I discovered this website today and it amused me for MINUTES! Which is pretty good for old flibirdijibit....

http://www.43things.com/

Enjoy.

Mr. Fuzzy Shorts - with a side of creepy pinocchio.

At the ripe old age of 10 (for real this time not just an 11 year old saying she's 10) my family and my best friend's family took a vacation to Disneyland. It was a Christmas/Graduation combo present for our families since our oldest brothers would be graduating from highshcool that year and it seemed the last opportunity to take such a big trip as a family. Seriuosly, Disneyland is for 10 year olds though, right?

So anyway.....the hotel we were staying at in Anaheim was directly across the street from Disneyland. It had a pool and hot tub situated outside with a fence all around (I guess to keep 'outsiders' from coming in and using the facility?). My friend 'Georgela' and I were very much enjoying the pool with our brothers and dad's but after a while they were tired of swimming and so (and don't ask me why) they left us - alone- outside- across the street from Disneyland- at the ripe old ages of 10 and 11.

~In their defense, they were and are farmers from small town Saskabush in the late 80's. So it really doesn't surprise me that they would think nothing of leaving us alone to our own devices. I mean they left us alone to fend for ourselves back home all the time, why would it be different there?~

But I digress....

It's dark, we have moved into the hot tub because we are cold and we are not thinking about the fact that we are alone, outside in the big city at all. We are simply chattering on and on the way we always did and enjoying every moment of our Californian vacation together. While we were sitting in there an older man - whom I can only assume is an accomplice of Mr. Fuzzy Shorts in retrospect - comes by and asks us how we're doing and if everything is okay and how is the temperature 'blah,blah, blah'....then he went over to some dial on the wall near our changeroom/sauna and fiddled with it and left.

A few more minutes pass and a second man comes along wearing a towel, a T-shirt, a beard and glasses. At the tme I would have guessed him around 30. Georgela says to him as he passes by our hot tub 'Hey Dude!' he replies 'Hey' back and continues into the changeroom/ sauna where our clothes and towels are. Not realizing there was both a men's and a ladies changeroom we thought nothing of him going into our changeroom. Not sure why but we didn't.

A few minutes passed and we had all but forgotten about the guy when he made a reappearance just outside the changeroom. Georgela was facing me and didn't notice him come out and I wouldn't have paid him much attention either except there was something peculiar about his swimming trunks.......he was backed by a light and his shorts looked rather, um, fuzzy..... wait a minute! Those are not shorts at all! In fact there ARE no trunks ON this man! This all occurs to me in about a millisecond of gauking. So without moving my mouth at all I say between clenched teeth to Georgela in the style of Cameron Fry from Ferris Buellers Day Off (a favorite of ours at the time) "look over there!" She looks, I look, he is looking at us..... posing rather and, if I might add, looking 'quite excited' and 'happy' in the unshorted area. After a beat he goes back to this 'dial' on the wall and does some 'dialing' and then retreats back into the changeroom.

Well Georgela and I were out of that hot tub and up the stairs before you could say 'Mr.Fuzzy Shorts' and we ran into our dad's coming to check on us on our way! By the time they got down to kick some butt he was already gone. Never to be seen again......

Creepy Pinocchio....

This story may or may not be related to Mr.Fuzzy Shorts and I am unsure of the timeline, if this happened before or after the pool incident. Georgela? Mayhaps you remember?

I liked to have my hair 'done up' when I was a child and my mom obliged and bought me all kinds of cute barretts and such to wear in my overly done, overly hairsprayed hair. Yes I was 10 and had REALLY high bangs.

One of the days we were spending at Disneyland I was of course sporting some very stiff bangs and a very tight ponytail and some neat ladybug barretts. Well Pinocchio took QUITE an interest in my do by stopping me, and fondling patting and fiddling with my hair for several minutes. Of course it made Georgela and I laugh hysterically we even caught the whole thing on tape! But now....looking back.... is it possilbe that Mr. Fuzzy Shorts was donning a Pinocchio suit during the day?????? HMMMMM?????!!!!!!

Creep.

Now you must vote for you next selection from the crypt of flibirdijibits past:

a) Flib flies at table mountain
b) Flib flies at Cousin Vinces
c) Twinkle Toes and her Kittens...(what's she doing with that gun?)

These are some pictures of what I washed out of my carpet this weekend.....

Yes, our dog Ronin was finally adopted after 6 months being posted on petfinder.com. So I got busy and shampooed my carpets this weekend and although I was happy to have my carpets clean I am sad to see him go. So Ronin, if you are reading this, which I am sure you are because your new owners will obviously have you set up with your own laptop, webcam and personal MP3 player.........goodbye and be good.

And the Legacy Lives On

So some one should tell these girls before it's too late that they are SO not cute! I mean look at them! NOT CUTE!


Solveigh in Gramma's Chair
Tova as a Rock n' Roll Queen

Why I'm Not Cute

- the first of many stories that have shaped the dead beat I am today.

I decided that I have just too many good funny stories about me growing up and being a grown up that if I don't record them somewhere they may be lost all together. The topic of this, my first recant-a-rant (that's a new word I just made up), is the story of how I learned that I am indeed NOT CUTE! No. Not.

It was grade 6, I was 10 and we were working on gluing hundreds of popsicle sticks together to make a lamp see?


This is what we aspired for our lamps to appear like after all the messy gluing was through.....Apparently I never even completed this art project, too busy talking!

Yeah....like I say, I was talking in Art class if you can believe it and I guess I was the only one too because I am the only one that got sent out to the hall. A first for young flibirdijibit.

Yes, there is young flibirdijibit, sitting out in the hall wondering what would become of her next? What happens in the hall? What does the teacher do? What will the teacher say? Will my mother be phoned?

After quite a while, in my 10 year old mind 5 minutes would be a very very long time (in my 27 year old mind 5 minutes would be a very very long time) my teacher who we shall call........ hmmmm..... Mr. Ztruk? yes! Mr. Ztruk emerges from the classroom looking very displeased indeed and here is what he proceeds to explain in the hopes of chastising my 10 year old self for talking while gluing popsicle sticks together during art class:

'you're not cute, nobody thinks your cute (as though they had held a meeting to discuss how disgustingly un-cute I am) so stop trying to be cute because you're NOT!'

then he left me alone in the hallway again to mull over what we had discussed; me and my not cuteness. Needless to say, at the time it crushed me a little bit and I wasn't quick enough to make any smart remarks like....

'so, what you're saying is....you think I'm cute?'

No, I am sure I just sat there with my mouth hanging open (mouth breather for a long time, which also is not cute) wondering what I did to invoke such anti-flibirdijibitism.

And that my friends, is why I am not cute. No. Not.