A Munchkin after my own heart

Last week Mr. Hot Pilot, Munchkin and I spent our spring break down in sunny Florida visiting Mr. HP's family and torturing ourselves with the blinding sunshine, happy times of Disney World and the God-awful white sandy beaches of Tampa Florida. While down there with my two favorite guys I got to know my little Munchkin on a whole new level : I realized that at least three-quarters of his brain is filled with jokes about butts, poop and farts. If it weren't for the fact that I have neither the stretch marks nor the petrified fear of enduring childbirth, I would most certainly be convinced that this is my biological child. (Doesn't really matter if he is or isn't, he is still my Munchkin)

He is never shy about releasing his piquant bodily odors and our being in Disney World made this fact no different. It didn't matter that we were crowded shoulder to shoulder with about 10,000 other Disney freaks to watch the evening parade. While sitting on the shoulders of the man I love, he let loose his deadly gases. I didn't know quite what was going on behind me when I heard Mr. HP begin yelling "Dude, what the heck?" until the warm fragrance of doom overtook me and the man next to me gave me an evil glare and shuffled away from me. After a moment of appropriate shaming, I noticed something new about my little Munchkin - embarrassment. It used to be that we could joke around with Munchkin about things but this time was different. Instead we heard the exasperated sigh of a 7 year old who couldn't take the chiding of his super immature parents. "Dad-day! Car-ray!" was all he said in a rather valley girl-esque manner and sulked back to the car with us. Coming from the boy who is proud of his accomplishments and adores the smell of skunk (I swear) we were a bit taken aback by this new emotional development.

The next day he was back to his normal gross little boy ways of attempting to rub dead bugs and nose goblins on us. Instead of scolding him, I knelt down and kindly reminded him that due to his shorter stature, he is at perfect butt level of all of the other adults in queue and that he would be the first to suffer the effects if a butt-splosion were to occur.

Munchkins face contorted into a half grin/half look of fear.

This parenting thing? Totally rocks.

That Pun Was TOTALLY Intended

The war is back on between Mr. Hot Pilot and I. We are constantly going back and forth about who's town/state is crazier and I believe I have totally found a story that will pickle your beets when you read it.

Now Mr. Hot Pilot does not actually hail from Nebraska, however he spent his not so good years in Omaha while stationed there and I believe we should count all of the places we have lived in our war of weirdness. (I have lived in Maryland and Pensacola, Florida. He has lived in Florida and every other backwards city that side of the Mississippi.) I should also note that Mr. Hot Pilot still owns a house in Omaha, which has now been on the market for about 18 months. Why? Because who in their right mind would want to live in Omaha? (Commence the not-so-happy Pro-Omaha comments....now.)

Today's bit of weirdness includes butt humor. So if you can't handle a good butt humor story or were brought up to respect the finer things in life, then you are boring and might want to direct your attention here. Otherwise, the story goes a bit like this:

So there is some 35 year old guy in Nebraska who has found that normal, everyday, run-of-the-mill graffiti is just not his thing. He wants to express himself in a more elaborate way, experiment with a different medium. That medium is his booty and some lotion/vaseline. He then skips around town to local churches, stores and the occasional school to press his bunky cheeks up on the window for some poor sap to come across the next day and clean up.

(Read the rest of the story here.)

CharmCityChica = 2; Mr. Hot Pilot = 3 The war continues...

Emptied My SPAM Box and All I Got Was This Stupid Diet Pill

I am infinitely amused by the awesomness that crams my SPAM box. Thanks to Gmail, I don't have to sort through loads of crap in my regular email (save for the lovely "Fwd:fwd:fwd:fwd:fwd:You are my grrrl and I love you!-NOW FORWARD THIS BACK lest you be plagued with a thousand and two nights of night sweats, three years of constipation, ten years of poor eyesight and three stray cats" from that old high school buddy you haven't seen in 12 years).

Of course today is Saturday which to me means time to clean out the SPAM box. Here are a few highlights from the subject lines of my SPAM:


Shake all you want and nothing will ever fall out. (Even if I shake it like a polaroid picture?)

Wiping good off the shelves (lord knows we don't want any good hanging around our shelves. That is just bad housekeeping!)

Don't let your tiny male problem grow into a disaster

Cindy McCain cheats her husband (what is even better about this one is that the sender? Says "me".)

No Surgery! Enhance your PE by simply taking our new preparation! (Not too sure what my "PE" is exactly...)

Abbey National Online Banking - Identity Update (because I wasn't really sure who I was. No worries, they will give me the scoop.)

Did you know your breath can calm you down? (And by calm you down we mean knock your butt out with its onion-tuna nastiness)

Don't forget your enhancers when going to the party (Lord knows you don't want the ladies thinking you are a wet noodle)

Acknowledged Scotch knows Bag the telephone (Really? Well LA-DI-Dah! (Name dropper))

A Maslercard invitation (Oh? Why I feel so priveledged. I had heard of Mastercard but Maslercard? Must be my lucky day!)

Your RESUME passed the contest and we suggest you work for our COMPANY (Yeah...I think I'll pass thanks.)

And of course my favorite:

Diarrhea : Best treatment options

Now its your turn. What kind of indescribable lunacy fills up your SPAM box?

Complete with tears of joy and prancing unicorns of justice

Because I have been a little bummed over the past couple of days following the election of Barack Obama as our next president, I decided to give myself a day off of my shopping moratorium and go and turn my hard earned money into things I really don't need at my local Target.

On my way there I was listening to the radio when I heard a report about a nudist group down in Florida that are pressing for a nude voting precinct in their area. Because that is super important and stuff.

My boyfriend and I have a long-standing debate over which state has the weirdest and scariest news stories occurring - his home state of Florida, or my home state of Maryland. So far I believe that I am winning by an Obama-esque landslide complete with tears of pride from people who are "finally proud of their country". (Excuse me while I go throw up a little)

So the news story goes like this:

"People at the upscale, clothing-optional Caliente Resorts off U.S. 41 want to establish the first clothing-optional polling place in the country. Most voters who live at Caliente exercise their rights at a nearby subdivision, where clothing isn't optional.

There's no concrete data on how many nudists live in the area, but state Sen. Victor Crist has estimated that Pasco County has 12,000 "nude votes."

The resort wants to make it easier for Caliente residents and members of the surrounding nudist community to vote, said Caliente spokeswoman Angye Fox."

(So I take it it is exponentially difficult for these nudists to throw on some clothes in order to go and vote...an action that takes place ONCE EVERY 2-4 YEARS.)

"State law wouldn't prohibit a clothing-optional polling station, said Jennifer Davis, a spokeswoman for the secretary of state's office.

"That would be up to the local supervisor," she said.

Corley has more pressing concerns these days, though – such as preparing for Tuesday's election."

Who do you think these clothing-avoidant folks voted for?

Listen all y'all, its a sabotage!

As I have mentioned in the past, I am part of a long distance relationship. Mr. Hot Pilot is a military officer who lives far, far away in (what seems like) a third world country complete with border jumpers, questionable water and absolutely no Target store within a 150 mile radius. Because of this long distance, I frequently (as in every other week) fly the friendly skies to spend time with him and Munchkin. I am lucky enough to work a job where I only have to work 3 days per week, and then have the remaning four days to do with as I please - lounge in bed until all hours of the afternoon, workout (HA!), work from home for my old job, shuttle drugs back and forth across the mexican border and spend time with my boys. On the weeks that I shuttle drugs back and forth go to visit my boys, I try to maximize my time with them by flying out of BWI as early as humanly possible on Monday and flying back in as late as possible on Thursday in order to drag my butt back into work on Friday morning.

In addition to my maximization of time, I must also note that I am a master procrastinator. Because of my earning a higher education in procrastination, I tend to leave my packing to the night before or the morning of my flight.

On my most recent trip to the little border town Mr. Hot Pilot affectionately calls home, I woke up before the butt crack of dawn could even be seen, and began getting myself ready. Now I don't live in an old house by any measure, but sometimes even in the most well maintained houses, you run into plumbing issues.

My plumbing issue was with my toilet.

I'm sure you would love to hear a story about how I clogged the toilet and caused serious carnage, however this is not the case. Instead I just gave the toilet a slight sideways glance complete with an early morning yawn and the darn thing overflowed.

Spontaneously.

Being that it was too freaking early in the morning for me to drag out a mop and clean the mess, I decided to do the next best thing and throw my used towel onto the toilet water that had collected on the bathroom floor and call it a day. I then shoved the towel behind the toilet to collect any straggling water and left for my flight.

I had a fab four days in Texas with my guys complete with high-larious moments with Munchkin and lots of smooching with Mr. Hot Pilot. I then returned home late Thursday and crashed in bed.

The next morning I awoke to get ready for my weekend at work and noticed my fresh and clean towel that is normally hanging on my bedpost was missing. I walked into the bathroom to see if I had left it there prior to my trip and found a similar towel hanging neatly on the towel rack. "Ok" I thought, "someone must've hung my towel up for me, sweet!" When I got out of the shower, I took that towel off of the rack and began drying off my face and body. And then it hit me like a homeless redneck hits their crack pipe.

The Funk.

This was no ordinary neatly hung towel. The funk eminating from the towel told me as much. This was the towel I had used just four days earlier to mop up TOILET WATER. I had been drying my face with TOILET WATER. And I don't care what state of clean the toilet that that water originated from is...all toilet water to me means one thing.

Poop water.

And I knew the culprit to my poopy facial. My dear old dad.

I quickly jumped back into the shower for a scalding, soapy, de-contamination and then ran like a fool downstairs to confront the evildoer. I discussed the present situation with my mother who found it to be all sorts of insanely funny.

She then passed the word on to my dad who told me that he just thought that I must like to RANDOMLY LEAVE CLEAN TOWELS ON THE FLOOR and hung it up for me. (Turns out my mom had taken my previously fresh towel and thrown it into the wash while I was away.) I was sure I had been set up.

When I pressed for a bended knee promise to pay wads of cash for pain and suffering an apology, this is what I got:

Dad : "Sorry, but if its any consolation, I read somewhere that people are paying big bucks for bird poop facials".

For your culinary delight

It was a lovely fall afternoon so I decided to take a walk to my favorite burrito joint "California Tortilla" as I have previously mentioned here with regards to a near neck stab. While I was waiting for my beyond awesome burrito to be crafted, I decided to peruse the vast array of hot sauces that were available. Because I do have a rather interesting sense of humor (to say the least) I found these which of course just made my day complete :




If of course you happen to be just as intrigued as I was over these culinary masterpieces, you can find ordering information via the following links :

1 - See Dick Run (also available in See Spot in Heat)
2 - Rectal Rocket Fuel
3 - Ass in Space

What's in a name...

My friends and I were sitting around the office discussing crazy baby names when of course the requisite story of the name "Chlamydia" came up and we wanted to see if anyone had ever named their child this name which at first glance seems to describe a delicate flower. Here is what we found :

"When naming your baby Chlamydia, it's important to consider the gender of the name itself. When people look at the name Chlamydia, they might ask the question, "is Chlamydia a man or a woman?", or "what is the gender of the name Chlamydia?" Some names are more gender neutral than others, and some names are more strongly associated with either males or females. Some spelling variations of the name Chlamydia might be more popular than others. The Baby Name Guesser can answer all these questions about the name Chlamydia. To find out more about Chlamydia, Baby Name Guesser uses up-to-date data from across the Internet on how the name Chlamydia is actually used."

Looks like I found a name to add to my future baby name list.

Enough to make me wet my pants...

After spending lots of time with my munchkin, I realize just how amazingly funny he is. Kids really do and say the funniest and silliest things with a reckless abandon I could only dream of having.

I went to pick up munchkin from school today and of course asked how his day was. He began prattling off about the monarch butterflies and then proceeded to tell me all about the "goosebumps" show he had watched the previous weekend with Mr. Hot Pilot. When we got home we pulled out all the work he did in school the previous week, and included was a little book called "all about munchkin" where each of his classmates answered questions about munchkin such as his favorite food and what he wanted to be when he grew up. I was asking him I'd he was friends with the kids (he is as he is very personable). He said yes to each child except for one little girl named Ana. When I asked why she wasn't nice (his words) he said very matter of factly "she drew a picture of me peeing on the ground, and then got a yellow light from the teacher.".

I couldn't control the eruption of laughter that followed.

We then discussed what he wanted to be when he grows up. When I asked him he said "an astronaut and a comet" without blinking an eye. I of course asked him if he knew what a comet was and he said "yeah, a shooting star", his face saying "like, DUH!".

Between his fart jokes and his little matter of fact blurbs, my munchkin keeps me in stitches.

Never a dull moment. I wouldn't have it any other way.

Oh trust me, you care!

In case you were wondering (or even if you weren't) here are a few tidbits of information about me.

1. I actually used to watch that show "The Girls Next Door" about Hef's mentally challenged girlfriends.
2. I firmly believe that show should be directed by Jane Goodall.
3. My name is Carrie
4. You knew that already, but you probably didn't know that it is short for Carrie-Anne, which I was called until I was about 5, at which time my mom figured that she needed to shorten my name for when I got in trouble, so she could pull out the big guns. "CARRRRRIEEEEE ANNNNNEEEE!!! WHAT HAVE YOU DONE?"
5. I have spent many long years making my signature attractive and illegible.
6. I love a good burger.
7. With bacon and mushrooms
8. I actually love meat...
9. I do not, however, eat weird meat (head cheese, tongue, pig feet and the like)
10. I lost 10 lbs on the Atkins Diet once, but it bored the crap out of me.
11. And so I stopped
12. And accepted white bread back into my life.
13. I was raised Baptist
14. Still am Baptist
15. My mother is a youth minister at my church.
16. I am not always very respectful
17. In fact I have a documented problem with authority
18. Officer Stein to be exact.
19. Pulled me over twice in two weeks, and then proceeded to tell me "I know where it is that you live"
20. I have never been fired for being mouthy, but did get laid off for wanting respectable hours for which to go to school in.
21. I am only competitive when it comes to driving on the Baltimore beltway.
22. I have a weird little dog that talks.
23. No, really
24. Just ask anyone.
25. Lucy told my dad whats what just yesterday
26. I finally graduated college (no thanks to my old loser job who didn't want to help a girl out)
27. And I am quite proud
28. Yes, I do understand that I am an uncontrollable dork.
29. I now work in Clinical Research at a rather well known Trauma Center
30. Which has been featured on "Trauma : Life in the E.R" and "Code Blue".
31. Sometimes the ticking of my biological clock wakes me up in the middle of the night.
32. When I was in middle school, I had massive, teased, hairsprayed hair. And gigantic glasses.
33. I thought I looked good.
34. It was only until recently that I got that whole "Star Wars" thing.
35. I have a definite type A personality
36. Watch out if you see me driving in your neighborhood
37. In my sweet blue Dodge Neon.
38. Which is my second blue dodge Neon.
39. I have changed my major about 4 times.
40. Most recently, two years ago.
41. It was only recently that I have started wearing heels.
42. Now that seems to be all that I want to wear.
43. I have always dated short guys.
44. Until now. My hot pilot is nice and tall (and ridiculously gorgeous).
45. I don't like long hair on guys.
46. I like them to be well dressed and clean cut. No tattoos please.
47. My favorite color is green
48. I have owned two Dodge Neons (yep, two)
49. Yes, I know
50. What was I thinking?
51. I obviously wasn't
52. My dream car of the moment is the Volvo S40 T5
53. I hope that my current Dodge Neon lasts me until I have my first child.
54. So I can then buy my Volvo S40 T5
55. I love dogs
56. Don't really care for cats
57. Hate is such a strong word
58. Especially when one says they hate cats
59. I lived in Florida for a year
60. I spent that year figuring out ways to move back home
61. When it was finally time to move home, I didn't want to leave
62. I am a magazine junkie
63. And a gossip column junkie
64. And a Target junkie
65. And I like crack
66. But not really.
67. I am happiest when I am really, really busy
68. I looked forward to the beginning of the school year back when I was a young whipper-snapper.
69. I am of the boomerang generation
70. I have left my parents home 4 times, only to return again.
71. The next time I leave, I plan on it being for good (I think Mr. Hot Pilot agrees)
72. But for now, I am enjoying the money that I am saving.
73. And Lucy likes hanging here with my parents two other dogs.
74. And free home cooking is always nice.
75. Have I mentioned that my dog talks?
76. Just ask anyone.
77. I don't like fake nails.
78. I think they look completely stupid
79. I also think that fake tanning is ridiculous
80. I spend most of my summer rather pale.
81. And what is with parents giving their little toddlers Mohawks?
82. Seriously.
83. I was in the marching band
84. Now lets never speak of that again.
85. But I played percussion
86. Not as nerdy as, say, the clarinet.
87. Which I also played
88. I have a cellphone that I don't really talk much on (unless it is to my aforementioned ridiculously hot pilot)
89. But I have been known to use 3000 text messages in one month
90. I tend to be a bit outspoken
91. After hearing people not washing their hands in the bathroom at work (the lovely job who didn't want to help a girl out with getting her education), I posted pictures of germs, and threatened violence if they DIDN'T WASH THEIR NASTY HANDS!
92. Then someone called OSHA, and they all thought it was me
93. It wasn't. I'm not an idiot. I wanted to KEEP my job
94. But seriously, not washing your hands…sick
95. I will be voting this November. I think it is extremely important
96. I voted for Bush
97. I am very, very sorry
98. How embarrassing
99. It is now 3:05pm
100. I really wish I were in Texas watching my Munchkins soccer game.

A six year old and his boogers

Joel [as Space Girl]: "Kids' brains always taste better when they've been thinking about donuts."


I'm back down in Del Rio this week spending time with my boys. Today was Mr. Hot Pilot's birthday (I'll be sure to post pictures soon!) so I decided to pick up Munchkin from school and take him out to pick out cool stuff for dad. On the way there of course I forgot my wallet and cell phone, so we had to drive all the way back home and then back out to town again, killing some rather precious time. Munchkin is an awesome little guy if I do say so myself. As we were driving, I mentioned that on my way there I had smelled a skunk and it made me think of him.

Now before you go all ape on me, let me fill you in on Munchkin. For some reason, he really likes the smell of skunk. At first Mr. Hot Pilot and I thought he was just being silly but as time went on we realized he just might indeed enjoy the pungent burnt tire smell of a skunk. So of course we got to talking about skunks and other gross things (as he IS a 6 year old boy, come on!). I don't know how many moms and step-moms out there have had the joy of discovering boogers attached to random places throughout your home, but I get the feeling I am not alone.

I gave Munchkin a heads up that his dad had found a yucky booger stuck to the side of the tub and that Munchkin was going to have to clean it when we got home. I look back in the rear-view mirror and I saw a smile spread widely over his lips.

Munchkin : "That wasn't me, that was daddy!"
Me : "Oh yeah? You sure? I seem to think otherwise"
Munchkin : "Haha! It was Daddy!"

So later on as we were driving to dinner the subject came back up about the mysterious appearing booger.

Mr. HP : "Hey Munchkin, you are going to have to clean your booger off the side of the tub tonight, that is just sick dude".

Munchkin : "Haha, no! I don't want to touch that!"

Me : "Oh yeah? You don't seem to mind all of the boogers you have stuck to your wall above your head in your bedroom do you? They are just sitting there ready to fall on you!"

Munchkin : "I know...it's heaven!"...."It's booger heaven!"

Me : "Oh, so they kind of sit there and watch over you while you sleep?"

Mr. Hot Pilot : "Like stars in the sky?"

Munchkin : "Oh yeah! I want to buy that paint stuff and make them glow in the dark!"

He then proceeded to tell us that his tool of choice was his right hand pointer finger, but "he only used that when he was a little kid".

Me : "Oh so are your boogers coming back through a worm hole back in time and attaching itself in Munchkin places all over the house?"

Munchkin : "I don't know..."

Mr. Hot Pilot : "Sick dude."

Then of course Munchkin thought it to be great fun to try and wipe the imaginary booger on Mr. Hot Pilot. Funny thing happened though. As soon as we stepped through the doors of the restaurant, Munchkin waves us off and hushes us by saying "Ok guys, we are in a restaurant. I don't want to hear any more talk about my boogers."

Well at least the kid's got manners.

Its birthday time!

"Awwww.... it was your birthday LAST year!!!" -Crow"

Tomorrow is Mr. Hot Pilot's 33rd birthday (yep, go ahead and do the math in your head...I'm 27...I'll wait) so of course I want to celebrate in the best way possible. Mr. Hot Pilot hasn't had the most celebratory birthdays in the past few years with the exception of last year, as that was our first year together. I want to do something that will make him feel super special and loved.

My mom has always made us kids a birthday cake on our birthday, and we all agree that her birthday cakes are by far better than any store bought cake. I want to start little traditions like this for Mr. Hot Pilot, Munchkin and I, but I really am not a baker. Even when I mentioned baking him a birthday cake, Mr. HP just said "why don't you just buy me an ice cream cake - it's easier".

Since I will be down in Del Rio where the major shopping center is WalMart, I am rather limited in my choices. I decided to look up some great cake designs, and found a few that might not be so appropriate now, but could fit the bill in another place and time:







I'm thinking however that he would be happier with one of these:

Hey, I like my family...AS A FRIEND!

Cherche la bouche

"Narrator: Here in southern Texas, they have an additional problem...
Crow: Texans."

I decided earlier today that I wanted to get a burrito from California Tortilla up the block from the hospital and since I didn't feel much like getting ganked, I took my co-worker with me. We decided to wear our lab coats since it was still kind of drizzling outside, and we didn't want to get too wet.

As we were walking down to the burrito place, we saw some inner city folks packing up their wares (re - vending machine food) for the day. The woman suddenly (and very snarkily) yells "Hey, look at the interns!". (We of course are not interns, but I suppose we were too young to look like bonafide researchers)

I came dangerously close to yelling back, "Hey, look at the street vendor!" to which one of two things would have occurred :

1) I would have been stabbed in the neck
2) I would have been shot point blank in the eye

Hard as it may be, you have to know when to keep your yap shut around these here parts. Gotta love Baltimore.

Music to my wheels

"Lisa: How do we stand on fuel now?
Crow: I'm for it."

Crazy news story of the day via foxnews.com :

Officials to Pave Over Music-Making Asphalt
Saturday, September 20, 2008


LANCASTER, Calif. — Residents of northern Los Angeles County are not grooving to this music.

Lancaster city officials said this week that they're paving over a quarter-mile strip of asphalt grooved to play the William Tell Overture when auto tires speed over it.

The road was completed this month as part of an ad campaign for Honda. It's engineered to play the overture — also known as the theme to "The Lone Ranger" — at perfect pitch for motorists driving Honda Civics at 55 mph.

But neighbors aren't amused. One says the road music sounds like a high-pitched drone. Another says it keeps him and his wife up at night.

Lancaster officials plan to pave over the grooves Tuesday.