impy | Entries tagged with widget!

You think to yourself, "Impy, where is that dear, sweet, vexing child you love so? We haven't seen him in ages," and Impy says:
( my munchkin, he sulks )

New icon. I think Mal's adorkable in this picture and it's only fair since my first BSC icon sorta mocked her. Last laugh is yours, Pike!

Trying to decide whether it's worth it to wait to order the last big bit of my AG stuff for the two most likely to retire just in case their stuff goes on sale Sunday/Monday, or if I should order it now because I am not known for my patience. Yeah, yeah. I'll wait. But I don't wanna. [/whinge]

I've also got two other orders I want to make, but it depends on how sucessful Cass is in acquiring us stuff... and whether I can ever get off my duff and actually order the blasted things. One is S3 of NCIS which Amazon has on sale, sort of. I've got the rest of my gift-card so I can use that towards it. Then there are the new AG mysteries at B&N. For whatever reason I just keep backing away from that order. Hmm.

Need sleep.

I don't want to be one of those annoying people who is constantly nattering on about the cute/insane things my child does, particularly since I do not have a child, but sometimes... Sometimes the nephew provides me with laughs that I must share, lest they bust my sides and my sides only.

I truly don't remember starting our Fall Fundraisers the week after school began. I thought they gave us two weeks so that parents weren't quite as strapped by all those pesky school supply lists and had probably been paid again. Apparently the new school regime does not believe in such logical thinking, as Widge came home today loaded with school fundraiser things.

The first that made me choke back a giggle was the SAIL program selling aluminum water bottles. For $9 a pop. Then I looked at the various Scholastic crack-dealings and that was nice, although I didn't see as much as I would have expected to love. Sadness.

But the ultimate wait-what moment came when I looked at the little instruction sheet for their wrapping paper/gardening/chocolate/misc crap extravaganza. Dude. Pick ONE. Otherwise people's eyes glaze over. I guess this doesn't matter since down at the bottom of the pink sheet of DOOM it clearly states:
Remember: Safety first! No door-to-door sales!

To which I looked up and realized they'd abandoned all pretense of having the kids sell their own stuff and really did expect their parents to do the work for them. Then they wanted me/the boy/everyone else to whore this crap out online and over the phone to all our friends.

The problem with this logic, sugarplum fairies, is that I'm just old enough that I was probably one of the last few years of kids who actually did have to hoof it from house to house, selling utter crap to old people who, if I was lucky, would think me cute enough to be irresistible. Sadly for me, my cuteness wore off in third grade and I lived in a neighborhood filled with rich old people... who had already been hit up by all the rich kids who had been back at school since the start of August. I may have laughed at them while I ran around with an extra two weeks of freedom, but obviously they laughed harder when my broke-ass walked from house to house to house being told they'd just bought some useless crap from some other kid.

So. Yeah. I had to sell my own stuff. My parents didn't do it for me. They'd walk with me as I hit each house because, hello, not crazy, but they didn't force little old ladies to break out their checkbooks or anything. So why in hell would I do all that work for someone else? I firmly believe that when the time comes, you inflict the pain you had as a kid on someone else, so long as we're talking selling craptacular, overpriced wrapping paper to virtual strangers.

This isn't to say I wouldn't hit my friends up if I thought there was a chance they'd say yes, but I'd make Widge do the actual hitting up.

But the point, and I did find it again, was this:

Down at the bottom, the first prize listed, $350 Sell This Much And Get Driven To CiCi's Pizza... IN A LIMO.

Yeah. I thought I would die.

Then again, I've met quite a few of the limo drivers around here and I gotta say... wow. No.

Must away to look at what the Widge is selling.

I tried to ignore this. I really, really did. I was hoping that even with the "this is not an April Fool's joke" disclaimer that it really was. But no. It appears real enough. I knew it would happen. Everyone else got a TV deal or a movie deal, so she went and got... a TV movie deal. "Hamilton's work is noted for its strong female characters set in vivid and complex storylines..." Um, wha? She's got two. Three if you stretch and count Andais, and really that should just bring the number to two because Anita and Merry are kind of the flip-sides of each other, and no other strong females are allowed in their sandboxes. Andais doesn't count to them because she's batshit crazy. [Which is why she does count for me.] And I could quibble on the vivid and complex bits as well.

Good. Grief.

To sum up so your brain won't leak, too: Movie deal with IFC, they'll be working with the earlier smut-free AB books and their demographic is males 18-34. So... um, I'm confused. The gore will obviously be there, but the sex doesn't kick in until later so... *ponders*

Did a smidge of gardening with papa and Widge.

And for whatever reason, never bothered to update this or hit "post". Go figure. Dad and I put Widge to work in the garden and he... went insane. Seriously, tore everything up, even his precious weed he'd saved from one of the planters from last year. I... and... Oi. Still, the work got done and as long as I do the work in the rose garden or supervise, things should work. I hope my tax check comes soon. I'd quite like to actually be able to buy the plants I keep admiring. Y'know, I'm just nutty that way.

I have a fantastic headache. It's centered right above my left eyebrow. I'm thinking since the last three headaches have all happened in the exact same spot that it's possibly a sinus thing, or allergies or something. Which would blow because I. Do. Not. Want. Allergies! Seriously, ick. On the other hand, I'd like a non horrible explanation for the headaches, too.

I've been catching up on Desperate Housewives since our particular branch of the library seems to believe that Supernatural should not be stocked. S3 is much better than I'd expected and I'm quite happy in my little DH coma. :D I'm thrilled that we're allowed five DVDs and five more kids, but I really do wonder about the sanity of some of our librarian-types. Mums and I returned discs one and two and went to pick up my pile of DOOM. Mums has a pile of doom at home. And they looked at my pile which was two DH, two Supernatural, and one Gilmore Girls and said, "I'm sorry, ma'am, but you can't have more than five childrens movies at the same time." Fair enough. Mums had five at home. We looked at the pile. Truthfully, I expected them to try and hold GG and claim, though a bit insanely, that it was a kid's show. That was the one he didn't touch. Instead, he tried to convince Mums that Supernatural and DH could be considered kid's shows.

On.
What.
Planet?

Mums calmly informs him that no. Really. She's seen both shows enough to know that she pauses the show when Widge wanders in because hello demons and people being shot and crazy hijinks are not kid friendly, thank you.

And I do not tell him that he wandered in and would not leave and I am a terrible aunty because as soon as I realized that someone was gonna get shot and tried to shove the kid out of the room, he looks over and sees person get shot. Eyes widen a bit and all I can think is oh. Shitty shit, fuck.

It's not that he hasn't seen things before. Let us not forget the day Sean, Dad, and I were watching L&O: SVU and Widge was playing with his cars or something and then suddenly asked what some sexually explicit thing was [parroting is fun!]

Hrmm. Headache has receded.

Time to go do something else. Like... plot.

( I said I was going to plot! )

*purrs* My booklist for the year is currently at 43.

Blergh. I slept entirely too long. Part of it was completely my fault. Widge tried to wake me up to make dinner, but when my headache pulled my ponytail and said, "if you even think about getting out of bed, I will cut you, bitch" I passed.

I woke up again at eight and realized no one brought me lunch, nor did they wake me again for dinner. Considering I was starving when I went to bed this morning, this made for cranky Aunty M time. About halfway through making my first sandwich, I stepped on a piece of glass. Had to dig and grit my teeth because GLASS IN FOOT. And then promptly bled to death because apparently all the band-aids in the house are in my room and I wasn't about to bleed my way upstairs.

When I made it up here, I found a carefully placed band-aid in front of the computer. Widget love!

I dreamt I was watching Charmed and that it was their 150th episode, or rather, they kept saying 100th, but I knew that this sure as shit wasn't that, and well, it wasn't the 150th either, but I was willing to admit that maybe my brain had just erased everything from that point on. Anyway, it was weird. Really... weird. Like Phoebe being a mother and the kid goes missing or something and Paige thinks to herself that the Elders told her that the kid was hers and Phoebe's hubby's although not... exactly. It was, like I said, weird. And Phoebe could read Paige's mind, but I chalked that up to the empath crap they never should have done in the first place. Needless to say, the fall out from that comment was fantastic. Also, while they're freaking out about the kid, Paige lies down on the floor, in a fairly crowded room, then slowly crosses her legs, pulls herself up so that she's sitting Indian-style, and acts as if this is completely, totally normal. o_O

Piper/Holly just has this look on her face like, "well. THAT wasn't in the script."

And now I feel all... twitchy. Part of this is because dude, cat goes to vet in 12 hours. Don't want to go. But need to go. Cannot find my checkbook though. This could be problematic. And now the dog is snoring. Oi.

Hours later: Found checkbook. Almost out of Pepsi. People! Do not cut the addict off right before you need her to do something she doesn't want to do. It will end badly for all involved, to say nothing of the caffeine withdrawal headaches that ensue. Seriously. Not. cool.

Before I return to my massive game of catch-up with Gossip Girl...
( spoilers? Mebbe. )

All that said, I need a new Gossip Girl icon. Yes.

My mission to record the cute things Widge says continues. Last night when I came downstairs for dinner, Widge was grabbing his plate and asked, "Where's my air brother?" To which I was thoroughly confused. Mumsy explained Widge has another imaginary friend.

I have found another moment that signifies being old.

Actually giving half a damn about whether an album/song has explicit lyrics. So while the Disney starlets cannot be paid to keep their clothes on in front of their boyfriends or anyone with a camera, at least they make it easy enough for me to say, "Fine, fine, we'll let you use your points on *shudder* that song."

I mean, really, it's bad enough I've taught the kid to say, "Oh my freakin' god!" and "frick!" I don't need the other stuff. Though, technically, frick is all me, but I don't remember saying ohmyfreakin'god. But he does.

We went to the mailbox... Friday? And there were a bunch of things from Amazon because I'm using up my pepsi points before they die, and I decided that while I don't like the idea of spending essentially $60 on a CD [one cap usually equals one point and it takes 60 to get a CD], I wasn't all that interested in their left over DVD section and a couple of the CDs looked okay.
I was sort of wrong on the first CD, but I thought maybe it was one of those instances where I'd hate the show and like the soundtrack. No, The Hills soundtrack blows, too. I like a couple of tracks, but one of them I already had anyway.

ANYWAY. Widget opens the box, sees three amazon boxes inside and shouts, "OH MY FREAKIN' GOD!"

And I nearly died laughing.

Current Mood: cold

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I Just Can't Walk Away

I should have said

picture and icon post

no door to door sales. Only 80's parents let their kids risk that

muhahahaha!

Nerves of jell-o

awwww

no freakin' way

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September 2017

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