The countdown's on.

Don't forget that tomorrow, February 1, I'll be selecting the winner of the Mada's Place wristlet! If you haven't already left your comments, please go ahead and sign up, yo. Pass this along to other friends/family as well.

I'll be drawing the winner's name at close of business tomorrow (around 6 p.m. CST). Good luck!

TGIF! Fun giveaway for Porkchop Fans.

I’ve teamed up with my good friend Steph over at Mada’s Place to give my blog readers an opportunity to win something super cute. I have plenty of Mada’s creations, and I can assure you that they’re all top-notch. So, why not try your luck and see if you can win the cute wristlet below?

To be entered into the giveaway, you can do one or all of the following. The more you do, the more chances you have to win. Please make sure you leave your email address, so I’ll have a way to contact you after the giveaway ends. A winner will be picked on Monday, February 1.

To enter, do the following and leave a comment for EACH.


1. Publically follow my blog
2. Blog about, Tweet or Share this blog entry on Facebook/MySpace/Any other social network
3. Add my button to your blog
4. Become a fan of the One Porkchop Blog on Facebook

Please note there are many different styles at Mada’s Place, so you’ll have the option to choose any wristlet you like. This is one of the wristlets you can win:


GOOD LUCK!

I'm going to be doing giveaways every Friday, if you would like to feature one of your items for a give away, please email me at oneporkchopblog@yahoo.com.

I am loved.

Want to know why I’m all giddy tonight?  ‘Cause I have lots of junk food to rot out my teeth.  There’s an extra special someone out there who loves me enough to send me some awesome swag for Valentine’s Day.  I just wanted to show off the loot to make all of you salivate.  Cruel person, I am. 

I seriously have the best friends on the planet. Thank you so much, Kelly, for the wonderful Valentine's Day treats you sent me!

Also, make a mental note readers:  If any of you want to get on my really good side, any of the candies and trinkets above will do the trick.  Thank you.  

English Lesson of the day.

We all need a little refresher from time to time. I’m no English genius by any stretch of the imagination, but there are a few grade school lessons that many of us have forgotten over time. So, being the helpful person I always am, I’m providing you with a few tidbits to make you sound a heck of a lot smarter than you usually sound. No thanks is necessary. Unless you want to thank me. Then you can buy me some gift cards to Target. Or even Gymboree, I’m not picky.

I found this first lesson most appropriate given the examples. Uncanny, eh?

(Legal crap: All images below are from http://theoatmeal.com) This is one of my biggest pet peeves.

Another pet peeve.

The explanation is too funny to ignore.

I often have a hard time with this one.

The puking panda owns me.

So, there you have it – don’t say I never gave you anything. The gift of knowledge, my friend, is beautiful. And so is that puking panda bear. BLORCH!

ADD central.

I’m the first to admit that I suffer from ADD (Attention Deficit Disorder). This is self-diagnosed, of course, but I’m sure if there was a checklist somewhere of the top 10 signs, I’d have about 9 of ‘em. Probably all 10, but I’d already be on to the next thing before finishing the checklist.

What makes this tale of woe even more unfortunate is that my dear husband, the father of my child, suffers from the same affliction. On a much greater scale, I might add. Methinks our poor child is doomed. I’m already preparing myself for the numerous progress reports we’re going to receive, “Anna is such a joy in class, but she has a problem focusing on the task at hand.” I could warm the entire Saints football team with the fire generated from burning all of my progress reports that carried that very same message.

So, my husband is off of work today. He was also off of work yesterday, but since he had daddy duty, that gave him the right (per his words) to sit on the couch all day long and only do daddy stuff like feed Anna and change a diaper or two. Asking him to lift a finger to, say, take out the trash, would be far too much to ask on such an important day.

Since I’m fortunate enough to be able to work from home a few days each week, oh, and be a mom at the same time, I asked him if he could clean the garage today. The more I watch the show Hoarders, the more I realize our garage isn’t too far off from that type of despicable mess. When you only open the door halfway to bring in the garbage can so as to not frighten off the neighbors, that should be clue #1 that it’s time for some early Spring Cleaning, right? When you step on a picture frame and fall into a pile of Halloween decorations that still haven’t been put away in the attic, that should be clue #2. There are hundreds of other clues, but my ADD keeps me from typing them all out.

Joe goes out into the garage totally motivated to organize and clean out this den of darkness. I hear things moving around, I think progress is being made, and then five minutes later – yes, FIVE minutes – he comes inside. Bathroom break? Does he need a drink? A shot of Scotch? 10 more minutes go by, and Joe is still in the house. What is he doing?

I get up from my chair and go check it out. He could be choking, for Pete’s sake. I quietly walk into our bedroom not sure what to expect. What do I see? Joe. In his closet. Cleaning it. Here’s the conversation that follows:

Me: What are you doing?
Joe: Cleaning my closet.
Me: I thought you were cleaning the garage?
Joe: Yes, I was, but I got cold. So, I came inside for a shirt, and now I'm cleaning my closet.
Me: :blank expression:
Joe: I couldn't find the shirt I wanted, so now I'm cleaning my closet to find it.
Me: :blank expression:

He’s been in the closet now for about 20 minutes. I’m taking bets from all of you to see if you think Joe is going to complete this task before moving on to the next thing.

Before I could finish this post, Joe quit cleaning the closet and started playing basketball in the house with Anna. So, I rest my case. My husband has extreme ADD and probably needs some pills.

And since I also have ADD, I'm bored with this post and am going to do something else now. Later!

Babyruth.

Bath time is always an experience in my house. Now that my child is no longer confined to her bath seat, she’s free to explore the depths of our household tub. She splishes. She splashes. She soaks everything within a 2 mile radius. She’s learned how to squirt water from her bath toys and giggles when her bath doll pees on the floor. She likes to stand and slip a little so she can give me a heart attack. Then she falls on her butt and further soaks our drywall. I’m sure we’ll have mold soon.

Her latest antics, however, are a bit...shall we say, concerning. And, let's be honest, repulsive. Vomit-inducing repulsion.

My child has started using our tub as a toilet. Yes, I’ve got a tub crapper on my hands.

I'm not talking about rabbit turd craps, people, I'm talking enough crap to fill a size 4 diaper. Enough crap to warrant a Hazmat suit. Enough crap to send smelly poo vapors through our air vents, outside to our neighbors’ homes. I just know the HOA is meeting about the broken sewer main that must be by our house.

I scream, I cry, I call for help, but help never comes. Instead, "help" (aka Joe) stands outside the bathroom door laughing and mocking as I reach into the forbidden poo abyss to rescue the Babyruth floaters that are bobbing up and down in the murky tub water.

I pull Anna out of the tub. She stands there dripping water on our cold tile floors as the sweat beads form on my forehead and the vomit rises in my throat. She points and laughs and farts for good measure.

Here’s a visual of how it goes down in my house:

When I signed up to be a mom, I never agreed to this. There must be some hidden disclaimer that I forgot to read in my parenting books about tub poopers. I feel as though I’m entitled to some sort of compensation – perhaps money, a new car, definitely NOT a lifetime of chocolate.

No longer the Aints.

Unless you live under a rock (or have no interest in Football), you know that my New Orleans Saints have FINALLY made it to the Super Bowl for the first time in franchise history! Notice I said “my” New Orleans Saints? That’s because Drew Brees and Scott Fujita have a mad crush on me. I also have some ocean front property in Arizona to sell you.

So, in two weeks, the Saints will be winning the Super Bowl when they play against our other favorite team, the Colts. What shall I wear, you may ask? Well, the truth is that I don’t have anything to wear. No Brees Jerseys, no bejeweled fleur-de-lis jackets to wear. Let’s head to Ebay and see what’s available, shall we?

The Frederick’s of Hollywood line. Now all I need are some matching thongs, and I’ll be all set!

Hot damn! I found ‘em! What else? Hmm, a skirt, perhaps?

Yes, my friends, this is a skirt. It’s long enough to cover up one of my butts.

In all seriousness, unless your chosen profession is pole dancing, who would wear this? Back to the drawing board, folks.