Why, why, why?

So, my childhood friend just posted that she worked out in a gym this morning that had chandeliers. With a lead in like that, I couldn't resist the urge to whip this out-- so to speak.

Seems like this might be an appropriate chandelier to have in a gym. At least, certain kinds of gyms.

But, really, isn't this just about the ugliest thing you've ever seen? It seemed to come from a completely serious post on chandeliers. (thanks, Becky.) So...someone out there has this in their home. And probably paid a lot of money for it.

Hee, hee. People so crazy.

Just in time for Witchmas

For those of you who know me well--and, considering all the verbal brain-barfing I do on the internet, pretty much everyone does-- you know I am losing my hair. Slowly, slowly, slowly, I am degenerating until I look like this:

<--

Except minus Michelle Pfeiffer's cheekbones and strong jawline. Pretty much her whole package. So... basically just this photo of Michelle from the eyebrows up.

Nice, huh?

Oh, and I'll be wearing the dress...because I'm going to need witchy threads.

So, being a glass half-full kind of person, I am trying to figure out what to do with this particular conundrum. I am hoping that you, my friends and internet stalkers, will help me sort this out.

My hubby has already shot down the Blossom hat, which is too bad, since I already bought it. But there are other options:

I am rather fond of the turban, particularly since I am pretty sure I can just tuck my keys and phone in there and be good to go.

On the other hand, I'm not sure I can carry off the face tats.









Here's another fave: the Justin Bieber wig. I like it because it ups my "cool" factor. On the other hand, do I really want to be indistinguishable from the young men in my daughter's class?

So, give it some thought. I'll be waiting for your input. And, while you're considering it, enjoy these delightful tidbits from The Ten Strangest Justin Bieber Products Money Can Buy.

Ho, Ho...ooooh

Ok, I don't really have any profound words. It's Santa, peeing-- off your house. Where else did you think he was going to do it? Use you filthy bathroom? Pulease.

Anyway, it fits my "things that pee" theme.

Yeah, I didn't know it was my theme either. I thought it was more "Metal chickens and the things that kill them." But this week, it's about pee.

Feliz Navidad from Rico

In preparation for the crabpocalypse, Rico is ready to party like its 2011.

That's right, crabpocalypse. You heard it here first.

Move over metal chicken...

Metal chickens are so 2011.

I declare 2012 to be the year of the metal crab. Which totally explains why 2012 is supposed to be the end of the world. Cause when the metal crabs take on the metal chickens, there's gonna be a lot of collateral damage.

Why do I not already have this?

Come on. Every shower should have this.

So, since I am now enticing people to my blog, I figured I'd better post something. And, viola, booger shower gel.

I love that it's green!

What in the frak is this?

So, I am washing my daughter's sheets... cause it has been the requisite six months...and, in order to do that, I have to unearth them from under eight million stuffed animals. And as I am wading through stuffed animals, it occurs to me that if we had the money that we had spent on all these stuffed animals, we'd have, like eight million dollars. What kind of idiots invest in stuffed animals?

On the other hand, crooked fund managers and banks have not squandered our hard won stuffed animal savings. Best put the beanie babies back in the safety deposit box.

That said, none of the stuffed animals look anything like this critter. Who is, of course, a double-anusodile.

When you gotta go...

Yesterday, I was driving out of the mall parking lot when I noticed this man, peeing in the trees on the side of the parking lot. As I drove by, he looked right at me as if he wanted to be noticed. And, considering how sparse the trees were, how could he not. I would have given a lot to take a photo of him to post on my blog, but, of course, I was driving. What struck me as ludicrous was that he was peeing in the mall parking lot when there are probably 10 different bathrooms in the Mall, a few short feet away. And it was 40 degrees out so who wants to whip it out in that?

Anyway, if you are at the Silverdale Mall, watch out for creepy pee man.

A love that could not be...

So, this is what I came across on my image search for "Starcrossed".

Obviously, it was not the only thing I came across, but it was one of the more amusing things. Since, of all things, I aspire to amuse, this is the photo I selected. The photo to launch my new quest...which implies that there was an old quest. There wasn't. But I digress.

Those of you who know me know that I named my novel "Star-crossed" because I thought it was an appropriate title. And it was. But what I failed to do was to research how many other books out there had the title Star-crossed. It turns out, a butt load. So, as penance, I am now going to read every book titled Star-crossed. That's the quest.


This is the first one I am reading:

Mostly because it appeared as "people who bought your book also bought this book" with Star-crossed: Journeys and, it was 99 cents. I am not sure why the one person who bought my book would also buy this book, but there you have it. I am 1/4 of the way into this novel and I like it quite a bit...much more than many of the 99 cent novels I have read. It might even be better than mine (gasp!).

So, Starcrossed book number one. Give it a read.

Get off the road...

I love this photo for its serene greenness but also because it makes me think of that scene in the Lord of the Rings. I'm sure you know the one.

This photo is particularly appropriate right now because after 3 days of having the kids back at school, things are looking pretty rosy. Or, at least, relatively green and shiny. But, I know I can't get too comfortable. Because any day now that Ringwraith is going to show up and pound the crap out of my hairy, Hobbit behind.




Holy shit!

*&%#$% Cat

I know that you expected me to blah, blah, blah about my new book today (Star-crossed: Journeys, available on Nook and Kindle for $2.99) since it is newly released. But today is GSDD (Get Sh** Done Day) and look who is interfering with me getting Sh** done.

Because, yes, my clean laundry makes a lovely bed. I should point out that this cat often exudes a foul stench to rival a pig farm so, his nest in my laundry is doubly undesirable.

Perhaps I should exile him to an alien planet.

Ooooo, is that a book reference? Maybe... read it and see.

The mouse needs to stay in the house

Okay, the dude at the Y was totally nice and soooo helpful to my kid while climbing, but he so needs to wear a cup or something. I mean, it's a family establishment... am I right?

In similar news, how can my boobs be crooked when I'm wearing a bra?

Finally, Rico can have a friend

Wandering JoAnn's with my sweet angels--who really need to go back to school NOW, by the way, I came this awesome Metal Thanksgiving chicken. Yes... chicken. It is clearly a chicken. And he clearly needs to come to my house and keep Rico company. Cause Rico needs someone to distract him from the piles of dead slugs. So, I picked him up and carried him towards the counter when child number two says, "You're really obsessed with those metal birds." "Am not," I say, and put him down. And so, thanks to my bossy pants daughter, I did not buy Rico his friend. They SO need to go back to school.








But I did buy this guy-- who bounces around like a drunken fat man and is hysterical.

I'm back, baby...

At long last, I have put my parents on their plane and real-estate-mageddon 2011 has ended. Now I can take a deep breath and try to be funny again. Unless my parents have sucked the funny out of me. Time will tell.

The Mannequins of Bellevue Square

You know, like the Bridges of Madison County.

Today was our annual shopping trip to Bellevue Square. I can't say that we found a lot worth buying... but we certainly enjoyed the mannequins.





As you can see, we really liked this particular mannequin. Mostly, we wanted to sit on the couch and her lazy, half-naked ass was in the way.












My daughters were highly offended by this mannequin's thong... which you can't see. Obviously, a photo of that would be in extremely bad taste.













This one is just creepy. Wish I had a see through waist. I also wish I had had the guts to go into that chi-chi store and take a photo of my kids with the green mannequins. But, as you know, I was wearing ripped shorts so, 'nuff said.

The happiest place in Muggleville

A woman I know writes a popular parenting blog and Universal Studios flew her and her family out to visit the parks so she would write about them. Though Universal Studios has done me no such favor, in fact, they refused to give me back the credit card that I left in one of their restaurants, I'm still going to blog about them. Yeah, you're welcome, Universal.

Here is the entrance to Harry Potterland. I must say, it did not disappoint. Although the snow on the roofs was kind of a cruel mockery considering the sweltering temps outside. Would it have killed them to air condition the whole exhibit? Considering the price of Butterbeer, they should be able to afford it.

So, here we are entering Hogsmeade at the bright and early hour of 7 am. Staying onsite got us early admission to Harry Potter and let me tell you, you'd be a fool not take advantage of it. Once the park opens at 8, the lines for the ride in Hogwarts are many hours long. And by 9 or so they have bouncers keeping people out of Hogsmeade because it gets too full.

Yes, it is this crowded at 7 in the morning.


















And here is Hagrid's Hut from line for the Flight of the Hippogriff ride, where my daughter lost not one, but two hats.









Since I'm not writing a parenting blog, I will just go ahead and tell you that you will have way more fun at the parks without your kids. I don't care if there's a Dr. Suess section-- where the Green Eggs and Ham restaurant doesn't sell ham, nor eggs, and nothing is green -- or a Cartoon Alley, or Spiderman... the kids will just slow you down. Park the kids at Grandma's and go by yourselves. They'll forgive you when you bring them a obscenely overpriced wand and a stuffed owl.

The best part of Harry Potterland, is staring at the robes and hats and shirts and wondering what house you belong in. And then laughing at the people in the Hufflepuff shirts. Well, no, the best part of Harry Potterland is the Butterbeer. But choosing your house is a close... um, well, distant... second. I was very disappointed not to find a Slytherin sweatshirt-- cause I like to wear my evil like a mantle. My youngest daughter is a Ravenclaw to the bone and my eldest is in "shut up and buy me more Butterbeer".

So...what house do you belong in?

The great experiment

Big news everyone! I have entered the world of advertising. I have jumped off the deep end and have taken out a Facebook ad for my book. When I was researching using Facebook ads for ebooks, I didn't find anything. No one had good or bad experiences to report. So, here I am, everyone's guinea pig. I have plunked down the bucks and am awaiting results.

Here's the deal. You set up a FB page for your book and then you go through their menu to say what you want your ad to say and who you want it to go to. And then, the rest is magic. Or something. I'm not really sure what it looks like to people who get the ad, but the idea is that the ad makes them want to click your page. At least that is the goal of Facebook, because that is how they get paid. My goal is for them to click to my page, "like" my page, and buy the book.

And the $60,000 question is: Is that happening?

I can tell you that since I put the ad up two days ago, I have had 76 new people "like" my page. But I have not sold a single book. At least, not on Amazon. So, it's nice to be liked but, to coin a phrase, show me the money.

My husband thinks that these "clickers" may be fake. He thinks they are Facebook "plants". I suppose that could be. They certainly have interesting names.

Of course, I must keep in mind that has only been two days. So far, though, I have spent $31 on advertising and my benefit is $0.

On the awesome side of things, when I looked at my Amazon sales, I found out that I sold a book to someone in the UK. I think that is mighty exciting. I've jumped the pond. My book is being read on two continents. Woot!

So... in summary, if you are dying to find out whether or not you should take out a FB ad for your book, I have to say, I'm skeptical, but stay tuned.

How you know you've arrived

So, I was on the Bloggess's website, trying to learn how to be funny, when I noticed that she has her own postage stamp. It is not of a giant metal chicken... although it should be.

It is of a creepy Santa.

Ok, not really. But what a freakin' creepy postage stamp. If I got a Christmas card with that on it, I'd burn it without even opening it.






Okay... so here it is really.







Pretty slick. That's how you know you are all that...when you have your own postage stamp. Like Audrey Hepburn... or Ghandi.

Okay, not really, because anyone can have their own postage stamp. I know, because I checked. It costs, like, four times what a postage stamps costs regularly,but it can be had. And if you're the shizzit, shouldn't you have a postage stamp that costs $1.67?

Yes, yes you should. Although I can never be quite as outrageously funny as the Bloggess, I can have a postage stamp. And this is what it will look like:


I bet you can't wait to get mail with that on it!

Finally, I can have Justin Beiber in my mouth!

So long, Sonicare!

Your Space-age sonic waves are no match for the dreamy sounds of a singing Justin Beiber toothbrush. Instead of two minutes of "Grunnngggggggggggg," I'll get to listen to...... I don't know, what does this guy sing?


Of course, my kids hate Justin Beiber with a passion. As a matter of a fact, they hate him so much that they would probably permanently renounce all dental hygiene in protest.

No, I don't think we are really in the market for these. But I'd still really like to see what an "adult" Justin Beiber toothbrush looks like. (Wink, wink.)

You will be baked, and there will be cake...

Today, while my youngest was at horse camp, my eldest and I had a fun-filled mother-daughter day with shopping and lunch and all that. I know I've said it before, but it's so fun that my daughters are finally shopping buddies. On the other hand, it's a sucker-punch to the bank account.

Anyway, we decided that we would bake the cake from the video game Portal. And here is our attempt. It wasn't as moist as the song claims, but it was pretty darned good.

Are vampires dead?

Ah, Drusilla, how I miss your creepy, insane vampiness.

Okay, duh, vampires are dead. Although I have never met one and taken his/her pulse so, I can't verify that. The question is really, "Is vampire literature dead?"

When I started writing Secrets, I was kind of banking on the fact that vampire fiction was played. Not just vampires...I had seen wizards and vampires and werewolves done and I figured I'd go a different direction. Not that I was dying to write vampire novel, but that was my reasoning. And so I went with aliens. I know... that's also been done...

Anyway, as some of you may know, I have taken the stance that I will only read 99 cent ebooks. I haven't exactly stuck to that, but it's close. What I have found in my sashay through the bargain books is that vampire books are alive and well. And werewolves, fairies, witches, angels ,trolls... Yeah, they may not be bestsellers, but there are plenty of paranormal books that are. So, I believe I was wrong. Vampire lit is not dead. Paranormal lit is thriving and growing.

Do I wish I had written a vampire book? Not really. Will my next book be about vampires? I guess you'll just have to wait and see!

Finally, to follow up on creepy Dru, let me finish with my very favorite vampire:

Now that's how it's done.

Ah, writing. How I wish I had time for you. Especially on a beach. I could do without the suit. As figure-flattering as it may be.

I do miss writing. Even if it were just for myself. Even if no one ever read it, it would be fun.

What am I doing instead. Well, blogging, obviously. Also, beating my head up against the wall trying to put together a website. Blogger has been pretty easy to use, but Google sites is making me crazy. It seems to be virtually impossible to put a "like" button on my webpage--even though all the articles and blogs say it is so easy. Perhaps FB just doesn't like me. But to be an effective marketing tool, I need one. Apparently. It is hard not to get frustrated with all this marketing stuff. It feels pretty smarmy and it's hard.

I know, whine, whine, whine.

Time to go back to my Happy Beer.

It turns out I'm doing it wrong.

Mmmm. Happy Beer.







So, I was reading my swimming magazine and I came across to the story of Captain Matthew Webb... the first guy to swim the English Channel.

Here he is:


Anyway, in August of 1875, this paragon of a man crossed the English Channel.

Bully!

What really impresses me here is that his pre-swim drink of choice was wine. Then he lathered up with porpoise oil and jumped in the channel, having his boat crew feed him beer and brandy, among other things, at regular intervals as he breaststroked his way from England to France.

Not only does this information support my notion that you pretty much have to be drunk--or high--to swim the English Channel, it also makes me question my Rockstar-before-swimming ritual. Perhaps what I really need for that totally epic swim is a 5th of Jack Daniels. Or Happy Beer.

Mmmm. Happy Beer.

It's just not meant to be.

At long last, I have accepted the sad, sad truth. I have fought it hard, but it is time to give up the dream.

The dream. Ah, the dream. The dream that I could exercise like a fiend and eat whatever the heck I wanted. A lot of it. And whatever the heck I wanted was not salad. Or cucumbers. It was rich, thick chocolate in its many delicious forms.

Sigh.

It does work. It works very well for awhile... and it is splendiferous... and then it doesn't. It doesn't because I get sick or I get injured or both. 'Cause the reality is that my lame old middle-aged body can't take that kind of exercise. I'm not Dara Torres or.... (insert awesome athletic 40 year old here.) I'm just not made that way. Alas. So I need to kiss this absurd eat-like-Michael-Phelps fantasy goodbye and grow up.

So sad. I love you chocolate cake. I'll always love you. (Insert sappy Celine Dion song here)

Yes, salad, I heard you. I'm coming. (Eye roll)

Finally I won't have to get out of the shower to answer the phone

My parents just replaced their old phone with a pack of cordless phones. Three of the phones are regular vanilla but the fourth, the fourth is an underwater phone. Not waterproof... underwater.

Awesome.

Wait, what?

So, it's not like it's a smart phone where you could check your e-mail in the tub or text or surf YouTube. It's a cordless phone. All you can do is talk on it. And if you are talking on your cordless phone underwater, what will you be saying?

"Blub, blub, blub..." That's what.

I think my parents done got swindled.

Not your bargain basement chicken

I bought a chicken.

Yes, I scoffed at the Texas lady for spending $100 on a metal chicken and yet, here we are.

So... meet "Rico", the party chicken. I wanted to call him "Steve" but was voted down. Actually, I wanted to call him "Choke". Choke, the chicken. Also, voted down. But it got props for being "delightfully vulgar."

We got Rico at Costco. Not in Costco, but at Costco. We had gone to Sequim to pick strawberries and on the way home, we swung by Costco for gas. Right next to the enormous Costco, was a tiny little house with a couple dozen metal sculptures on the lawn. Roy paused in front of the house and said, "Want a metal chicken?" and I said, "Don't be silly." But by the time we reached that pump, I had to have a metal chicken. So I jumped from the car and bolted across the parking lot to the little house.

Now, you'd think that a house next to Costco would have cheap metal chickens. Or at least sell them to you in a blister-pack of 6. But no. The man's an Artisan. Wouldn't even haggle over the price of his masterpiece. So I shamelessly shelled out roughly $100 for Rico. Who is only 2 feet tall. So I am a much worse bargain hunter than the Blogess. And here I mocked her for her impulse buy!

The story should end there, but doesn't. We get back on the road and we are all giddy about our chicken, making jokes and coming up with names and we blow past a cop at 70. In a 55. Guess what, he was not looking the other way. So, in addition to our $100 chicken, we have a more-than-100-dollar speeding ticket.

I would like to blame Party Chicken but, as Roy points out, the chicken wasn't driving.

And that is how Rico came to live with the Pardees. Please stop by to check him out. Five dollars a peep. We have a speeding ticket to pay off, you know.

Remember when the only choice you had to make was Coke or Pepsi?

I don't want to spew my "old" all over all of you, but I wanted into the drink section with two minutes to find something fizzy and not-too-sweet and this is what I faced. I mean, I'm all for selection but come one, Lychee Wasabi Nectar. WTH? Wasabi needs to stay the hell out of my beverages.

Finally, my evil chicken hunting operation has a home

As seen coming into Seattle, my new metal chicken hunting lair. I took a photo myself but you could barely see it in the distance. Thanks for building it for me, Missile Defense Agency. Now I will be able to hunt chickens in style.

Chicken sighting!

This little bugger showed up at Caffe Cocina. I don't mean to alarm anyone, but these effers are everywhere! It might be part of some, great, nefarious plot. Keep your eyes open.

And so, I promise to hunt down the elusive metal chicken wherever I go. Laurel Pardee, Chicken Hunter.

You're welcome.

Mean Girls of the YMCA

Just when I thought that the Y couldn't get any more exciting... Mean Girls!

Okay, so there was only just one, but she really got my girls going. And my girls can spin, let me tell you, especially the 12 year old.

It's not that exciting of a tale, or coherent, but the nasty girl at the swimming pool definitely turned my day on its ear.

I think we can take her, though. Stay tuned.

Money Fight!

This morning I was searching on Amazon, trying to find my book using keywords. And, as usual, I was not having any success. My book is virtually impossible to find on Amazon. I am learning a definite lesson about titles, let me tell you.

But I digress. I searched under my name and found my kindle book, but what else I found was

this:

Star-crossed: Secrets by LR Pardee (Paperback - 2011)

1 new from $137.17

Books: See all 5 items

What????

Someone out there is trying to sell my book in paperback for $137.17? I'm not sure if I should be flattered or horrified. Or enraged?

How much do I get of this 137 dollars... plus shipping.

And then there's the question of where did this copy come from? There are definitely hard copies of Star-crossed:Secrets out there. I gave them to lots of my friends. None in New Hampshire, though. But $137? I mean, you could actually buy a Kindle and buy my book on Kindle for less than $137. Hell, just ask me and I'll give you a copy for free!

I got my own chicken now, B**ch!

And he's got a ski-do!

Alright! This is my side-splitting tale of how I got this insanely bizarre and totally impractical chicken (or seagull) and installed him on a ski-do... which is actually on wheels... Prepare for hilarity.

So, Roy verbally abused me and threatened my life and I went to an outlet mall and bought a seagull. And named him Justin Beiber. And put him on a ski-do. So he could sit in the park at Liberty Bay. And Roy shook his fist at me. And said, "Bam, Zoom, straight to the moon."

Yeah, that Blogess lady is still funnier than me.

But, really, this chicken/duck/seagull was sitting in Poulsbo Waterfront Park-- or whatever its new name is-- as we walk by with the dogs. You don't see that every day... especially since he is on a ski-do on wheels. When we come back around on our walk, this old couple is remote controlling him and using a relay to have him chat with children. And all I can say is, "don't follow that duck/chicken into a van, kiddies." Or a boat... even if it is a really nice one.

But weirder than the rich pedophiles, is the miles of plant/garland stuff that the Norwegian Mid-sommer celebrators have circled all around the park. The garland isn't weird. It's lovely. But on the garland, every five feet are signs that say "Danger. Stay off."

Ok, what kind of danger does a strand of garland pose? Is it electrified? Is it going to swoop up in a net and capture us all? Will knives shoot out of the pavilion if we step on it? It just leads me to question, what kind of effed up Viking terrorist celebration is this?"

And then I went home and had a drink.

Meet... my next 10 pounds

Once summer rolls around-- and I do recognize that it hasn't rolled our way yet-- I crave chips. In the winter I love the sweet but in the summer, it's the salty. Ok, it's also still the sweet. No carrot cravings for me, I'm sad to say.

Anyway, I have found the chip of the summer of '11. In case the photo didn't make it clear, Sun Chips Jalapeno Jack. I am literally obsessed with these chips. Could eat them all day.

And that was my product endorsement for the week. Eat them. Yum.

It's madness!

Mostly I am posting to use this awesome photo. Those cats, they can sell anything.

But I can riff with this.

A week ago I sent in my Giant 6 month membership check to the new Y in Silverdale. Seemed like a no-brainer. The kids were out of school, here was a giant facility aimed at entertaining kids. Perfect match.

Wrong. And here's why:

1. I have lazy kids. And I say that with all due love and respect. My lovely daughters took one turn around the running track, glanced at the basketball court and said, "what else you got?" Yeah, my kids do pools, but this pool "is for babies". Sigh.

2. I am treating this Y membership like wristbands at the fair. As in "two more rides until we get our thirty dollars worth. No, I don't care if you are about to puke. Get on the Zipper!"

Yep, it's just like that. No matter how much my kids puke, we are going back to that Y.

No, not really. There has not been puking. But I definitely do the math every time we go there. And it is literally driving me insane. We are never going to visit the Y enough to get our money's worth. It's money given to the cosmos. Bye money.

And then I added a new brilliant factor to my calculations. If we don't to to the Y, we save $4 in gas. So the new calculus is the cost of the membership divided by visits per month, subtracting out the cost of saved gas. Or something like that. I'm not very mathy.

And you can see why I am going out of my mind. Perhaps I should stop researching marketing for my book and start researching mental health facilities.

Pardee Out.

The example I'm setting...

After 12 1/2 years, I have grown tired of telling my children what to do and watching them do something else. Or nothing. And so, I have decided to just lead by example and hope it turns them into valuable, or at least employable, members of society.

Let's see. What examples am I setting?

1. Read alot.

That's a good one. Reading is a worthy pastime. although I read lots of fluff, so perhaps it is not a good example.

2. Eat salad.

Yes. Very good. Yay me.

3. Swim.

Exercise good. I am three for three here.

4. Drink beer. Often.

Hmm. I might be losing traction.

5. Eat lots of chocolate.

Hell yeah. These kids will know what's important in life.

6. Only clean house when someone is coming over.

Yeah, that's kind of marginal.

7. Volunteer until it makes you crazy.

Yes, awesome. I am awesome. Unless I am sending the message that they should work for free. Gainful employement, girls, gainful. Either way it will make you crazy.

8. If people make you mad, swear about them.

Probably better than swearing at them. Or shooting them.

9. Be on the computer ALL THE TIME. Unless you are watching a movie.

Sure. Why not. By the time their my age, they'll probably have computers embedded in their heads.

10. Buy lots of expensive footwear and coats.

This is already biting me in the butt. I should do it more stealthily.

That about sums me up. So... I've got some pluses and minuses. What example are you setting?

Pardee Out.

Baby I was born this way

And apparently, so were my kids. Well, not the beer. But we are a family that loves to be in front of the computer. After one week they consider a trip to the Y child abuse.

Poor children.