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Picture on the Wall

14 Sep

On one of our last days in Seaside, Sissy took her fancy schmancy camera out to the beach with us for a mini photo shoot. Mr. Bee and I have been wanting to get some professional photos taken for a while, but haven’t wanted to shell out (beach pun!) the clams (zing!) for professional pics. Sissy volunteered to give it a go and just check out the awesome shots she got!

I can't wait to get this one on the wall!

Sitting on the Prom wall

Please ignore how wide I am

Seriously, I need hip narrowing surgery or something...

Bee was freaking out that her feet were dirty

I love this shot!

Bee "embellishing" some kid's sandcastle. Sorry kid.

I have dreamed of getting this shot for years! LOVE IT!

Of course this was the one day that Bee decided that (1) sand was the devil, (2) her father was trying to kill her whenever he attempted to touch her (“Daddy HURT me!! Waaaaaaaaaaaaaah!”), and (3) well, she was just going to be the devil incarnate the entire shoot. Despite all of that, we got some photos that I can’t wait to hang on the wall at home.

Yet another reason that my Sissy is the super coolest. Like you needed another reason.

Song title: Picture on the Wall by The Carter Family

Right in the Palm of Your Hand

8 Sep

Do the Puyallup!!Don’t forget to enter my Giveaway to win free admission tickets to the Puyallup Fair! All you have to do is CLICK HERE and tell me your favorite part about the fair. Contest ends TONIGHT, so hurry up and enter while there is still time!!

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Thank you so much to all the SITSas that visited Mom to Bee yesterday (and today!) I had almost 500 visitors yesterday, which is so insane it actually blows my mind in to tiny little plankton bits. Thank you! Thank you! Thank you!

Oh, and come back soon!

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During our trip to Seaside, Sissy and I decided that our money was better spent not on salt water taffy, but on some more memorable entertainment.

Oh, wait.

Yeah, we bought a little taffy too.

I'm already getting sick of it...

Seriously, people. I’m pretty sure my stomach is lined with taffy at this point. And the above photo is the taffy we have LEFT from the trip. Oy.

After we bought a metric fuck-ton of salt water taffy, we decided to blow invest our money in a psychic reading.

This was my first “psychic” experience, save for watching that douchebag Edwards on television. Needless to say, I was a bit skeptic. I was hoping that Allison Duboix herself would pop out of the shadows and read my fortune, but instead it was some thirty-something year old chick who had just gotten back from a day at the spa. Couldn’t she at least dressed up like that creepy old lady from Poltergeist or something? Is that too much to ask?

Here are a few things that she mentioned to me during my palm reading:

You have a loving mother and a loving father but they were never meant to be together.
I guessing that the psychic was banking on America’s divorce rate, but yeah, my parents are still together. Awkward…

Your friends are very important to you and you give a lot. But when you need them to be there for you, they aren’t there.
Okay, so this kind of struck a nerve. I totally feel like this all the time. Which is probably just self-absorbed of me. And honestly, sometimes I almost hope that my friends will have some big problem that they need help with just so I can show them how much I care about them and that I’m a super good friend who will be there for them in their time of need.

Or, you know, hypothetically, you could be the kind of friend to completely forget about them when you promise to bring them food after they’ve just had a baby. Three different times (to three different friends). Hypothetically.

So, tomato, to-mah-to, I guess.

Your husband will get a promotion soon.
Which is kind of like, duh, since he does get promotions like every other day.

You will have five children.
But don’t worry, I’ll have twins that will miscarry so yay for me! Thanks for the up-beat future outlook, lady.

You will move soon.
Okay, kind of creepy since we did just move last year in to our new home…

This is your second life. You once came close to death but the good Lord saved you.
Hmmm. I think the closest to death I’ve gotten is clogging my arteries will all that god-damn taffy. And really? I’m pretty sure that The Big Guy, if he’s not too busy battling The Great Flying Spaghetti Monster, has underlined my name twice on his shit list.

You and your husband are soul mates and will never be separated or divorced.
Uh, duh. When I find someone like Mr. Bee who will put up with my foul mouth, crazy moods, and constant nagging, I’m never letting that dude get away.

After the palm reading, we realized that the psychic’s studio was also conveniently an airbrushing tattoo stand (it screamed of authenticity, I tell ya). Since my little niece was going to get a little arm tattoo, I decided to join in on the fun.

Sissy and I thought it would be hilarious to get a tramp stamp so Mr. Bee would think I was super sexy. But which one…which one…

Star Wars Storm Trooper Tramp Stamp

See? I told you we are soul mates.

Song title: Right in the Palm of Your Hand by Alan Jackson

Take a Picture

23 Jun

Yesterday, I wrote about my recent weekend trip down to Sacramento/Folsom. I just can’t believe that I forgot the best part.

The photos!!

So this was trip #3 (I think) for Bee, but it was really the first time that she has been aware enough to know what is going on. I won’t lie; I was terrified that she would lose her shit the minute the plane took off.

We eventually got her safely hog tied secured in her car seat on the plane and she was fairly entertained by all the people. Unfortunately, on the way to the airport, Mr. Bee and I had entertained Bee by singing the ABC Song at the top of our lungs, just for fun. When we tried to entertain her while the passengers were boarding with the same song, guess what she did? Yep, she started screaming it at the top of her lungs. Slightly embarrassing, but hella funny.

When we took off, Bee decided that clouds were apparently the devil (she looked out her window a few times and turned back to me and very seriously said, “Clouds scary.”) so we quickly did what any parent does to keep their kid busy. We turned on some television.

Let me just take a minute here to express my undying devotion and appreciation for the Apple Corporation. We would not have survived both plane trips with our sanity if it wasn’t for my new iPod touch.

I had already loaded that puppy with Bee’s television lineup (Backyardigans, Wonder Pets, Word World and Super Why!) and once that plane went DING! I had that shit in Bee’s lap before the pilot could even say “We have now reached our cruising altitude of yada yada yada…”

Look at that grin!!

Needless to say, she enjoyed it just a smidge. Look at that smile on her face! The most hilarious part is that I started the Backyardigans episode first and, since Bee had on headphones and couldn’t tell how loud she was being, when the show’s theme song came on, Bee began yelling in excitement, “Pablo! Tyrone! Tasha! Uniqua! Austin!!!!!”

Yet again, I was dying of laughter (and embarrassment).

At my grandparents’ 65th wedding anniversary, Bee continue to be both a doll and an embarrassment as she yelled “more dance!” between some hulu dancers my uncles had brought in to entertain my grandparents. But she also did do her own hulu dancing outside, so once again, her cuteness saved her (and me) from more humiliation.

One of my cousin’s little daughters was just as, if not more, hilarious. My grandmother had gone to some random dollar store (I assume) and bought a bunch of miscellaneous toys for the kids to help themselves to. My cousin’s daughter (who was about 13) grabbed a couple dolls that she thought looked cute. Once opening them, she was more than a little, well, confused…

toys

The first question is: Why the hell did I not finish my cake?! But that is neither here nor there.

More importantly: What the hell is the character on the left (my best guess is a convict reoffending by stealing a 1980′s boom box?) and MOST importantly: What do these toys DO?

You’ll notice from the convict toy that you can pull them apart slightly. The kids would pull them apart, set them on the table and patiently wait for something to happen…

Nothing.

Well, let’s take a look at the directions on the back of the package, shall we?

Pull up? Push down?

Shittiest. Toys. Ever.

Luckily we had other things to keep us amused. Like some of the outfits that people wore to this shin-dig. Well, one outfit in particular.

Unfortunately, I only have one photo that somewhat demonstrates this guy’s, let’s say, QUESTIONABLE clothing decision.

Wear do you find a hat like that?

I know you can’t tell from this photo, but this dude was wearing a white polo, a white bowler with a purple feather in it and…wait for it…matching PURPLE pants. I’m even gonna go out on a limb and say that he was wearing white shoes, too.

I’m a little worried that this geezer misread “Come celebrate our 65th Anniversary” for “Please come to our pimp themed party”. Luckily, I was dressed kind of slutty, so we made a good pair.

Song title: Take a Picture by Filter

California Revisited

22 Jun

This weekend, the whole Bee clan (well, on my side of the family anyway) traveled down to the Sacramento area for my grandparents’ 800th 65th wedding anniversary. I would’ve mentioned it earlier, but I didn’t want to be all “Hey! Our house is going to be vacant for the whole weekend!” and then be one of those total assholes who are shocked when their house is then burglarized while they are on vacation.

It was a fairly quick trip for us (down Friday afternoon and back by dinner Sunday), but I did take note of a few things along the way…

Folsom
I totally expected this “prison town” to be a cross between Detroit and a Mad Max Australia.

You know, with palm trees and shit.

But what we quickly discovered is that Folsom, besides being a totally nice bedroom community, is a haven for shopping (whoda thunk?) and cosmetic surgery. There were plastic surgery clinics on practically every corner in that place! The only conclusion I could come to is that it’s for convicts to change their appearance after breaking free from the pokey.

THE California
Seriously, what is the deal with Californians preoccupation with the word “the”? It’s not Orange County, it’s THE OC. It’s not Interstate 5, or even I-5, it’s THE 5 (or THE 80, THE 50…). Shit, it’s even “strange things are afoot at THE Circle K”*.

I’ve found it’s almost as annoying as the UK’s aversion to the word (like “going to hospital/university/etc.”).

I see you have reserved a shitty car. Would you like to upgrade to…a shitty car?
My HOUR waiting in line to pick up the rental car (so much for “trying hard” Avis) gave me time to reflect on the current state of the rental car inventory.

My final conclusion: Most, if not all, American cars are total shit.

Now don’t get all Frankenstein pitch-forky on me. I’m just as “rah rah! Go America!” as every one else. I just think that besides maybe Ford trucks, the American car industry produces THE (haha) shittiest cars that I have ever driven.

Normally I am subjected to the red Dodge Neon curse of Southern California. Without fail, every time I visit, I get the same crappy car that I assume has like a V2 engine? This trip to NoCal warranted a shiny black Ford Focus. Ooooh, fancy.

When Mr. Bee was surveying the car, taking note iof any dents and whatnot so that the rental car company wouldn’t accuse us of making them, he came back in the car with a horrific look on his face.

“What’s wrong?!” I asked.

“It’s still a Focus,” he said.

Figuring that it at least LOOKED better than the Neons I am accustomed to, it must drive better too, right? Not so much. In a state where you must go from 0 to 812 miles per hour when entering the freeway, it would really help to be driving a car that goes isn’t dependent on how fast you can pedal with your feet.

Vroom! Beep. Beep.
With all that said about the innate craptasticness of rental cars, I loooooooove driving in California. All the speed limits are retardedly high and even if someone *does* cut you off, it’s probably because you are driving too slow and they usually speed off in front of you.

See, here is Washington, it’s commonplace to not only have someone cut you off just to slam on their brakes and go slower than you were going, but to have four or five cars do that in what looks like a synchronized swimming exercise. And then those four or five cars will pace each other for the next 50 miles. Arg, it makes me want to road rage just writing about it!

Hey! Is that…?
I have to say that the most exciting part of the weekend was when we got back to Seattle. Mr. Bee had run ahead of Bee and I in hopes of snagging our luggage quickly, so Bee and I made our way slowly through the terminal to baggage claim. Just as we were leaving the terminal and passing security, I looked up and saw…wait, it can’t be…But then I heard this person speak to the lady he was with and all I could hear in my head was, “Bueller? Bueller?”
bueller....bueller....

That’s right, bitches! I saw Ben Stein in the flesh!!

Jealous??

*Extra bonus points for those of you who got the Bill and Ted reference!

Song title: California Revisited (everyone I Meet Is From California) by America

I’m Bringing Sexy Back

9 Apr

Dude, I wish I looked that cute while on the treadmill! ha!

Two days in a row now I’ve busted my @ss on the treadmill after Baby Bee. Today I burned another 300 calories and ate pretty well too, so hopefully some pounds will be melting away. I think this is my last ditch effort to not look too homely during my big weekend away in Vegas in a few weeks. When I’m at home, I don’t feel pudgy or out of shape, but, man, the minute I’m out shopping or what not…yikes. It seems like all those bumps and curves just get magnified!!

The Magic Bathing Suit!

27 Mar


Juicy Swimwear must be designed by unicorns and made by leprechauns at the end of a rainbow. Seriously. It sucks in my post-baby-having belly like nothing else!

Now if I can figure out how to origamically fold my breasts in the suit to make them look like this model…

A Northwest Winter Tan

27 Mar

I need some advice! I’ve got a vaca planned in early May for Vegas, baby, Vegas! Now my problem is that I am soooo pale, I’m practically transparent. I’m pretty worried that if I go out in the Vegas sun without some sort of base tan, that I will, at the very least, burn poor tourists’ corneas. Have any of you ladies (or fellas) out there gotten a spray/airbrush tan? I know Seattle has The Bronze Bar in Belltown which is supposed to be great, but I’m hoping to find something that nice/credible down in the South End.

Should I go fake tan in a tanning bed so I don’t burn in the desert sun or get a fake airbrush tan so I don’t injure the inhabitants of Las Vegas?

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