Although Shaniqua DOES Have A Nice Ring To It

OK. So I've narrowed my alter ego choices down to three. I think I might keep all of them, simply because I think there might come a time when all of them could come in handy. And it's my blog, so I can do whatever I want. Having said that, here are my final three contestants:

"Veronica Remington" – I could wear long flowy dresses, show lots of cleavage, and pose with Fabio for the cover of Harlequin romance novels.
PRO: Long flowy dress
CON: Fabio. Plus, I don't think I could hold that pose for very long.

"Tee Shizzle K-Dawg" – This could afford me to use my talents as a poor singer to relay my tales of discontent over a difficult home life and the fact that all of my friends would have been popped off by our gang rival, but I could wear jeans, a bandana, and hoops virtually all the time.
PRO: I would never have to do my hair
CON: I didn’t actually have a difficult home life, so I would probably end up singing poorly in front of large crowds for no reason

"Karma von Dharma" – I wouldn’t ever have to shower or wear make up, and I could wear big, colorful prints. Not to mention the Birkenstocks alone would make shoe selection so much easier on a daily basis. With socks or without? That’s all I would have to decide.
PRO: It would give me an opportunity to bring braids back.
CON: I fear I might have to take up tofu

Thanks for playing! You guys are the best.

What Would You Do For A Klondike?

Did you know that Boy Scouts go camping in the snow? True story. It's called a "Klondike", and doesn't have anything to do with ice cream but plenty to do with the butt freezing cold. Since my husband works with the youth at our church who are participating in such festivities, he has to gets to go. Are you with me here people? CAMPING. IN THE SNOW. With 14-year-old boys. Not even Michael Jackson could get excited about that. Speaking of which, Michael, if Billie Jean isn't your lover then who is? I've been meaning to ask you that for a while now.

Anyway, after dropping off Cory at the meeting place, I went to the store and picked up some of these:


I told him that later the kids and I would have a moment of silence for him and take a bite into one of these bad boys while NOT standing by the fireplace. What can I say? I'm a giver. It's about the only thing I'm willing to do for a Klondike.

I Am...

I was not a rebellious teenager, but I was very moody. I swear, some days it was like having Courtney Love on one shoulder and Billy Graham on the other.
“Be happy!”
“Drive a pencil through your eye.”
“Be grateful!”
“I hate you.”
“Life is so marvelous!”
“You are a suck up. Shut it.”

I’m totally over that now. (Lies.) Okay, but I’m not as bad as I used to be. To illustrate, if I still lived at home I don’t think my parents would fantasize as much about little green men coming to steal away with me in the middle of the night. They might finally confront me about snitching all the ice cream, but I don’t think they’d have to ask at the end of every day which one of me might come out tomorrow to play. I bet that’s a relief.

However, I still have moods. Not moods of the Sally Field playing Sybil kind, but more like “I feel like wearing a scarf around my head with big hoops while eating hummus to simulate the Mediterranean” kind. You know how certain people can pull off any kind of a look they want? If they want to dress bohemian one day, they can do it and look legit. The very next day they can put on a dress suit and nobody does a double-take. They can wear hats to the horse races, boots to the rodeo, flowers on their lapels to church, and they can manage an up-do for a wedding or a ponytail for a daily workout. Regardless, they totally pull it off. Unfortunately, not everyone can do this and so you end up with two different groups of people: those who can pull off any look, and those who can’t. Make that three categories. The third being that you think you can pull off any look, which you can’t, but you try anyway. Care to take a stab at where I fit? Bingo! Category 3 it is. It’s such a drag. I think this is why I spend so much time in my pajamas.

But GUESS WHAT? (enter: Billy Graham) I have good news! I’ve figured out my problem. All this time I thought my category 3 predicament was hopeless, like I was just born this way and need to accept myself for who I am - kind of like being in a beauty pageant and winning Miss Congeniality because you’re just not “Queen” quality. Not that I could ever be in a pageant or hope to even win Miss Congeniality (Miss “How Did You Get In Here??” maybe, but not Miss Congeniality) but that is not the point! The point is, a couple of months ago I saw an interview with Beyonce who was promoting her new CD titled “I Am…Sasha Fierce”. In the interview she explained that Sasha Fierce is her ALTER EGO. Here’s what she says:

“Sasha Fierce is the fun, more sensual, more aggressive, more outspoken side and more glamorous side that comes out when I’m working and when I’m on the stage.”

As it turns out, alter egos are apparently all the rage. Eminem, you know, that rapper with no talent who makes more money than me for wearing bad clothes, too much bling and swearing on stage? Yeah, him. Apparently he created an alter ego he named “Slim Shady”, something he was inspired to do while sitting on the crapper. No lie. And that’s when it hit me. (Not the urge to go to the bathroom - duh!) but the realization that it’s not more scarves that I need, it’s an ALTER EGO. That way when someone looks at me and goes, “Um, you look ridiculous – nice try though,” I could be like, “Word up, I’M not ridiculous, that’s my alter ego, Shaniqua. Take THAT.”

Then I remembered this Seinfeld episode where George decides he wants to go by “T-Bone”. Things go awry, and before he can make his new identity known to the world he gets labeled as “Koko The Monkey”. I don’t want this to happen to me, mostly because “Koko” doesn’t suit me and I don’t even like bananas. So here’s the other good news!! (please - hold the applause) I want YOU to come up with a name for my alter ego. I mean it, you can do this. I have total faith in you. But just in case, I’m going to go brainstorm a little myself. You have through the weekend, and by Monday I’ll decide my alter ego name.

Maybe I need to take a potty break and see what comes to me.

"Something Cleverish"

A couple of months ago a fellow blogger extraordinaire, a.k.a. Sue, came up with a great idea. She invited bloggers everywhere to submit a funny post for a book she would compile and use all proceeds to help Nie Nie and her family to tackle their rapidly accumulating medical bills. The internet has been a remarkable tool as I’ve watched the events with Nie Nie unfold, and I can’t believe all the ways that people have been so resourceful in trying to help. This was definitely something that excited me, so when Sue came-a-calling, I couldn’t resist and I submitted an entry. And would you believe…? I got in. I am so psyched for this book! As part of the process, Sue had the grueling duty of narrowing down hundreds of entries into what has been condensed into featuring 43 bloggers’ posts, all worth your time and suitable for putting on your coffee table. Did I mention I am one of them? ‘Cuz I am. And this makes me feel important, which is really all that matters at the end of the day. That and the fact that I can watch “Remington Steele” on DVD anytime I want now.

SO. HERE IT IS!!!



Go here, and order your copy. Please? Pretty please? You can order a hard copy or download it instead. Tell all your friends! You won’t be sorry.

Do I Have To Grow A Beard Now?

I'm a great aunt. Like, officially. As in, my niece had a baby and I might show up on their pedigree chart someday. Isn't he adorable? I need to go shopping.

I'm not totally sure how I feel about this Great Aunt thing. On the one hand, I am so happy and excited for my niece and her husband. They are a really great couple, and they are going to be really fun parents, but they also freely admit that they are not perfect, well, Rachel admits it anyway, and since they keep a blog I will get to read all about it. Bonus!

But I also feel like it's important for little Liam to know that his Great Aunt Vern should be his favorite person. Like, ever. And I'm not sure he'll ever come to this knowledge. To prove my point, have you ever had a Great Aunt that you were close to? That didn't have a beard and live next door to her parents? Who didn't own seventeen cats? Let's be honest. Nobody really knows or cares about their Great Aunts unless they send money regularly. And even then it's like, "Sweet, my crazy great aunt must have won at the slots again. I love it when she's manic and sends me cash."

I think it's time to change the stereotype of the Great Aunt. Liam, listen up. I know you've only been here for twenty-four hours, but time is of the essence. Your great aunt Vern, aside from loving you already would like you to have a concise understanding of the role of a Great Aunt. Ummmm....

((enter: crickets))

Okay, hypothetically let's say we're at a family reunion. It's dinner time, and there are 40 people trying to tell each other what to do, and there are small children in line with empty plates demanding lots of jello and requesting no vegetables. You're in a corner on your dad's lap and he's trying to forget that he married into this craziness, and I'm watching the chaos ensue wondering where I can escape. This is where you come in. Your job is to remember that I'm your favorite and ask for me by name - a simple "Wa-ble-hmmm" will do. I answer to just about anything, but especially to "Wa-ble-hmmm". I'll come get you, and we'll hop down to the beach (well, I'll do the hopping, you just buckle up and stay attached to the hip, alrighty?) and I'll tell you all about how the current Nursery Rhymes are cleaned up versions of their original tragic tales written by manic depressives before the days of Zoloft. You'll laugh and say, "Oh Aunt Vern, you are so funny," and I'll say, "The secret, my child, is knowing where the Zoloft is kept."

And we'll live happily ever after.

Proud Parenting

I'm on such a parenting roll lately, it just seems like I should share my insight. First, we taught our son to fight more while playing basketball. Then last week, I noticed that along with a very cute outfit that my daughter had put together to wear to church, she was wearing a shirt under the sweater that was showing through.
"How does this look?" she asked.
"Cute," I said. "Except that shirt underneath looks a little funny."
"But if I don't wear it, it's too cold."
"Honey, don't you know that looks are more important than comfort?"
Her mouth dropped open, I laughed, said I was kidding and she lost the shirt. It was a tender moment.

Just now we were in the kitchen and Samantha asked how I liked her new sweatshirt.
"It's cute," I said.
"You think everything is cute."
"No I don't, I hate that shirt you're wearing underneath it."
Then she hit me. And I laughed really hard, because I thought I was hilarious and so I came in here to write about it. She followed me, so I asked her to leave. She said no and asked if I was coming in to write about her. I said no. I lied. I'm telling you, there should be a gold plaque somewhere with my name on it.

In A Nutshell

Only one more day until both of my kids are back at school. Not that I’m counting. I’m really not. But seriously, don’t you think that 42 days off track is a BIT MUCH? I’m just saying. The last two weeks have been fun though. For Christmas Drew got an honest to goodness 100% certifiable REAL Indiana Jones whip. As in when my mother-in-law left the store at Disneyworld where she purchased said whip they warned her not to open it before leaving the park, as “it is a weapon”. When he opened it up on Christmas morning and shouted for joy, Samantha noted the contents and said, “Please don’t hurt me,” to which he replied, “We’ll see.” Then, the same daughter who bought herself a new pair of fuzzy socks and gave me her old ones for my present wrote in her homemade Christmas card that I was the best gift she could ever have, and she wasn’t even kidding! I’m going to frame it and put it in her room when she’s 16 so she can remember how she used to feel.

At some point in the day Cory was toying around with iTunes and he blasted a little snippet of David Bowie’s “Under Pressure” before asking Drew if he knew what song it was. “Ice Ice Baby”, Drew stated confidently. Cory tried to bet him a Dr. Pepper that he was wrong, AND HE CONSIDERED IT despite my vehement shakes of the head in the background. Ultimately Drew chose wisely, then Cory played the rest of the song, slammed Vanilla Ice, and a discussion of plagiarism ensued. Later I made Cory take Kacy’s quiz during which he confided that he would indeed accept a makeover from ZZ Top, particularly from the “Legs” girls. And I quote, “I’d love to know what those ‘Legs’ girls are doing now.” He’s really deep.

We went to Utah for a few days after Christmas where we caught up with family. Snowmobiling, sledding, and excessive consumption of Martinelli’s were all checked off of our To Do List. Oh! And cheese fries from Training Table. Awesome. Hope you had a nice holiday too!