A Picture Extravaganza

Extravaganza! Don't you just love that word? It might just be my favorite word, and I don't get to say it nearly enough. I seem to say "Crap!" quite a bit, though. Hmmm. Anyway, this has been life in my household the past week or so...







We really love that drum - the whole family fights over it. If I had more time, and wasn't lazy, I'd show you the video of Dylan's grandma with the drum around her neck, marching through our house, with Dylan following behind her with his instrument of choice - in their parade. I'm sure I'll be regretting my encouragement of the whole drum thing when he's in his teen years, but the deal is this... If he starts a band, I get to play the drums in it.

On Saturday I got the haircut from hell. On Sunday I (shudder) went back to the Torturer, because she had to fix my hair. When your husband tells you "you have a mullet", drastic measures are required. I had her cut the back off to eliminate the mullet, so now it is even shorter than before, but at least I don't look like one of the Beatles. Well, I guess since you all want to see a picture of the haircut SO bad..



I'm going to seriously disappoint you, because uh-uh, no way!

Sunday, we also took Dylan to the farm. There is a working farm not too far away, that allows visitors to walk through and see the animals, and we hadn't taken Dylan since last summer. What fun! Especially since there were baby sheep, baby chickens, and brand new just born baby bunnies! But, the most important part for Dylan was the "Moo". He talked about it the whole way home.






Sunday night was bath night. Yes, bath night. We only give him a bath once a week due to the ezcema. I'm thinking that's not gonna fly this summer, though, because he has discovered the joy of getting dirty.






The house hunting thing is mind numbingly frustrating and depressing. First, we found our dream house...well, not 100%. It had a septic tank. Jim said "I'd shit in a bucket to live in that house". (Thank you Jim, for making me laugh during this process). Problem was, after we ran the numbers on the house (that the bank said we CAN afford) we realized it is at least 25,000 out of our price range. Jim said "I would HAVE to shit in a bucket because we couldn't afford to flush the toilet". Well, that kind of negates the "dream house" image, doesn't it? A few days ago I discovered it is now contingent, so it will probably sell. Now, we compare every other home we see to that one. I was imagining myself in that house. I imagined Dylan sitting doing homework in the huge kitchen, while I cooked dinner. I imagined myself getting tons of laundry done in the first floor laundry room, like a time efficient wife, as opposed to the running out of clean underwear wife I currently am. Ugh, while I was imagining, other people were buying, so PHLPPTTT! I have this problem of always planning for the next thing, instead of seeing the good in the current thing, so I stopped to smell the flowers and appreciate a beautiful sunset, from our current front deck. Life is still good. I know that. Just let me bang my head off this wall a minute more, and then I'll be just fine.

The Haircut From Hell

I was finally able to get my hair done today. I don't have a "regular" hairdresser that I'm loyal to. I haven't been loyal to a hairdresser since I was in my 20's. Even her, I wouldn't say that I loved how she did my hair. I would say that I loved her. We had a blast when I went, telling stories, BS'ing, laughing, and joking around.

Since then, I don't think I've been to the same person twice. I never like what they do to my hair enough to go back a second time. No one seems to be able to do what I want. Getting my hair done has become a chore, but today, it was worse than that. Today, it was TORTURE.

I showed The Torturer a picture in one of their books of the style I wanted, and explained that my hair is very thick and I need something shorter for the summer that is low maintenance. Then, I mentioned the multiplying grays, and we decided to do highlights. Then, the torture began. Let me start by saying that we hardly said more than two sentences to each other the whole time. I figure why bother telling someone my life story who I am probably never going to see again? I would much rather sit back, relax, and let my mind wander. Yea, relaxing it was NOT. There are times when I really, really wish that people could read my mind, and there are other times when I am really, really glad that they can't.

This is how the experience went - in my head...

*Wait, isn't she going to wet my hair first, before she cuts it?...Nope, apparently not...Oh well, she knows what she is doing...I asked for someone experienced, after all...Hey!...Ow!...Why is she pulling at my hair like that?...Ow!...It feels like she is yanking each piece out...Ow...Ow...Ow...WTF?!...This hurts worse than tweezing!...Ow...Ow...Ow...Ow...GDit, what is she doing?...Ow...Ow...Ow...Man, that's a lot of hair on the floor...Ow...Ow...Ow...This really isn't looking too good so far...Ow...Ow...Ow...Give it time, she knows what she's doing...Maybe I'll just close my eyes, so I can't see how much she is cutting off...Ow...Ow...Ow...Don't need to panic...OW!WTF is she doing?...I'll just open my eyes a minute, and...OMG, that looks ridiculous!Holy Crap! What did she do?!*

The Torturer asked "How do you like the cut?"
*JC! GDit, that's it?! That's what it's going to look like?! I might shoot myself!*
I said, "Um, I thought it would be fuller in the back. All the fullness seems to be at the top. It's not what I expected".
The Torturer answered, "Well, it will look different once I put the highlights in."
I said, "Oh, okay. Good". *Yea, good, because if it looks like THIS, I will KILL you".
The Torturer goes to mix the color, then comes back and starts applying it.

*What is she doing to my...oh, okay, she wants me to tilt my head this way, so she can reach the top....Maybe I should scrunch down some, I'm so tall, and she is so short, she probably is having trouble reaching the top of my head...Geez, that's uncomfortable...You'd think they could buy more comfortable chairs...What is digging into my back?...OW! Hey lady, my neck doesn't exactly tilt that way!...Yea, that's really uncomfortable...Man, I hate getting my hair done!...What is she...Ow, you're hurting my neck, Beeatch!...Ow! I swear, if she grabs my face and twists my neck one more time, I'm going to...OW! I'm going to kill this woman...Why is this taking so long?...She cut so much GD hair off, it shouldn't take this long to highlight it...Ow, MY MF'in NECK!...Oh, thank God, she's done*

The Torturer took me over to the sinks. She took a few of the clips out near the top, then pulled my head down to rest in the sink.
*Wow, my neck is really hurting, and this GD clip that is digging into the back of my neck certainly isn't helping...Wait, where is she going? She didn't say anthing, she must be coming right back...My neck is killing me...I'll just lift my head for a minute to stop this clip from digging into my...OMG my head is so heavy I can't even lift my head out of this stupid sink!...Where is she?!...Oh, good, here she is, she's taking more clips out now...I must be done...Thank God!...I don't know how much longer I could have...Where the F is she going?!...Come back!...AARRGGGHHH...MY NECK!...Okay, I need to focus on something else...Like in the Lamaze classes I took...That will work...Okay, I'm on a warm, sunny, beach and Matt Damon is bringing me pina coladas...and he better be massaging my neck because MY NECK IS KILLING ME!!!...Well, that didn't work...This is worse than childbirth...I might die here...GET A HOLD OF YOURSELF!...Oh! Here she is!...She's going to take the clips out!...Oh, good, now she can rinse my hair and I'll be done...AAAAHHHH!!!! COLD WATER!!!COLD WATER!!!...She is evil, and she is just messing with me now...WTF?!...She's putting something else in my hair?!...NOOOOOO!...If you leave me again, you MFer I will...WAH, HA, HA, I HATE HER...I think I'm delirious from the blood rushing to my head for so long...I really don't think I'm going to be able to lift my neck when she's done...Here she is!...COLD WATER!!COLD WATER!!!BEEEAAATTTCCCHHH!!!*

The Torturer finished rinsing my hair, then lifted my neck up from the sink. I heard a crack, and felt light headed. I stumbled to her chair in a confused stupor.

*Okay, I like the highlights, but she better fix my hair...A LOT...OMG, I look like a boy...I look like one of the Beatles...This is NOT what the picture looked like...Why do I do this to myself?...I'm never getting my hair cut again...If she thinks I am tipping her she is very very wrong...I HATE this...CRAP! GDit, I look like a MF'in BEATLE!!...

The Torturer asked, "Do you like it?"
I answered, "Uh, No, not really. It's not what I thought it would look like".
The Torturer said, "Well, I did what was in the picture".
*NO YOU DIDN'T YOU BEEAATTCCHH!* "I'll just have to get used to it, I guess". *What I mean, you stupid F, is that luckily it will grow back, and I'll never have to see you and your torturous hands again!*

Right now, you're saying, "Gee, Jen, what do you really think of your haircut?" I.HATE.IT, and NO, I am NOT posting a picture.

Dylan at 17 months

I realized today that I haven't written much about Dylan lately. It's been ME, ME, ME, blah, blah, blah. Gosh, I'm annoying. Dylan turned 17 months this weekend. The main theme of Dylan at 17 months is apparently this...Dylan outdoors=happy child, Dylan indoors=very unhappy child wailing and making noise that neighbors down the street can possibly hear. Seriously, if we allowed him to spend the entire day outside, he would. He even chooses that over watching his signing video, and EATING. Eating! Now, that's serious. Maybe if I dangled a chunk of cheese in front of his face he'd come in. I haven't tried that yet.

He spends his time outdoors collecting sticks and arranging and rearranging pinecones. When we come inside and I try to pry the sticks from his grubby hands, he cries as if I dropped a boulder on his toes. He went through our back yard, and collected each and every pinecone, and placed them one by one in a pile, because I guess he likes a neat yard. Jim is happy because it is less work for him to do when he has to cut the grass. Now if I could just get him to straighten things up inside the house!

He wants the cat to be with us when we are outside, not because he wants to pet her, or play with her, just because he likes every member of the family to be together at all times. If the cat wanders away, he follows her, "Mow? Mow?"

At 17 months, he has grown out of his size 5 shoes. He has two size 5 shoes that he has worn for quite a while, and he has apparently grown VERY attached to them. The velcro straps are flying in the wind, because his chubby little foot is popping out of the shoe, but Dylan refuses to even consider wearing another pair of shoes. We took him to a shoe store in the mall this weekend to buy a pair of sandals and another pair of tennis shoes. There was much thrashing and screaming. Then, the nice lady, (the manager, I presume), came over to get us the hell out of the store before we scared away all the other customers, err, I mean "see if there was anything she could help us with". We quickly grabbed the sandals and tennis shoes and hightailed it out of there. They are sitting in the boxes with the lids off in our living room until he "acclimates to them". In the meantime, he's working on developing a blister on his big toe.

After the shoe store, we went to Babies R Us to try and buy him some pajamas with feet. He needs those so that he can't pull up his pajama bottoms and scratch the ezcema on his legs until he makes them bleed, the poor kid. He was NOT in the mood to shop. He was in the mood to make a very large scene. Yep, we are THAT family. The ones in Babies R Us, for goodness sakes, that everyone else is staring at. Hello! Yep, my kid. So, now I'm going to do what every mom does in this sort of situation...make excuses. He has a sinus infection (so do I), and I think the medication makes him jittery, or you know, crazy.
Also, if you've ever had ezcema all over your body, (I have), it makes you very miserable. Miserable to the point that you just want to spread the misery around, so I totally understand. He's still an angel. Just look at these pictures if you don't believe me.

Living in a Dream

Those of you who actually remembered that I started the new job this week, and took the time to write and ask how it was going, I love you with the warmth of a thousand suns, or, you know, a lot. What can I say? That kind of stuff impresses me.

I have to say, so far, the dream job has been darn right dreamy! My first day of work I came home with these...


Big Bro and Little Bro asked their mom if they could pick some for me from their yard!

When all four of them were together, I felt like a celebrity. "Jen! Hey, Jen! Over Here! Look Here!" Big Bro and Little Bro wanted me to throw the frisbee, Big Sis wanted me to watch her climb up the slide, and Little Sis wanted me to watch her swing. Luckily, I'm very rarely with all four, because my old, can't-do-what-it-used-to body would be exhausted after a whole day of that much activity!

Speaking of my old body, I felt it would be a good idea to do cartwheels with Big Sis the first day. Yes, I said cartwheels. Can you say acute denial and a pyschotic inability to act one's age? I think that would be my diagnosis. My wrist has been sore ever since.

I spend most of my time with Big Sis and Little Sis. Little Sis is so darn cute, I had to keep internally reminding myself not to hug her. She only just met me, after all.

Big Sis celebrated her 5th birthday on my 2nd day of work. When I asked her what she thought she might be getting, she said "I hope I get some balloons, and a purple and pink purse!" Not a list a mile long, just that. Sure enough, she was very excited to show me her balloons and the purse filled with girly stuff the next day. She made a formal, and extremely cute presentation of her gifts. "This is the purse that Big Bro picked out for me himself...and I love it...and it has all this stuff in it...and I will tell you what is in it now..." After that, she started presenting the balloons, one at a time, explaining them as she went, as if I didn't have the foggiest clue as to the concept behind a balloon. "This one says H.a.p.p.y. Birthday, which is Happy Birthday to me...this one is a butterfly and if you do this, it will fly...this one has fairies on it..." I had to stop her at that point. "Fairies?", I asked, incredulously. It was a pink balloon with Sleeping Beauty, Cinderella, Ariel, Jasmine, Pocohontas, and Belle on it. I said, "Those are Princesses, aren't they?" "Oh, are they? I don't know. Do you know who they are?", she asked, her big eyes looking at me sweetly. "Well, yes, I do. This one's name is Belle, this one is Cinderella,"etc. Then she asked me, "Which one do you like?" "I guess Belle is my favorite", I replied. "Is that the one you would want to be?", she questioned. "I guess if I had to be one, I would be her. What about you?" She answered, "I don't think I'd want to be any of them. They look kind of funky". (Julia, please pick your jaw up off the floor now, she really did say that!)

The mom is SO nice, always positive and friendly, and talks to me as if she is talking to a friend, not hired help. I spend the majority of my time outside in their huge yard, playing. I get paid to PLAY and be outdoors, what could be better?

It's not all positive, though. There is one negative to this job. It has something to do with an annoying green monster called ENVY. I never thought of myself as materialistic. I couldn't care less what the label says on my clothes or what store I bought them from. I have no interest in fancy cars or expensive shoes. But, after spending the day at their beautiful huge home, with amenities galore, it is difficult to look at the houses that we are hoping to move into. It's like this... If you were told you were going to eat this for the rest of your life...

you might say, "Well, great, that looks delicious!" But, you probably wouldn't say that if you were spending your days eating like this...

*(I don't really like to eat meat that much, and I've never even tried lobster, but this was the easiest way to illustrate my point).
See what I mean? I was the one who was always telling my husband, "Money doesn't buy happiness, you know?!" Lately I'm thinking the dummy who first said that probably didn't have money and was just trying to make himself feel better. Geez, that's horrible. I need to have a chat with my therapist.

A Session With My New Therapist

Therapist: Hello. I'm Dr. Knowitall. Can I call you Jen?
Me: Sure. Can I call you by your first name?
Therapist: (confused stare) Why do you think you feel the need to do that, Jen?
Me: I don't feel the need to , I'd just like to. It is your name, after all.
T: Does it make you uncomfortable to call me Dr. Knowitall?
Me: No, does it make YOU uncomfortable for me to...oh, never mind, I'll call you Dr. Knowitall.
T: Whatever makes you comfortable, Jen. What would you like to discuss, today?
Me: Oh, I don't know. What would you like to discuss?
T: (Writes something in her notebook) Okay, Jen, why don't you tell me what's been going on in your life lately?
Me: Well, I started a new job, then quit, then took another new job. We are getting our house ready to sell, and looking for a new house. I take care of my son, Dylan, who is 16 months old. I am looking into preschools for him to attend one or two days a week for just a couple hours in the fall. He also has physical therapy twice a month. I'm in a Mom's Club, and I try to attend one or two functions a month. I also try to see my friends from time to time, go on a date with my husband occassionally, and keep up with all the house related stuff. Oh, and I blog, in my spare time.
T: (Writing frantically in her notebook) Whoa, Jen, why don't you back up and start at the beginning? Let's talk about the new job.
Me: The old new job, or the new, new job?
T: (Sighs) The job you have now.
Me: Well, I start the new, new job next week. It appears to be the dream job. The mom seems super nice, and like she will appreciate what I do, which would be great. The kids seem amazingly well behaved, and the pay is great. It all seems a little too good to be true, to be honest.
T: Uh, huh, and how does that make you feel, Jen?
Me: Nervous, anxious, scared, hopeful, and excited.
T: Okay, now, you said you are selling your house? Tell me about that.
Me: Well, we don't live in a great neighborhood. The school district SUCKS... (T raises her eyebrows)...No, really, it sucks! Oh, and you know, I swear our next door neighbor was the one who broke into our house a while back! None of our neighbors talk to us! I don't even know any of their names! I can't get out of there fast enough!
T: Yes, uh, Jen, you are breathing a bit heavy now. Do you need a glass of water?
Me: Yes, please...I just hate our neighborhood, you know. (gulping the water) The...house...isn't...bad...just...small.
T: So, you are excited about moving?
Me: Yea, but there is so much to do to get the house ready to be put up for sale! It is completely overwhelming! Sometimes my husband gets so overwhelmed, I swear he's lost his mind, so I have to try and be the calm one. I'm looking on the websites at houses, making appointments to look at houses, emailing or calling our realtor, trying to keep my husband on track with what needs done, trying to be the strong, rational, calm one...do I get any credit for all this?! NO!!
T: Jen, you're breathing heavy again. Maybe you should take another drink of water? Why don't we talk about your son for a while?
Me: Dylan...He's 16 months...He's so great, I adore him. He really makes me laugh, and he is such a happy kid. I love to spend time with him. I don't have much time to get things done, though. Have you ever tried to get something done with a 16 month old underfoot?
T: Well, no, I don't have children, Jen.
Me: Oh, well, let me tell you, it isn't easy! I need to keep the house organized, buy groceries, make dinner, clean up dinner, load and unload the dishwasher, schedule Dylan's therapy, shedule Dylan's doctor appointments, do laundry, pay the bills, schedule our social life...When do I have time to do anything for ME?!
T: Jen, not to interrupt, but you seem to be getting a bit worked up...maybe you should take a break...you're breathing heavy again.
Me: (Still talking, and now going faster) Do you know I can't even remember the last time I had a hair cut?! I need to get my vision checked...and get new glasses...and my eyebrows are taking over my face...and I'm growing a mustache...and I need new makeup...and a hair cut...and my hair dyed...and some new clothes that actually fit me...and I got a gift certificate for a massage for Christmas that I haven't even used yet...and I...I just...I can't...what am I...how...I don't... (I pass out)
T: (Checks watch) Jen, our time is up. Jen? (I'm passed out on the floor) Oh, great! That's the third mom this week! I hate this job.


*(I don't really have a therapist. But, I might need one soon.)*

A Photo Shoot

Sometimes I get the urge to be a little artsy fartsy. I've been wanting to take some black & white photos of Dylan for a while now. Thanks to Jaime, for reminding me, and for the help.

I'm Changing My Shoes Again

(This is loooooong one, folks, but I have a lot to say. Get a drink, sit back, and get comfortable)

Last week I was just minding my own business, when suddenly John Quinones, (the guy from Primetime), jumped out of no where and informed me, "You've just taken part in a social experiment!"

(Well, okay, not really, but I kept expecting him to.)

To tell the story correctly, I suppose I should start at the beginning. On a warm day in August, a small child was born...Okay maybe not the very beginning. I was working part time as a nanny for a family with a 4 year old girl and a 5 year old girl, since August 2007. Since January 18th , I had only worked 2 days due to the mom no longer being able to work due to physical problems. On March 10th, I told her I was going to have to look for another job, and she told me they were going to let me go anyway.

I have always got my nanny jobs through an agent, so I started calling agents once again on January 30th . Problem is, not many deal with clients who only need help part time. After a month of not receiving a single call from my agent, I was getting antsy, so I took matters into my own hands, and started looking on Craig's List.

One person I interviewed with turned me down, one I turned down, and the third job I took and wrote about here.

My first day was last Thursday, and the mom was there most of the time, letting me know where everything was, and about the routine, etc. She left me alone with the kids for a couple hours, and as I said, it went pretty well considering. I noticed when the mom was at the house, that the tv was on in two different rooms the whole time, and the kids were parked in front of one of the tv's in a stupor, but I figured that she did that so that we would be able to talk uninterrupted.

On Friday (FRIDAY, people - the day after I started the new job), I got a call from the MIA agent. She wanted to tell me about a family, that she "was sure I would want to meet". She was right.

I met them last Sunday. They have a 10 year old boy, who I will call Big Bro, a seven year old boy, I'll call Little Bro, an almost 5 year old girl, I'll call Big Sis, and a 2 year old girl, I'll call Little Sis. I was greeted by Big Bro, Big Sis, Little Sis, and the mom. After exchanging pleasantries, Big Bro asked his mom if he could give me "the tour" of the house. He told me "I was going to make you a map, but I didn't get a chance". I laughed, "a map?!" Shortly afterwards, as I was following my tour guide along with Big Sis, I wasn't laughing. I was trying to pick my jaw up off the floor. The home is BEAUTIFUL, and yes, I might need that map. But, what was more impressive to me, was Big Bro and Big Sis. I just kept staring at them when they weren't looking. These kids were so polite!

After the tour, the mom took me into the music room, so we could talk more about the job. One of the first things she said was "Well, Jen, I guess you noticed while Big Bro was showing you around, that we don't own a television". SCREECH, Grunt, Groan, Crickets (that was my brain trying to wrap itself around that particular concept).

After we talked for a while, Big Bro, Little Bro, (who had returned with dad), and Big Sis entered the room and very politely asked the mom if they could play me a song. "Sure, but just one, and then we need to talk some more, okay?" "Okay, mom". Big Bro started to play a song by memory on the piano...and I tried desperately not to let my jaw hit the floor. He played like an adult. Then Little Bro played a song and I tried not to cry. He played like a 12 year old. Then Big Sis played a song on the violin. I tried not to smack my forehead like I was in a V8 commercial. She played like a 10 year old. (Go back and check their ages if you are confused). When they were each finished playing me a song, they came over and sat QUIETLY on the couch next to me while their mom and I finished talking! Like I said before, I kept looking around for the hidden cameras. This could not be real.

I went back to my job (you know, the one I just started last Thursday), this Monday. This was the first time I was alone with the kids all day. When I got there, I met the grandma, who babysits part of the day. She had both tv's on, and the kids were parked in front of them. The only thing she felt I needed to know was what 5 channels they watched. Um, okay. After one or two shows I was bored, so I suggested we watch a movie (just kidding), play a game. The almost 3 year old twins got very excited about that idea, and ran downstairs with me to get a "AME!!!" I set it up, and they played for exactly (no exaggeration here) 2 minutes, before shouting, "A OTHER AME!!" "But, we...well, we just...started, and (OTHER AME!!!)..o-kay" That went on most of the day. My 16 month old has a much longer attention span.

The next time I saw the grandma, I asked "Do they usually watch tv all day?" "Yea, I don't like it, but what else is there for them to do?" Uh...play?

Tuesday, I went to the dream family's house to "spend some time with the younger two, since they are who you will be spending most of your time with, and decide if you are interested in the job". Unless their heads started spinning around, and they set fire to the house, I was interested. I went down to the play room with Big Sis(almost5) and Little Sis (2). Big Sis asked if I could play Monopoly with her. We started to set up the game, and Little Sis started grabbing the pieces. Big Sis very calmly stated, "It's hard to play things with her because she plays her baby way...I know...Little Sis, your favorite color is pink, right? (INK, INK, INK) Yep, Pink. I'll give you all the pink money and you can play with that, okay?" (What is the sound of someone shaking their head rapidly in disbelief? That's what I was doing.) I almost injured myself when Little Sis went over and started arranging the pink money, amusing herself while we played. After she eventually got tired of that, she went through the room collecting little balls, put them in a big bin, and crawled inside. She made herself a ball pit! Where were those damn cameras?

I worked Thursday and today for the other family. Today, I told the mom the situation. Oh, I forgot to mention a part of the situation. The pay the dream family is offering is more than I have ever made. Ever. The dream mom said, "I feel that someone who works with my children is doing a very important job, and they should be valued". Mmwwah, mmwwah, mmwwah. (That was me, kissing her feet). The current mom took the news extremely well, and only asked that I work one more week for her, so I'll start the dream job after that. I have to say she is very nice, and the kids are very sweet. It just isn't the dream job.

Is this for real? This is all sounding a bit too good to be true. I have to admit, I am scared. I am trying not to get too excited just yet, but my subconscience is shouting from rooftops and streaking through traffic. With a new pair of shoes. (My dad said I change my job more often than I change my shoes). He's a riot - that guy.

You Can Call Me...

Okay, well there is a lot going on this week, which I will be blogging about soon. For now, though, I stole this fun game, so I don't have to think much. If anyone wants to steal it from me, go ahead, but let me know, so I can read yours.

The Name Game

1. Your rock star name (first pet, current car): Snowball Elantra (I think I would go by Snow, since Snowball doesn't exactly roll off the tongue)

2. Your gangsta name (fave ice cream flavour, favourite type of shoe): Mint Chocolate Chip Sandals (I would go by M.C.C. Sandals)

3. Your Native American name (favourite colour, favourite animal): Blue Horse (But, I think their names usually have a verb or adjective in there, so I would be Drumming Blue Horse, or Sarcastic Blue Horse)

4. Your soap opera name (middle name, city where you were born): Lynne Greensburg, (that doesn't sound nearly bitchy or dramatic enough for a soap opera star)

5. Your Star Wars name (the first 3 letters of your last name, first 2 of your first name): Kasje (Hmmm. Let me try this.. "Kasje, I am your father". Yea, I like it)

6. Superhero name (2nd favourite colour, favourite drink): Green Raspberry Tea (That's dumb. What's my superpower? Watch out, or I'll be sweet all over ya!)

7. NASCAR name (the first names of your grandfathers): Kenneth Al (would look good on a trophy)

8. Stripper name (the name of your favourite perfume/cologne/scent, favourite candy): I could not figure out what my favorite candy is - but Drakkar Milk Dud, (I would definately be a Dud), and Musky Jelly Bean, (they'd probably call me Musky Jelly Belly instead) made me laugh.

10. TV weather anchor name (your 5th grade teacher’s last name, a major city that starts with the same letter): Young Yemen, (I can hear it now, "Young, when is the weather going to get warm around here? What are you doing to us? Har har)

11. Spy name (your favourite season/holiday, flower): Summer Pansy (HA! Well, I think I'll star in Alias-The Movie with that winner)

12. Cartoon name: (favourite fruit, article of clothing you’re wearing right now): Cherry Slippers (but those 4 name cartoons are a hit, so I'd be Sponge Jen Cherry Slippers)

13. Hippie name (What you ate for breakfast, your favourite tree): Honey Nut Cheerios Palm (sound granola girl enough to me)