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    Vacation, vacation, oh, who the hell am I kidding?

    July 8, 2006

    Tomorrow we leave for 10 days in Idaho.  If you are one of the three people that read this blog and you would like to hear about how my vacation is REALLY going with the fam, email me at babybrewingco at gmail dot com and I’ll send you the link to the vacation blog.  I promise it will be TEN TIMES BETTER than last year’s debacle (see, August archives).  This year promises more nickels in the dryer and at least one time that I get caught sitting on the throne because I forgot to lock the door. 

    Peach out!

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    You cannot make this @#$% up

    June 23, 2006

    Last night was my final night of my web design class.  THANK GOD!  for the past 6 weeks I have been working on the redesign for .  Working on my time between 10 pm and 5 am.  My son is so very generous in sharing me.  But I finally got most of it done yesterday (thanks to Dave, the web genius who looked at my code and said “ah, Kris, can I help you out here?”  OK, so I had dirty code.  Sorry.  I’m an amateur.  Let’s be honest.  I took a community college class to learn how to do this. 

    We were supposed to do presentations of our website in class as well.  Here I am in a class full of art majors and I’m supposed to sell maternity t-shirts?  The professor started with the websites of two friends that are in the class.  And when asked what the purpose or goal of his website, the first responded with this…

    Guy:  Well, up until last week, I had planned to have a website of all the graffiti I have done over the years, but then I decided that maybe it wasn’t such a good idea to put all that online.

    Crickets.  Crickets.

    Professor:  I think the statute of limitations on that kind of stuff is 7 years.

    Crickets.  Crickets.  

    Well actually I think it is 3 years but either way, we are discussing multiple misdemeanors. 

    Guy:  I did put one up on the website (and he flashes to the most intricate graffiti you have ever seen in your life).  Yeah, that’s at 16th and U if you want to see it.  But that one’s legal. 

    God love him for realizing that putting his illegality on display for the world might not be such a good idea.  He had some other art up and I found myself giving him a speech about protecting his art with copyright during the break.

    12 years in law enforcement and I’m telling the guy to protect his “art” with copyright?  At this rate I’ll be smoking silly cigs at a Dave Matthews Band soon and selling moonshine out of my basement. 

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    It’s not really a wedding reception until…

    May 8, 2006

    1.  Someone, in a drunken stupor, dances into the matron of honor and knocks her over–which results in the back of her size Zero dress splitting open.

    2.  You are lucky to be sitting next to the person who realizes for the first time that the song is saying “she thinks my tractor’s sexy.”

    3.  Someone who has clearly never had a singing lesson gets control of the karaoke microphone and sings along to “Dancing Queen.”

    4.  The DJ calls it “the Magaraina.”

    5.  You convince your mother to dance to “It’s Raining Men, Hallelujah, It’s Raining Men, Amen.”

    6.  You dig all the camerettes out of the bag to make sure that EVERY SINGLE POSSIBLE SHOT HAS BEEN TAKEN–and you take the last 60 pictures of the drunks that haven’t gone home and just can’t say no to “one-more-dance.”

    7.  People begin referring to you as “the Paparazzi.”

    8.  People stop to ask if you are “the photographer” because you are taking 10 to every 1 of his shots and you have to explain that you are just the bride’s best friend from ages 3-6, until her father made the family move far away.

    9.  You offer the mother-of-the-bride a cocktail in hopes that she’ll dance on a table.  She declines, of course.

    10.  You get to tell the kids of the bride’s older brother that their father used to take ticks off the dog and drown them in alcohol (I think it was the good scotch) and the kids are grossed out.

    11.  You take a perfect picture of the bride and her two brothers, and suddenly you realize that you are old.

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    Oh, do I have a topper story for you.

    April 22, 2006

    So we went to the bank to set up the account for Baby Brewing.  Because I am unable to offload this child whenever I actually need to, there was the Boo right there with me as we talked to the Vice President of Financial Services. 

    As a side note, there were a LOT of people with big titles in the bank.  Too many queens and not enough worker bees, if you ask me.

    A very lovely girl, she ran off to make the deposit and left me and the Boo in her office.  It took him a half of a millisecond to go around the back of her desk.

    K:  Ethan!
    E:  THIS!
    K:  Bug, I’m serious.  Get out from behind her desk.  That is her privacy.

    OK, so equating the back of a desk with, say, going to the bathroom alone was probably a stretch but I had already spent the last 10 minutes trying to get the blinds in the windows back to their normal selves.  I wasn’t on my game.

    E:  THIS!

    With that he walked back around her desk with a huge bag of Easter M&M’s.  Nice.  Theft from the VP of the bank.

    K:  Put that back!  No, who am I kidding, give that to me.

    I walked back around the side of her desk and tucked the bag on a ledge under desk.  In the middle of the floor was a garage door opener.  I just left it there.

    When the VP came back, I confessed about the M&M’s.  She was very gracious and told me not to worry about it.  Until she got behind her desk and noticed the garage door opener on the floor.

    VP:  Did he push this button?

    First thought–that is not a garage door opener.
    Second thought–Did he push the button?  Is the pope catholic?
    Third thought–what do you think the response time is for the police descending upon us?

    K:  I’m sure he didn’t.  Thanks for your time.  We really need to go.

    Before the cops show up.

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