How to talk Halloween

In case anyone didn't know, we love Halloween.  But as usual, someone overbooked my schedule and we didn't get the bulk of Halloween decorations up until today.  Luckily Halloween is still tomorrow, so we're cool.  I thought I would share some of our conversation while decorating today.


We started talking costumes.  "So I'm going to put on a Ghillie suit and scare people before they get to the house."

"Honey, a Ghillie suit is supposed to hide you from an animal hunting.  I think any normal person would recognize a person there."

"Oh, then I'll just dig a big ditch and hide in there."

"You go right ahead baby."

Second child, "Mom I want to scare people but I want candy too.  What do I do?"

"You could scare everyone away from our house, then you can keep all the candy for yourself.  Your brother has braces and can't eat any of it."

*wicked smile.

Then we have the conversations about decorating.  Anyone listening in would be convinced that serial killers live in our house:

"I think the eyeballs should go in the bathroom.  No one will expect them there."

"Will people see the bones if they are scattered around the front yard?"

"I'm thinking a skull here, then the crazy skull at the top of the steps, they will never know what hit them."

"So I can hide behind this tree and try to kill them before the get to the front yard, right?"

"Does blood come out of clothes?"

"Grab them before they get the candy, that is the best way to do it."

"Do not spit blood on the little kids, OK?"

"I think brains, guts and chicken nuggets sounds great!"

"The machete works much better than the knife."

"Pull my finger."

OK, maybe the last one isn't really Halloween, but it is the first TRICK so I don't have to give him a treat.  I feel sorry for the innocent little Elsas coming to the Melang house, with all the decorations my children have set up, it will be like walking the gauntlet.  Who will be brave enough to actually make it to the candy?

How to Piss Off the Frozen Crowd - or, Let It Go!

Halloween is quickly approaching, and talking with several little girls excited about the holiday, I'm surprised how many are planning on dressing as Elsa.

You know they are coming.  No not the Walking Dead.  The Walking Elsas.

The movie Frozen playing out in your front yard.

Oh, we are going to see a lot of Elsa's.  So many that "Let it Go" may be forever etched on our mind after this year's holiday.

How do you combat the walking army of Elsa coming your way and still enjoy Halloween?  How can you keep all that candy you bought for yourself out of the hands of the little Frozen Queens?


Be creative with your trick or treaters.  Here's some ideas:

Open the door and become frozen.  Not the movie, but really Frozen.  Stand there frozen until the child gets ticked off and walks off your porch.  (More candy for you)

Answer the door saying, "Oh look it's Anna."  When they correct you say, "Oh I know, you're Ariel!"  When they get mad say, "OK, I get it you're Cinderella, she wore silver like that!"  Watch them walk off mad.  (more candy for you)

Get your own magic wand out and as you answer the door yell, "I got to you first!!"  Then slam the door.  (more candy for you)

Turn the heat up in the house to 89 degrees, open the door and say, "Sorry, can't freeze anything in here!"

Find a deer statue, spray paint it white, set it in the front yard.  Answer the door yelling, "WHAT DID YOU DO?"  If she runs away screaming then (more candy for you.)

Answer the door, holding a sword, saying, "Hi, I'm Prince Hans!"  Watch them run away.  (more candy for you)


Look at that little Elsa muttering, "My ex wife is colder than you."  Watch the parent pull the child away.  (more candy for you)

Open the door, saying, "Anna was way cooler!"  Watch her leave crying.  (More candy for you)

Learn the lyrics to the Frozen song, the real ones, "Do you want to hide a body?  Before it starts to decay?"  If she starts singing the other lyrics, run screaming back into your house.  (More candy for you)

Finally as you fight the 1,543,907th Elsa for your bowl of candy, simply scream:

"LET IT GO!"

(more candy for you)

If you are more interested in the liquid carbohydrates or candy.  Play this game:

The Frozen game.  Take a shot of ice cold vodka every time Elsa shows up at your door.  Believe me, after the 15th Elsa you will be singing Let It Go and thinking you sound pretty damn good!

Am I A Serial Killer?

Lately, the latest quiz sent over from all my bloody internet friends is determining whether or not I am serial killer.

My first thought is, hmmm, did they think, "Oh, we NEED to send Kelly this!"

And if so, why?




Sure I hold my Oreo cookies gleefully under the milk until the bubbles cease.
I do have an amazing collection of knives along with plenty of the reusable grocery bags to hide the body.  (What?  You don't collect reusable grocery bags too?)

There are a few times I've questioned whether or not I am related to Dexter, so I thought it would be a good idea to take the test.  Just to make things more complicated, my quiz is

Are you a sociopath, murder or serial killer

Oh goodness, what if I am all three.

The quiz starts with the usual questions.  Then I get hit with the hard one:  What is your favorite color?

Of course Kelly green is not listed.  Does this mean I am a serial killer?  Why is green not listed, did Hitler love the color green?  Or Gacy?  I have to choose something else, what if choosing red makes me a serial killer and yellow only a sociopath?  I'm going to choose Other.

What did I have for breakfast?  Granola, of course.  Why is one of the choices dog or cat food?  Is that the food of serial killers?

If your best friend shows up at your door panicking with a dead body what do you do?  Of course, I'd want to see who it was (did I know them) then I'd grab my trusty shovel and Wellingtons.  Oh wait, what about that bathtub full of lime in my basement?

More trick questions.  How many times did you watch American Psycho?  Once of course, there was much more information on how to hide a body on Criminal Minds than American Psycho.

How would you off someone?  I was surprised this question had the answer of bomb but not poison.  We must think about logistics here.

Do you believe in God?  Well of course I do but they are trying to throw me off with the answer of I believe in whiskey.  Which is true but only serial killers would get distracted like that, not me.

Finally, the proverbial question:  Why did the chicken cross the road?  My only answer, I like roast chicken.

As it ticked my results, I wondered what amount of therapy would I need if I truly am a serial killer.  When would I go for my first kill?

Whew!!

I am only 2% serial killer.

I am 60% boring, average person.
21% Murderer
and finally, only 7% Maniac

So, if I invite you to dinner, don't panic.  There's only a 30% chance I'm putting the rat poison in the chili, because I really want to see how that bathtub full of lime will work.

Are you worried you are a sociopath, murderer or serial killer?

Click http://www.gotoquiz.com/am_i_a_sociopath_serial_killer_or_murderer

PS.  This test had a disclaimer for Mothers, it fully understands that the urge to kill our children at certain times is completely normal and does make us a serial killer, sociopath or murderer.

WTF - Ebola and The Doctor's Office

So I have a sinus infection.  I know I have a sinus infection.  I wish I could just call CVS and say,

"I have a sinus infection.  I'm coming in to pickup antibiotics."

But no, you have to go to the doctor.  You must pay your $35 co-pay, wait 45 minutes for them to look up your nose and say, "Wow, you have a sinus infection."

It was different today when I went to the Urgent Clinic.  We are now in the age of Ebola.

Everyone in the waiting room looked up at me as I walked through the door, I know what they were doing.

They were gauging whether or not I have Ebola.  They were checking me out to see if I looked like I had a fever, or I was projectile vomiting with diarrhea.

Their staring makes me stop at the door, "I have a sinus infection," I mouth out loud to assuage everyone's fear.  I wonder if I should tell them I took the "Do you have Ebola" test online and was thrilled when it said I did not have ebola.

Sitting down, you'd think we're all playing a big guessing game, "Who's the sick person here."  Not me, I just have a sinus infection.  They seem on edge, that's when I notice the poor dude in the corner wearing a mask.

Why does he have the mask on?
Does he have ebola?

I sit and fill out paperwork, if I have any pooping problems, how many glasses of wine I drink (I was referring to the week I was sick) if I am on any ongoing medication (does wine count?)  I wish I could just write, "I HAVE A SINUS INFECTION!"  All over the paperwork. I feel the sneeze and cough coming, immediately grabbing a tissue.

You think I'd just infected everyone with ebola, the horror on their faces.  I look around pointing to my nose, mouthing, "Sinus Infection.  I only have a sinus infection."

Two ladies, after giving me a disgusted look, grab some hand sanitizer (like that will help from ebola.)


I sit and wait with my raging headache, my puffy sinuses, Kleenex in hand.

Until the next person walks into the office.

Just like everyone else, I look up and stare at him.

He doesn't look like he's been from Africa.
He doesn't have a mask on.
I wonder what's wrong with him.
Could he have ebola?

How To Survive PMS

Premenstrual System.  There I said it.  When it hits, it hits hard.  But there is a way to cope with it.

Being together for such a long period of time usually they can sense it the minute we get up.  Here's a few ways to cope with it.

Don't say a word.  Because whatever you say - YOU WILL BE WRONG!  Even if it is right, at that moment you are so very wrong.  Wrong enough to cause red hot fire to exit my mouth as I explain why.

For example, usual phrases take on deadly meaning when spoken during what should be PMS silence:
"Good morning" translates to "We've been waiting too long for you."

"I've never seen that outfit before" translates to "how can that make your ass look so big."

I am always right.  And yes, those Milano cookies do not have calories when I have PMS, so don't even raise an eyebrow as I saunter past carrying the bag, because you will be wrong!

I love my filter, meaning I say what is on my mind, and sometimes that may include listing faults - not my own but everyone else's.  Again, heed the keep your mouth shut rule, I've just lost my filter for a little bit, I'll find it shortly.

It is completely acceptable to see my crying uncontrollably because we do not have any dark chocolate in the house.  Go out and get some chocolate - winning!

Do not let me loose in the Dollar Store, the laundry detergent and dish detergent morphs to include Twinkies, Cheetos, Cheese Dip, and of course Skittles.

When I am talking about something totally irrational, don't problem solve.  Don't say a word.  Because eventually during my long discourse I will eventually solve a problem I never knew I had.

There you have it, it's easy to survive the PMS battle, your best bet:

Don't.  Say.  Anything.

We Have Gnomes in Our House

Two pesky little creatures called "Not Me" and "I don't know."

It is amazing how much trouble these little guys can get into.

They are very hungry little gnomes.  They love drinking all of the orange juice and leaving the empty container in the fridge.
  
If I get mad at them for doing this, they leave the full container in the fridge with the lid barely on so I douse myself with orange juice pulling it from the fridge.

They don't like my hardwood floors, feeling that they would look so much better with a nice covering of used candy wrappers.  Which is easy to do because they always drop them sticky side down so they won't move when my boys walk over them and cement them better to the floor.

I think they are afraid of kitchen elves, because they leave every single cabinet door wide open.  If could be to better see what's in there without the bothersome exercise of opening a cabinet door, or to protect themselves from any creative gnome trickery.

They both are raging fashionistas because no human, really.  No human.  Can try on and dump the amount of clothing sitting on my sons' bedroom floors.

I think they sleep with the Apple TV remote, because for some reason the only place I consistently find it is tucked under the cushions of the couch, after spending 15 minutes looking for it everywhere else.

I haven't caught a glimpse of them yet, still looking under each candy wrapper as I carefully peel it from the floor but no sight of them yet.

I know they are still here.

Someone left a nice big turd in the toilet.

It's a Given - the Fair Edition

I don't care where you live, there's some type of fair that comes to town once a year.  And like lemmings over the cliff, you go every year, wondering half way through creating the memory, why you do it.  Because if you ever decide to go to the fair, there's quite a few givens.



Your hands will feel sticky the minute your fair admission ticket leaves your hand.
They will feel sticky the entire time you are at the fair.
Then you will touch something (the handle of a ride, the doorknob of the restroom, the counter of the Pig Butt on a Stick vendor) and encounter something wet.
Now they are wet AND sticky.

At this moment, something on your body will itch.
Most likely eye, making you wonder about pink eye.
Or hair, making you freak about lice.
or skin making you worry about leprosy.

I think the fair sends out smoke signals when it comes to town because
there's a lot of people here I swear I never saw before
that shouldn't be wearing that whatever

they think is covering up their whatever
because it is not working.

Who are these people?
Many of them are breeding more fair goers of the future, getting them hooked on the candy apples, the cotton candy and the kettle corn.
Do they not understand that walking around the fair with a gigantic turkey leg hanging from your mouth is NOT sexy?
Honestly, there are a few that could safely enter the "Strange Freaks" show of the fair and be detained because they thought they were part of the show.
Not to mention the employees of the fair, I hope someone is doing background checks on these people because if you opened the dictionary to serial killer, a few pictures may look familiar.

So I am not sure what scared me more:
Everything you touch at the fair is sticky.
The unknown substance on the wire cage of the ride you're getting ready to get on.
The smell of sweat in another ride as the door closes and you realize you have no point of the horizon as it starts going around.
How easily a fresh made doughnut can disappear - after a pretzel, a box of popcorn, a funnel cake, two large sweet teas.
And after all that food you're still eyeing the fried Oreos, thinking, "Maybe?"
That you have to tip the restroom lady even if the surfaces in the restroom are STICKY?
And girlfriend, you're JUICY shirt, obviously two sizes too small with the jeggings is fodder for the Haunted House which was pretty lame and needed sprucing up anyway.

As we walk out of the fair, we all sigh at the new memory, move a little bit of extra fat around and grab for the hand sanitizer as we get in the car.

Ahhh, off the hook for another year.  Remember, nothing good happens at the Fair.