Kitchen Sink Saturday

It is very likely that posting will be sporadic here at ye olde blogge until the first trimester is over. Honestly, between all the sleeping and napping and spontaneous keeling over in fatigue and resting my eyes just for a minute, I haven’t had much time for anything else.

Except cry. At everything. I’ve managed to squeeze that in between the dozing bits.

So to keep you entertained until I emerge from this weepy haze of exhaustion, here are a few items.

The most amazing Rube Goldberg machine ever invented outside of Wallace and Gromit:

THIS SITE was so, so very amusing to me. Maybe it won’t be so much for you. But there it is.

Also, Sherlock Holmes comes out on video, DVD, and Blue-ray this Tuesday, March 30th. That’s the Tuesday that comes the soonest after the weekend we are currently in. This Tuesday. The 30th. Of this month. Three (3) more sleeps. You know what that means, folks. Yes. All the badass moves you can handle. As many times as you want them. Even in slow motion. The parts that weren’t already in slow motion, that is. And don’t forget the corduroy coat.

Yes. I still had to look up how to spell it. I think I got it right this time.

Also, there is a guy who plays Sherlock’s weenie sidekick that I hear some women like, nay, even prefer, to the badass detective. You know, the guy in the NON-bitchin’ corduroy coat. So really, something for everyone.

But just so you know where I, personally, stand:

weenie
     (weenie)

badass

(badass)

Not that I’m judging. It takes all kinds to make a world, after all.

Speaking of all kinds (notice the smooth segue into the next topic)…

Some of you might have noticed a couple of extremely hateful comments that I received in my last couple of posts. I eventually deleted them, and it made me realize just how blessed I have been in that I have had this blog up for 4 years now and this was the first real vitriole-spewing that I received. Maybe I should be more controversial. One of them claimed that all (thousand) of my children displayed obviously deficient DNA.

This confused me for a minute because I could not think of any pictures I had ever posted that showed my children looking anything less than brilliant. This is a blog, after all, and one wouldn’t want to show anything resembling reality!

And then I remembered.

Must have been this one:

Xmas pic2

 

Good night!

Kitchen Sink Saturday, except it’s Thursday

Have I ever shared with you my love of Thursdays? They are my favorite day of the week. I’m not sure why, but I think it all started way back in 1981/1982, when I took Jazz dance classes every Thursday throughout 8th grade. Now, the Jazz classes themselves were not all that great. In fact, my dance instructor very well could have been Torquemada reincarnated. But I think a lot of dance instructors are, actually. No offense to dance instructors.

Don’t you love how people say “no offense” right after the most spectacularly offensive comments?

At any rate, the Jazz classes were fun simply because my best buddy was there. She made everything fun, even things like sodding lawns on 248 degree Oklahoma summer days, and walking home from Skateworld on -248 degree Oklahoma winter days. Best buddies are like that.

“Sodding” here means “laying sod”, as in “placing large pallets of itchy, dirt-covered sod upon the ground in order to make a lawn”. Lest there be any confusion.

It’s a sick world out there, after all.

To make things even more delightful, Thursday was FAME night. If I was really good, I would be allowed to stay at my buddy’s house AFTER Jazz class, and watch Fame. This meant I didn’t have to Indian Wrestle my older brother in order to decide whether Fame or Magnum would rule the television at our house that night.

fame

VS.

magnum

EQUALS

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VS

badass

I think my mom usually made us take turns, but we all know how THAT works when your older brother outweighs you, right? 

Truth be told, I kind of liked Magnum, but I liked Fame more. Bruno Martelli, specifically. His curly locks had me completely captivated, and trumped Magnum’s teeny tiny shorts and massive moustache. It was a kind of sickness.

At any rate, that’s where my love affair with Thursday began. And it has continued to this day. I believe that Thursday, being almost the weekend, has a sort of promise about it, hanging in the very air that surrounds it. Anticipation is a powerful thing, being in almost all cases better than the actual event.

SO. What does all this have to do with KSS being on Thursday?

1. Because I’m random that way.
B. Because I have lots of random things to say that could only be in the Kitchen Sink category
III. I’m leaving for the weekend and won’t be here Saturday.

I wanted to say a hearty thank you to all of you who contributed to the Parker Family Adoption Fund over the past few days. If you haven’t, you still have until Tuesday to enter to win the jewelry, and until Wednesday to enter to win the HOME letters. Please prayerfully consider what you might be able to do to help these sweet girls get a real chance at life.

I made vegan chocolate zucchini muffins this morning. They are awesome. I will give you the recipe if you ask for it (nicely). And for anyone who thinks chocolate and zucchini should not be put together, I have just one thing to say to you.

You’re dumb.

Have you ever heard of exploding head syndrome? I hadn’t, but I CAN say that I don’t care how “harmless” they claim it is, I would have a heart attack on top of a stroke if it ever happened to me, so, you know, harmless is as harmless does, is what I always say.

“Always” here meaning “today, for the first time”.

Okay, so I gotta clear the air. How many of you watched the videos of my sweet Cowboy X throwing a fit, poking his eye out, and drooling milk all over the floor? Show of hands, please? And how many of you thought “WOW, what a simply surperlative brat! Why is she letting him get away with that sort of deviant behavior!?” Come on, I know at least a few of you did. I know *I* would have thought so, once upon a time.

My answer to you is He’s my darling baby buggy bumper boo. Also, he’s not really a brat. It’s called Almost Two. And as a very wise woman once told me, never judge a family by its two year old. So there. In my younger days, I would have pulled out all my fingernails one by one before I ever let anyone see my child act in such a wayward way, much less post it on the internet for the world to see, with me cracking up in the background to boot.

Let’s just say I’ve lightened up since then. I’ve come to realize that children do indeed grow up and turn into brilliant adults even if they throw the occasional wall-eyed fit (on camera!) in their youth. Which makes me a more relaxed mother. Which makes life more fun, actually.

Here’s another picture of my baby, after drinking a green smoothie.

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So don’t you be hatin’. That’s the sweetest face ever.

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Speaking of sweet faces, here are some more:

handsome

hilarious

mommy love is a lot to handle sometimes

On that note, fare thee well, folks. I’m off to try to get something done before I implode with excitement over my impending travel plans.

I ain’t sayin’ where I’m going, but IKEA is definitely involved. Also best buddies. Excuse me while I breathe into this paper bag.

Kitchen Sink Saturday

Toby and Gabriel had their hair cut on the same day a few months ago. As Toby’s hair grows, it gets longer, but maintains a semblance of domesticity. Gabriel’s hair, on the other hand, goes completely feral on the top of his head.

Exhibit A (Toby):

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Exhibit B (Gabriel):

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I blame this on the fact that Toby, while sporting exactly three (3) cowlicks on the back of his head, somehow manages to grow his hair down, while Gabriel’s hair all grows straight forward. Forward. Who does that? It looks like his hair is trying to consume his face.

Things to do: get little boy hair cuts before Gabriel morphs into Cousin It.

I was up until 1am last night reading the second of the Percy Jackson/Olympians series. My fourth daughter received the books last summer for her birthday, and I was not at all surprised to see them being made into movies. The premise is that the Greek gods are all still alive and well and living on Mt. Olympus, which happens to be on floor 600 of the Empire State Building. The entrance to Hades, conversely, is in Los Angeles. That made me giggle.

The books are pretty interesting; many Greek myths are incorporated (minus the lewd elements, which are mostly alluded to in PG terms) quite seamlessly, which impresses me. I can see where trying to explain the back-story to each god and goddess could make the books pretty boggy, but so far I’ve been impressed by the fact that they aren’t.

Similarities to a certain young wizard and his incomparable story are rife, and constant. But no matter; for most folks who are still sad that the aforementioned story came to an end, seeing it repackaged is not necessarily a bad thing, if one doesn’t expect too much of it. Which is pretty much where I am on the spectrum.

In other news, I’ve been busy putting things in my Etsy shop! Here is a sampling:

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So. I’ve been having fun!

How about you all? Do any of you have an Etsy shop of your own? Or a favorite? Pretty please to leave the link in my comments?

Kitchen Sink Saturday: in which I get a little carried away

<gushing over Toby Mac>

Toby Mac’s new cd came out last Tuesday. I love it so much. Toby Mac amazes me; he’s 4o-freakin’-FIVE and yet he flings himself around the stage (and into the audience) like a 20 year old.

weeee!
this takes confidence…

He rocks hard, and his songs fill me with happiness. His album “Portable Sounds” is my favorite ever, and I don’t expect him to ever match it, but this one is awfully close. Except for track 4…that one makes me throw up a little. Good thing all the rest make up for it.

yeah baby, yeah

I wish I could get My Beloved to dress like Toby. C’mon, honeeeeeeeey…….pleeeeeeeease?????

tobymac
“the epitome of cool” in my beloved’s words…
for some reason he doesn’t think he could pull it off…

Incidentally, here’s a little video of Toby M talking about his fashion sense. It’s funnnnnny…

And just for good measure, here’s the title track to his new album.

 

 I DOUBLE DOG DARE YOU to try to listen to that song and keep your feet still. It’s just not possible. If there was a hidden camera that could film me listening to it, well, let me just say I’m glad there isn’t. It’s a little scary.

</gushing over Toby Mac>

Have a rockin’ Saturday, y’all.

Kitchen Sink Saturday

So I woke up this morning and literally catapulted out of bed, as though the coffee I was planning to consume in an hour or so was already coursing through my veins due to some sort of space/time paradox occurring, and after shooting into my clothing, I raced away in the car to gather donuts and Starbucks sandwiches because it’s Saturday and that’s what Saturday means if you look it up, and now I’m sitting here with actual coffee charging through my veins along with a glazed donut and I think some sort of cardiac explosion is in my near future.

“I’m Walking On Sunshine” was playing on the radio, and I cranked it up, even though it looks like this outside and is very NOT like walking on sunshine.

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The above photo was taken at my parents’ house, where I spent the last couple of days having a wee little bit of a getaway with my five eldest girls. We talked and shopped and looked at old photographs and had a good time, in spite of the non-walking-on-sunshine weather.

It’s not that there isn’t beauty in gloom. Just that you have to look a little harder to find it. For example:

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purdy

(all photos my own ‘cept for the last one…that’s Rose’s)

Not to mention we had this divine creature with us…

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The little bugger is 10 months old now. Who gave him permission?

We went to my favorite bookstore…

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and bought a few things…

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and went to lunch…

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at the sandwich shops, the walls were lined with superhero posters…

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my hero(ine)

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This is Martian Manhunter. It occurred to me that I had seen him somewhere before. And then I realized.

ed harris

I now know Martian Manhunter’s alter ego: it’s Ed Harris!

Speaking of superheroes, here’s a picture of my sister and me.

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Haha! We’re not really superheroes. That I know of.

My sister doesn’t read my blog. No matter how hard I try to get her to. But I still love her. I guess.

No, really! I do. I do love her. Even though she gave me a black eye once.

Ah…memories.

So what I’m trying to say is, we had a good couple of days. Today is greyer than ever before and we have another (UH. NUH. THER.) winter storm warning in the works for tomorrow, and I’d cry if it wasn’t for the walking-on-sunshine song still vibrating my brain stem.

Also, these pictures make me happy.

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Postponing yet another winter mental meltdown: check.

Kitchen Sink Saturday

 ROMEO TAKE ME! SOMEWHERE WE CAN BE ALONE! I’VE BEEN WAITING! ALL THAT’S LEFT TO DO IS RUN! YOU BE THE PRINCE AND I’LL BE THE PRINCESS…

What? Oh. Sorry. Heh heh. Just singing along to the music here…

I’m just going a little stir-crazy, that’s all. My ipod understands, don’t you, Poddy? Whoozagoodipod, huh? WHOOZAGOODPODDY? YOU ARE! YOU ARE!!

Ahem.

I may need some prayers to get through this winter. Or an intervention of some sort.

As you may have noticed, there have been a few more tweaks and twirks to ye olde blogge around these parts, and if you will please notice (please? please notice?), I now have TWO NEW ITEMS in my sidebar!

TWO! NEW! ITEMS! ALL NEW! ALL NEW TODAY! MADE BY YOURS TRULY! WITH MY OWNTY-OWN HANDS!

One of them is a link to my Etsy shop. My own etsy shop! Yippee hooray! And it actually has actually real, actual items in it!

And I kid you not, I posted a few things just this morning and within ONE HOUR, I had sold something. I am not even kidding. Kidding you, not. KIDDING.  When the email popped up in my inbox, there may have been some shrieking, and some high-fiving, and some disproportionate excitement.

You must remember how exciting my life has been lately, though, to truly understand.

The other button is my new blog button. Not that I had an old blog button. I’ve never had a blog button at all before, so I thought to myself “hey, why not make a blog button?” and I said “I don’t know, why not?” and then I said “It’s a great idea!” and then I had a long conversation with my ipod.

And then I made a button.

Feel free to take the code and slap it up on your site, if you do such things. Or just admire its cuteness.

Did you know that Monday is the first day of February? It is, I promise. Why are you glancing at your calendar? Don’t you trust me? Anyway, you know what February means, right? It means I survived January! And surviving January is always something of a celebration ’round these parts. Which is good news for you. So be sure to come visit on Monday.

Lastly, before I sign off and go spend an hour or twenty weeping over photographs from past beach vacations, may I just thank you from the depths of my bosom for clicking over to Kate’s adoption site and putting a penny or two in the coffers? Because you guys are just THE BEST, and don’t ever let anyone tell you differently.

In closing,

SHE WEARS HIGH HEELS, I WEAR SNEAKERS, SHE’S CHEER CAPTAIN AND I’M ON THE BLEACHERS! DREAMIN BOUT THE DAY WHEN YOU WAKE UP AND FIND THAT WHAT YOU’RE LOOKIN FOR HAS BEEN HERE THE WHOLE TIME…

Sincerely,

Zanzibar Buck-Buck McFate

Kitchen Sink Saturday Sunday

Random thoughts that I have to get out of my head before they drive me crazy with their meaningless yammering…

 

True confession:

 

Taylor Swift’s songs make me all mushy. “Love Story?” “You Belong With Me?” Yeah. I’m fifteen again. Fifteen, y’all. If I get my novel written it will be largely due to the emotions these songs evoke in me. My twenty year old daughter is laughing at me.

 

Urgent questions:

 

Who has better hair? Robert Downey Jr.?

 

holy heck

 

Or Simon Baker?

 

holy heck 2

 

Is this funnier…

 

pelican

 

or this?

 

panda

 

These issues, they need resolving.

 

In other “news” (not that what I’ve written thus far could in any way pass for news of any sort), I had an EGD the other day and it showed no sign of an alien life form. Dang. However, it did show a stomach that was unhappy, so I have to figure out some way to negotiate if I don’t want it to go from “fairly pissed off” to “apoplectic with rage.”

 

Getting older = being taken hostage by your various organs.

 

On Friday my blog turns three! Most people don’t realize that blogs age faster than people, at a rate of 1:5. So my blog is actually 15 in people years. Which might explain the preponderance of angst, and Taylor Swift. It’s been a while since I’ve done any sort of giveaway, so I figure it’s perfect timing to do so. Anyone who reads my hand-wringing soul-searching with any sort of regularity deserves compensation, after all. Stay tuned.

 

Oh, and one more question: would you rather have jewelry from Lisa Leonard, or The Vintage Pearl? Cuz for just one dollar here, you could win either, or both (!), and help Haiti too.

Kitchen Sink Saturday

I am tired. I am always tired in the winter. It makes me weary, I guess. The cycle of days seems as endless and superficial as the surface of the sea; treasures lie beneath, but to delve requires more stamina than I have right now.

 

Never mind. I’m just babbling. Sometimes I just have to babble in order to disrupt the word-wind of thoughts within my brain before they uproot all that is established and firm.

 

Never mind again.

 

I could tell you that Sherlock Holmes is a fantasmagorical wonderland of a highly satisfactory film-going experience. I love going to the movies, but I love LEAVING the movies and feeling like I got my every-last-cent’s-worth even MORE. It’s a rare feeling, but Sherlock Holmes (starring Jude Somebody, a chick, Robert Downey Jr., Robert Downey Jr’s eyes, Robert Downey Jr’s hair, and a spectacular corduroy coat) was one of those movies. Simply scrumptuous.

 

coat
the most gorgeous…coat…in the world

 

And by “scrumptuous” I mean “a fun diversion consisting of action, adventure, mystery, deduction, and humor. And a really cool slow-motion explosion scene. And no sex. But some bare-fisted, bare-chested boxing which might make those with delicate sensibilities fan themselves vigorously while exclaiming “my, my!” Oh, and also, a corduroy coat.”

 

I pack a lot into my definitions.

 

(insert here a long dissertation on how to spell “corduroy” which winds up being completely inane and superflous because I spell it wrong the whole time. Never mind again AGAIN)

 

WAIT A MINUTE. I suddenly remembered that I never shared with you all the cake I constructed for Gabriel’s 6th birthday a week ago. Now that will never do. I enjoy building cakes, which is a good thing, considering how often I have to do it. My xylophone cake was one of my finest achievements. I don’t know if I’d consider Gabriel’s robot a “finest achievement” sort of cake, but it was pretty cute.

 

for nana7

 

And Gabriel liked it, which was even more important.

 

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Here is the robot cake, completely unaware that it is about to be assaulted by a bionicle named “Krognak” (or something similarly gutteral)

 

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Here is the robot cake looking quite startled and alarmed.

 

It was more frightened later, when we ate him. He was delicious, for a robot.

 

What else can I tell you? Here’s something cool: I’m getting a tiny camera inserted into my gullet really soon! Isn’t that just so fabulous? I wonder two things:

 

  1. will they record the journey
  2. can i have a copy?

 

I hope the answers are yes, and yes, because man, that would be some trippy homeschool larnin’ right there: Mommy’s Insides, The Movie.  I’ll put it on YouTube and it’s sure to go viral.

 

Ah well. My stomach hurts like, all the time, so we’re going to do the scope thing just to rule out the scary stuff. “Scary stuff” here means (listed in order of scariness):

  1. ulcers
  2. cancers
  3. gestating extraterrestrials

 

Less scary possibilities include: eating things like robot cake.

 

Did I just talk about my health issues on the internet? On my blog? I think I did. This cannot be a good sign.

 

In other news, I’ve decided to write a novel this year. I’m counting on you guys to keep me accountable to this goal. Like, every once in a while you could say something like “how’s that novel coming? or “novels don’t write themselves, you know!” or maybe “You can’t write a novel! Go on, TRY! I double-dog-dare you to write a novel! Nyah nyah!!” and then I will be fired up clear full with outrage and write that novel in no time flat, just to prove you wrong.

 

Hopefully I’m better at writing novels than I am at writing blog posts. Cuz this one’s over and I don’t know how to end it. Oh wait! I remember!

 

The End.

 

P.S. CORDUROY

Kitchen Sink Saturday

Welcome to another edition of KSS, where I forcibly eject all the random bits of flotsam and debris swimming about in my gray matter in order to begin anew when the new week dawns.

 

I have had a rawther stressful couple of days, my people. Let me just say that if your little rat terrier has been under treatment for a bad back over the past 6 days and you let her out to go potty late one night and notice that her eyeballs are bulging out of her head and she doesn’t seem to be able to see much of anything…her pain was most likely not a back issue to begin with.

 

Have I mentioned that if there was ever a Most-Likely-To-Hurl-Under-Mildly-Disturbing-Circumstances award, I would win it? So seeing our little Mini looking more like this:

 

 

Than this:

 

 

Was not good for my blood pressure, to put it mildly.

 

After panicking, running around in circles, shrieking, and jibbering incoherently didn’t work, I called an emergency vet, since all the regular vets had gone home to relax after misdiagnosing dogs with back problems when in fact they are suffering from some sort of head issue. The emergency vet said her eyes most likely wouldn’t pop out of her head completely before morning, so I decided to pray fervently and wait until then.

 

And not sleep all night.

 

Because that helps a lot. Except when it doesn’t.

 

The next morning (yesterday) I took Mini out and commenced having another panic attack because, against all the laws of physics, her eyes were bulging even farther than before and she was obviously 100% unable to see anything. Happily, we were able to get her into the regular vet before this happened:

 

 

We were at the vet for 2 hours. Glaucoma was ruled out, a veterinary opthamologist was consulted (didn’t know there was such a thing), and a diagnosis was reached. Apparently our little 3 year old doggie has some sort of autoimmune disease which decided to manifest itself in attacking the muscles around her eyes, causing them to become inflamed and swell and thus push her eyeballs outward.

 

I know. ew.

 

Long story longer, she’s on 4 different meds to get the disease into remission (steroids being the main one) and this morning, God be praised, her eyes are much, much better, she doesn’t seem to be in anywhere near the world of hurt she was obviously in before, and she is wagging her little terrier tail again. She is still blind, but we are hopeful that once the swelling is gone she will regain her sight because the eyes themselves were healthy.

 

I think my heart may finally be beating normally again.

 

After I gathered my scattered wits about me late yesterday afternoon, my beloved and I managed to go out to dinner for our birthdays (today is his) with our very best friends in the bulgey-eyed world and let me tell you, the meal I had was like a balm. A balm, I kid you not. Laughing, talking, eating…sweet fellowship…these are the things that patch up the world-weary heart. I highly recommend The Bonefish Grill for the best butter-bathed scallops anywhere, by the way. Melt in your mouth delicious. And chocolate dipped strawberries to finish me off completely. I actually slept peacefully last night.

 

To reward you for wading through my enormous tale of woe and misery, here is the funniest dang review of a book that I have ever read. Whether or not you have ever actually read The Sound and The Fury, I defy you to try not to laugh at this admirable attempt by an honest joe to comprehend Faulkner’s twisted mind. It’s amost enough to make me dig out my 11th-grade copy and read it again.

 

Almost.

Kitchen Sink Saturday

First things first: the You Tickle Me  award.

 

 

I’m about to cop-out, friends. I…I…I can’t help it! You ALL made me laugh! You ALL broadened my comedic horizons! I can’t single anybody out to receive it, so………….

 

I’ll just give him to everybody. If you played along, and you want him…take him for your very own. Take him! Crush him to your bosom. Hug him and squeeze him and call him George. Enjoy his octopody goodness.

 

I know it’s a cop-out. I warned you in advance! Don’t look at me in that accusing way!

 

Okay, okay, come closer and I’ll whisper a little secret into your ear to make it up to you…

 

Closer….

 

Closer…

Next week I’m going to give away some really cool paraphernalia, so you definitely want to be here for that.

 

I SAID

 

NEXT WEEK I’M GOING TO GIVE AWAY SOME REALLY COOL PARAPHERNALIA, SO YOU DEFINITELY WANT TO BE HERE FOR THAT!!!!!

 

Can you hear me now?

 

I’m glad you’re excited. Aren’t you glad you didn’t give up on me and my little Woe is me and great is my distress I’m done blogging goodbye cruel world  spiel? Cause now you get to win stuff!

 

I’m so full of crap.

 

But some of it is pretty fun crap.

 

For example, I found this really fantastic website the other day. Its premise is that people have an inherent need to be nagged in order to accomplish things, and so when you sign up they will send you random emails to hassle you into doing the things you know you should be doing.

 

Am I the only one who finds it really tragic that there are people out there who have no one to nag them? Perhaps we can go one better than hassleme.com. Perhaps we can begin businesses like Merry Maids wherein people hire out kindly motherly and/or wifely types who simply stand over them and bark out orders and empty threats every so often.

 

How much do you suppose someone would pay for such a service?

 

What if we threw in complimentary slaps upside the head and boots in the rear as well?

 

I think I may have found my calling.