Soldiers in the U.S. Are You Serious?

GI Joe's job as a military recruiter is many things; stressful, time consuming, rewarding, the list goes on. Last week it was HILARIOUS. Yes, you read that right, H-I-L-A-R-I-O-U-S.


GI Joe is the type of recruiter who shoots straight with his potential recruits. There's none of this "you'll never go to war" or "you can become a 5 star general before the age of 22 if you sign up" stuff that sometimes lesser recruiters feed impressionable recruits. Nope, he keeps it real and does his job with utmost integrity. Because of how he does his job, he builds a relationship with every single one of his recruits and oft times their parents, spouses, etc. A relationship that lasts throughout boot camp and beyond. That can be a good thing and a bad thing. Good, when they are calling to tell him thank you or that are so happy with their choice that they convinced their friend to join. Bad, when they think he can solve all of their problems for them or that he' s their psychiatrist. I really wish he'd hand me the phone sometimes when those types call.


Remember, how I wrote about the annoying recruit who ruined my date to the Kenny Chesney concert? You can refresh your memory here: http://hillbillyhilarity.blogspot.com/2009/05/good-stuff.html. I'm still bitter, by the way.

By an act of God, that kid managed to make it through basic training and advanced individual training. Little background on this kid: he was so gung ho when he signed up, sights set on special forces, basically he was going to be running the whole Army show before his enlistment was up. This is also the same kid who sent GI Joe the text the day he arrived at his boot camp station BEFORE boot camp even began and said he wanted out, couldn't take it. But he made it and has now returned home. Turns out the military really didn't toughen him up much. Check out the series of texts he sent GI Joe out of the blue. This had me rolling on the floor laughing:

Wimpy Kid: I'm pretty sure i'm done with the military

GI Joe: I'm pretty sure you still have a few more years. You don't want to have to pay back your bonus.

WK: idc (kid speak for i don't care)

And that was the end...for that day. Next day:

WK: Help me start getting discharged.

GI Joe: No can do, there's no reason for discharge.

(This is my favorite) WK: AWOL or DON'T ASK DON'T TELL

Commentary by Prairie Princess: Did he really just play the "don't ask don't tell" card? He did, he really did. Strangely enough, part of the reason he wanted to get out of boot camp in the first place was because he was afraid his girlfriend would leave him. Desperate times call for desperate measures I guess. Wouldn't that have made a great story to tell his grandkids someday about how he got out of the military though? :)

GI Joe: You made a commitment now be a man and honor it.

WK: Yeah so.

WK: That's how serious I am.

GI Joe: It's not even April Fools Day! You're making me laugh.

And that's why I love GI Joe.

You may or may not know this but signing the enlistment papers and joining the military is kind of a big deal. One that some stick in the muds, such as the goverment and military officials, take pretty seriously. Who knew you can't just tell your recruiter you decided you want out? Weird.

Bet you feel really confident in the high quality of men and women we have protecting our freedoms huh? Well you should, because for the most part they are loyal, strong, smart individuals like my GI Joe. All except for THAT guy, oh and THIS guy.

Later that week GI Joe got a call from a drill sgt at Camp Whatever in who knows where. Apparently, the drill sgt had one of GI Joe's recruits under his command during basic training. He was calling to tell GI Joe that the young man was being discharged even though boot camp wasn't over. GI Joe was shocked by this, moreso when he found out the reason.

The reason?

The Drill Sgt said, "He's being discharged because of mild retardation."

GI Joe, "Are you kidding me? There's nothing wrong with him."

Drill Sgt: "This kid is just not all there,man. But we've told him over and over how to fold his socks and he still doesn't get it. "

GI Joe: "I met with him countless times and he's been fine with me. It's gotta be something going on there. I'm telling you that kid is not retarded."

Drill Sgt: "Maybe he had a brain injury or something since you enlisted him, before he got here. Something's not right with him.

GI Joe: "Are you sure he's just not nervous?"

And then there was me listening to all of this, thrown into an uncontrollable fit of giggles.

OK I know retardation is nothing to laugh at, but c'mon that's funny since he's not actually retarded and they are using folding socks properly as their diagnosis tool. And also, I'm no expert but I thought drill sergeants specialized in screaming at new recruits and making them tough, not so much making diagnosing brain injuries and retardation. This kid had successfully passed the entrance test (ASVAB-which many do not pass) and made it through the all of the other processes the military puts them thru upon enlisting and had no problems.

And also, the poor kid! Can you imagine what must be going thru his mind? I hope something's going thru it anyway. I still think it's a severe case of stage fright.

Turns out it wasn't any of the above. GI Joe got a call just today letting him know that the kid had been caught LYING. HE HAD BEEN PRETENDING TO BE RETARDED in the hopes they would send him home. Plan failed, when he was caught being not mildly retarded. Now the big question is, will they dishonorably discharge him for pretending to be retarded OR will they make him go thru basic training all over again? Well thought out plan there, son. I'm beginning to think he really is retarded, just maybe not in the clinical sense.

So you can rest easy tonight knowing that our nation is protected by those being all they can be in the Army...even if that means those who are not above pretending to be gay or mildly retarded. Next time you see someone in uniform please be sure to thank them. Thank them for serving our country AND for not being retarded. Let me know how that goes.

Photo Friday

Since you’re probably still reading the novel that was my last post, I’ll keep this one short and let the pictures do the talking.

The Stand Off

Special Delivery

Can You Spot the Gremlin?

The “Reformed” Llama

And lastly, please help me solve the following mystery.
Just can’t figure out who this boy looks like, ESPECIALLY when he’s giving me such looks to let me know the depth of his enjoyment at having his picture taken (again).

Any ideas?

Largely Anticipated School Story

Largely anticipated might seem a bit presumptuous of me, but after spending an hour writing this very post on Sunday only to have it all vanish when I hit publish, I know I’m largely anticipating finally getting it published. Also, I know my friend Jessie is too, she emailed me with some free technical advice and a plea that I make up with my blog and post this story. Here’s to you Jessie, and to the principal of my children’s elementary school who apparently hates me. Let me explain.

I was an exemplary student throughout my academic career. Quiet, studious, obedient, serious, okay really I can’t even type those things without laughing let alone make you believe them. I did manage to pull off good grades (National Honors Society 1996 baby) which probably would’ve been even better had I a) applied myself b) worried less about how to get OUT of school and what my next social adventure would be and more about things like chemistry…blech and c) studied school related things instead of the list of eligible bachelors in my class (and other classes too let’s be honest here). I was quite a student especially my junior and senior years of high school where I was living it up small school style, in the same exact school that my dear children attend today. Oh yeah, it’s K-12, that’s how we roll in the boondocks. I was not a defiant, disrespectful, destructive student but rather a…hmmm what’s the word?....spunky…yeah that’s it SPUNKY, independent…and slightly mischievous student. Oh boy, if you had any idea how much of an understatement that is, but I had so much fun in high school and really isn’t that what matters? Remind me I said that when my kids are in high school,on second thought DON’T. The teachers and faculty at that school and I had a love/hate relationship. The majority of my teachers enjoyed my fun loving, sarcastic spirit. Although, that can partially be attributed to the large amounts of pot smoked in the 60’s by one of them…love ya Mr. Horn. Unfortunately, not all the school faculty found me as charming, in particular the school secretary and the principal. The principal has long since retired but the secretary, oh she’s still there and she loves me now just as much as she always has. So much indeed that she will not even acknowledge me even when I speak directly to her. It’s pretty special, especially when GI Joe is with me and her face lights up like the Fourth of July at him all the while pretending I’m not even there. Pretty sure she thinks he could’ve married better, oh well join the club. J

One might think that growing up, maturing, and having kids of my own would’ve changed me. And it has….not, as evidenced by my little outing to eat lunch with my kids at school recently.

Before spring break I happened to have a Thursday off and thought it would be fun to go eat lunch with the kids at school. I like to do that at least once throughout the school year, you know for the Worst Mom of the Year rebuttal. I arrived at 10:40, went through the proper check in (which admittedly I don’t always do, it’s hard to get out of that rule the school mentality), said hi to the h.s. secretary as I passed her in the hall only for her to look the other way and pretend she didn’t hear me when we were the only 2 in the hallway, and was ready to meet Blade and Ryder for their 10:45 lunch time. I repeat 10:45 LUNCHTIME. No wonder they can eat a week’s worth of groceries when they get home from school every day, that’s early. When a parent comes to eat lunch with their child, they sit at a “special table” and can invite one friend to eat with them. Each boy picked a friend and our adventure at the “special table” began. I had a rapt audience of 4 wide eyed boys (story of my life….I wish) that I entertained and enlightened with stories of my youth and such. All was great with the world and I was working my way to Cool Mom of the Year status.
I happened to notice that the principal had set up a wannabe Baskin Robbins ice cream shop at the end of our table. Turns out it was to reward kids whose parents signed the slip saying they had read the school newsletter. I would like it documented that I read the newsletter, signed it and put it in my children’s backpacks so they would have a fair shot at the ice cream, even though I’m morally opposed to BRIBING with ice cream to get parents to take an active role in their kids’ education (oh sorry tangent back to the story), only to have them tell me the next day that they didn’t turn it in because they didn’t want ice cream from the principal. That should give you a little glimpse of our principal. Warm, caring, fun? Not so much. But don’t take my word for it, I’m slightly biased as GI Joe and I have been less than impressed with her on several occasions throughout our children’s academic careers. No, instead trust the kids WHO TURNED DOWN FREE ICE CREAM because they’d rather go without than have to deal with her. I’m just sayin’.
There she was scooping up ice cream sans smiles at one end of the table and there we were at the other end, me and my entourage of 1st and 2nd grade boys. We were laughing and having a good time when she abruptly looked at us and snapped to the boys in that tone, “BOYS THAT IS ENOUGH! KEEP IT DOWN THIS IS THE LUNCH ROOM!” Believe it or not I was speechless, but not for long. I sang a line or two of “Jesus, Take the Wheel” in my head and then calmly, albeit slightly annoyed replied, “Oh sorry, we were just having fun, didn’t realize we were being too loud.” And then it was like it was 1995 and I was back in the lunchroom again about to get yet another Saturday School , because she looked down her pointy nose at me and said, “WE JUST CAN’T HAVE THAT. IMAGINE IF ALL 150 KIDS IN THE LUNCH ROOM WERE CARRYING ON LIKE THAT.” Oh JESUS take the wheel. Heaven forbid we have kids laughing and enjoying their lunch. With 4 sets of young eyes on me, I took the high road and let it go. Did you hear me? I LET IT GO. But I did giggle, turn to them and say, “Thanks boys for getting me in trouble, now it really does feel like when I went to school here.” Long story short, but not really, I was their hero.
After that little fiasco, I was ready to blow that pop stand. Ryder had to go back to class and Dakota’s lunch wasn’t for another 45 minutes, so I went to recess with Blade, where I played quarterback for the 2nd grade boys. If you’re not familiar with playground happenings, getting to be QB is kind of a big deal. And being a mom with zero athletic abilities and yet your son still endorsing you as quarterback…a really big deal. I made him proud, I think, until I got the boot when the 3rd graders came out to play. Apparently, 3rd graders trump Blade’s mom…whatever. I stood on the sidelines and fielded questions from very inquisitive 2nd and 3rd grade girls and then gave thanks that I have 2 boys and only 1 girl.

When Blade’s recess ended, it was time for Dakota’s recess. No playing QB for her, she’s a swings and playing dragons kind of girl. I hung out at the swings with her where I was interrogated by 4th grade girls. I thought 2nd and 3rd graders were rough, but wow those 4th grade girls were a tough crowd. One girl looked me over and then said, “So you’re Dakota’s mom?” “Yes, I am.” And serious as a heart attack she said, “That Dakota, she’s a weird one.” She didn’t say it maliciously, just very matter of factly. I was in no position to argue with her as my daughter was running like a T-Rex around me.
As recess ended, a boy from Dakota’s class came up to me and very shyly and quietly asked me, “Is it true what Dakota says, that at your house the Bakugan (the latest Japanese toy craze that are these little ball like things that morph into a dragon or another character and they battle each other) come alive and she’s found them in the trees and stuff?”
“Well, what do you think?” I replied, not wanting to throw my own daughter under the bus for being the crazy girl who thinks imaginary things are real even though she IS the crazy one who thinks imaginary things are real.
“I think there’s no way and that she just has an overactive imagination,” said the boy.
Smart boy.
Basically, I learned that our daughter is THAT kid, the weird one with the overactive imagination. She makes us proud.
But wait, there’s more. Turns out that there is about a 12 minute process for the 4th graders to go from recess to lunch which involves a lot of washing hands, standing in line, and a whole lot of nothing. Didn’t seem very efficient to me, but what do I know right? So we’re standing in line and the hall monitor/recess lady and the principal (yes, HER again) were telling the kids to all sit down on the floor in the hallway and wait quietly for their turn. And if I may interject here and I may since it’s my blog, I would just like to say that I would think that someone who works with children for a living AND chose this profession should perhaps like children, and if I may be so bold as to say, enjoy them? I totally don’t get that vibe from Mrs. Principal. I realize it’s a tough job and you can’t always be sunshine and rainbows but I would think that a little warm fuzzy with a splash of humor thrown in then couldn’t hurt anything. And now back to your regularly scheduled programming. I didn’t think it was necessary that I, as an 5’9” grown adult sit down on the floor. I could do the quiet thing..mostly, but I drew the line at sitting on the floor. This presented a problem for Mrs. Principal. She yelled out from the other end of the line, “We need EVERYONE to sit down as to have SOMEONE standing up distracts those who are doing what they are told.”
I looked around, sure I would find a 4th grader misbehaving and standing up when they should be sitting but alas I was standing up alone. OH UH UH she was sure ‘nuff talking about me, but not directly to me because I’m sure my goat wrestling tough farm girl reputation had preceded me and she was scared. For some reason she can never speak directly to me so instead she made a spectacle about it. No worries I wasn’t the least bit embarrassed and neither was Dakota. For fear of landing right back in the dreaded Saturday school where I spent so many Saturday mornings of my senior year, I politely ignored her instead of issuing a snappy retort. I’m seeing a trend here and I have to say “bite your tongue” Prairie Princess is kinda boring. I remained standing and figured if it were that big of an issue Mrs. Principal could come speak directly to me, but seriously aren’t there bigger concerns than whether or not a PARENT is adhering to the 4th grade lunch rules? Thankfully, we were saved by the bell and released from line prison without further incident.

In 2 hours, I managed to have 4 boys hang on my every word, a group of girls give me the 3rd degree interrogation, be yelled at TWICE by the principal, and blatantly ignored by the secretary. Good to know some things never change.

Yours From Saturday School ,
Prairie Princess aka Grown Up Juvenile Delinquent

Uggghhhh

I'll tell you a super fun thing to do. Spend an hour typing up a hilarious (i can say that since you can't read it) ancedote about your trip to school to eat lunch with your kids during which you managed to get yelled at not once, but TWICE, by the principal. Sounds good so far right? Then hit publish and have it disappear! Yay how fun!!!
Not.
I'm done. Sorry, got nothing for you today, maybe not tomorrow either, depending on how long it takes me to reconcile with my blog. Could be a while, I hold a grudge.
Peace out.

Raisin' Them Right

I happen to be a devoted fan of country music (and NKOTB). I’ve always shared my love of country music with the kids by playing Johnny Cash as they drifted off to sleep as babies, by rocking out to it in the car with them, taking them to concerts of their favorites, getting prime seats, taking them bus chasing, the works. I’m that kind of mom. Yeah you can aspire to be like me that’s fine. J

Blade happens to ADORE Brad Paisley and has now seen him in concert 4 times! And by see him in concert I don’t mean sit in the nosebleed section and see him, I mean sit within the first 8 rows EVERY SINGLE CONCERT and have direct interaction with Brad EVERY SINGLE TIME. He’s a member of the fan club and everything. Because he’s a member of the fan club he gets an email at Christmas and his birthday “from Brad” that says “Hey Blade, blah blah blah, See Ya On the Road, Brad”. It’s a standard email that I’m sure every member of his fan club receives on such occasions but Blade thinks Brad emails him because he remembers him from the concerts and because he remembers giving Blade the first high five of the concert in Des Moines or Omaha or do you see where I’m going with this? Seriously. He and GI Joe went to see Brad in January and had amazing seats, like 3rd row amazing and at the end of the show Brad walked over to Blade, asked GI Joe if it was ok, and then took off his cowboy hat and put it on Blade’s head. Both GI Joe and Blade were beside themselves with excitement. GI Joe promises to do a guest blog appearance to tell you more about that evening but until then that’s the short story of it. The hat is proudly displayed and every person that comes into our house gets asked by Blade, “Did you see my Brad Paisley hat? He gave it to me.” He’s just a teeny bit proud of it.

All 3 of the kids are going to Tennessee to spend Spring Break with my sister Hilary and her family. They are so excited, they love their Aunt Hilary but they also love Tennessee for reasons I think I had a little something to do with.
The other day Blade said to me, “I’m gonna have Hilary take me to Brad’s house so I can tell him thanks for the hat since I haven’t talked to him since he gave it to me”
Me: “Buddy, I don’t think Hilary knows where Brad lives so I’m not sure if you’ll be able to do that.”
Blade: “Well, can’t she find out? I mean it’s right there in TN where she lives. Why doesn’t she just look him up in the phone book?”
Me: “It’s not really that easy. Big stars like Brad don’t always like everyone to know where they live. I think he has a big farm so you probably can’t even see his house from the road.”
Blade: “I’ll just email him then, he knows me. Remember he sends me emails all the time and REMEMBER HE GAVE ME HIS HAT?!? He’ll definitely want me to stop by.”
Me: “OK buddy good luck with that.”

So I think this means that Hilary will be forced by Blade to drive aimlessly around the back roads of TN in search of Brad’s house, and should she find it I have no doubt that my son will walk right up to the gate, push the buzzer and announce that he’s there to see his buddy Brad. Good luck with that Hilary.

Then there’s Dakota who has other reasons for loving TN.
Dakota: “I can’t wait to go to TN.”
Me: “It’s gonna be fun huh?
Dakota: “Yeah and I love TN.”
Me: “Me too. Why do you love it, just cuz Hilary’s there?”
Dakota: “Well that too but also because I love the music that comes from TN.”
Me: “Yeah that is kinda what their known for. Country Music Capital of the World and all.”
Dakota: “I love it, I hope we get to hear some good music while we’re there.”

Huh. So I guess THIS means that Hilary will be loading the kids up and taking them to Broadway in downtown Nashville to hit up the honky tonks and clubs so they can hear the latest greatest music in Nashville . THAT should be interesting. All I ask is that they go during daylight hours, there’s just something inherently wrong about taking kids to honky tonks and bars after dark. But daylight? That’s TOTALLY fine. Maybe she’ll even take them to Coyote Ugly to dance on the bar. Bet none of the other kids will get to do that on their spring break!

I have no idea where they get it from.



*Update-We met Hilary in St Louis to hand over our kids to her on Friday. At about 10pm that same evening I received a phone call from our kids letting me know that at that very moment they were cruising down Broadway in downtown Nashville with the windows down listening to all the music from the honky tonks such as Tootsie's Orchid Lounge. They also saw a pink limo who they are sure was Taylor Swift, my investigatioin shows it was most likely Dolly Parton but who am I to crush their hopes and dreams? They weren't near as impressed by thinking they saw Dolly Parton as they were when they thought it was Taylor Swift. Dakota tried telling me she was pretty sure she heard Chuck Wicks of "Stealing Cinderella" fame singing. Is my sister not the coolest aunt ever or what? I mean really, who else would drive down the busiest street in Nashville with 4 kids and 2 puppies with the windows down just so that her country bumpkin niece and nephews could hear the music they love so much? She said it was probably a better idea than walking down Broadway with 4 kids, a stroller and 2 dogs on a leash at 10pm on a Friday night. She's pretty responsible like that. We all know what I would've done right? YEE HAW KIDS! :)

Blonde Bashing

Maybe it’s because my hair at times is blindingly blonde (ex: http://hillbillyhilarity.blogspot.com/2009/12/super-blonde.html) or maybe it’s because I am guilty of having the occasional….“blonde moments” but sometimes I just get a bad rap because I’m blonde. You should pity me.

Here are some examples of my infrequent blonde moments:

*The other day when I bought our friend Doug a birthday card. It was a layered number and I thought the message on it was very fitting. I signed the card at the obvious last layer of the card. As Doug was reading the card, I noticed that he was reading a part I’d never seen before? I grabbed the card right out of his hands (because I’m discreet like this) and loudly exclaimed, “OH MY GOODNESS I DIDN’T REALIZE THERE WAS AN EXTRA PAGE TO THIS! I THOUGHT IT WAS WEIRD THAT IT DIDN’T SAY HAPPY BIRTHDAY AT THE END!” So yeah, I had written on the middle of the card, not the end and there was a whole other part of the card that I hadn’t even seen OR read. Thankfully, the last part of the card continued on with the nice message and didn’t say anything inappropriate like, “Hey big guy hubba hubba ” I mean really, that would’ve been awkward since GI Joe’s named was signed to the card as well. But wait they are “bros” so maybe not. Everyone witnessing the birthday card fiasco was very amused by my faux pas, I aim to please.

*The time I thought a giant bouncy ball out of one of those little red candy machines was the world’s biggest gumball. I popped it in my mouth and chomped down on it as hard as I could only to break all my teeth when I discovered it was RUBBER. GI Joe nearly wet himself from laughing so hard. I’ve been leery of gumballs ever since, dentures are nice though.

*And that’s about it really. For the most part, I totally have my head on straight and have very few blonde moments. I had to dig deep to bring you these. And if you’ll buy that I’ve got some ocean front property in Arizona I’ll sell ya. Speaking of which, after like 5 years of hearing the song by George Straight with that exact line “I’ve got some ocean front property in Arizona ”, I got out a map and declared to GI Joe, “What is he talking about? There’s no ocean front property in Arizona …geesh. And all this time I’ve been so confused by that song!”
Who knew right? Apparently, he did. Whatever dude.

But this ONE, this one was NOT me even though it was incorrectly assumed that it was.

GI Joe’s brofriend John, sent out one of those text jokes that said “a blonde chick just text me and asked “what does IDK mean” and I said “I don’t know” and she said “Ugh no one does”. Ha ha hee hee. GI Joe received that and then forwarded it out to some other friends of ours. I had gotten the one from John as well so knew it was a joke. However, a few minutes later I received this text from someone who shall remain nameless “My friend…IDK means I Don’t Know.”
Apparently, since it came from GI Joe and referenced a “blonde chick” SOME wrongly assumed I was the blonde chick in question.
I responded with “I know, it wasn’t me I swear”
And the response from the nameless person “R u sure there’s rumors going around?”

Do you see what I’m up against here? My few and far between blonde moments have given me somewhat of a reputation that now haunts me.

One thing you should know that is that the person who shall remain nameless is also blonde…just sayin’. :)

Now if you’ll excuse me I have to go dye my hair brown before I hit up the beach in Arizona.

What I've Been Up To You Lately

I’ve been neglecting my blog because I’ve been very busy with the following:

*Working my way thru the 6 BAGS OF REESE’S EGGS my friend Doug gave me. It was part of my birthday present last year, except that by the time my birthday rolled around Reese’s eggs had gone back to peanut butter hibernation and were nowhere to be found, so I got a certificate guaranteeing me an enormous supply once they were available again. You know how I love my Reese's eggs http://hillbillyhilarity.blogspot.com/2009/04/reeses-retrospect.html And now I’m well on my way to the 500 pound club! Yay me!

At least I'm working it!

*Speaking of the 500 pound club, my Reese’s eggs indulgences are justified as I’ve been…are you ready for this? Are you sitting down?......I’ve been working out 3-5 times a week. Yes, you’re reading the right blog and I’m still Prairie Princess, and no I haven’t been overtaken by aliens. I’ve been doing the Biggest Loser Weight Loss Yoga w/ Bob (my on again off again boyfriend) since February 1st and would you believe I think I’ve finally found an exercise I can tolerate. I've always thought that yoga was a lot of sitting on the floor cross legged saying "Ahmmmmmm". Ha! I wish, turns out it works muscles you didn't even know you had and supposedly creates "long lean muscles," that's what Bob keeps telling me anyway. Between the yoga and my little made up thing called Waist Watchers I’m down 6 pounds and am even starting to feel more toned. Haven’t figured out where the 6 pounds was lost from but hey it’s a start. I am starting a new diet plan this week that I think is really going to make the pounds fall off, it’s called The Cotton Candy Diet. Seriously! In the Easter candy section of my Wal Mart they had these cute little tubs of cotton candy. I grabbed one for me and one for my preggers twin soul friend Amanda, who like me with my first pregnancy has been craving it like crack. I figured if I just had a little a day it wouldn’t deter my Waist Watchers plan too much. Until I looked at the nutritional information and found that it had ZERO FAT AND ONLY 50 CALORIES PER CONTAINER! An answer to my prayers! Who needs 100 calorie snacks when you can have 2 tubs of cotton candy instead?!? Not I.

*Calling Hershey’s Cadbury division to get the exact nutritional value of a Cadbury Crème egg, my other nemesis. It’s not on the packaging and when I looked it up online it told me to call Customer Service. I called, because obviously this was of utmost importance, and basically the Customer Service Rep called me a fatty…in so many words. Turns out there are 150 calories in one of those delightful eggs but as the oh-so-blunt CSR told me, “if you insist on eating one of these while you’re on a diet which I would not recommend, maybe you should only eat half.” Wow, thanks for that motivational speech, think I’ll go eat 12 Cadbury eggs now, cut in half of course.

This is my next vehicle.

*Being a foster mom. You know because I’m such a good mom and all, we decided to ruin even more lives and take in another kid. Lucky for society, this one is of the furry, four legged notion. His name is Grizz and he’s awesome. Grizz will be united with is permanent family aka my sister on Friday. Teaser: the Koons Zoo may become a foster home for some other four legged friends in the very near future, stay tuned.

*Preparing, or should I say supervising GI Joe building our brooder house (def: a shed or barn where baby chicks are raised until they are old enough to survive without additional heat) for our spring shopping trip to the farm store during CHICK DAYS!!! My favorite part of spring? This trip to pick out baby chickens, turkeys, duck and maybe even a goose or two. Also very excited that where the chicks will be housed will be pastel colors. It’ll look like an Easter egg factory in there! Rest assured it will be photographed for your viewing pleasure. Sidenote: the technical farm term is NOT baby chickens, turkeys, ducks but instead chicks, poults, and ducklings. I’m here to educate and inform you. Your welcome.

I'm sorry but I MAY have to do this to them.

Reading over this, I realize that basically I just summed up my life with candy and animals. Huh. That’s investigative reporting at it’s finest.