Came Tumbling After - Digital Image

New Category: Spank Me

I was pleased when Google started to index this blog. I have been missing the search traffic. If nothing else, it’s good for a few laughs. The day I found the search, “husband wife cousin sex”, from Provo Utah sent me into fits of laughter. I’m easily amused. Most of the time my searches are fairly basic. “Mary Ball Washington Gingerbread”, “Nekid Women”, or “Fortune Plant” are fairly common, yet somewhat unsatisfying. Last night, I was so surprised by one of my searches, I decided a new category was needed.

I currently post to 15 carefully chosen categories. I feel that 15 is a nice number. I have managed to fit just over 100 posts into one or more of them. However, sometimes you just have to break out of your mold and expand your writing into new areas. I’ve decided to call my new category Spank Me. Here’s why:

are you looking at my wiener belt buckle

No, I am not looking at your wiener belt buckle. I believe that belt buckles that feature wieners are illegal in at least 5 southern states including Virginia. Not only is belt buckle featuring a wiener possibly illegal, it’s just plain tasteless. You have too much time on your hands and should find more appropriate searches. It was a Sunday for God’s sake!

So, I’m sending out a big ol’ Texas whoopin’ to the person who originated that search. I hope you learned your lesson.

For a more appropriate search I tried “Are you looking at my wiener” belt buckle. It’s good for men to be well informed when it comes to the visibility of their anatomy. I couldn’t find what you wanted, but this may help.

LED Belt Buckle with Red Letters

When you have something to say and you want the world to know it, the LED belt buckle is the way to make yourself heard! Customize it yourself to say whatever you want.
Don’t worry if you can’t make up your mind. This buckle will take up to 6 messages of up to 256 characters each! With red battery-operated LED lights framed by rows of bright cubic zirconium this is the blinging belt of the future!

So, there you have it. Hope you enjoy my new category.  I wonder what people are thinking about the searches I used to write this post!  The things I do for you guys.

Boob-dar: The Super Power Explained

As the top investigative reporter for ImPerceptibility I feel that I have an obligation to investigate and explain some of the lesser know phenomena that exists in our universe. Today I will take on the super power known as Boob-dar.

Boob-dar: What it’s not
Boob-dar is in itself a super power and should not be confused with Booby-dar. Booby-dar is an innate ability possessed by most men that allows them to focus their undivided attention on a nice rack. Most men appreciate the aesthetic value of a nice set of knockers and therefore this would be classified as a skill, not a super power.

Boob-dar: Definition
According to my research, boob-dar is a super power possessed by a limited number of men. The acquisition of this power comes on suddenly and, with the exception of accuracy, is fully functional from the onset. The power can be best classified as the ability to roll over in the middle night and place your right hand directly on the right breast of the woman sleeping next to you. Boob-dar is unaffected by lighting conditions. Even in the darkest of room the power is functional. It is also unaffected by the relative position of the right breast to the right hand. The sitting up, sleeping on the side, or scooting down further in the bed evasive maneuvers are ineffective in blocking the power.
[Note: There is also a less common power know as Reverse Boob-dar that is present in about 10% of the Boob-dar community. It is essentially the same as Boob-dar but involves the use of the left hand and breast.]

The following is a transcript of an interview with Subject A. In order to protect his identity I have changed his name and decided to call him MyHusband.

Transcript of Interview with MyHusband
ImP: So, MyHusband can you tell me when you first realized you had this amazing power?

MH: It was around the first time I slept with a beautiful woman.

ImP: That would be our wedding night?

MH: Uhhh, … yeah?

ImP: Very well, have you noticed any fluctuations in your abilities? Are there certain times of the day it becomes stronger. Does it seem to be getting stronger or weaker as you get older?

MH: I haven’t noticed any changes. My Boob-dar seems to have come on strong and hasn’t let up. I have noticed an increase in accuracy in the last few years.

ImP: I have talked to several scientists that specialize in the field of super powers and there are several theories as to why some men posses this ability. Do you have any idea how you managed to obtain this power?

MH: There is no official explanation of my power. It’s all conjecture.

ImP: c-o-n-j? e-c oh, yes, how did you feel when you first learned you had this power?

MH: (Grinning) It felt nice.

ImP: Umm, yeah, moving on. Have you had any problems related to your use of this power?

MH: You remember when you were breast-feeding?

ImP: Ohh right. So you are saying there are a few kinks to work out?

MH: (Laughing) Something like that. Would you like a demonstration of my amazing abilities?

ImP: I’m a professional reporter for ImPerceptibility. Your suggestion is most inappropriate. You best watch it mister or I’ll yell harassment.

MH: Fine by me.

ImP: Maybe we should go off the record?

[The rest of this interview was conducted off the record.]

Conclusion
Little is know about the origins of the Boob-dar super power. Some scientists believe it be an evolutionary hitchhiker that has carried over from the time of the caveman. Other are leaning towards a genetic mutation. While men that posses this power seem to be very proud of their abilities, the value of such power is indeterminate. I will be conducting further research into this matter and will keep you posted as to any new discoveries or theories.

The Fish Stick Dilemma

We were out to eat with friends a few weeks ago and sitting at the next table was a very cranky three-year-old. For some reason he felt the need to scream – at the top of lungs- throw himself on the ground, then get back up and start eating again. His parents acted like they didn’t notice. My childless neighbors did however. After almost dropping his glass after a particularly loud scream he turned to me and said loudly “You’d think they’d take the kid outside. Some people are trying to enjoy a meal around here.”

I was extremely uncomfortable. My kids weren’t exactly angels at that age. I would not have allowed them to act like that, but they did their share of annoying others. A little while later the waitress came by and remarked loudly that my kids were very well behaved. Once again I was uncomfortable. My kids were older. My kids had crayons and paper. My kids have been going out to dinner with us since they were born. I pretended to be absorbed with getting shrimp on my fork. As she walked away I glanced at the noisy table. The kid was eating fish sticks. My mind went back in time to San Diego. My oldest was 13 months old.

She was eating fish sticks and every once in a while she would toss them up in the air. They usually landed on her plate so I wasn’t concerned. There was a woman sitting at the table next to us. She had that nervous fidgety look people get when they’re waiting for someone at a restaurant and they are not sure if the person is going to show.

She had a big purse sitting on the floor next to her and she opened it up and reached in to get her phone. Just then her date showed up. It looked like a first date. Both were a bit nervous and the conversation was just a little too rehearsed. We were finishing up eating when suddenly my daughter yells “Fip!” (If you don’t speak toddler that means fish) and threw the fish stick in the air. It landed in the woman’s purse. My husband turned around to say something but by this point they were hitting it off and he wasn’t sure how to get their attention. We sat there awkwardly for a few minutes trying to decide how to interrupt them and tell them there was a fish stick in her purse.

The waitress came by and gave us the check. We paid and left. The fish stick was still sitting in her purse.

I’ve often wondered how that played out. Did they go out and he really liked her but didn’t call again because she smelled like a school cafeteria? Did she not call him because he drooled too much - due to his obsession with honey battered chunks of meat?

Or maybe, later that night, she reached into her purse to take the “call me in case he’s a dork and I need to get out of here” call and grabbed the fish stick. I can see her screaming and throwing the thing across the table. It hits him in the face leaving a small smear of ketchup on the bridge of his nose. Both of them start laughing. Years later, married with their first child, they walk into a restaurant. “Fip” says the little guy with his dads’ curly dark hair and his moms big blue eyes. They look at each other and smile.

I kinda like that ending. Any other ideas on how it turned out?

Winter haiku

Sometimes it’s hard to express your feelings in words. Hence, the popularity of greeting cards. Or maybe we are just too lazy to take the time. Who knows. One thing is for sure, today I am more than capable of expressing my feelings in words. I have choosen haiku.

The snow is falling

My nose and butt are so cold

Snow, beautiful snow

Ok, that sucks. Another perfectly legitimate reason for greeting cards.

She’s Gone Pro.

My oldest daughter has been taking Chinese Brush art classes for almost two years now. I wasn’t sure I wanted her to take art classes. I have always had a firm belief that art classes for children were a bad choice. They do little to foster a sense of creativity or discovery in a child and a whole lot to foster the ego of an artist. My daughter however was unrelenting.

I am not sure why, but she has always loved looking at painting done in traditional Chinese brushwork. I remember her as a small child – maybe 2-years-old standing in front of print of bamboo. She was there for a lot longer than she ever stood in one spot before. She was there so long I not only noticed, I committed it to my long-term memory. Considering I had a newborn and hadn’t slept for quite some time, my long-term memory wasn’t at it’s best. It must have been remarkable.

A few years later she asked to take art classes. She wanted to learn to paint Chinese paintings. I wasn’t so keen on the idea. I have seen children emerge from art classes with their masterpieces. The same subject, the same colors, the same style.

“Look what I made.” they would say proudly.

“Looks just like the teachers.” I’d think as I smiled and nodded in approval.

I didn’t want my daughters learning to paint like someone else. I wanted them to learn to express their feelings and explore their imaginations. I was perfectly happy with crayon drawings of burger houses and watercolor paintings of farting chickens. I told her I didn’t know anyone who taught that kind of art around here. It wasn’t a lie, mostly because I never looked into it.

Then the day of reckoning came the summer she turned seven. I innocently took my children to a pottery demonstration at a local museum. We had a blast making imaginary animals out of clay. After the demonstration was over my daughter picked up a brochure for other classes that were being offered at the studio. Her eyes lit up when she showed me the class titled Chinese Brush. I regretted teaching that child how to read.

I told her I would look into it and I did. I thought about the pottery demonstration and how every child there had made their own imaginary animal. Even though the same instructions were given, they were all unique and different. It takes a special kind of person to do that. There are not many people that will allow others the freedom to create without selfish demands of imitation. I was impressed with him. I decided to sign my daughter up for a month of classes.

To make an already long story a bit shorter, she loved them and we are still going.

This month the art center had a student art show. They all got to put a work of art in the gallery. She was so excited. This was one of hers.

When we arrived at the gallery that night the girls ran ahead and went to see their works on display. My oldest came back out, opened her mouth, turned around, and ran back in. I picked up my pace and followed her. You can’t see the little red dot on the name and title just below the work. It means SOLD. Someone, not residing on a branch of our family tree, had purchased her painting. She was thrilled.

Later that night a potter asked her how the show was going.

“I sold my first painting of the year,” she said casually.

Later, when we were leaving, she asked me what you had to do to get your own studio. She’s planning on talking to the owner next time she sees him. I don’t think you can get a studio until you are old enough to sign a contract, but I’m not putting it past her.

Recommendations - Safety

I recommend that you always:

Grab one of these before grabbing something hot and satisfying. 

This is my new favorite knit potholder pattern.  It took me three tries to get it right but I’m liking it. 

Electrical Knowledge

We’re making good progress on the addition to our home. The outside walls are up. The inside walls are framed and waiting for drywall. I even have a hole in the floor for the toilet pipes. I can see the rooms taking shape and I’m getting excited.

Saturday we decided to do the electrical work. Many years ago my husband wired the basement. He has a good idea what’s going on. I, on the other hand, do not. I wanted to learn so he decided to teach me.

I started with a plug. He walked me through step-by-step until it was all wired and in the wall. It looked so cute. All nice and neat and ready for electricity to bring it to life. I felt a bit like Dr. Frankenstein. It was just a little bit though…

I made my way down one wall of plugs and up the next. My husband was one plug ahead of me feeding the wires and setting out the hardware. By the last one, I knew what I was doing. It felt great. We had wired a set of plugs. I could have wired plugs for the whole rest of the day.

I’m not sure why I felt so excited about learning how to wire a plug. It’s not a skill I’ll use on a regular basis. There was no need for me to learn how to wire a plug. I did it because I wanted to. My husband helped me – because I wanted him to. We’re a good team. We’ve always worked well together. Sometimes I forget that. It was nice to have a 120-volt reminder.

Some Weather

The kids are playing outside in shorts and it is almost 70 degrees. It’s supposed to be January, but I’m not sure. I’m afraid I may have fallen and hit my head. I may have been in a coma for 5 months and woke up in May. Because it would be too traumatic for me to know about it yet, everyone is pretending it’s still January. So, if it really is May, let me know. I think I can handle the news…

Regular blog post writing will return after this short temper tantrum…

Where the hell is the snow? I want snow. White – fluffy – cold snow. The kind that makes your rear end so cold you have to stand over the heat vents in your night gown to warm it back up. Snow. I want it NOW!

And were back…

Some weather we’ve been having lately huh?  How’s the weather in your neck of the woods?

Chromatoast Update

I’m slowly getting my posts moved to the new site.  The cord on my laptop went bad.  Mostly because I keep pulling the laptop out from under the couch by the cord.  A new one is in the mail, but I can’t get much done until it gets here.  All my graphics, editors, HTML and such is on the laptop and it is hibernating because there is only 12% of the battery left. 

At least I have extensive hand-drawn sketches of how the site will look once I can actually get it up and running.  It gives me a small amount of comfort :)

In the mean time, have fun with the old posts (I have July and August up.  I’m working on September) and I’ll let you know when everything is up and running.