valentine tyrant

i hate valentine's day.  i always have.  i think it is mean to single people and men who are expected to make it somehow perfect.  i'm so glad i don't have to celebrate it.

but the world has found another way to torture me with valentine's day:  kid cards.  the kids hate doing them.  i hate forcing them.  i've tried making it fun and crafty, but they only want to do two before they get bored.  we've bought the character cards, but just writing the names on them seems like an insurmountable chore to them.  

this year, we've had loads of snow days, so we started more than a month early.  fortunately, i know most of the kids' names.  but instead the kids want to waste their valentine energy making ten cards for mommy.  what we will end up with is 30 fancy handmade cards for mommy, ten fancy handmade cards for teachers and random classmates and 50 cards with half-assed barely legible writing on store bought cards.

i'm still not sure we won't be having some kind of valentine screaming match the night before.  it seems like so much trouble for something that's supposed to be fun.  

i always thought that thing was mayor mccheese

when i was 12, i went to mcdonalds with some friends and we played at the mcdonaldland playground.  we decided to see if we could all fit in the mayor mccheese together.  it was a tight squeeze, but we all got in. 

i was quite a bit taller and huskier than these friends.  they all jumped out of the head exit, but i couldn't get in a good position to do that unless i went head first.  i panicked.  

i was stuck in the damn mayor mccheese.

for a moment i thought i'd never get out.  i was mortified.  

i don't exactly remember what happened next.  i'm not sure if i've just blocked it or all the adrenaline produced by the complete embarrassment of being too giant to cram myself in the mayor mccheese yet doing it anyway made my brain stop working or what.  but i do seem to remember one of my friends helping me get my feet near the body entrance and helping me get out.

apparently, i'm not the only one.  there is an entire facebook group about it.

anyway, when i was looking for an image, i discovered that thing is not, in fact, a mayor mccheese, but an officer big mac. 

silverware organized!

i couldn't find a knife when i was making a sandwich today, so i actually organized the silverware drawer.  then i realized that it doesn't really look any better than it did when it was a jumbled mess.

 

i know this is a bit of a lame offering.  i've been working on a snow day post, but it's not as funny as it should be yet.   i don't think your brain would be so sharp after seventeen snow days, either.  

also, i'm still using two spaces after every sentence even though it's apparently wrong now.  suck it, slate magazine.

and finally, i don't care much for horoscopes and all that, but i'm still staying a pisces.  suck it, minnesota planetarium society.

power outage culprit?

our power went out for a few hours this evening.  i think this may have been the culprit...

creepiest santa warfare

so ever since the creepiest santa appeared at the top of the stairs, we've been taking turns trying to scare each other with him.  

first we put him in my mom's bed.

 

then he appeared by the door when the kids were leaving for school.

then we put him in the cupboard.

then he appeared on the doorknob with a photo of creepy baby santa.

so we put him on the coat rack.

then he appeared on the trash can in the garage and then funky little shelf above the stairs.

the kids had enough.  they and a friend started writing letters to creepiest santa. 

 

now he is wrapped in dadaw's christmas sweater, waiting to be opened in the morning.  

happy christmas!



****update:   dadaw opening xmas sweater:

damn you, game informer!

for getting this stuck in my head:

informer, blah blah blah blah blah blahbity blah, i lick you boom boom down

every time i go to the bathroom.

creepiest santa shenanigans

imagine you are 6 and just starting to read basic words well.  imagine you decide to go upstairs to visit your grandparents one saturday morning, and this is what you see when you approach the stairs.

after the initial shock of the creepiest santa unexpectedly being at the top of the stairs wears off, you approach the santa and start tackling the sign with your 6-year-old reading skills.

 

the kids are used to my parents' sense of humor, or they may have run away screaming.  also helping:  they've never seen a chucky movie or anything scary where a doll comes to life.