Paranormal Activity

I am still home and have nothing exciting to talk about, except to recall some more of Bryan's ponderings (I love my husband--he totally cracks me up).

Bryan's best friend is Brian from work (I call them "Bryan-with-a-Y" and "Brian-with-an-I"). Anytime they get together at our house in the evening, it spells nothing but trouble.

Example: I had a huge business meeting with my vice president one day--requiring me to be at work extra early. This meant Bryan had to take the kids into daycare, since they didn't open early enough in the morning. I got up that morning, noticed he wan't in bed (not unusual for him to fall asleep on the couch watching TV all night), and got myself ready for my big day at work. As I turn to leave the bathroom, Bryan comes bumbling in reeking of alcohol. He had just come inside to pee after staying up all night drinking in the driveway with Brian. So he obviously couldn't drive the kids to daycare--I had to call our friend in the next neighborhood over to come help out. Complicating matters was that our driveway was lined all the way around with empty beer bottles--lined...all...the...way...around. I don't have a picture because I was raging mad AND I didn't realize they were even there until I backed out of the driveway and ran over a bunch of them. You can't imagine the outrage after that... Those guys are lucky they are so darn cute. Or I would have KILLED THEM.

Now I realize I've written all about one shining example of Bryan-Brian mischief, and nothing about what I set about to actually write. Stay tuned for a later post about Bryan-Brian and paranormal activity.

My Retort

And my reply to my dear hubby's ego: (in case you missed it, it's here and here.

Can you count them all? I count ELEVEN.

I Know, I'm Awesome

Merry Christmas to MEEEE!!!

Here is this year's most awesome present to me, from me. The funny thing is that Jen was completely against it, but once again, I won and now she loves it and can't live without it. When will she learn that I'm always right??

Living room before my intervention (note that it looks boring and average to any male with high taste in electronics and gadgets):

Yes, that is from 2009 but it looks THE SAME. I looked at that room and thought, "What would Tim the Toolman Taylor do?"

VOILA!!! Sophisticated, tasteful living room after my masterpiece is completed:

Make no mistake--this image does no justice for the quality of my new projector. It is every bit as good as watching Bluray on the TV. Only much, much bigger. Add in my awesome surround sound and now we've got one hell of a home theater!

And don't listen to Jen (aka crazy wife):

Our 59" plasma TV was just way too small for my Bluray movies and Playstation games. She is always yapping on and on about how she misses Texas and how everything is bigger and better there...who's talkin' now???

OCD much?

Anyone who has spent any time around my husband with our kids knows that he is crazy about having their hair perfect. Perfect to the point that I am not allowed to comb their hair at all because I'm not good enough. Perfect to the point that he friggin' combs their hair before they go to bed at night! Psycho...

Since I am an evil wife, I have been plotting against this OCD behavior for almost a year. I stocked up on colored hair spray last Halloween and hid them. I bought clippers and stashed them away. I waited until the perfect moment to spring my plan into action--wacky hair day at daycare. Bryan had already left for work, so he had no idea what craziness awaited him when he picked up the kids from daycare...and I lived to tell about it.

Yep--those mohawks are real. I cleaned up the evidence so that Bryan would never suspect a thing when he got home from work. When I dropped the kids off at daycare, all the ladies gasped--they know first-hand how nutty Bryan is with hair, and they vowed to work late just to see his reaction.

Unfortunately, I didn't get to see it myself. He was still hyperventilating when he got home from picking them up. He had to prop himself on a chair just to look me in the eye. He didn't say a word for over 5 minutes (that's a long time!) And then he gave me a shock of a lifetime--he said Nick looked particularly cute and they could keep their mohawks for the rest of the week! (Who are you and what did you do with my husband???)

O'Doyle Rules! and Quantum Mechanics

Bryan and I were leisurely sitting in our big jetted tub the other evening pondering the universe. Why are you surprised? I think a lot of people compare our family to the O'Doyles from Billy Madison...

Don't you ever sit around and talk to your significant other about the difference between a new moon and lunar eclipse, or the term "nuclear engineering" versus chemistry, physics, and quantum mechanics?

I'll let you ponder this yourself. We are still arguing about it.

Gaga for GaGa

Bryan is giving me the evil eye as I write this...

Remember, he and I don't always see eye to eye on music, especially when it comes to Lady GaGa. Here is our oldest son singing his favorite GaGa song--turn off the music at the bottom of my blog before viewing:

Free digital slideshow made with Smilebox

For the "real thing", click here (caution--not for the faint of heart, and watch out for bad language about halfway through and other wierdness. About that language--Brandon listens to the sanitized version):

Lady Gaga vs. Dream Theater

Bryan & I are huge music listeners. When we first met, I was amazed that we had the same taste in music across the board. As in, anything from opera music and symphonic soundtracks to classic rock, 80's music, pop country, heavy metal, some Latina and select boy bands (I can't believe I just admitted that to the entire internet). A very wide range of music! We rarely disagree on it--until recently.

I have a history of not liking a song at first, and then listening to it enough that it grows on me. Bryan is the opposite--he knows immediately if he likes it or not, and never changes his mind. Lady Gaga is where he draws the line. Dream Theather is where I draw mine. Compare the two:

Yeah, she is definitely wierd--but I don't judge music by what the "artist" looks like. I agree that Dream Theater definitely has talent--I just don't like having to listen to a bunch of crap I don't like to get to one peice of the song that kicks butt. Their songs are, like, 15 minutes long!

So I guess our marriage is good if we are only arguing about Lady Gaga and Dream Theater. And I'll secretly let him watch Dream Theater videos on our giant TV because I think the lead singer is hot (even though he always looks pissed off). At the same time, I've taught our boys several of Lady Gaga's "most annoying" lyrics so they go around the house singing...hahahaha!

You Can't Buy & Sell Everything on eBay

I apologize to my Mom in advance, because I don't know what she's going to think of some information given here--might be "TMI"...but it was funny and typical of what I put up with around this house.

I have been jealous of Bryan's love affair with eBay for a while. His affection started just after we moved in together almost 10 years ago--prompted by searching for car parts to upgrade our sports cars. He quickly learned that he can buy mis-spelled items at a low price and sell them at a higher price. When his hobby changed from cars to guitars, he funded all of his new equipment through buying low and selling high on eBay. Now that we both have laptops, he'll sit in the family room and surf eBay all night instead of paying attention TO ME!!!!

I am proud of his ability to fund his expensive hobby through selling stuff on eBay. I don't really have a hobby right now, except to stalk people on Facebook. This morning, while trying to get the kids' breakfast done, I had to swat Bryan off (he knows it annoys me when he gets "handsy")--he "reasoned" that he has to feel me up before my boobs get old! I replied that I'd just go buy new ones. His retorted that I had no way to fund my new boobs because I can't buy & sell used boobs on eBay. I haven't gone out there to check for myself (who knows what would come up if I searched that!)--needless to say, I really had no witty reply.

What the...???

Is that a...an iron??


Is that...my husband?!
I don't know what the special occasion is...