I admit that the song is catchy. At least, it's better than a lot of the other crap they play- also ad nauseum.

Scarlett Johansson was on Ellen today- singing. I didn't realize she was a singer. Sam's response was something along the lines of a muttered, "She fancies herself a singer like all the rest of the actresses, huh."

But apparently I did know she was singer because once she started the song I realized that it was, indeed, from a CD that my store plays ad nauseum (this is latin for "until I (yes, me, specifically) vomit"- appropriate because that's what I want to do the third time this song comes on in a single shift).

During the follow-up interview, Johansson's partner in the duet album gave his reasons as to why he chose her to work with. This is when Connor piped up with, "It's just because she's hot!"

So later this evening, I was telling Sam about the fact that I knew the song, and I finished up with:

Me: Oh, and Connor thinks she's hot.
Connor: Am I not allowed my opinion?
Me: 'Course you are. I just find it funny that you find a woman older than your mother "hot".*
Sam: #snort#
Connor: Age is just a number, Mom.

*Okay, yes, now I realize that she is, in fact, five years younger than me. I think this undeniably qualifies as beside the point. Also, it ruins the story. And she looks older than me. Or at least more used. Whatever. Just shut up.

The Damn Dryer Was Giving Us Trouble Again

For some reason, the lint trap isn't very good at the "trapping" bit of the equation. This means that every once in a while, I boost Sam into the attic and he has to hot-foot it over to the vent, reach up into the roof-line, and pull a small quilt out of the little bird-blocker screen. The first time we did this, Sam discovered that the geniuses that had installed the vent hoses in the attic for the dryer and the two upstairs bathroom exhaust fans decided to be generous with said hosing, allowing them to coil on the "floor" of the attic. This led to those loops being full of water. And by full, I mean a gallon of water each. Yeah, not exactly useful in the "exhaust" department.

Anyway, we did the attic gig a few days ago, but the dryer has been more picky than usual, deciding periodically that, no, it was not ready to start at the moment, so bugger off and maybe it'll give it a shot later. So we figured that maybe it was time to take the thing apart and give it that cleaning that you're supposed to... every year? I dunno. We've done it once, ever, and the thing is eleven years old. And the only reason we did it that once was because the belt had to be replaced. It's one thing to never clean something you have to crack open, it's another thing to have to crack it open, look at the mess, and still decide to not clean it. So we pulled off the back, pulled out the start of the exhaust line, cleaned all that mess and scored thirty cents. Not bad!

Finally we pulled off the front to reveal approximately four thousand legos, a couple buttons, an enormous quilt, a poor poor motor with fur like a bear, and! Drum roll please! Another $7.59 in change!

Well worth the effort. Oh, and we got the dryer running again. But, hey, almost eight bucks! It was like Christmas.

An Open Letter to Hershey's (Obviously They Didn't Pay Me to Write This Detritus)

Dear Hershey's,

I, for one, have never seen much point to chocolate flavored candy. If I want chocolate, just give me the effing chocolate, okay? But you chose to contaminiate riddle sprinkle my endearingly discounted bag of post-Halloween candy with the Hershey's Chocolate Pops (Naturally & Artificially Flavored Lollipop!).

Moments ago, I thought, "What the hell. I can't always be so closed-minded. How bad can they be?" How bad, indeed. I will tell you, since you obviously did not know before you put that nasty in my precious bag of joy. They can be that bad. I'm not saying "skunk-and-brussels-sprouts" bad. (Google just informed me of the "s" on the end of "brussels". The hell?) But just about as nasty as any candy- common to the United States, though, because, damn, rest-of-the-world (and Hershey's, apparently), don't you know candy is supposed to be yum?- can be and still be called "candy".

And, for swearz, I gave it an honest try. I even cracked that sucker open with a spoon, just to be sure you hadn't hidden some wonderful yum inside. You had not.

For shame,
Sarah

P.S. Hey, Hershey's? Go get in line- behind Maine- on over at Cate's for a Punch in the Face Award. Happy nose bleed.

The Work of the Devil. And Not the Fun Kind.

No, seriously. I do not care about your opinion.

So! Recently, we've had a bout of H1N1 up in this hizouse. Or not. Who knows. What I do know was Emily got a big-ass but short-lived fever, a little bit of tired, and a slightly longer lasting cough. No belly pains, no lethargy, no dehydration. Several days later, Ethan followed suit. There and gone. From what I can tell, this either was or was not piggy-flu. So I am going with it was, and the rest of us developed the proper anti-bodies from the exposure. So, yay! All immune! Or not. Because it doesn't matter anyway. There is no vaccine to be had in our area, and even if it were, I'm not entirely sure I'd be willing to take it out of the noses hands of people who are at significantly greater risk than we. Also? I'm not looking for opinions here, so you just go ahead and marinate yours in your delightful noggin.

So what the hell is my point, you ask? Just this:

During Ethan's aforementioned illness, he was belly-down on the floor, playing a board game with Connor.

Sam: He's not getting this whole "sick in bed" thing.
Me: Yeah. We're gonna have to teach him, I guess.
Sam: We could cut off his legs. That'll keep him in bed.
Ethan: No, that'd keep me right here.

Because that's just how this family rolls.

Wow, Maine.

Good job on the trashing of civil liberties and stomping on basic human rights. It's amazing that any seemingly intelligent east coast state could look at California and go, "Hey, now there's an idea! Let's follow those morons!" Way to stick it to the minority. You suck.