Whoo hooo Hooters

I'm not much of a feminist, and so, unlike some other women, Hooters® has never been a problem for me. You ALREADY know that I speak not of Owls ~ nocturnal birds of prey ~ nor of the O.W.L.'s - Ordinary Wizarding Level (O.W.L.) ~ the annual exam given to pupils of Hogwarts School of Witchcraft & Wizardry during their 3rd thru 5th years at Hogwarts. No, no....I do indeed speak of Hooters® ~ that notorious American restaurant chain that targets male customers (not mail customers) by boasting a staff of female waitresses. These Hooters® Girls are known for their All-American good looks. Ahhhh, I see it in your thoughts right now - 'that is NOT what they are hired for'. Well....that is true too. And there in lies the subject for this story.

I'm not sure how the discussion first came up, but the whole fam damily was in a local 50's themed restaurant. Maybe it was the waitress taking our order that first sparked Hunter's memory. Suddenly Hunter spoke up "Nick (his friend) said that if a girl wants to work at Hooters®, she has to stand in front of a wall as close as she can, but her nose can't touch the wall." He looked at all of us with a big grin, "Do you know what I mean?" We just stared at him, a bit shocked, quite amused, and wondering how we were to approach this. After a couple of moments of complete silence, we began to laugh.

Since I am unemployed and we are always talking about crazy jobs that I could do for work, I said, "Hey, maybe I could get a job at Hooters®."

We all laughed again, and Hunter said, "Momma, your nose would touch the wall!"

I was surprised he would say this as it's obvious I have ample bosom. "How come, Hunter?" Hunter.....my sweet, my darling, my kind, wonderful boy.

Without skipping a single beat, my adorable and oh-so-innocent son said, " 'Cause the Hooters® girls look like THIS....." and he put both hands in front of his chest and showed us the Hooters® form. (diagram A)

diagram A ☞

"....and you......

(ooooh man......I already knew what was coming)

......look like THIS!"

diagram B ☞

(Give 'em 20 years, son, and their's will be hanging to their toes!!)

We tipped the waitress extra. She had heard the whole conversation. I call it 'hush money'.

chat with a savant

sa·vant a person of profound or extensive learning; learned scholar.

EARLY Friday morning, my son and I had just dropped my daughter off to cheer practice. It was 6:30 AM. I am NOT a morning person, I am a night owl by profession and by a life time of training. I love David Letterman AND I love my Scotty Craig Ferguson, who is a hottie and on whom I have crushed since his Drew Carey days. Those who know my affinity for silver hair will not be surprised to know he is a beautiful, mature man with a grey/silver hair, AND he's very clever and witty. I LOVE clever and witty.....but I have digressed, as this blog is neither about my late night owl behavior NOR about hot older men.

So we are driving down the road, which due to the early hour, was clear. The sky was blue and clear and gorgeous. My brain was addled and tired, and NONE of those former attributes.

So it is at this moment that my beloved child says to me, while looking at a bus on the right of us, "Momma, why do buses have orange lights on them?" I was confused....orange lights? I scanned the bus very quickly. DO buses have orange lights? I paused and then stammered, "Ummm sweetie, I am not sure, I don't know why they have them. Do they HAVE orange lights?" He answered that they do, pointing in some general direction of the huge bus next to us. But he dropped it, and I was off the hook.

So I thought.

Then came a new question, lurking in the dark and waiting for me to get snagged in it's web. We were driving a bit faster than the bus, of course.....and as we passed the front window where the driver sat, Hunter asked his next question - a simple, easy question. "Hey momma, how come the bus steering wheel is so big? Is it because the wheels are so big?" Huhh! I haven't a clue. A flash of car sizes/wheel sizes and steering wheel sizes passed through my head. Do Monster Trucks have monster steering wheels? Do mini Coopers have a mini steering wheels? (And DAMN! I had just driven past 7-11 while trying to drive and think. No Dr Pepper for me this morning now. Too bad, it would have helped me come up with a snappy answer.)

"Oh Hunter," I said in my best i'm-sorry-your-mommy-is-such-a-dummy voice, "I'm not sure, honey. I'm sorry."

He said, "It's ok." letting me feel like I wasn't a total loser. For about 30 seconds.........

Then he said, "I'll ask daddy - HE knows more!"

duh duh duh DUHHHHHH!

And if you think THAT is funny - wait till you hear the Hooter's story in my next blog.

The Furries ~ the puppies

Sara

Sara is our 10 year old yellow Lab - true to her breed, she is patient and loving. Having raised two kids (ours) she has put up with talcum powder, Vaseline, fingers in all orifices, and days when her people forget whose turn it was to feed her. She is an escape artist and has spent her fair share of time in the slammer for taking off and visiting the neighborhood and city in general.

Casey

Casey came to us by way of the animal shelter. He was skinny and scared. Casey is a blue weimerainer and he has a very sweet disposition, but he is also very protective of his family. He loves his girl, Sara, and will follow her, and HAS followed her, just about anywhere. Casey is also around 10 years old and he manages to muster up the longest and loudest sighs and groans you have EVER heard from a dog. We haven't even begun to talk about his FLATULENCE!

Look down below for our CATS and the Lizzards!

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The Furries

The Furries

Jadyn (aka Little Girl)

     

      

Little Girl is our Bengal cat.  A Bengal is a domesticated cat bred from a black Manx and a wild Asian Leopard Cat.  She is crazy fun and loves to play in water, climb anything and everything and feels that it's her duty to drive our other cat bonkers.  She follows me all over the house just like a puppy, but give her some attention & she's back to DIVA status and ignores us as only a cat can do.  Allergic to cats?  Many people who are, are NOT allergic to Bengals.  Their fur is a PELT and they don't shed and have the dander most cats do.  Cool huh?

BooBoos 

     

      

BooBoos is my first baby, arriving before the dogs, even before my children.  I got him from one of my fourth grade students the year before Lauryn was born, & my husband found out I had him when he called home from the deer hunt & he heard meowing in the background.  He's now 16 & as beautiful as ever.  He's lost weight & has old man problems, but he's my boy & I love him to death. 

Look down below for the  Lizzards! 

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tHe ScAleY aNd FuRrY kIdS ~ ThE sCaLeYs

The Scaleys

Yoshimoku

He’s a Bearded Dragon. He measures about 8 inches head to tail right now, but at the rate he’s eating ( about 20 small to med. crickets per day) and growing, he will be between 18” to 24” within a year’s time. He is really nice, likes to be petted and held. His environment in the habitat has to stay around 105 degrees day and night, and he climbs up on his tree branch to be close to the heat lamp. Due to that heat lamp & the UV lamp & the special grape vine wood for him to "bask" on, Yoshi cost Santa a heck of a lot more money than we expected to spend! Yoshi sheds over a period of a couple of days and in little pieces that we find at the bottom of his habitat.

Gunner

Gunner is a Leopard Gecko, Hunter's first "paid-for" lizard. Gunner is a nocturnal lizard who is very shy & likes to hide in his cave & comes out to eat about 5 medium crickets a day. He's about 8 inches long & close to being full grown. Gunner likes his habitat to be around 85 degrees. When he sheds his skin, it comes off in pieces over a few hours time, and Gunner pulls off the pieces that are attached to his body & eats them. EEEEWW!!

THERE ARE OTHER LIZARDS PAST AND PRESENT, BUT DUE TO THE FACT THAT YOSHI ATE "BIGGIE" THE LIZARD LAST WEEK WHEN HUNTER PUT BIGGIE IN YOSHI'S HABITAT, WE ARE GOING TO PASS OVER THOSE LIZARDS FOR NOW.......MAY BIGGIE R.I.P.

Something About Jake......

I swear some of the funniest things that I have ever happened to me, happen at school when I am teaching. One of the top 5 HAS to be an incident that happened about 15 years ago. Everyone at that school still laughs about this one to this day.

I was teaching 3rd grade, it was my second year of teaching. I had the most delightful class of kids. Outgoing, smart, fun, kind....they still are one of my most favorite classes that I have taught.

We were doing prep stuff for Christmas, the holidays were coming on fast, and every year the 3rd grade classes studied about celebrations and holidays around the world. We did all kinds of different activities to tie the learning in with multiple subjects and making sure to cover core concepts the children were required to learn (I put that last sentence in here so that I look REALLY good, just in case someone here in Southern Cal wants to offer me a job).

Anyhowzit, we were making some sort of craft, and then going to a dress rehearsal practice for the holiday program, so the kids were taking turns going down to the bathroom in groups to get dressed in their nice clothing. I sent down a small group of boys and continued working with the students in the class with me. About 5 minutes or more later, I realized that all of the boys from that group were back, with the exception of one student. Jake.

Jake......Jake was a bit of a problem. He was a momma's boy, his dad didn't live around them, and his mom doted on him, allowing him to do mostly whatever he wanted. Also, Jake was smart. No...he was bright, probably one of the brightest kids I have ever worked with. He was smaller than the other kids, looked different, and acted different. This was not lost on the children. They were tolerant and nice to Jake, but they were wary. This is because at any given moment, Jake would become angry or upset and throw a tantrum truly worthy of "The Nanny". The first time I witnessed one of these tantrums, I was trying to get the class down to the auditorium for Picture Day. This is already a difficult day as you, as the teacher, need to ask the students for their order forms, collect the order forms, ask the students again for order forms, collect the forms from a few stragglers, write down or check the names of those students who have order forms, ask the students who have NOT turned in the order forms if they have the order forms, collect these latest order forms and mark them down also, ask students if anyone else has an order form, and so on..... So Jake's first tantrum occurred when we were walking down the hall to get the pictures done. He said his mom had told him she was coming to go with him to take pictures, which none of the other parents were allowed to do, and when she didn't show up, he started crying, and then stomping and then he THREW himself down on the floor and had an old-fashioned down-right-dirty tantrum, in the hallway, on the floor. All of us had eyes that were huge, watching him scream and kick. I tried to pick him up and get him to stand. He wouldn't and he continued. I told him to stand up. He continued. And then, I used my most ugly you-had-better-get-your-rear-off-the-floor-right-now voice, the voice that made other kids, even the toughest ones, tremble and do what I told them to do. It didn't even faze him. I finally had to reach down and lift the kicking kid off of the floor and carry him, kicking my legs, hitting me and screaming, up to the office. His mom got to us when We were almost there, and she simply helped him stand and smoothed his hair and kissed his sassy little cheek as if he had been mistreated and misunderstood. THAT was his tantrum. So back to the original story......

On THIS day, he had not returned from the restroom with the other boys. Knowing his penchant for getting into trouble (and having the other boys already tattle on his antics in the bathroom) I decided that I better go down to the bathrooms and check on things. As I started walking down the hallway, I heard yelling down by the bathroom. I sped up and ran the rest of the way, thinking that there was a fight going on. When I reached the open doorway that went into the bathroom, a boy came out and said "Mrs L, Jake needs your help!" I leaned in the doorway and yelled, (it WAS a boys' bathroom), "Jake! What's going on? Are you ok? What's the matter?" and then, from inside the bathroom came a yell for help like I have never heard before or since........

"My......peeee......nisss.......iss.....stuck....innn....my......zi.........pperrrrrrrr!!!!!!"

I stood there, dumbfounded, trying to think. I instantly decided that I would NOT be going in there to unhook his wanky. Emergency or not, there are some lines you cannot cross. Especially with a mama's boy. Especially with Jake.

I ran down the hall to the teacher's lounge. Now this is an elementary school, the ration of male to female teachers is about 1 to 30. My chances of finding a guy to handle this were slim. My principal however WAS a man, and he had a long history with Jake. THIS would be interesting.

There weren't any men in the lounge area and I ran to the principal's office - empty too. I ran to the front office and asked the women where the principal was or Mr. Johnson, a 5th grade teacher. They were both in the auditorium in the middle of an assembly. So I ran to the auditorium and went up to the door and yanked it open. Mr. Gills, my sweet, ready-to-retire principal was up front and talking into the mike to a room full of parents and students. I motioned him to come over and he could tell by the look on my face that I needed him NOW. He came over and I told him I needed his help quickly. We started walking down the hall and on the way, I told him what had happened. Mr. Gills is an amazing principal and he is the kind of principal that spends recesses and lunches out on the playground BEING with the kids. He's a really nice guy. But I am telling you, when we walked down that long hallway and I told him the story, I saw his lips twitch and he suppressed a smile.

We got to the restroom and he went right in - Jake was whimpering, poor thing, and I could hear Mr. Gills talking to him for a second. I stood outside the open doorway listening, and then, with a loud yelp from Jake, Mr. Gills unzipped his p*nis (c'mon let's just all agree right now - p*nis is an ugleeeee word). Mr. Gills walked out and I said, "Oh my gosh! What did you do?" and he said that he simply grabbed the top of the pants and YANKED the zipper down! And then, with the wisdom that only a principal of 30 years could give, he said, "Well, Mrs. L., if he wasn't circumsized before.....HE IS NOW!" And I swear his lip twitched again.

Coffee, Tea, or ..........

Filling Up The Bottle

Last year, during the summer, the kids and I went on a trip to Las Vegas for a visit. We lived there for over 15 years, and having moved recently to Southern Cali, we were feeling a bit homesick and wanted to see our friends again. I knew the traffic would be heavy, as always is the case around LA, so I chose a Friday afternoon before rush hour for use to get on the road and head out. We drove out to I-210, singing to Rob Thomas' new CD at the top of our lungs. We didn't even get out of Pasadena when I knew we were in deep deep doo-doo. The traffic was not just heavy, it was gridlocked. We moved about 2 - 5 miles per hour, we couldn't even get over to the carpool lane, which was going really fast - about 8 - 10 miles per hour. We should have turned around to go back home, but that was almost impossible too, and I knew that ANY MINUTE the traffic would let up and we would be outta there. But it didn't and we weren't. An hour later we were not even to Arcadia. We were in the inside lane and still moving only barely. This was the time my son announced his plans for the day. "I have to PEE!" Yep - a nightmare in any situation where toilets are nowhere in sight. And the intensity of his announcement told me I had no leeway time. "I really gotta go BAAAAD!" It was impossible to change lanes in order to get to an exit, you have to move to change lanes right? And we were not. So I wracked my brains (no smart aleck remarks here) and did what I knew was our only possibility. "I can't HOLD IT ANY MORE!" I knew quick action on my part, and cooperation on the part of my kids, was paramount. And NO, I was not going to have him get out and go - although we WERE all but parked. So I did the next best thing.

"L!! Roll down your window and pour your water out of the water bottle."

"Why???" was the typical teenager response.

"I want you to dump out the water so H can go potty in the bottle!"

Not even a millisecond passed before she yelled "EWWWWWWW! NO WAY! OOOH GROSS!!"

"I gotta go - gotta go - gotta GOOOO!"

"Dammit L! Dump out the water and give your brother the bottle so he doesn't pee all over the car!"

There was more mumbling and complaining but she finally opened the window and dumped the contents of the bottle onto the freeway. She threw the bottle at her brother as I was yelling to him to unzip and go. And then began the longest 3 minutes of the entire trip, sitting in an immobile truck, listening to the sound of..........well, you know. When he finished, I told his sister to grab the bottle "EWWWWW!" and screw the lid on tight and put it somewhere out of sight. We girls in the truck were completely grossed out, little brother, now feeling great, was back to playing his Game Boy. All I could think is how thankful I was that it was a boy, not the girls, in such a bind.

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Drinking My Propel

One time last autumn, I was working on the computer and I happened to look up and see H. walking from his room over to the kitchen with a bottle in his hand. He opened the fridge door and stuck the drink inside, closed the door and went back to play in his room. i remember thinking "that little stinker is drinking one of my Propels". I love Propel, but it isn't cheap, and when given the opportunity, the kids will drink it like water and then soon, it is all gone. So the Propel is for the grown-ups, unless they ask for permission to have one. This is a great rule and a great theory, but it's not the way it works very often.

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Filling Up The Bottle AND Drinking The Propel

The kids and I had gone shopping to Target last fall. While in the store, my phone rang and I answered the phone call and heard an angry sounding voice on the other side. I couldn't really make out what was being said, but I knew it was daddy on the other side. It was really hard understanding him, but what I could catch sounded like.........

"H.......BOTTLE!....DRINK!!.......PROPEL!!!.....PEE'D!!.....*&^+#$%@*&!!!"

My mind went back to the Propel bottle H. had carried and set inside the fridge. I turned to my son and began to ask "H, did you........." and my voice trailed off as I had to grab hold onto the cart because I was laughing so hard. I think I called every one of my friends and family members to share the story that week.