at trader joes

I can’t do a left crescent kick for shit

The real reason I don’t like the front row at tkb is that it forces me to witness my white girl moves.

If you have a microphone within 6 inches of your mouth, you really don't need to yell.
----------

2. This reminds me of 3:00 at the club 

Arguably the best part of any trip to the pool

------------------

3. I talked about this meal incessantly on the day it was cooking, and finally had the chance to enjoy it at almost 9pm. Torture.

spicy butt sandwich with slaw = love. recipe

Happy Long Weekend, America!!!!