In the world of technology I am usually one of the last people to know about anything new. New gadgets, new software, new social networking sites – they all have considerable dust on them by the time I find out about them. I have only just recently begun to “tweet” for God’s sake.

We all have that one tech savvy friend. The friend that knows about gadgets months before they hit the market. The friend that writes code for fun. (Ok, feel free to take a moment to chuckle at the nerd factor of that – but don’t laugh too hard, because) That friend is usually the go-to person when you get stuck in cyberspace.

I have one such friend. I stumbled upon him in a WordPress support forum, and when I realized he spoke fluent computer and could translate things into simple words my fellow paste eaters and I could understand, I clung to him like an oxpecker to a rhino.

This friend messaged me today:

RHINO: Hey Kristy – I sent you an invite to Google Wave.

OXPECKER (ME): Huh? What?

RHINO: Google Wave. It’s the future of email!

OXPECKER: Uh… I don’t know if I need to know about the next generation of email. I have only recently mastered the current kind.

RHINO: Would you just accept the damn invite already?! This is a coveted thing. Not everybody has access to this yet.

OXPECKER: Ok, ok…. Um. How do I log in?

What followed was a fun tutorial on the very exciting Google Wave. If I actually had more people that were also signed up, I could link to it right here from this blog. Then you could read it in real time. (Note to self: Harass RHINO to help you figure out how to link a wave to your blog)

So there you have it folks. *I* am officially excited about an emerging technological thing. I will link to a wave tomorrow so those of you whom are interested can see what it looks like.

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BROTHER: I’m taking dad’s old Volkswagen bus to California. (from Washington…with an infant)

MOM: Do you have extra belts?

BROTHER: No. Don’t need any. I just put a new one on.

MOM: You really should – you know how old Volkswagens can be. Here, take these socks, just in case.

BROTHER: *exasperated sigh reminiscent of a disgusted teen* MOM, I don’t want a bunch of stuff cluttering up the car.

MOM: Here – at least take nylons. They’re flat, slip them into the door pocket.

BROTHER: FINE.

Shortly into the trip the new belt snaps. BROTHER uses nylons and duct tape to make a temporary belt. After all the hassle he calls MOM to tell her she was right.

MOM: The belt snapped! He had to use nylons and duct tape to fix it.

DAD: Why didn’t he use the spare belts I keep in the storage compartment?

MOM: Hahaha. You had spare belts in the storage compartment?!

DAD: Of course. You know how old Volkswagens can be.

Happy Thanksgiving to my goofy family! Justin – I’m glad you made it safe and sound. Kiss the baby for me.

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This shit fucking rules! I got it from a  Mormon bitch , and you know my Mormon bitches know what’s up when it comes to desserts, motherfuckers.

Grab this shit and get your cook on:

• 1 package of yellow cake mix (reserve 1 cup for topping)

• 1/2 cup butter, melted

• 1 egg

Straight up mix that shit together and press it into a greased 11 x 13 pan.

For the filling:

• 2 cups of canned pumpkin
• 2 eggs
• 2/3 cup of canned milk
• 1/2 cup brown sugar
• 1/2 teaspoon of ginger
• 1 1/2 teaspoon of cinnamon

mix that shit together with a mixer. If you do it by hand, do it like you mean it – really punish that son-of-a-bitch, and pour it over the cake mix in the pan, asshole.

For the topping:

• 1 cup reserved cake mix
• 1/4 cup of sugar
• 1 teaspoon of cinnamon
• 1/4 cup butter

Cut that butter into the topping ingredients until crumbly. You might need to use a fork and really get all up in there! Fuck that shit up.

Spread those crumbles all over the top of that cake, then bake that shit for 50 to 60 fucking minutes at 350 motherfucking degrees.

Serve it warm or serve it cold, but don’t even THINK about serving this bitch up without whip cream!

Now I just know all you assholes are gonna LOVE this. I usually make this dish for Thanksgiving and Christmas, but make it whenever the fuck you want, and if anybody has anything to say about it, tell them to go fuck themselves. Enjoy.

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I went clothes shopping for myself yesterday. This is a very rare occurrence in my life. I still have a shirt that I was given as a hand-me-down in the eighth grade. I still wear it, 18 years later.

When I came home I showed Jesse my purchases.

JESSE: Well, you certainly seem to like a certain style, don’t you.

ME: What do you mean? These shirts are completely different!

JESSE: *snort* If you say so.

So today, as I’m lounging with Karis on the couch, I notice Jesse thumbing through a Victoria’s Secret catalog. He comes over to me and hands me the catalog.

JESSE: Here. I took the liberty of starring the outfits I think look good, to give you an idea of what I think you should be wearing.

I flip through the pages and take note of the outfits draped across the super models. I smile wryly at the 6 ft tall buxom beauties wearing their business casual outfits with just a hint of slut.

ME: Uh… You realize that I wouldn’t look like that in those clothes, right?

JESSE: What do you mean?

ME: I’m not a 6 ft tall super model, and last time I checked, buying clothes from Victoria’s Secret doesn’t automatically increase your bust size.

JESSE: Well it should dammit. *waiving an angry fist to the heavens*  Curse you Victoria!

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We had Thai food tonight. I love Thai food. What I don’t love is the little extras I’m always finding in my dish.

It doesn’t matter which restaurant we choose – hoity toity or ghetto chic – we can always count on finding at least one foreign object in our meal. It’s as if part of the recipe for pad se ew is to dump the miscellaneous tid-bits out of a junk drawer in to the noodle water.

To date we have found:

• Staples (very common)
• Small bits of plastic
• A shard of glass
• Hair (extra ew!)

And tonight I had the pleasure of not one, but two extra tasties! Within the first few bites I found what looked to be part of a tiny Leggo. Not dissuaded, I ate on. Upon finding what can only be oyster shell shards (?) I was sufficiently grossed out enough to consider myself finished.

The craziest part of this story? I’ll probably order Thai food again next week. I just don’t learn.

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So I’m listening to Biz Markee lament about his girl trouble at full volume, (because THAT’S how I roll) when the phone rings.

Oh bay-be you, you got what I neeeed. And you say he’s just a friend, you say he’s just a friend. Oh Bay-be…

I’m across the house from my computer, so I can’t turn it down before answering the phone. It’s Karis’s school – never a good sign.

ME: Hello?!

SCHOOL: Hi, Kristy?  It’s Ms. XX from XXX school. Karis stuck a bead up her nose and we can’t get it out.

ME: Again?!

SCHOOL: She has done this before?

ME: Yeah, a couple three times. I’ll be right there.

SCHOOL: Okay, see you in a minute. Uh, I didn’t know you rocked it old-school.

ME: Oh sure, I’m pretty bad-ass.

So I go rollin’ into her classroom with my posse (Brecken) and find Karis sobbing at a table. She is sporting an elaborately bejeweled Indian head-dress.

ME: Oh Karis, what’s the matter?

KARIS: I put a bead up my nose. A blue one.

(Karis is not one to skimp on details. She is also very particular about the quality of bead she will put up her nose. Had this bead been red or green, you may not be reading this post.)

It was so far up her nose this time that even my experienced hands couldn’t dislodge it. What followed was a delightful trip to the overcrowded E.R. As always, I managed to capture some of the magic to share with my homies. You’re welcome.

Nose Bead from Theprimamomma on Vimeo.

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Echos in the orchard from Theprimamomma on Vimeo.

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Jesse sent me this email from the road. I love that he is partly in the “Keep out” lane. His offensive driving is consistent on both coasts.

Driving to you from SF.

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In the last week I’ve noticed two different ABC shows playing Dancing With Myself. Both times it was used to illustrate characters that were literally sans a dance partner.

This particular song is rumored to be about masturbation. I can see how one could come to that conclusion, but Billy Idol himself has said he wrote the song about kids he saw while on tour in Japan. They were in nightclubs that had mirrored walls. The kids would dance in front of the mirrors, essentially dancing with themselves. He found it very dehumanizing.

The people arguing the masturbation side of this, claim that you have only to watch the video, and then it is SO obvious that the song IS about masturbation. To them I say, “WTF? This video has NOTHING to do with masturbation.”

The video shows Billy in a post apocalyptic world, surrounded by zombies trying to climb a wall. The only remotely provocative move Billy makes is twice he is shown caressing his arm for half a second. If that says self gratification to you, then Freud would have a field day with you.

Anyway, Jesse is once again away on business (or visiting his other wife and kids)  so I’ve been blasting Billy Idol and effectively dancing with myself. DANCING dancing, not masturbating – get your mind out of the gutter!

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We made  hand print turkeys today. You too can make adorable hand print turkeys to clutter the refrigerator with! Here’s what you’ll need:

*Construction paper.

*Scissors.

*A pen or marker.

*Glue.

*Googlie eyes.

* A child’s hand – preferably attached to a child you happen to be fond of.

Trace the child’s hand on the construction paper.

Stack two different colored papers behind the hand tracing. Cut out the hand.

From a piece of brown construction paper, cut a shape that looks like a lopsided peanut. This will be the turkey’s head and body.

Glue the hands together slightly off set like a fan. Glue the turkey body on top of the hands. Add googlie eyes and a beak.

Ta-Da! Instant cuteness.

For a bit of variety you can make a family hand print turkey. Just trace every family member’s hand and glue them together biggest to smallest.

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