Bear in Underwear

You may probably think that I went out of my way to come up with a clever and humorous title for this post, but it's really just the name of a book. Yes, a real book. And not just any book, but Owen's favorite book.


For those of you who haven't read this classic, allow me to summarize for you: A bear is playing hide-and-seek with some creepy woodland creatures with gigantic eyes when he decides that his friends suck at hiding and that he wants to omnomnom on some cheeseburgers. On his way to eat cheeseburgers, he trips over a backpack and decides to steal it. He makes it back home, where his wild animal posse greets him (I thought they were playing hide-and-seek?) and decide to bully him into sharing the backpacks contents. But we aren't talking about iPods or school books, we are talking about underwear. The backpack is full of underwear. Dirty underwear, girly underwear, itchy underwear. My first thought would have been to call Benson and Stabler, because finding a bunch of used underwear in the woods has been the premise of more than one episode of Law & Order: SVU. However, the bear instead decides to try each pair on. If that weren't creepy enough, his forest friends decide to join in the fun, leading to an awkward underwear scene which is quite possibly illegal to view in some states. But in the end, bear is happy, because his tighty whitey's look "DY-NO-MITE!".

Owen is enthralled by this story. He literally giggles when the underwear come spilling out of the backpack. Considering that Owen has never worn a pair of underwear, and I'm not even sure he knows what they are, the fact that he giggles at this just proves that men are simply predisposed to bathroom humor and Adam Sandler movies. And he isn't the only one - apparently, "Bear in Underwear" was so popular that it inspired sequels such as "Bear in PINK Underwear" and "Bear in Long Underwear".

So hit up your local Borders before they lock the doors, you may be able to score yourself a cheap copy. Just be forewarned that on about page six there is a very clear illustration of naked bear buttocks. You know, in case you are sensitive to that sort of thing...

(An older photo of Owen enjoying his book - this was taken about 6 months ago, just to further prove how much of a staple this book is in our household):

Confessions of a Common Goddess

I confess that I am addicted to Q-tips. I could very likely win a prize for having the cleanest ears in the world - or at very least, the cleanest ones on the block. I think my obsession stemmed from a traumatic episode of "Untold Stories of the ER". I would elaborate, but I'd hate for you to run out to the store and buy up all of my Q-tips.

I confess that I swell with pride when I throw some egg noodles and chicken into a pan and stick it in the oven. As you may well already know, I am at least three light years away from being Rachel Ray, so I have to take my kitchen accomplishments when I can.

I confess that even though my cats are among the most lazy animals ever to have walked this Earth, I still feel safe when they are near me. The logical side of me knows that if an intruder ever came in my cats would either A) yawn, B) get startled and fall off the couch, or C) rub up against them hoping for food, but I still can't help but feel comforted by their presence.

I confess that I have an unhealthy fear that all spiders can actually leap into the air, Michael Jordan-style.

I confess that I have never seen Star Wars, have no desire to ever see Star Wars, and could not care less how un-American this might make me.

I confess that I also have never seen the TV show "Glee". Go ahead and take my social security card away.

I confess that I miss the days when you could just wear plain 'ole jeans without them being the skinny or pajama kind. Seriously, those are just...unnatural. People aren't meant to look like they are walking on tooth picks. And men wearing skinny jeans? Wrong on many levels. The only plus is the entertaining mental image of them getting stuck trying to take them off - Ross and the leather pants, anyone?

I confess that I am not nearly as witty and articulate in person. My brain has to write and rewrite things numerous times to achieve something that is, in my mind, acceptable for posting. In person, it would be more like, "Wow, that was really swell!"

I confess that I wish more people used the word swell, because I think it is...well...really swell.

I confess that I just saw a car commercial that involved dancing robots and hamsters wearing parachute pants, and it made me really sad for the state of our country.

I confess that I convince myself to buy junk food at the store to use as treats for my daughter, only to hide them and then eat them myself once the kids are in bed. Along the same lines, I confess that giving my son vanilla wafers to "play" with during mealtimes should be a crime, since they always end up getting smashed and broken. Each time I vacuum up pieces of vanilla wafer, a small part of me dies inside.

I confess that I just got up and ate three vanilla wafers because my last confession made me hungry for them.

I confess that I go to Walmart once a week, and I'm not the least bit ashamed by this fact. Every single time I go down the clearance aisle hoping to discover some diamond nestled among the dog crap. And I almost always grab at least two things that I never intended on buying upon walking in to the store. Yes, I confess I'm a Walmart sucker.

I confess that I started this blog to avoid having to wash bottles, because I would rather scrub a toilet out with a toothbrush, blindfolded, while listening to Michael Bolton, than wash bottles by hand. But, my son deserves to eat out of something that doesn't have crusty vanilla formula stuck to the inside, so that's all the confessions you get for right now.

What An Itch!

What's more annoying than sitting next to that guy on an airplane who blows his nose 187 times? Mosquitoes, that's what.

We were out at the park last night, enjoying a warm late summer breeze and totally minding our own business, when out of the blue I felt a tiny presence on my ankle and looked to find that it was being sucked dry by a little winged vampire. I'm more allergic to them than most, so the left side of my foot now looks like I've contracted some grotesque skin disease. And if the inability to wear my sandals for fear of being labeled a social outcast isn't enough, this mosquito bite also just happens to be at the right level for my work shoes to rub against. All day long. Just to give you an idea how wonderful this felt today, imagine wearing your grandmother's wool sweater outside in 90 degree weather. Now imagine it's full of fleas. Now take that feeling, condense it onto a small section of your ankle, and multiply it by 10.

If you're looking for me, I'll be the one with her foot in the bucket full of Cortizone.