Emily says that the voting for the contest to redesgn the Room of Horrors closed on Friday night with entry number 1 way in the lead. She sent Nicole the $25 gift card for that design.
However, she wrote in the contest post that she didn't want this to be a popularity contest, but that is what it quickly became when the Braincells blog (she calls it the "anti-me" site, LOL) encouraged people to vote for #1. Oddly enought though, she says, her readers really liked #3. She asks "Why is it fair for people who don't like me to got to decide the fate of my children's room when I was giving the choice over to my readers, who went for entry #3?"
There were 63 comments, and 19 of those comments were for entry #3, and only 13 were for #1. She doesn't say how many comments she rejected though.
The other comments were a mix of support for other entries and general suggestions.
She says there was a recurring suggestion to combine 1 and 3, so that is what she is doing. When has she ever taken any suggestions before?
She says she is still trying to figure out the spacing of the four-tier stack 'em up bunk beds, and she is thinking of actually making it three tiered with a trundle. We all know what Emily considers a trundle don't we?
She also says that since it is unclear who would have actually won the contest without interference from our little Blog here, she sent a $5 gift card to the submitter of #3. Emily is a generous one isn't she?
Mattresses, Mattresses, Mattresses
She says that as some of her readers that keep up with the gossip forums know, she received a mattress from a reader. She says sending something for her boys was a kind gesture, but she is building the bunks to different dimensions. They plan to keep Thomas in their filthy bed until he is ready to join the stackable children in the big boy bed. Thus, she says she is selling the mattress and will put the money towards the boys' room.
Never once does she say thanks.
The entries were...
Entry #1 - Nicole H
Entry #2 - Christena
Entry #3 - Andrea M
Entry #4 - Emily (Funder Woman ~Thanks for that phrase to an Anon here!) The entry that only got 11 votes, and she can't say it was because we knew who it was, because I think most of us thought that heres was number three. SHe was really pushing for #3.
Entry #5 - Patty's husband
She plans on doing an idea roundup with the rest of the submissions that didn't make the final five cut. She may even turn it into a short series! Also she says that if those who submitted have a blog, to email her for some "linky-love" so when she showcases those ideas she can send people to their blog so they can see some other neato thoughts and ideas.
Edited to add, her first four commenters are saying they voted for #1 and are disappointed in how she ran the contest.
Emily replies with...
I have no doubt that there were genuine readers who voted for #1 because they liked the design or the beds, but I am not sure it would have won if it hadn't been for interference. If every single person who voted for #1 told me their reasons, that wouldn't change the fact that the contest was tampered with.
February 28, 2010 7:53 AM
This should be an interesting day for the comments. Unfortunately it looks like Em disable the comment feed. Guess it impacted her hits.
Sunday, February 28, 2010
Saturday, February 27, 2010
Miss Emily's Internet Etiquette Guide
Apparently, no one was creative enough to understand how inventive stapling dusty, crusty sheets to the wall was. Doesn’t anyone understand how frugal it is to take some old fabric, a cheese-crusted skirt or a homebirthed sheet and use it to make a hammock? Instead, I’m bombarded with comments about how messy my house looks, how ugly my project is and how I’m somehow rude because I put that bitch Lori in her place.
Therefore, I feel I must post again today to go over some simple internet and blog etiquette rules. Since this is a way for me to express some of my great and unending knowledge, it may become a regular feature on my blog. Stay tuned!
Comments
Comments have nothing to do with your opinion. If you wish to tell me how wonderful I am, how creative and original, and how you have learned so much from me, then go ahead and comment. Those are all appropriate responses. If, however, you have anything to say that is in opposition to anything I wrote or think, you need to keep it to yourself. Obviously, you are a bitter spinster bitch who has a barren womb because she is evil. Or, you spend all your time on sites that tear me down and spread evil lies about me. In that case, I’m perfectly within my rights to tell you how horrible you are and cast aspersions on your character. I have added examples of good and bad comments since most of you are obviously too dense to know the difference.
Good: “Emily, you are such an inspiration and a blessing! I have learned so much about homekeeping and the domestic arts. I am 79 years old, a farmer’s wife who has grown her own food her whole life. I have three healthy, strapping sons who grew up eating fresh veggies from our garden, our own slaughtered beef and with their own rooms in our fine farmhouse. Until I read your blog I thought I was a good wife and mother. Now I know how I failed my family by not lacto-fermenting everything and by using doors instead of fabric stapled to the doorway. You are so terrific, knowledgable, gracious, amazing, perfect and inventive. You are my hero. I have built a shrine out of Rubbermaid totes, complete with a Cabbage Patch Kid covered in mildew (we hung her from the bathroom for a month) to represent you. You are a godsend, an angel on earth and I only wish you had been around when I was raising my sons to learn from your genius. In Jesus’ name, I worship you.”
As you can see, this commenter recognized the ministry to which I’ve been called through my blog. It is God’s will that I share my story, my life and my brilliance with others. Only from my example will we learn how to be exemplary mothers, wives and children of God.
Bad: “Emily, do you really think it’s a good idea for the boys to sleep next to a half-empty gasoline container? That seems kind of dangerous.”
Can you see how she is tormenting me? Trying to destroy me? Can’t you see the judgment and the evil in her comments? She completely ignores the sentence in my post where I state that the gas container is made of biodegradable substances and that it is right near the heating vent so the fumes are being disippated throughout the apartment. Does she really think that I hadn’t researched the feasibility and the safety of leaving containers of highly flammable liquids near my children? This woman obviously only reads Free Jinger and Under1000BrainCells and is now in cahoots with those goddamn bitches who are set on ruining my life by insisting that my children need real beds, fresh fruit and vegetables and, seriously – oatmeal! They think it’s okay to eat oatmeal and I’m supposed to listen to them? Any comment such as the one above will be deleted immediately. I may let a few through but only so I can point out their stupidity and their lack of character.
Forums
I do not believe in forums. I think any site dedicated to talking about blogs, tv shows, world events, celebrities or philosophy are breeding grounds for people of low self-esteem and no morals. The only reason anyone would go on a forum is to tear someone else down. I don’t believe that they want to discuss, share ideas, understand or just make each other laugh. There is only evil intent in any forum. Of course, I comment on frugal forums, but that’s only to drive traffic to my blog so I can make $5000 a month in blog earnings and then use that money to buy a collection of Port-A-Potties which I will weld together to build a sustainable home for my family. I know there is a forum (which shall not be named) that is dedicated to ruining my life. They take what I say and twist it, making people believe that I don’t believe in doctors for my children, that my husband is starving and that I am an ungracious lady. I’d write more about this but Daniel has been sleeping the last two weeks and I need to turn him over so he doesn’t get bedsores. No, we’re not taking him to the doctor. He’ll wake up someday. And Dna has fallen over again from hunger so I have to give him some nourishing kefir water. As for those at the FJ forums, fuck you! See, I’m a lady!
Plagiarism
Plagiarism is very serious. It is when someone takes your amazing ideas and incredibly inventive writing and posts it as if they wrote it. That is wrong, illegal and moral bankrupt. I have been the innocent victim of plagiarism. I have contacted the FBI to fight this crime. I have left forty-seven messages for them. I’ve sent three hundred and eighty-seven emails to the FBI. I’m sure they are too busy investigating my injustice to respond. The one time I got someone on the phone, they laughed. They knew it was crazy that anyone could pass off my original ideas of a magazine rack, egg-cracking family time, or gloodle recipe as their own. I am famous as an innovator and I will not take this theft of my intellectual property lying down. I will make sure they are stopped. I will not name the blog that is stealing my life’s work, but let me say that they are also a bunch of evil bitches who are just jealous because I’m married to a brilliant man, have three wonderful children and live in a completely original home.
Cyber-bullying
This is probably the most important part of what I have to say. I am the victim of cyber-bullying. People write mean things about me in a forum, on a blog and send me comments. I have even been stalked by someone who sent me a mattress, therefore invading my privacy, which, of course, I had already given up by posting my personal information all over the internet. Cyber-bullying is wrong. For those who haven’t lived with this horror, cyber-bullying is when people disagree with you, tell you so and make fun of you. Can you imagine living in such a hell? It is not fun and it will not be tolerated. I will take the appropriate legal steps with the help of my premier internet lawyer to stop these travesties. If people will not be good enough to support me, love me and build my fragile self-esteem by being unfailingly positive and fawning then I will take steps to ensure that happens. I will not just stop blogging about rice maggots and floor-cheese. They cannot break my will. If I haven’t given in to Dna begging for new teeth and something other than tube meat I will not give in to those who seek to destroy me.
I hope I have cleared up some glaring problems I’ve noticed. I expect that not only will you be amazed, surprised and educated by what I’ve written but you will also seek to join me in my fight against the hordes of people who are too stupid to recognize my genius. I can be reached at Emily@frugalfruitloop.com. You can also comment here about how wonderful I am. If you do not, I will delete your comment and put your name on my list. You do not want to be on my list. Dna was on my list once and I put his dvds in Cassie the Crockpot and threatened to melt them. You do not want to be on my list.
Therefore, I feel I must post again today to go over some simple internet and blog etiquette rules. Since this is a way for me to express some of my great and unending knowledge, it may become a regular feature on my blog. Stay tuned!
Comments
Comments have nothing to do with your opinion. If you wish to tell me how wonderful I am, how creative and original, and how you have learned so much from me, then go ahead and comment. Those are all appropriate responses. If, however, you have anything to say that is in opposition to anything I wrote or think, you need to keep it to yourself. Obviously, you are a bitter spinster bitch who has a barren womb because she is evil. Or, you spend all your time on sites that tear me down and spread evil lies about me. In that case, I’m perfectly within my rights to tell you how horrible you are and cast aspersions on your character. I have added examples of good and bad comments since most of you are obviously too dense to know the difference.
Good: “Emily, you are such an inspiration and a blessing! I have learned so much about homekeeping and the domestic arts. I am 79 years old, a farmer’s wife who has grown her own food her whole life. I have three healthy, strapping sons who grew up eating fresh veggies from our garden, our own slaughtered beef and with their own rooms in our fine farmhouse. Until I read your blog I thought I was a good wife and mother. Now I know how I failed my family by not lacto-fermenting everything and by using doors instead of fabric stapled to the doorway. You are so terrific, knowledgable, gracious, amazing, perfect and inventive. You are my hero. I have built a shrine out of Rubbermaid totes, complete with a Cabbage Patch Kid covered in mildew (we hung her from the bathroom for a month) to represent you. You are a godsend, an angel on earth and I only wish you had been around when I was raising my sons to learn from your genius. In Jesus’ name, I worship you.”
As you can see, this commenter recognized the ministry to which I’ve been called through my blog. It is God’s will that I share my story, my life and my brilliance with others. Only from my example will we learn how to be exemplary mothers, wives and children of God.
Bad: “Emily, do you really think it’s a good idea for the boys to sleep next to a half-empty gasoline container? That seems kind of dangerous.”
Can you see how she is tormenting me? Trying to destroy me? Can’t you see the judgment and the evil in her comments? She completely ignores the sentence in my post where I state that the gas container is made of biodegradable substances and that it is right near the heating vent so the fumes are being disippated throughout the apartment. Does she really think that I hadn’t researched the feasibility and the safety of leaving containers of highly flammable liquids near my children? This woman obviously only reads Free Jinger and Under1000BrainCells and is now in cahoots with those goddamn bitches who are set on ruining my life by insisting that my children need real beds, fresh fruit and vegetables and, seriously – oatmeal! They think it’s okay to eat oatmeal and I’m supposed to listen to them? Any comment such as the one above will be deleted immediately. I may let a few through but only so I can point out their stupidity and their lack of character.
Forums
I do not believe in forums. I think any site dedicated to talking about blogs, tv shows, world events, celebrities or philosophy are breeding grounds for people of low self-esteem and no morals. The only reason anyone would go on a forum is to tear someone else down. I don’t believe that they want to discuss, share ideas, understand or just make each other laugh. There is only evil intent in any forum. Of course, I comment on frugal forums, but that’s only to drive traffic to my blog so I can make $5000 a month in blog earnings and then use that money to buy a collection of Port-A-Potties which I will weld together to build a sustainable home for my family. I know there is a forum (which shall not be named) that is dedicated to ruining my life. They take what I say and twist it, making people believe that I don’t believe in doctors for my children, that my husband is starving and that I am an ungracious lady. I’d write more about this but Daniel has been sleeping the last two weeks and I need to turn him over so he doesn’t get bedsores. No, we’re not taking him to the doctor. He’ll wake up someday. And Dna has fallen over again from hunger so I have to give him some nourishing kefir water. As for those at the FJ forums, fuck you! See, I’m a lady!
Plagiarism
Plagiarism is very serious. It is when someone takes your amazing ideas and incredibly inventive writing and posts it as if they wrote it. That is wrong, illegal and moral bankrupt. I have been the innocent victim of plagiarism. I have contacted the FBI to fight this crime. I have left forty-seven messages for them. I’ve sent three hundred and eighty-seven emails to the FBI. I’m sure they are too busy investigating my injustice to respond. The one time I got someone on the phone, they laughed. They knew it was crazy that anyone could pass off my original ideas of a magazine rack, egg-cracking family time, or gloodle recipe as their own. I am famous as an innovator and I will not take this theft of my intellectual property lying down. I will make sure they are stopped. I will not name the blog that is stealing my life’s work, but let me say that they are also a bunch of evil bitches who are just jealous because I’m married to a brilliant man, have three wonderful children and live in a completely original home.
Cyber-bullying
This is probably the most important part of what I have to say. I am the victim of cyber-bullying. People write mean things about me in a forum, on a blog and send me comments. I have even been stalked by someone who sent me a mattress, therefore invading my privacy, which, of course, I had already given up by posting my personal information all over the internet. Cyber-bullying is wrong. For those who haven’t lived with this horror, cyber-bullying is when people disagree with you, tell you so and make fun of you. Can you imagine living in such a hell? It is not fun and it will not be tolerated. I will take the appropriate legal steps with the help of my premier internet lawyer to stop these travesties. If people will not be good enough to support me, love me and build my fragile self-esteem by being unfailingly positive and fawning then I will take steps to ensure that happens. I will not just stop blogging about rice maggots and floor-cheese. They cannot break my will. If I haven’t given in to Dna begging for new teeth and something other than tube meat I will not give in to those who seek to destroy me.
I hope I have cleared up some glaring problems I’ve noticed. I expect that not only will you be amazed, surprised and educated by what I’ve written but you will also seek to join me in my fight against the hordes of people who are too stupid to recognize my genius. I can be reached at Emily@frugalfruitloop.com. You can also comment here about how wonderful I am. If you do not, I will delete your comment and put your name on my list. You do not want to be on my list. Dna was on my list once and I put his dvds in Cassie the Crockpot and threatened to melt them. You do not want to be on my list.
Hammocks
Today is boring again. The Feaky Fundy is running out of material. Today she tells us how to staple fabric to the wall to creat hammock's for stuffed animal and cheese making skirts.
Any guesses what color the fabric is?
She isn't allowed to paint, but she can taple and nail stuff up and put in bicycle hooks all over the place.
Boring.
Any guesses what color the fabric is?
She isn't allowed to paint, but she can taple and nail stuff up and put in bicycle hooks all over the place.
Boring.
Friday, February 26, 2010
Fundy FAQ Friday
The Question Emily will address today is...
How Did You Meet Your Husband?
First, Emily wants to say that she loves Fock You Friday because a lot of times it's a fun excuse for her to spout her religious views in a blog where they otherwise don't fit. Other times, it let's her share something personal and fun, like how she met Dna.
Emily says that after highschool, Dna went to state college for a few classes easch semester [I find this incredibly hard to believe. I'm not American, but I imagine your real schools would require better writing and communication than Dna possesses] Emily says he wasn't sure what he wanted to do with his life [An aimless man is prime snagging material, pay attention ladies, Emily is telling you how to real in a controllable mayun] Dna only went to college for one year, she doesn't say if he passed any of his classses, and then his mother got deathly ill, like planning the funeral ill. She's still alive, but she never fully recovered [Anyone else remember when Dna was Facebooking and wondering aloud if his mother was being poisoned? Weird] So, Dna put his life on hold for a few years to care for her, and then decided to go to Babble College.
Em took a year off school after high school, and then found Babble college, where she felt God wanted her. Emily doesn't say what she did with that year off though.
"I was a fresman and he was a senior"
In Babble College everything was structured and there was a strict dress code and rules about when you could hang out with the opposite gender. There was a no hand holding rule, no touching, and no pokes rule.
Dna remembers first seeing his future go in the toilet, er, I mean Emily during a freshmen orientation called "The Get to Know You Session."
Emily first remembers seeing Dna at the supper table, that was the only meal where they had free seating instead of assigned seating. They struck up a conversation about what brought them to Babble College and what the will of God was for their lives. Dna vividly recalls their conversation ending with Emily saying "Well, I know that the will of God for me right now is to clean dishes."
They ran into each other a few times around campus [God, this is getting boring, she can't even tell the story of how she met her partner with any flair, I hope it picks up soon. ] They sometimes sat together at supper, chapel or softball, they both played softball. [Back when Dna had food and energy to play softball that is, now he looks like he'd break if he tried to swing a bat] They both also vividly [There's that word again, I think she likes it] recall sitting at a bonfire at the home of some married students. They sat there for hours, until curfew talking about theology, dreams and family.
Emily says that Dna impressed her but that she wasn't looking for a relationship at that time. She went to Babble College to grow closer to God, not to find a husband. She felt she needed to distance herself from him, so she even hid from him in a coat closet once [ I bet Dna wishes their Apartment of Horrors had a closet so he could be the one to hide from her now] So finally she decided to have a long reflection period with God while she was avoiding Dna and she saw that she was closer to God when she was with Dna, and that God was blessing their budding friendship.
So Dna's best friends fiance was in charge of seating arrangements an she pulled some strings so Em and Dna could sit together at meals. At the Babble college there was a divide among single students and couples. She says no one liked it that way, but that's the way it was and some of the students at their table griped about a couple getting to sit together.
Dna asked Emily what she thought of others refering to them as a couple, and she said she liked it. Not long after that they became an official couple, meaning he called her mom and asked permission. Emily's dad didn't want to be called because he's a bit of a feminist. [Rock on Emily's Dad, Woohoo!]
So, that is how they met and fell in love, and she is lucky to have him, and she's thankful that he feels the same way about her.
Okay, that was the most boring How we Met story ever. I didn't read it to the end and then start typing, I started typing as I was reading it, and I thought it would become interesting somewhere along the line, but it never did. Giz's Parody of how they met is much better.
How Did You Meet Your Husband?
First, Emily wants to say that she loves Fock You Friday because a lot of times it's a fun excuse for her to spout her religious views in a blog where they otherwise don't fit. Other times, it let's her share something personal and fun, like how she met Dna.
Emily says that after highschool, Dna went to state college for a few classes easch semester [I find this incredibly hard to believe. I'm not American, but I imagine your real schools would require better writing and communication than Dna possesses] Emily says he wasn't sure what he wanted to do with his life [An aimless man is prime snagging material, pay attention ladies, Emily is telling you how to real in a controllable mayun] Dna only went to college for one year, she doesn't say if he passed any of his classses, and then his mother got deathly ill, like planning the funeral ill. She's still alive, but she never fully recovered [Anyone else remember when Dna was Facebooking and wondering aloud if his mother was being poisoned? Weird] So, Dna put his life on hold for a few years to care for her, and then decided to go to Babble College.
Em took a year off school after high school, and then found Babble college, where she felt God wanted her. Emily doesn't say what she did with that year off though.
"I was a fresman and he was a senior"
In Babble College everything was structured and there was a strict dress code and rules about when you could hang out with the opposite gender. There was a no hand holding rule, no touching, and no pokes rule.
Dna remembers first seeing his future go in the toilet, er, I mean Emily during a freshmen orientation called "The Get to Know You Session."
Emily first remembers seeing Dna at the supper table, that was the only meal where they had free seating instead of assigned seating. They struck up a conversation about what brought them to Babble College and what the will of God was for their lives. Dna vividly recalls their conversation ending with Emily saying "Well, I know that the will of God for me right now is to clean dishes."
They ran into each other a few times around campus [God, this is getting boring, she can't even tell the story of how she met her partner with any flair, I hope it picks up soon. ] They sometimes sat together at supper, chapel or softball, they both played softball. [Back when Dna had food and energy to play softball that is, now he looks like he'd break if he tried to swing a bat] They both also vividly [There's that word again, I think she likes it] recall sitting at a bonfire at the home of some married students. They sat there for hours, until curfew talking about theology, dreams and family.
Emily says that Dna impressed her but that she wasn't looking for a relationship at that time. She went to Babble College to grow closer to God, not to find a husband. She felt she needed to distance herself from him, so she even hid from him in a coat closet once [ I bet Dna wishes their Apartment of Horrors had a closet so he could be the one to hide from her now] So finally she decided to have a long reflection period with God while she was avoiding Dna and she saw that she was closer to God when she was with Dna, and that God was blessing their budding friendship.
So Dna's best friends fiance was in charge of seating arrangements an she pulled some strings so Em and Dna could sit together at meals. At the Babble college there was a divide among single students and couples. She says no one liked it that way, but that's the way it was and some of the students at their table griped about a couple getting to sit together.
Dna asked Emily what she thought of others refering to them as a couple, and she said she liked it. Not long after that they became an official couple, meaning he called her mom and asked permission. Emily's dad didn't want to be called because he's a bit of a feminist. [Rock on Emily's Dad, Woohoo!]
So, that is how they met and fell in love, and she is lucky to have him, and she's thankful that he feels the same way about her.
Okay, that was the most boring How we Met story ever. I didn't read it to the end and then start typing, I started typing as I was reading it, and I thought it would become interesting somewhere along the line, but it never did. Giz's Parody of how they met is much better.
Thursday, February 25, 2010
The Snippy Little Princess: A Fairy Tale
Once upon a time, in a land far away, there was a rather average looking princess named Emily. She had grown up in a fine castle atop a rolling hill and her father, the King, was a king of great warmth and knowledge and was very beloved by all of his people. The Queen was also quite popular for she was very beautiful with flowing dark hair that rippled in sumptuous curls down her back. Usually the King let the Queen have her way for he was very much in love with her dancing eyes and delicate touch and the Queen was quite spoiled for having her way so very much. But the Queen also loved him deeply so they were very, very happy.
The one person the queen cared for least just happened to be her own daughter. Unfortunately, for Emily, the Queen was very concerned about remaining young, beautiful and slender. When she realized she was with child the Queen had been so upset she took to her bedchamber for four whole days. Nothing could rouse her from her bed. The King sent for every doctor from every corner of his vast kingdom but none of them could bring the warm blush back to the Queen’s cheeks. It wasn’t until the King himself threw himself next to her bed, pledging love for her beyond anyone else and that he vowed to throw himself off the tallest castle tower if she did not come back to him did she rouse herself from the bed and happiness reigned again in the kingdom.
Once the baby was born the King and Queen were eager to see their golden child, excited to be parents. However, when they saw it was a girl, their happiness dimmed. Oh, they loved their daughter with her soft brown hair and deep velvet eyes. But the entire kingdom was hoping for a son, for an heir. The young girl was named Emily Kate and handed off to a nurse while her parents took celebratory trips through their lands.
Emily Kate grew up a lonely child, eager for company. However, being the King’s only daughter had caused her to adopt a rather imposing personality. She was exacting and literal, quite sure that she, above all others, was correct. Governesses and tutors tried to explain things to her, to bring her down to earth for no matter how beloved the King and Queen were, they were always unfailingly kind and polite. Their daughter, however, became a terror to those who knew her. She corrected her tutors, lectured her governesses, she was rough on her riding ponies, and she was very imperious with all the other children brought to the castle to play with her. She insisted on playing only games she wanted to play and she was very cruel to children who disagreed. Pretty soon most of the nobles would not send their children to play with the little princess and so she grew up very lonely. Her parents were often away seeing the people in their kingdom so they were not able to see a lot of their daughter, though they loved her very much and made sure she was well taken care of while they were gone.
Princess Emily Kate grew up into a pretty young lady though her eyes never lost the hard and imperious look from childhood. A few princes came to call, eager to be accepted into the beloved King’s family. However, the princess was not so welcoming to them. The King and Queen had fallen in love and were determined to let Princess Emily Kate make her own decision about marriage. They became dismayed when prince after prince failed to win her hand. One prince was turned down because he played the flute and Princess Emily only liked the harp. Another prince was turned down because he rode a white horse and Princess Emily only liked brown horses. The King and Queen didn’t know what to do with their willful daughter.
Then one day Princess Emily purposed to walk down to the seashore, a great distance from the castle. Accompanied by a weary lady-in-waiting, the princess galloped faster and faster down the hill and through the fields towards the sandy shore in the distance. In an instant her horse neighed and bucked and she was thrown. Luckily, she landed in a vast field of heather and was unhurt though shaken. As she looked up and caught her breath she saw the dusty boots of a farmer standing before her. She gazed upwards, the words of rebuke for having dusty boots in her presence when she saw his shining blue eyes.
“Hello,” he said, “what happened?”
“I fell off my horse,” she grumbled, trying to rise.
“You may have been hurt,” he said and knelt down to caution her.
“I’m fine,” she insisted. Though when she arose a pain shot through her ankle. She crumpled against the farmer’s strong hands.
“You’re hurt, come here,” he said as he swung her in his arms. The lady-in-waiting rode up, shocked to see the princess in the arms of a common farmer. She slid from her horse and followed them, holding her embroidered skirts high above the plowed field.
The farmer took Princess Emily inside a tiny shack, smaller than her closet and laid her on a small couch fashioned from a wood plank, bales of hay and a straw filled cushion. He gently removed her satin shoe and felt her ankle. Warmth spread through her as she felt his hands and for the first time she felt relaxed. He took sprigs of flowers and herbs she did not know and made a bandage, tucking the blossoms inside.
“This will help with swelling,” he said.
“I should see a doctor,” she decided, and then turning towards her lady-in-waiting, “Send for Dr. Butler immediately.”
“Don’t,” said the farmer, “you don’t need that.” His firm voice stopped her and she indicated that the lady-in-waiting should not leave.
“How do you know this?” she asked.
“I just do,” he said.
Something bubbled up in the princess as she looked around the tiny shack. It was barely six feet by eight feet. A small cabinet holding a few cracked plates hung above a washbasin and a counter. A small fireplace with a soot stained pot was to the left of the cabinet. A table with two chairs was in front of it. Nothing else was in the shack but the couch upon which she laid and which was quite different than the down filled beds and silk sheets she was used to. Yet, somehow, she felt more at home in this dusty little shack than she did in the beautiful castle.
Within a short period of time she felt better and he carried her back to her horse, where he placed her atop and smiled at her before sending her back.
For days she rode the same trail, hoping to see him but if he was working the fields, he did so far from where she had been before.
She wandered the castle, eschewing the meats and vegetables laid out on the golden dinner plates and ignored the rich red wine in the crystal goblets. She started wearing quite plain clothes with nary a golden thread or a bit of lace. She stared out the window for hours, gazing down towards the seashore.
When the King and Queen returned from their trip they were aghast at the change their daughter had gone through. No longer vibrant but overburdened, she was a ghost at their table. She grilled the cook about what the cook ate at home and insisted on being served gruel in the morning, a slice of fried meat and coarse bread at lunch and some fish head broth at dinner. Her parents begged her to eat the beef, the roasted potatoes, the fresh tomatoes but she refused.
One fine morning, as the sun peeked in through the light gossamer curtains, the princess approached her parents at the breakfast table. She wore, as usual, a simple dress of coarse brown linen, her feet clad in unpolished shoes. Her mother dropped her china cup when the Princess announced that she had found the man she was to marry.
Expecting a foreign prince or at least a well-connected man of aristocracy, the King was furious she announced that she would marry instead a simple farmer who lived below the hill on the ridge overlooking the ocean. He threw his glass, his plate and tore his napkin. The Queen sobbed into her own lace trimmed napkin and begged her daughter to reconsider. The King vowed that the farmer would be put in jail for seducing his daughter. The daughter swore she would never see her parents again and ran from the castle, the King’s thundering voice following her.
She ran down the hill as fast as she could, not caring as her dress, her only possession, was torn by the thick brambles. She found the plowed field but didn’t find him standing outside. She traversed the field carefully and trembled slightly as she knocked on the door.
He opened it and his eyes widened in surprise. He opened his mouth to speak and was astounded when she walked in, uninvited. But, since she was a princess, he thought he shouldn’t tell her not to do so.
“I think we should marry at your church, not at the castle’s chapel,” she said, turning to face him.
“Marry?” he asked.
“Yes. Of course. Don’t you want to marry me?” she demanded in the haughty voice for which she was famous.
“Um…I…well, I don’t really…”
She interrupted him, “Okay, that’s settled,” she turned to look around, “So what have you to eat?”
He could not speak and instead pointed at the bowl of stew on the table. It was made with vegetables from his garden, with the results of his skillful hunting and the aroma made his mouth water as he had just started on it.
“Oh, you can’t eat that,” she said, tipping the bowl’s contents out the window, “I don’t really know how to cook, but that can’t be good for you. That smelled like something my parents would’ve made me eat.”
He glanced around, half expecting to see the venerable old King and his lovely Queen, but they were quite alone in the room. He watched as Princess Emily pulled out a bag of cornmeal and some dried grass seed. She poured a cupful of each into a earthen bowl and filled it with a bit of the cream he had saved as a late morning treat.
“There,” she said, “we’ll let that sit for a few days and then it will be good enough to eat.”
“But that’s the cornmeal for the chickens who lay my eggs. And the grass seed is for the birds that flutter in the back flower garden,” he protested.
“Then it’s good enough for us,” she declared, while she stripped the yellow curtains off the windows.
He didn’t know what else to do. After all, she was a princess so she must know better than him, a simple farmer. He did the only thing he knew to do: he went back to working in the field.
Later that evening, after shushing his requests for food, she combed his hair with a comb dipped in the well water and they walked to the church by his home. Without even realizing what was happening, they were married.
That night she snuggled next to him on the straw filled mattress, whispering the things she had learned from an indiscreet downstairs maid when she had been eavesdropping as a child. He was amazed but did as she instructed. Pretty soon he realized that he would do anything possible to continue to do that again and again.
The King and Queen sent emissaries to the little shack. They sent bundles of silk dresses, which she used to make rooms in the little house, preferring to wear the same coarse dress she had arrived in. They sent crates of food which she threw out the back to the animals, though it made the poor farmer very sad. She refused to talk to her parents, stating that they didn’t understand her and never had.
Even when she gave birth to their first child she refused to see them. The farmer loved his little son and called him Daniel. He taught him to fish, to ride a horse, to feed the chickens. Princess Emily, however, spent most of her time writing on parchment, sending her notes far and wide throughout the kingdom. The farmer knew to be on his best behavior when her notes were returned with dissenting opinions. On a few nights he and Daniel spent the night in the chicken coop where it was not only warmer but quieter.
A second son arrived. And then a third. The farmer suggested that since she was good with advice and made many coins with it they should expand their little home. The fury that erupted was not something he wished to see again and so he simply made another straw filled mattress for the baby.
Sometimes he thought he simply didn’t understand much. Much of what his wife did seemed odd to him. She wouldn’t let him eat anything before soaking it in the whey from the cheese she made. Even fresh vegetables and fruits he picked for them were soaked before they were eaten. He had brought home rice once and she soaked it in lye water for three weeks before he could eat it. Many a day in the field he had to stop for a moment because he was weak from hunger. But no matter what he said she clung to her cooking.
Then one day a letter came from the King. This time it was addressed to the farmer and was delivered in secret by an emissary from the King. The farmer was poor and illiterate so he took it to the priest to read. The priest read the letter to him and the farmer was amazed because the King had heard of their troubles and offered them lodging in the castle and acceptance into the family for the boys were still the grandsons of kings even if they were the sons of a simple farmer.
The farmer walked home with a heavy heart. He knew that Emily would not want to go back to the castle. He saw the dim light of the castle in the distance and thought of the foods and warmth, of the security and knew he could no longer deny that chance to his three boys, as he watched them grow smaller and more slender each day.
Just as he made up his mind a small elf popped up from behind a tree and greeted him with a low bow.
“Hello, kind sir, I see you are making a great wish,” twittered the spry elf.
“How did you know?” asked the farmer.
“Because I am a heart elf. I can see your heart’s desire. I know all that’s happening inside you. I only reveal myself when someone is in true need.”
“Yes, I am in need. I don’t know what to do,” lamented the farmer with tears in his eyes.
The elf pulled out a small vial filled with a light purple liquid. His eyes twinkled as he handed it to the farmer with the greatest of care.
“This is from the Fountain of Forgetfulness. Two drops and whoever drinks it will forget who they are. It is usually used by those who are desperately unhappy and wish to start a new life.”
“But I can’t drink that,” said the farmer, “I don’t want to forget my boys.”
“Ah, I know! But you can give it to your wife. And if she forgets who she is she will forget who you are!”
A bright, gleaming light of understanding lit up the farmer’s face and he realized he had the means now of escaping his wife. He grabbed the vial and ran home.
That night, after an unsatisfying meal of grubworms and creamed dirt, he dropped four drops of the potion in the whey his wife drank at night. He wanted to be sure there was no mistake. He watched as her eyes went fuzzy and forgetfulness spread across her features.
“Who are you?” she asked.
His heart leapt. “No one,” he answered, “my boys and I were travelling and you gave us food for our long journey.”
“Oh, that was very nice of me,” said Emily.
“Thank you,” he said as he jumped up, scooped up his sons and headed for the door, their sleeping bodies pressed warm in his arms.
“I’m…I’m…I’m…well, I’m not sure,” she stammered.
“It’s okay, you were lovely. See you later!” he said as he ran out the door and up to the castle.
The King and Queen were very sad to hear about what had happened to their daughter but they could not deny their love for the three beautiful boys who became robust once they had the delicious food of the royal cook. The farmer charmed the King and Queen with his earnest ways and they found a young lady of good birth to marry him and be the mother to his dear boys.
Princess Emily stayed in the shack for the rest of her life. She grew stooped and skinny, a bag of bones in a torn dress. She rented the land around her shack and grew rich though no one in the kingdom could remember her spending a penny of it. Once in a while she walked to town, yelling at people along the way, proclaiming that she knew what she was talking about. Townspeople knew the tragic story and simply laughed while her back was turned. She bought rat tails to chew on and told everyone it was better to sleep outside in winter.
After one particularly long winter, she was found frozen, covered in straw in the little shack. Though she was buried quietly in the royal graveyard by her grieving parents, townspeople still do not go near the shack. They say that even now the smell of rotting milk and burned goat meat still lingers in the air.
And the farmer, his new wife and the boys lived happily ever after.
The End
The one person the queen cared for least just happened to be her own daughter. Unfortunately, for Emily, the Queen was very concerned about remaining young, beautiful and slender. When she realized she was with child the Queen had been so upset she took to her bedchamber for four whole days. Nothing could rouse her from her bed. The King sent for every doctor from every corner of his vast kingdom but none of them could bring the warm blush back to the Queen’s cheeks. It wasn’t until the King himself threw himself next to her bed, pledging love for her beyond anyone else and that he vowed to throw himself off the tallest castle tower if she did not come back to him did she rouse herself from the bed and happiness reigned again in the kingdom.
Once the baby was born the King and Queen were eager to see their golden child, excited to be parents. However, when they saw it was a girl, their happiness dimmed. Oh, they loved their daughter with her soft brown hair and deep velvet eyes. But the entire kingdom was hoping for a son, for an heir. The young girl was named Emily Kate and handed off to a nurse while her parents took celebratory trips through their lands.
Emily Kate grew up a lonely child, eager for company. However, being the King’s only daughter had caused her to adopt a rather imposing personality. She was exacting and literal, quite sure that she, above all others, was correct. Governesses and tutors tried to explain things to her, to bring her down to earth for no matter how beloved the King and Queen were, they were always unfailingly kind and polite. Their daughter, however, became a terror to those who knew her. She corrected her tutors, lectured her governesses, she was rough on her riding ponies, and she was very imperious with all the other children brought to the castle to play with her. She insisted on playing only games she wanted to play and she was very cruel to children who disagreed. Pretty soon most of the nobles would not send their children to play with the little princess and so she grew up very lonely. Her parents were often away seeing the people in their kingdom so they were not able to see a lot of their daughter, though they loved her very much and made sure she was well taken care of while they were gone.
Princess Emily Kate grew up into a pretty young lady though her eyes never lost the hard and imperious look from childhood. A few princes came to call, eager to be accepted into the beloved King’s family. However, the princess was not so welcoming to them. The King and Queen had fallen in love and were determined to let Princess Emily Kate make her own decision about marriage. They became dismayed when prince after prince failed to win her hand. One prince was turned down because he played the flute and Princess Emily only liked the harp. Another prince was turned down because he rode a white horse and Princess Emily only liked brown horses. The King and Queen didn’t know what to do with their willful daughter.
Then one day Princess Emily purposed to walk down to the seashore, a great distance from the castle. Accompanied by a weary lady-in-waiting, the princess galloped faster and faster down the hill and through the fields towards the sandy shore in the distance. In an instant her horse neighed and bucked and she was thrown. Luckily, she landed in a vast field of heather and was unhurt though shaken. As she looked up and caught her breath she saw the dusty boots of a farmer standing before her. She gazed upwards, the words of rebuke for having dusty boots in her presence when she saw his shining blue eyes.
“Hello,” he said, “what happened?”
“I fell off my horse,” she grumbled, trying to rise.
“You may have been hurt,” he said and knelt down to caution her.
“I’m fine,” she insisted. Though when she arose a pain shot through her ankle. She crumpled against the farmer’s strong hands.
“You’re hurt, come here,” he said as he swung her in his arms. The lady-in-waiting rode up, shocked to see the princess in the arms of a common farmer. She slid from her horse and followed them, holding her embroidered skirts high above the plowed field.
The farmer took Princess Emily inside a tiny shack, smaller than her closet and laid her on a small couch fashioned from a wood plank, bales of hay and a straw filled cushion. He gently removed her satin shoe and felt her ankle. Warmth spread through her as she felt his hands and for the first time she felt relaxed. He took sprigs of flowers and herbs she did not know and made a bandage, tucking the blossoms inside.
“This will help with swelling,” he said.
“I should see a doctor,” she decided, and then turning towards her lady-in-waiting, “Send for Dr. Butler immediately.”
“Don’t,” said the farmer, “you don’t need that.” His firm voice stopped her and she indicated that the lady-in-waiting should not leave.
“How do you know this?” she asked.
“I just do,” he said.
Something bubbled up in the princess as she looked around the tiny shack. It was barely six feet by eight feet. A small cabinet holding a few cracked plates hung above a washbasin and a counter. A small fireplace with a soot stained pot was to the left of the cabinet. A table with two chairs was in front of it. Nothing else was in the shack but the couch upon which she laid and which was quite different than the down filled beds and silk sheets she was used to. Yet, somehow, she felt more at home in this dusty little shack than she did in the beautiful castle.
Within a short period of time she felt better and he carried her back to her horse, where he placed her atop and smiled at her before sending her back.
For days she rode the same trail, hoping to see him but if he was working the fields, he did so far from where she had been before.
She wandered the castle, eschewing the meats and vegetables laid out on the golden dinner plates and ignored the rich red wine in the crystal goblets. She started wearing quite plain clothes with nary a golden thread or a bit of lace. She stared out the window for hours, gazing down towards the seashore.
When the King and Queen returned from their trip they were aghast at the change their daughter had gone through. No longer vibrant but overburdened, she was a ghost at their table. She grilled the cook about what the cook ate at home and insisted on being served gruel in the morning, a slice of fried meat and coarse bread at lunch and some fish head broth at dinner. Her parents begged her to eat the beef, the roasted potatoes, the fresh tomatoes but she refused.
One fine morning, as the sun peeked in through the light gossamer curtains, the princess approached her parents at the breakfast table. She wore, as usual, a simple dress of coarse brown linen, her feet clad in unpolished shoes. Her mother dropped her china cup when the Princess announced that she had found the man she was to marry.
Expecting a foreign prince or at least a well-connected man of aristocracy, the King was furious she announced that she would marry instead a simple farmer who lived below the hill on the ridge overlooking the ocean. He threw his glass, his plate and tore his napkin. The Queen sobbed into her own lace trimmed napkin and begged her daughter to reconsider. The King vowed that the farmer would be put in jail for seducing his daughter. The daughter swore she would never see her parents again and ran from the castle, the King’s thundering voice following her.
She ran down the hill as fast as she could, not caring as her dress, her only possession, was torn by the thick brambles. She found the plowed field but didn’t find him standing outside. She traversed the field carefully and trembled slightly as she knocked on the door.
He opened it and his eyes widened in surprise. He opened his mouth to speak and was astounded when she walked in, uninvited. But, since she was a princess, he thought he shouldn’t tell her not to do so.
“I think we should marry at your church, not at the castle’s chapel,” she said, turning to face him.
“Marry?” he asked.
“Yes. Of course. Don’t you want to marry me?” she demanded in the haughty voice for which she was famous.
“Um…I…well, I don’t really…”
She interrupted him, “Okay, that’s settled,” she turned to look around, “So what have you to eat?”
He could not speak and instead pointed at the bowl of stew on the table. It was made with vegetables from his garden, with the results of his skillful hunting and the aroma made his mouth water as he had just started on it.
“Oh, you can’t eat that,” she said, tipping the bowl’s contents out the window, “I don’t really know how to cook, but that can’t be good for you. That smelled like something my parents would’ve made me eat.”
He glanced around, half expecting to see the venerable old King and his lovely Queen, but they were quite alone in the room. He watched as Princess Emily pulled out a bag of cornmeal and some dried grass seed. She poured a cupful of each into a earthen bowl and filled it with a bit of the cream he had saved as a late morning treat.
“There,” she said, “we’ll let that sit for a few days and then it will be good enough to eat.”
“But that’s the cornmeal for the chickens who lay my eggs. And the grass seed is for the birds that flutter in the back flower garden,” he protested.
“Then it’s good enough for us,” she declared, while she stripped the yellow curtains off the windows.
He didn’t know what else to do. After all, she was a princess so she must know better than him, a simple farmer. He did the only thing he knew to do: he went back to working in the field.
Later that evening, after shushing his requests for food, she combed his hair with a comb dipped in the well water and they walked to the church by his home. Without even realizing what was happening, they were married.
That night she snuggled next to him on the straw filled mattress, whispering the things she had learned from an indiscreet downstairs maid when she had been eavesdropping as a child. He was amazed but did as she instructed. Pretty soon he realized that he would do anything possible to continue to do that again and again.
The King and Queen sent emissaries to the little shack. They sent bundles of silk dresses, which she used to make rooms in the little house, preferring to wear the same coarse dress she had arrived in. They sent crates of food which she threw out the back to the animals, though it made the poor farmer very sad. She refused to talk to her parents, stating that they didn’t understand her and never had.
Even when she gave birth to their first child she refused to see them. The farmer loved his little son and called him Daniel. He taught him to fish, to ride a horse, to feed the chickens. Princess Emily, however, spent most of her time writing on parchment, sending her notes far and wide throughout the kingdom. The farmer knew to be on his best behavior when her notes were returned with dissenting opinions. On a few nights he and Daniel spent the night in the chicken coop where it was not only warmer but quieter.
A second son arrived. And then a third. The farmer suggested that since she was good with advice and made many coins with it they should expand their little home. The fury that erupted was not something he wished to see again and so he simply made another straw filled mattress for the baby.
Sometimes he thought he simply didn’t understand much. Much of what his wife did seemed odd to him. She wouldn’t let him eat anything before soaking it in the whey from the cheese she made. Even fresh vegetables and fruits he picked for them were soaked before they were eaten. He had brought home rice once and she soaked it in lye water for three weeks before he could eat it. Many a day in the field he had to stop for a moment because he was weak from hunger. But no matter what he said she clung to her cooking.
Then one day a letter came from the King. This time it was addressed to the farmer and was delivered in secret by an emissary from the King. The farmer was poor and illiterate so he took it to the priest to read. The priest read the letter to him and the farmer was amazed because the King had heard of their troubles and offered them lodging in the castle and acceptance into the family for the boys were still the grandsons of kings even if they were the sons of a simple farmer.
The farmer walked home with a heavy heart. He knew that Emily would not want to go back to the castle. He saw the dim light of the castle in the distance and thought of the foods and warmth, of the security and knew he could no longer deny that chance to his three boys, as he watched them grow smaller and more slender each day.
Just as he made up his mind a small elf popped up from behind a tree and greeted him with a low bow.
“Hello, kind sir, I see you are making a great wish,” twittered the spry elf.
“How did you know?” asked the farmer.
“Because I am a heart elf. I can see your heart’s desire. I know all that’s happening inside you. I only reveal myself when someone is in true need.”
“Yes, I am in need. I don’t know what to do,” lamented the farmer with tears in his eyes.
The elf pulled out a small vial filled with a light purple liquid. His eyes twinkled as he handed it to the farmer with the greatest of care.
“This is from the Fountain of Forgetfulness. Two drops and whoever drinks it will forget who they are. It is usually used by those who are desperately unhappy and wish to start a new life.”
“But I can’t drink that,” said the farmer, “I don’t want to forget my boys.”
“Ah, I know! But you can give it to your wife. And if she forgets who she is she will forget who you are!”
A bright, gleaming light of understanding lit up the farmer’s face and he realized he had the means now of escaping his wife. He grabbed the vial and ran home.
That night, after an unsatisfying meal of grubworms and creamed dirt, he dropped four drops of the potion in the whey his wife drank at night. He wanted to be sure there was no mistake. He watched as her eyes went fuzzy and forgetfulness spread across her features.
“Who are you?” she asked.
His heart leapt. “No one,” he answered, “my boys and I were travelling and you gave us food for our long journey.”
“Oh, that was very nice of me,” said Emily.
“Thank you,” he said as he jumped up, scooped up his sons and headed for the door, their sleeping bodies pressed warm in his arms.
“I’m…I’m…I’m…well, I’m not sure,” she stammered.
“It’s okay, you were lovely. See you later!” he said as he ran out the door and up to the castle.
The King and Queen were very sad to hear about what had happened to their daughter but they could not deny their love for the three beautiful boys who became robust once they had the delicious food of the royal cook. The farmer charmed the King and Queen with his earnest ways and they found a young lady of good birth to marry him and be the mother to his dear boys.
Princess Emily stayed in the shack for the rest of her life. She grew stooped and skinny, a bag of bones in a torn dress. She rented the land around her shack and grew rich though no one in the kingdom could remember her spending a penny of it. Once in a while she walked to town, yelling at people along the way, proclaiming that she knew what she was talking about. Townspeople knew the tragic story and simply laughed while her back was turned. She bought rat tails to chew on and told everyone it was better to sleep outside in winter.
After one particularly long winter, she was found frozen, covered in straw in the little shack. Though she was buried quietly in the royal graveyard by her grieving parents, townspeople still do not go near the shack. They say that even now the smell of rotting milk and burned goat meat still lingers in the air.
And the farmer, his new wife and the boys lived happily ever after.
The End
A Wonderful Tutorial on How to Watch TV
Today Emily tells us that TV time is something that all parents need to consider. She's also going to tell you how she and Dna decided what was best for their family.
Emily says Dna used to watch hours of television a day before she came along, and that she had the potential to do the same [it's a good thing she has potential for something, 'cause it she ain't mother, or cook, or cleaner] At first they decided on one hour of TV a week and one movie a month, but then that changed to one hour of TV a day and one movie a week.
They each get one movie pick per month and one TV pick per week. They use their picks to pick something the other person may not like. The rest of the time Dna gets to pick because TV is his thing. If there is something Emily really wants to watch, she'll suggest it, and Dna will usually let her watch it. See, Emily is such a good submissive wife.
Dna works second shift two nights a week, and Emily could watch an hour of TV by herself, but she often forgets to. She likes The Office, Little Dna calls it "Michael" See, Emily does too have amusing stories about her children.
Emily and Dna started thinking about a TV policy when Little Dna was about a year old. They had a Baby Einstein video they would put on, but he wasn't interested. They decided that if he wanted to watch kid TV, They'd limit it to two hours a week, or roughly a half hour show each day Dna was at work.
Little Dna doesn't want to watch TV so she doesn't push it. Sometimes he'll suggest that they watch a Thomas movie tomorrow, but when tomorrow comes around, he doesn't mention it. She counts on Little Dna forgetting to ask to watch a movie, just like she counts on Big Dna to forget to ask for food. Every few weeks he'll ask to watch something today, so she puts it on, but he gets tired of watching. She's perfectly OK with that.
The kids are usually awake when Emily and Dna start watching TV at night, but they fall asleep (from lack of attention) And then wake up for a bedtime routine, which we know doesn't include baths, fresh jammies, or clean sheets. Hell, who am I kidding, it doesn't include sheets at all. She says this is an odd way to do things, but it works for them.
Oh yeah, and this is all done without a TV She has to make sure you know that she is too good for a TV ( I don't think there is anywhere left to hang one from actually, maybe on the tool pegboard?) Her physics teacher was on Survivor and her rabbit ears weren't cutting it, so she researched (everything is research with Em) and she found hulu and youtube. She also says they have a DVD collection. But remember folks, they don't waste money on DVD's.
Sorry I didn't publish this first thing this morning, but the frugal one hadn't posted her Daily Drivel when I got up. She was late this morning.
Emily says Dna used to watch hours of television a day before she came along, and that she had the potential to do the same [it's a good thing she has potential for something, 'cause it she ain't mother, or cook, or cleaner] At first they decided on one hour of TV a week and one movie a month, but then that changed to one hour of TV a day and one movie a week.
They each get one movie pick per month and one TV pick per week. They use their picks to pick something the other person may not like. The rest of the time Dna gets to pick because TV is his thing. If there is something Emily really wants to watch, she'll suggest it, and Dna will usually let her watch it. See, Emily is such a good submissive wife.
Dna works second shift two nights a week, and Emily could watch an hour of TV by herself, but she often forgets to. She likes The Office, Little Dna calls it "Michael" See, Emily does too have amusing stories about her children.
Emily and Dna started thinking about a TV policy when Little Dna was about a year old. They had a Baby Einstein video they would put on, but he wasn't interested. They decided that if he wanted to watch kid TV, They'd limit it to two hours a week, or roughly a half hour show each day Dna was at work.
Little Dna doesn't want to watch TV so she doesn't push it. Sometimes he'll suggest that they watch a Thomas movie tomorrow, but when tomorrow comes around, he doesn't mention it. She counts on Little Dna forgetting to ask to watch a movie, just like she counts on Big Dna to forget to ask for food. Every few weeks he'll ask to watch something today, so she puts it on, but he gets tired of watching. She's perfectly OK with that.
The kids are usually awake when Emily and Dna start watching TV at night, but they fall asleep (from lack of attention) And then wake up for a bedtime routine, which we know doesn't include baths, fresh jammies, or clean sheets. Hell, who am I kidding, it doesn't include sheets at all. She says this is an odd way to do things, but it works for them.
Oh yeah, and this is all done without a TV She has to make sure you know that she is too good for a TV ( I don't think there is anywhere left to hang one from actually, maybe on the tool pegboard?) Her physics teacher was on Survivor and her rabbit ears weren't cutting it, so she researched (everything is research with Em) and she found hulu and youtube. She also says they have a DVD collection. But remember folks, they don't waste money on DVD's.
Sorry I didn't publish this first thing this morning, but the frugal one hadn't posted her Daily Drivel when I got up. She was late this morning.
A Cry for Help by Dna
Deer Momm & Dda,
I know its been a long time sence I rote too you. Emiy took awae my pencels and paper after she caugt me writeing to the department of Child servises wanting help. I only have a craon to write with now so thats why this looks weyrd.
Thank you for sending me the pakage of fuud to Walmart. I cant have it at home becase emiy does not lik when I eet Twinkys and slim jms. She maks me eet mor salsa and I don’t lik her salsa becauce it tastes lik feat. I shared som of the potatoe chips wit Booby and litle dna and they sed it was the best fuud they ever eetin. I keep the bocks in my loker at work. ha ha emiy!!
I am taking ecxtra clases at skool to help with my speling. Don’t tell Emiy. She thinks I am ok in writing and sed that if she catkches me workin in my work book she wil not mak me hot pokets any more. I reely lik hot pokets but I don lik Emiys a lot. The onez from the stor taste beter than hers.
litle dna is doin beter. He doesn’t sleepe as much and he is going to the pottee beter. Emiy doesn’t let him ware his pull on pants to bed and I am woried that he maks pee pe in the night but she sed its okay because it dryes okay. I am not shur. He stoped talking in a axecent. We thgought it was a funee joke but Emiy didn’t think it was funnee. But I thought if he did it she mieght tak him to doktor but she sed it wasn’t that bad so we stoped the axcent. I don’t know how to git him to the doktor because Emiy won’t let me drive the car agin. She sed it good for me to walk to work. I git reely dizzee because I don’t eet a lot.
All Emiy doez is write on enternets. She yells at compooter a lot and sasys no one understandse her. I trie to tell her to be nice lik I am on my blogg but she says it okay and that I am half of a whit. It maks me sad when she says that because I am trying to be very smart and good all the time but if I don’t agree with her she wont let me have anything but keefur water to drink. I don’t like keefur watyer. Can you send Montain due nesxt time?
I red about sumiisssion in bibel and I think Emiy needs to do whut I tell hur but she sed I am wrong. I talked to paster and he sed I am wright. I am vurry scared to tell her this bevcauce she sed if I sed that again she would git rid of Brad and he is my onlee frend. I am not alowed to talk to paster agin when I told her he sed I am the hed of the house. She doesn’t let me talk on phone or anything.
If I git to be hed of house I am going to:
Tak babees to dokter and mak shure they are okay.
Teake babees to teeth dokter and make shure they use flosses on teeth
Git rid of Keefur water (terese is dum name)
By lots of fruts lik bananas, orannges, greapes, strawbrees
No moure tube meet. We will eet leen meets.
I will by boxs of spagetti and no more gloodles
We will use ovin to mak breads
We will have otmeel agin
No rice magots with tales
We will give boys hour rroom.
I want boyz to have matreesses
Can you send me some monee so I can tak classes for speling and writing? I want boys to have good lifee and I love them. Or just call the peeple who tak care of childern and tell them to mak Emiy stop.
Luv,
Dna
P.S. send ho-hoes, mop and soap. House dirtee.
I know its been a long time sence I rote too you. Emiy took awae my pencels and paper after she caugt me writeing to the department of Child servises wanting help. I only have a craon to write with now so thats why this looks weyrd.
Thank you for sending me the pakage of fuud to Walmart. I cant have it at home becase emiy does not lik when I eet Twinkys and slim jms. She maks me eet mor salsa and I don’t lik her salsa becauce it tastes lik feat. I shared som of the potatoe chips wit Booby and litle dna and they sed it was the best fuud they ever eetin. I keep the bocks in my loker at work. ha ha emiy!!
I am taking ecxtra clases at skool to help with my speling. Don’t tell Emiy. She thinks I am ok in writing and sed that if she catkches me workin in my work book she wil not mak me hot pokets any more. I reely lik hot pokets but I don lik Emiys a lot. The onez from the stor taste beter than hers.
litle dna is doin beter. He doesn’t sleepe as much and he is going to the pottee beter. Emiy doesn’t let him ware his pull on pants to bed and I am woried that he maks pee pe in the night but she sed its okay because it dryes okay. I am not shur. He stoped talking in a axecent. We thgought it was a funee joke but Emiy didn’t think it was funnee. But I thought if he did it she mieght tak him to doktor but she sed it wasn’t that bad so we stoped the axcent. I don’t know how to git him to the doktor because Emiy won’t let me drive the car agin. She sed it good for me to walk to work. I git reely dizzee because I don’t eet a lot.
All Emiy doez is write on enternets. She yells at compooter a lot and sasys no one understandse her. I trie to tell her to be nice lik I am on my blogg but she says it okay and that I am half of a whit. It maks me sad when she says that because I am trying to be very smart and good all the time but if I don’t agree with her she wont let me have anything but keefur water to drink. I don’t like keefur watyer. Can you send Montain due nesxt time?
I red about sumiisssion in bibel and I think Emiy needs to do whut I tell hur but she sed I am wrong. I talked to paster and he sed I am wright. I am vurry scared to tell her this bevcauce she sed if I sed that again she would git rid of Brad and he is my onlee frend. I am not alowed to talk to paster agin when I told her he sed I am the hed of the house. She doesn’t let me talk on phone or anything.
If I git to be hed of house I am going to:
Tak babees to dokter and mak shure they are okay.
Teake babees to teeth dokter and make shure they use flosses on teeth
Git rid of Keefur water (terese is dum name)
By lots of fruts lik bananas, orannges, greapes, strawbrees
No moure tube meet. We will eet leen meets.
I will by boxs of spagetti and no more gloodles
We will use ovin to mak breads
We will have otmeel agin
No rice magots with tales
We will give boys hour rroom.
I want boyz to have matreesses
Can you send me some monee so I can tak classes for speling and writing? I want boys to have good lifee and I love them. Or just call the peeple who tak care of childern and tell them to mak Emiy stop.
Luv,
Dna
P.S. send ho-hoes, mop and soap. House dirtee.
Wednesday, February 24, 2010
The Importance of Being Emily
When I started this blog it was merely to showcase my abundant talents, my incredible wealth of knowledge and connect with other people since no one in real life likes me and even my mother calls me a freakish wackadoodle. Of course, money was not at all a concern to me. (watch for my next Can You Make Money Blogging Post? Hint: I’ve made $20,000 this month alone. Which will be put aside so I can afford my own little extended cab pick up truck in which we will live.) I’ve shared my scrumptious recipes for gloodles and gummy hot pockets. I’ve illuminated my readers about the joys of tiny house living and how an unused laundry room can be a colorful, cluttered place of horrors for two small boys. I’ve explained how mattresses can kill people in an instant and shared the joys of pet ownership by exploring our unnatural relationship with kefir bacteria.
So I want to put this all together and post on what I think the recipe is for a happy life. I think my readers will be eternally grateful since most of them have empty and shallow lives and can only benefit from my genius.
Family
The most important part of life is family. I’m not talking about your parents or siblings. Obviously, if they are poor and have only half their teeth like Dan’s family, then they are a wonderful addition to your life. If they at all disapprove of your desire to lacto-ferment all your food until it is an unappetizing bit of sludge and letting your children play hide and seek in the fridge, then you’re better off cutting them out of your life. I know that my life has benefited from not talking to my mother and refusing all offers to give me access to my trust fund to buy clean sheets and mattresses for my children. She’s just a shallow, materialistic woman who doesn’t understand that living in squalor is part of our PLAN. She thinks that children need vegetables, doctors’ appointments and real toothpaste. She doesn’t approve of soap nuts, thinks Dan is a half-wit and believes that I’m throwing my life away. I hate her. I hate her. I hate her. I will show her. I will keep hoarding money and keep denying my family anything that gives them joy because I grew up with money and an occasional Twinkie and fresh oven-baked bread and it did not make me happy. The only thing that makes me happy is being in complete control of every aspect of my life, from blog comments to writing Dan’s blog to how many ½ ounces of spaghetti squash my husband and children are allowed to share. I am in control now, Mother. Me. Not you. You cannot dictate my life any longer. You cannot force me to go to the dentist, invest in medical insurance, clean my sheets, sweep, wash dishes, eat lean beef or fresh fruit. I can do it all on my own. Do you hear me? I know what’s important in life and it does not include vacations, relaxation or love. Get it? I’m in control now. Me! Me! Me!
Children
Obviously, any woman who has an empty, cobwebbed womb is a poor excuse for a woman and devoid of any sense of purpose or happiness. The only reason we exist, according to the Bible, is to be fruitful with our loins. Children validate our existence, give us purpose and remind us that our lives are not empty and without value. When you don’t have a real education, any critical thought skills, scant knowledge about anything but crockpotting, talent for writing, talent for cooking, talent for cleaning, career goals, ability to hold down a job other than cashier at a grocery store or any friends whatsoever because everyone thinks you’re a total fruitloop with a bad attitude and bad lemony-scented B.O., you can at least look at the product of your womb and know that you have accomplished something. Of course, once you have let them slide out of your woman cave onto crusty sheets stained from the last home birth, you needn’t really do anything like feed them well, supply them with warm beds and clean blankets, watch to make sure they’re not playing with the power tools hanging on the wall, take them outside, play with them or engage them in any meaningful way. Just having created them is enough to know that you have value as a human being and as a woman. I feel sorry for those women who choose career, their own goals and their full lives of friendship, cocktails, travel, good food, education and personal fulfillment over children. How empty and lonely their pathetic lives must be.
Love
I love my husband, Dna. He is brilliant, kind, funny and sweet. He works hard at his job and even harder at school, especially since he has trouble spelling, writing, reading comprehension and critical thought. Of course, that doesn’t mean anything. He’s just a lazy typer. And not matter how many times he begs me to assist him in phonics and spelling I must remind him that he is fine just the way he is. Many times he has tried to take an extension course in composition to improve his writing skills. Usually I can talk him out of it by refusing to cook him hot pockets or promising him if he stops talking crazy talk like that then I will make him homemade gloodle Cheetos in the crockpot. To love someone is to control every aspect of their lives and have them totally dependent on you so that you feel important and in charge. That way they can never leave you because you are in the driver’s seat. Since I handle all of the money, the cooking, the cleaning (well, the moving around of the existing filth), and working towards THE PLAN, I can let Dna focus on his janitorial career and his schoolwork. Though most of the time I just tell him to color in his Lil’ Jesus & Friends coloring book and I do his schoolwork, write his blog, update his Twitter account and screen his calls so no one from work or school can interrupt him by being friendly with him. That’s love.
Friends
Many people say that friends are an important part of life. I believe that’s true. Though I am very, very selective about my friends. I don’t tolerate anyone who doesn’t believe exactly as I do. I am only friends with people who understand my own unique and completely insane way of life. Only those who validate every choice I make are my friends. Any friend of mine must tell me repeatedly how wonderful I am, how everything I do is perfect and wonderful and original. I cannot and will not accept anyone criticizing anything I do or say. Because I am perfect. Perfect damn it. Therefore, the only people I’m friends with are my blog commenters who tell me that I’m great and terrific. I don’t know their names, what they do, what they think because the only thing that matters is what I think and feel. If you don’t like that then I’ll just delete your comments.
A PLAN
You must have a PLAN for your future. There’s no point in living in the here and now. That doesn’t matter. For the time being you can force your children to sleep on dusty, pee-stained blankets in the middle of winter. You can live on kefir water. You can stuff your children under cribs in a room the size of a Port-A-Potty. You can stack clutter and filth up the ceilings. Because you are saving and planning for your PLAN. It’s very important to capitalize PLAN because the future dictates everything you do and nothing else matters. You must eliminate anything that might get in the way of THE PLAN. We plan on living in a hole in the ground covered by a tarp, eating jars of lacto-fermented salsa and staying warm by making suits of cardboard and newspapers. The children will have little bunkers carved out of the hole and they will be happy covered with molding leaves for warmth. We will make sure to keep our satellite radio and internet connection because those are still important to our PLAN. What good is enjoying today if that enjoyment interferes with THE PLAN?
That’s my recipe for a happy life. Anyone who doesn’t agree is a bitter, spiteful, evil, and sad, pathetic bitch who deserves unhappiness and ruin. If you don’t agree and tell me I know you’re only trying to destroy me. But you cannot. I am invincible because I have God and Jesus on my side.
So I want to put this all together and post on what I think the recipe is for a happy life. I think my readers will be eternally grateful since most of them have empty and shallow lives and can only benefit from my genius.
Family
The most important part of life is family. I’m not talking about your parents or siblings. Obviously, if they are poor and have only half their teeth like Dan’s family, then they are a wonderful addition to your life. If they at all disapprove of your desire to lacto-ferment all your food until it is an unappetizing bit of sludge and letting your children play hide and seek in the fridge, then you’re better off cutting them out of your life. I know that my life has benefited from not talking to my mother and refusing all offers to give me access to my trust fund to buy clean sheets and mattresses for my children. She’s just a shallow, materialistic woman who doesn’t understand that living in squalor is part of our PLAN. She thinks that children need vegetables, doctors’ appointments and real toothpaste. She doesn’t approve of soap nuts, thinks Dan is a half-wit and believes that I’m throwing my life away. I hate her. I hate her. I hate her. I will show her. I will keep hoarding money and keep denying my family anything that gives them joy because I grew up with money and an occasional Twinkie and fresh oven-baked bread and it did not make me happy. The only thing that makes me happy is being in complete control of every aspect of my life, from blog comments to writing Dan’s blog to how many ½ ounces of spaghetti squash my husband and children are allowed to share. I am in control now, Mother. Me. Not you. You cannot dictate my life any longer. You cannot force me to go to the dentist, invest in medical insurance, clean my sheets, sweep, wash dishes, eat lean beef or fresh fruit. I can do it all on my own. Do you hear me? I know what’s important in life and it does not include vacations, relaxation or love. Get it? I’m in control now. Me! Me! Me!
Children
Obviously, any woman who has an empty, cobwebbed womb is a poor excuse for a woman and devoid of any sense of purpose or happiness. The only reason we exist, according to the Bible, is to be fruitful with our loins. Children validate our existence, give us purpose and remind us that our lives are not empty and without value. When you don’t have a real education, any critical thought skills, scant knowledge about anything but crockpotting, talent for writing, talent for cooking, talent for cleaning, career goals, ability to hold down a job other than cashier at a grocery store or any friends whatsoever because everyone thinks you’re a total fruitloop with a bad attitude and bad lemony-scented B.O., you can at least look at the product of your womb and know that you have accomplished something. Of course, once you have let them slide out of your woman cave onto crusty sheets stained from the last home birth, you needn’t really do anything like feed them well, supply them with warm beds and clean blankets, watch to make sure they’re not playing with the power tools hanging on the wall, take them outside, play with them or engage them in any meaningful way. Just having created them is enough to know that you have value as a human being and as a woman. I feel sorry for those women who choose career, their own goals and their full lives of friendship, cocktails, travel, good food, education and personal fulfillment over children. How empty and lonely their pathetic lives must be.
Love
I love my husband, Dna. He is brilliant, kind, funny and sweet. He works hard at his job and even harder at school, especially since he has trouble spelling, writing, reading comprehension and critical thought. Of course, that doesn’t mean anything. He’s just a lazy typer. And not matter how many times he begs me to assist him in phonics and spelling I must remind him that he is fine just the way he is. Many times he has tried to take an extension course in composition to improve his writing skills. Usually I can talk him out of it by refusing to cook him hot pockets or promising him if he stops talking crazy talk like that then I will make him homemade gloodle Cheetos in the crockpot. To love someone is to control every aspect of their lives and have them totally dependent on you so that you feel important and in charge. That way they can never leave you because you are in the driver’s seat. Since I handle all of the money, the cooking, the cleaning (well, the moving around of the existing filth), and working towards THE PLAN, I can let Dna focus on his janitorial career and his schoolwork. Though most of the time I just tell him to color in his Lil’ Jesus & Friends coloring book and I do his schoolwork, write his blog, update his Twitter account and screen his calls so no one from work or school can interrupt him by being friendly with him. That’s love.
Friends
Many people say that friends are an important part of life. I believe that’s true. Though I am very, very selective about my friends. I don’t tolerate anyone who doesn’t believe exactly as I do. I am only friends with people who understand my own unique and completely insane way of life. Only those who validate every choice I make are my friends. Any friend of mine must tell me repeatedly how wonderful I am, how everything I do is perfect and wonderful and original. I cannot and will not accept anyone criticizing anything I do or say. Because I am perfect. Perfect damn it. Therefore, the only people I’m friends with are my blog commenters who tell me that I’m great and terrific. I don’t know their names, what they do, what they think because the only thing that matters is what I think and feel. If you don’t like that then I’ll just delete your comments.
A PLAN
You must have a PLAN for your future. There’s no point in living in the here and now. That doesn’t matter. For the time being you can force your children to sleep on dusty, pee-stained blankets in the middle of winter. You can live on kefir water. You can stuff your children under cribs in a room the size of a Port-A-Potty. You can stack clutter and filth up the ceilings. Because you are saving and planning for your PLAN. It’s very important to capitalize PLAN because the future dictates everything you do and nothing else matters. You must eliminate anything that might get in the way of THE PLAN. We plan on living in a hole in the ground covered by a tarp, eating jars of lacto-fermented salsa and staying warm by making suits of cardboard and newspapers. The children will have little bunkers carved out of the hole and they will be happy covered with molding leaves for warmth. We will make sure to keep our satellite radio and internet connection because those are still important to our PLAN. What good is enjoying today if that enjoyment interferes with THE PLAN?
That’s my recipe for a happy life. Anyone who doesn’t agree is a bitter, spiteful, evil, and sad, pathetic bitch who deserves unhappiness and ruin. If you don’t agree and tell me I know you’re only trying to destroy me. But you cannot. I am invincible because I have God and Jesus on my side.
The Fruit Loop Explains Why She Does What She Does
She asks... Who is one dimensional?
She says frugal people are not one dimensional.
She goes on to say that frugal people are stereotyped as going way (clever use of italics) out there to save a nickel. She also says that sometimes that is the case, it is rarely the only cause for going out of one's way.
Sometimes going out of one's way is just taking the scenic route.
Here's why she does things that are frugal...
FOR HER CONSCIENCE
Overconsuming resources means there are less resources for others, and this is a form of stealing. [Maybe she should stop breeding then]
TO TEACH HER KIDS
Emily and Dna believe in a strong work ethic and they want to demonstrate that to their kids [Emily certainly demonstrated to little Dna that her blog "work" was more important that him when she let him fall into a coma, good job Em!] And just because her work around the house is unpaid doesn't mean it has no value. [What work Emily? It's certainly not housework, or cooking real food. You throw a bunch of fermented shit in a crockpot and sit and wait for it to be ready. Or you run some moldy old milk through your dirty skirt and put it on the floor.]
TO LEARN
Emily says learning is huge for her and that knowledge is power. The more she learns to do for herself, the less she has to rely on others. Sometimes she only breaks even on the things she does, but she is becoming a more well rounded person because of this. [And Dna is becoming downright skeletal while you become more well rounded]
FOR FUN!!
There is so much she does just for fun! Sure the activities overlap, but fun is her primary motivation in making soap and sewing. [I wonder if she will make soap out of my Kevin, the Pet Bacon Fat? And by sewing does she mean those gothy black sheets she hangs and throws all over the furniture?]
FOR HEALTH
She says that many of the things she does to skim a few pennies off a meal also add massive amounts of nutritional value [Can we add delusional to our assesment of Emily?] She may or may not have done this for those few pennies, but no matter what their income in the future, she will continue to make food from scratch.
FOR THE PENNIES
Emily is God's steward of every penny He lays before her so she must take care of them. [Emily, I'm not a religious person, but don't you think He would want you to take care of the children He has given you and maybe he doesn't care so much about the pennies? Oh, and the 'h' is always capitalized when talking about Him. I notice you never do that. I'm a Godless Heathen and I know that. You should be GRATEful I told you that. You are welcome] She feels that she needs to think an awful lot about those pennies.
TO SAVE TIME
It takes less time to tumble in her Wonderwash than it does to go to the laundromat. [It apparently takes even less time to forego washing things altogether, as evidenced by her sheets and the boys' greige blankets. Just because it takes less time doesn''t mean you should do it that way] She has also brilliantly stated the freaking obvious again and says that it takes less time to brew coffee at home than it does to wait in line at Starbuck's. The more she does at home, the less obligated they are to earn money outside the home. [Yeah, because it's all about you and not about the children. Those kids will never be enrolled in Little League, or Scouts or anything, because that takes money.]
As she contemplates the many things she does such as line drying, making Gloodles, sprouting maggot rice, she realizes the reasons for doing these things are dynamic [ I bolded that because it looked like a great random word to bold] For each of those, at least five of the seven reasons factor in.
Then she asks "What other reasons do you have for doing the frugal things you do?"
I can answer that. The reason that my husband and I do frugal things is for our son. Nowhere in any of her resons did Emily ever mention that she does this for her kids. That was our primary reason, to give him better life. And so that he won't be stuck looking after us in our old age. Emily just plans to keep popping kids out hoping that one of them will take pitty on her neglectful ass and look after her and Dna in the future.
One of the main reasons we only had one child was because that was all we could afford and do it right. We could have spit out a quiverful of kids and neglected them like Em, but our goal as parents was to provide a fantastic life to a child.
She says frugal people are not one dimensional.
She goes on to say that frugal people are stereotyped as going way (clever use of italics) out there to save a nickel. She also says that sometimes that is the case, it is rarely the only cause for going out of one's way.
Sometimes going out of one's way is just taking the scenic route.
Here's why she does things that are frugal...
FOR HER CONSCIENCE
Overconsuming resources means there are less resources for others, and this is a form of stealing. [Maybe she should stop breeding then]
TO TEACH HER KIDS
Emily and Dna believe in a strong work ethic and they want to demonstrate that to their kids [Emily certainly demonstrated to little Dna that her blog "work" was more important that him when she let him fall into a coma, good job Em!] And just because her work around the house is unpaid doesn't mean it has no value. [What work Emily? It's certainly not housework, or cooking real food. You throw a bunch of fermented shit in a crockpot and sit and wait for it to be ready. Or you run some moldy old milk through your dirty skirt and put it on the floor.]
TO LEARN
Emily says learning is huge for her and that knowledge is power. The more she learns to do for herself, the less she has to rely on others. Sometimes she only breaks even on the things she does, but she is becoming a more well rounded person because of this. [And Dna is becoming downright skeletal while you become more well rounded]
FOR FUN!!
There is so much she does just for fun! Sure the activities overlap, but fun is her primary motivation in making soap and sewing. [I wonder if she will make soap out of my Kevin, the Pet Bacon Fat? And by sewing does she mean those gothy black sheets she hangs and throws all over the furniture?]
FOR HEALTH
She says that many of the things she does to skim a few pennies off a meal also add massive amounts of nutritional value [Can we add delusional to our assesment of Emily?] She may or may not have done this for those few pennies, but no matter what their income in the future, she will continue to make food from scratch.
FOR THE PENNIES
Emily is God's steward of every penny He lays before her so she must take care of them. [Emily, I'm not a religious person, but don't you think He would want you to take care of the children He has given you and maybe he doesn't care so much about the pennies? Oh, and the 'h' is always capitalized when talking about Him. I notice you never do that. I'm a Godless Heathen and I know that. You should be GRATEful I told you that. You are welcome] She feels that she needs to think an awful lot about those pennies.
TO SAVE TIME
It takes less time to tumble in her Wonderwash than it does to go to the laundromat. [It apparently takes even less time to forego washing things altogether, as evidenced by her sheets and the boys' greige blankets. Just because it takes less time doesn''t mean you should do it that way] She has also brilliantly stated the freaking obvious again and says that it takes less time to brew coffee at home than it does to wait in line at Starbuck's. The more she does at home, the less obligated they are to earn money outside the home. [Yeah, because it's all about you and not about the children. Those kids will never be enrolled in Little League, or Scouts or anything, because that takes money.]
As she contemplates the many things she does such as line drying, making Gloodles, sprouting maggot rice, she realizes the reasons for doing these things are dynamic [ I bolded that because it looked like a great random word to bold] For each of those, at least five of the seven reasons factor in.
Then she asks "What other reasons do you have for doing the frugal things you do?"
I can answer that. The reason that my husband and I do frugal things is for our son. Nowhere in any of her resons did Emily ever mention that she does this for her kids. That was our primary reason, to give him better life. And so that he won't be stuck looking after us in our old age. Emily just plans to keep popping kids out hoping that one of them will take pitty on her neglectful ass and look after her and Dna in the future.
One of the main reasons we only had one child was because that was all we could afford and do it right. We could have spit out a quiverful of kids and neglected them like Em, but our goal as parents was to provide a fantastic life to a child.
Tuesday, February 23, 2010
Tuesday Crafts Corner
As I stated on a previous post, this blog takes most of my creativity. Therefore, I have been unable to express my many talents in other ways. I feel this is depriving my family of wonderful gifts so today I made a point of putting some time in on working on some crafts.
Lard Sculpture
Many people work in butter as a sculpture art form. We don’t believe in butter because the cows who gave the milk may have been feed GMO baking powder at some point (but don't bother emailing me about the possible GMO feed in our GROUND BEEF THAT DOES NOT COME IN FUCKING TUBES.) Therefore, I work in lard.
Lard is very easy to work in because it’s very flexible. I find that the best thing to do is to first freeze a chunk of it (14 oz $0.06) at a time wrapped in tin foil in the approximate shape you are going to want to work with.
Today I decided to make Jesus wearing Vulcan ears to please my husband. So I froze the lard in a long, cylinder shape. When I took it out, I used a vegetable peeler to carve out the face of Jesus with wonderful ears. Since we don’t eat vegetables that we need to peel as ours are all frozen from the Dollar Tree, this was a good way to use an item that usually sits in the kitchen drawer. I even carved markings on Jesus’s robes to indicate that he’s an Enterprise lieutenant.
Paper Maiche
This is very easy to do. First, I take whatever gloodles are left over from the night before and I reheat them in the crockpot with the trimmings from the lard sculpture. Once I get it simmering, I add more flour until it’s a thick paste.
I then cut up Dan’s school papers (I’m too busy crockpotting and blogging to pay attention to what he’s doing) and dip them into gloodle lard mixture. Then, I “paste” the strips of paper on whatever I’m paper maicheing.
Yesterday I did all of the Rubbermaid cartons, three jars of lacto-fermented salsa, the front of the fridge and our headboard. Now the words of Jesus live all around us.
The best part of gloodle-lard paper maiche is that the boys can help dip the strips of paper in the hot mixture and hand them to Mommy. Sometimes they get so into it that they even eat some, which is okay because it’s all natural! I don’t worry about them ingesting a tiny bit of paper because paper is made from trees which were created by God and in our house, if God created it then it is healthy.
Homemade Hats
I read an article that explained exactly how much radiation comes off a microwave. So we are committed to getting rid of the microwave as we rarely use it and I can certainly make anything we need in Cassie (the crockpot). I’m very worried about how this radiation will affect Dan’s man berries and might cause sterility. I know Dan is worried because I caught him standing in front of it in his grey underpants muttering, “please, please, I need help to stop it all.” So for the safety of the penises and my own precious woman egg supply, we are going to get rid of the microwave.
In the meantime, in order to protect my family and because it would be a fun crafting project, I’ve made everyone tinfoil hats to wear. I used the leftover tinfoil from the lard sculpture to create little hats with antennae so that the radiation will flow from our bodies, out our heads and away from us. For Dan and me I just added holes for hairpins to keep them on. For the boys I added rubber band straps to keep them on. Thomas looks so cute in his William Shatner pajamas and his little tinfoil hat. We even made hats for Brad, Terese and Cassie as they are valuable members of our family!
The best part was this was almost free because everything was either salvaged items or reusable:
Lard Sculpture $0.06
Paper Maiche $0.08
Tinfoil Hats $0.03
Craft time with my children: Priceless
How do you keep costs down while enjoying your favorite crafts?
Lard Sculpture
Many people work in butter as a sculpture art form. We don’t believe in butter because the cows who gave the milk may have been feed GMO baking powder at some point (but don't bother emailing me about the possible GMO feed in our GROUND BEEF THAT DOES NOT COME IN FUCKING TUBES.) Therefore, I work in lard.
Lard is very easy to work in because it’s very flexible. I find that the best thing to do is to first freeze a chunk of it (14 oz $0.06) at a time wrapped in tin foil in the approximate shape you are going to want to work with.
Today I decided to make Jesus wearing Vulcan ears to please my husband. So I froze the lard in a long, cylinder shape. When I took it out, I used a vegetable peeler to carve out the face of Jesus with wonderful ears. Since we don’t eat vegetables that we need to peel as ours are all frozen from the Dollar Tree, this was a good way to use an item that usually sits in the kitchen drawer. I even carved markings on Jesus’s robes to indicate that he’s an Enterprise lieutenant.
Paper Maiche
This is very easy to do. First, I take whatever gloodles are left over from the night before and I reheat them in the crockpot with the trimmings from the lard sculpture. Once I get it simmering, I add more flour until it’s a thick paste.
I then cut up Dan’s school papers (I’m too busy crockpotting and blogging to pay attention to what he’s doing) and dip them into gloodle lard mixture. Then, I “paste” the strips of paper on whatever I’m paper maicheing.
Yesterday I did all of the Rubbermaid cartons, three jars of lacto-fermented salsa, the front of the fridge and our headboard. Now the words of Jesus live all around us.
The best part of gloodle-lard paper maiche is that the boys can help dip the strips of paper in the hot mixture and hand them to Mommy. Sometimes they get so into it that they even eat some, which is okay because it’s all natural! I don’t worry about them ingesting a tiny bit of paper because paper is made from trees which were created by God and in our house, if God created it then it is healthy.
Homemade Hats
I read an article that explained exactly how much radiation comes off a microwave. So we are committed to getting rid of the microwave as we rarely use it and I can certainly make anything we need in Cassie (the crockpot). I’m very worried about how this radiation will affect Dan’s man berries and might cause sterility. I know Dan is worried because I caught him standing in front of it in his grey underpants muttering, “please, please, I need help to stop it all.” So for the safety of the penises and my own precious woman egg supply, we are going to get rid of the microwave.
In the meantime, in order to protect my family and because it would be a fun crafting project, I’ve made everyone tinfoil hats to wear. I used the leftover tinfoil from the lard sculpture to create little hats with antennae so that the radiation will flow from our bodies, out our heads and away from us. For Dan and me I just added holes for hairpins to keep them on. For the boys I added rubber band straps to keep them on. Thomas looks so cute in his William Shatner pajamas and his little tinfoil hat. We even made hats for Brad, Terese and Cassie as they are valuable members of our family!
The best part was this was almost free because everything was either salvaged items or reusable:
Lard Sculpture $0.06
Paper Maiche $0.08
Tinfoil Hats $0.03
Craft time with my children: Priceless
How do you keep costs down while enjoying your favorite crafts?
Meet Kevin, Our Pet Bacon Fat!
Months ago, I posted about my husbands preference for lean, quality meats. Since then, I have bought dollar store bacon, in an attempt to clog his arteries and kill any joy he may have in life. Bacon is thin slices of pig that we fry up and add to our eggs. Jesus says it's ok to eat bacon now. Although we call our bacon fat Kevin, his fat is actually a community of many slices of bacon.
When we first got Kevin, we had to put him in the crotchpot for a few days, then he was ready to get to work. Every day or two, Dna pours off the Kevin's grease into a jar. He then puts the slices of kevin back in the crotchpot. If you will notice, we have left the lid off Kevin. This is so he can get air, and we are hoping to get a colony of flies for meat. If I can get the larvae before they turn to flies, these will be added to the sprouted rice oatmeal. This will pack an extra nutritional punch.
The grease that Kevin gives us can be made into numerous things. Brad had fleas so we used the grease from Kevin to smother the fleas. I used a coating of the grease on little Dna's crib mattress to repel the pee, now I don't even have to wipe it off, it beads up and rolls away. This is my idea of a self cleaning house!
Dna sometimes tries to make sodas out of Kevin. For Sprite he he adds some lemon juice and lime juice. For cream soda, he just adds vanilla. For a cola-like beverage, he adds vanilla, cinnamon and lime juice. He was sad that we couldn't make Kevin into Mountain Dew though.
Kevin is not only a nourishing alternative and a step towards the plan, he is a money saver.
We paid a dollar at Dollar Tree for him, and he just keeps on giving. Pets generally are not frugal, but there are useful pets, like our Bacon Fat, Kevin, who save us money.
Contest for the Room of Horrors
Emily has been whining to Blogger that we have been copying her posts and I had to edit out her drivel this morning. So, going forward, instead of wasting time copying her posts, I'll just give a summary of what she said, and you can read her shit through a feed if you still don't want her to get a click. The link for the feed to the comments is listed at the top too so you can repeatedly check to see what the Stunned One has to say without contributing to her Neglect Fund.
Yesterday I was actually debating whether to continue this blog or not, but now that the Snippy Fundy has whined to Blogger yet again, I am most definitely continuing. *Evil Laugh*
So today is about the contest she had to redesign the Room of Horrors aka the Boys' Room.
She was completely overwhelmed with the responses she got when she asked for submissions to redo the Room of Horror. She got 40 entries, that's official entries mind you, not entries through comments because those don't count dammit, follow the rules. The final entry rolled in around 4 this morning. People love Emily so much they stay up all night redesigning the Room of Horrors. She says it was very difficult to get it down to just the top 5 entries (I'm betting all five are hers) She's taking a lesson in GRATEfulness, and expressing how much she appreciated the effort and creativity.
The criteria she used to choose was based on whether or not it would work for her boys, whether or not she thought it could be done with a reasonable budget, how versatile it was, and how much she thought the boys would like it. I call Bullshit on this, becasue she doesn't care one bit how much her boys will like it, just give them some clean sheets and a mattress you lazy old sow. She says she truly hopes no one is offended by how she chose, or didn't choose their submission. But we know Emily and she doesn't give a shit if she offended or not.
She has posted the pictures of the suggestions. I am encouraging you to go and vote in the poll for one of the suggestions that actually allows for the boys to have a bed, looks like entry number one actaully allows for a bed off the floor. I'm sure they still won't be allowed a matress, but at least it's off the floor. This entry also gives Brad the Wonder Ecoli a prominent place watching over the boys. You can use the feed after you vote to check back if you want http://under1000permonth.blogspot.com/feeds/posts/default and youcan check comments at http://under1000permonth.blogspot.com/feeds/comments/default
Yesterday I was actually debating whether to continue this blog or not, but now that the Snippy Fundy has whined to Blogger yet again, I am most definitely continuing. *Evil Laugh*
So today is about the contest she had to redesign the Room of Horrors aka the Boys' Room.
She was completely overwhelmed with the responses she got when she asked for submissions to redo the Room of Horror. She got 40 entries, that's official entries mind you, not entries through comments because those don't count dammit, follow the rules. The final entry rolled in around 4 this morning. People love Emily so much they stay up all night redesigning the Room of Horrors. She says it was very difficult to get it down to just the top 5 entries (I'm betting all five are hers) She's taking a lesson in GRATEfulness, and expressing how much she appreciated the effort and creativity.
The criteria she used to choose was based on whether or not it would work for her boys, whether or not she thought it could be done with a reasonable budget, how versatile it was, and how much she thought the boys would like it. I call Bullshit on this, becasue she doesn't care one bit how much her boys will like it, just give them some clean sheets and a mattress you lazy old sow. She says she truly hopes no one is offended by how she chose, or didn't choose their submission. But we know Emily and she doesn't give a shit if she offended or not.
She has posted the pictures of the suggestions. I am encouraging you to go and vote in the poll for one of the suggestions that actually allows for the boys to have a bed, looks like entry number one actaully allows for a bed off the floor. I'm sure they still won't be allowed a matress, but at least it's off the floor. This entry also gives Brad the Wonder Ecoli a prominent place watching over the boys. You can use the feed after you vote to check back if you want http://under1000permonth.blogspot.com/feeds/posts/default and youcan check comments at http://under1000permonth.blogspot.com/feeds/comments/default
Monday, February 22, 2010
Wackadoodle Theories
This is actually not a parody today. This is highlighting some of Emily’s best wackadoodle theories on life. These are not lies but instead are things she’s written on her blog or her comments. These are my favorites in no particular order (but with random bolding for fun)
Doctors are conspiring with the pharmaceutical companies and have a vested interest in diagnosing illnesses.
According to Emily, doctors want you to be sick. They want to pump you full of drugs and are trained to look for illness. Nevermind that doctors actually take an oath to heal, she knows better. She even stated that she has had experiences where doctors have made mistakes and when she says going to the doctor is a matter of life or death she implied that in her experience going to the doctor could result in death. She uses these theories to justify not taking her children to the doctor for yearly physicals.
Brushing your teeth is enough dental care.
How anyone can see poor Dan’s teeth and think that brushing is sufficient is beyond me. It’s very clear that dental care is more than a Cars toothbrush with Dollar Tree toothpaste on it. Some have pointed out that her children may be too young to see the dentist. But even when they grow I doubt that routine visits are in her budget or intentions. Flossing, checking on how children’s teeth are coming in are important. But Emily knows better, as always.
Mattresses cause illness.
Honestly, I had never heard this before it popped up on her blog. So the theory is that mattresses, especially crib mattresses release toxic gas? I have a hard time believing that there’s enough toxic gas coming off of mattresses to put her child in a coma. If that were true don’t you think there would be federal investigations and regulations on mattresses? Did I miss something in the news? Plus, I think having your child sleep on a urine stained mattress under a crib next to a heating vent on a dusty floor in the middle of a Maine winter with no cover, no sheet and barely a blanket might be worse than the miniscule gases that might be released.
Government Nutritional Information
She doesn’t trust FDA nutritional information, the food pyramid specifically. Sure, there’s room for deviation. Not everyone eats according to the pyramid. Depending on your health needs (diabetes, Crohn’s disease, gluten problems) it might not be possible. However, she takes it to the extreme, claiming that food producers sponsor that pyramid so it can’t be trusted. And she uses that to justify feeding her children a high-fat, low-carb diet. Forget heart disease – we need to stay away from the tiny bit of phytic acid in oats!! Fill ‘em up with lard but stay away from corn on the cob.
Tube Meat
This is my favorite bit of insanity. She worries about phytic acid in oats. She worries about the quality of bowel movements from “crap” cookies at RMH. She makes baking powder (or soda) because of GMO but she feeds them tube meat. Rolls of meat. Cylinders of meat. Meat in a plastic casing. Whatever in God’s name she wants to call it. The fact remains that even her staunchest supporters have pointed out the hypocrisy of worrying about a teaspoon of sugar on oatmeal or GMO in baking powder but feeding her children the lowest possible quality of meat. Especially since they do NOT have to eat that much meat. There’s no reason they can’t cut down on meat consumption so they have less meat but a higher quality. She could look into finding game meat, go in on buying half of butchered grassfed beef. She could eliminate a lot of the meat and add beans and rice and other vegetarian options for protein. Instead, she clings to the tube meat like a fat kid clinging to cake. (or Dan clinging to a forbidden Twinkie)
Junk Food
I’m not defending junk food as good food. I’m sure most Americans would be healthier without the Super Sized McDonald’s meals, bags of Cheetos, Cheez Whiz, ice cream, candy bars and the like. But she takes it the extreme, as usual. Dan has to ask for it and she usually hopes he forgets about it. No sense of moderation. Food should be enjoyable. If Dan (or the kids) wants to have a bowl of ice cream, a candy bar or some potato chips once in a while it’s not the end all of nutritional health. On a personal note, I’m on a diet and eating much better than I used to. And yet still sometimes I treat myself to a small bag of Cheetos or some ice cream. Because I enjoy it. Like most things she writes, there’s a lack of joy about food and family.
Emily runs across a random statement in her “research” and runs with it. “GMOs are bad” = no GMOs. “Sugar is bad” = no sugar. Those are easily changed. They require little work on her part. Don’t buy the GMO food and use stevia. Done. But when it requires real research, real work on her part, eg. eliminating tube meat and getting protein through creative vegetarian means – well, that’s not in her PLAN. Which basically means, she doesn’t know how to cook lentil and barley soup, etc. Deviating from her plan would require change, knowledge and skills on her part. Things she doesn’t have. A mattress cover, sheets and real blankets equals more time on the Wonderwash or possibly going to a Laundromat every time Daniel has a nighttime accident.
Emily seems to go through life like a spoiled child with only half the information. A teenager who KNOWS what she’s doing even in the face of adults telling her she doesn’t. The only time she’s taken advice was when she absolutely could not get anyone on her side, i.e. the shelving, the Rubbermaid totes, the bathroom light. If she doesn’t get the validation she seeks she clams up.
I worry about the next crackpot theory she works up: fresh air has pollution so therefore the children should never go outside, no more fruit because fruit flies may have deposited eggs on it, pillows are bad because once a child got smothered under a pillow, shoes are bad because they mold children’s feet, heat is bad because it produces asthma.
I will point and laugh but I’ll also feel so sorry for her children.
Doctors are conspiring with the pharmaceutical companies and have a vested interest in diagnosing illnesses.
According to Emily, doctors want you to be sick. They want to pump you full of drugs and are trained to look for illness. Nevermind that doctors actually take an oath to heal, she knows better. She even stated that she has had experiences where doctors have made mistakes and when she says going to the doctor is a matter of life or death she implied that in her experience going to the doctor could result in death. She uses these theories to justify not taking her children to the doctor for yearly physicals.
Brushing your teeth is enough dental care.
How anyone can see poor Dan’s teeth and think that brushing is sufficient is beyond me. It’s very clear that dental care is more than a Cars toothbrush with Dollar Tree toothpaste on it. Some have pointed out that her children may be too young to see the dentist. But even when they grow I doubt that routine visits are in her budget or intentions. Flossing, checking on how children’s teeth are coming in are important. But Emily knows better, as always.
Mattresses cause illness.
Honestly, I had never heard this before it popped up on her blog. So the theory is that mattresses, especially crib mattresses release toxic gas? I have a hard time believing that there’s enough toxic gas coming off of mattresses to put her child in a coma. If that were true don’t you think there would be federal investigations and regulations on mattresses? Did I miss something in the news? Plus, I think having your child sleep on a urine stained mattress under a crib next to a heating vent on a dusty floor in the middle of a Maine winter with no cover, no sheet and barely a blanket might be worse than the miniscule gases that might be released.
Government Nutritional Information
She doesn’t trust FDA nutritional information, the food pyramid specifically. Sure, there’s room for deviation. Not everyone eats according to the pyramid. Depending on your health needs (diabetes, Crohn’s disease, gluten problems) it might not be possible. However, she takes it to the extreme, claiming that food producers sponsor that pyramid so it can’t be trusted. And she uses that to justify feeding her children a high-fat, low-carb diet. Forget heart disease – we need to stay away from the tiny bit of phytic acid in oats!! Fill ‘em up with lard but stay away from corn on the cob.
Tube Meat
This is my favorite bit of insanity. She worries about phytic acid in oats. She worries about the quality of bowel movements from “crap” cookies at RMH. She makes baking powder (or soda) because of GMO but she feeds them tube meat. Rolls of meat. Cylinders of meat. Meat in a plastic casing. Whatever in God’s name she wants to call it. The fact remains that even her staunchest supporters have pointed out the hypocrisy of worrying about a teaspoon of sugar on oatmeal or GMO in baking powder but feeding her children the lowest possible quality of meat. Especially since they do NOT have to eat that much meat. There’s no reason they can’t cut down on meat consumption so they have less meat but a higher quality. She could look into finding game meat, go in on buying half of butchered grassfed beef. She could eliminate a lot of the meat and add beans and rice and other vegetarian options for protein. Instead, she clings to the tube meat like a fat kid clinging to cake. (or Dan clinging to a forbidden Twinkie)
Junk Food
I’m not defending junk food as good food. I’m sure most Americans would be healthier without the Super Sized McDonald’s meals, bags of Cheetos, Cheez Whiz, ice cream, candy bars and the like. But she takes it the extreme, as usual. Dan has to ask for it and she usually hopes he forgets about it. No sense of moderation. Food should be enjoyable. If Dan (or the kids) wants to have a bowl of ice cream, a candy bar or some potato chips once in a while it’s not the end all of nutritional health. On a personal note, I’m on a diet and eating much better than I used to. And yet still sometimes I treat myself to a small bag of Cheetos or some ice cream. Because I enjoy it. Like most things she writes, there’s a lack of joy about food and family.
Emily runs across a random statement in her “research” and runs with it. “GMOs are bad” = no GMOs. “Sugar is bad” = no sugar. Those are easily changed. They require little work on her part. Don’t buy the GMO food and use stevia. Done. But when it requires real research, real work on her part, eg. eliminating tube meat and getting protein through creative vegetarian means – well, that’s not in her PLAN. Which basically means, she doesn’t know how to cook lentil and barley soup, etc. Deviating from her plan would require change, knowledge and skills on her part. Things she doesn’t have. A mattress cover, sheets and real blankets equals more time on the Wonderwash or possibly going to a Laundromat every time Daniel has a nighttime accident.
Emily seems to go through life like a spoiled child with only half the information. A teenager who KNOWS what she’s doing even in the face of adults telling her she doesn’t. The only time she’s taken advice was when she absolutely could not get anyone on her side, i.e. the shelving, the Rubbermaid totes, the bathroom light. If she doesn’t get the validation she seeks she clams up.
I worry about the next crackpot theory she works up: fresh air has pollution so therefore the children should never go outside, no more fruit because fruit flies may have deposited eggs on it, pillows are bad because once a child got smothered under a pillow, shoes are bad because they mold children’s feet, heat is bad because it produces asthma.
I will point and laugh but I’ll also feel so sorry for her children.
Emily's Claim of Cyber Bullying
Well, that is just pure BS. It's not bullying to comment on your Apartment of Horrors. It is not bullying to point out the dangers of a light perched on a towel rod in the bathroom. What if Brad fell off the wall and knocked the light into the shower? It is not bullying to point out the horror of a child sleeping like a dog under a crib with no sheets and greige, pissed soaked blankets that haven't seen soap in months, possibly years.
It is not bullying to wonder why the hell you didn't take your child to the doctor until he fell into a coma. And it is not bullying to point out that you don't feed your family enough food if you have one quarter of a spaghetti squash for dinner with no side dishes and that feeds the whole family with leftovers for Dna.
Emily, it is not bullying to have a few paradies of your whackadoodle life. You even said...
Emily has left a new comment on your post "Emily": Braincells, Great idea! I think anyone who is creative enough to spoof us deserves a kudos. (I may even read it myself.) Just don't take our stuff to do it. Here is my feed link. I don't get any income from this. If you want to let people know who you are spoofing, you can send them here. (:http://under1000permonth.blogspot.com/feeds/posts/default
And then with the following comment, you even supplied possible parody material. You were practically foaming at the mouth to goad us into posting parodies.
Emily has left a new comment on your post "Send us your Emily/Dan material!": How is it that no body has come up with anything? Dan and I have come up with a bunch of hilarious parody themes, including pitching a tent in the Walmart parking lot to save rent money over the summer, saving money on soap nuts by not allowing the family to wear clothes, strategically moving to a flood zone around flood season and saying we're refugees, vaccines containing Satanic mind control, and is human sacrifice biblical. How utterly lacking in creativity you and your readers must be!
So lay of the sobs of "victim of severe cyber-bullying" That is total bulshit and you know it.
You treat your children like objects, and you do everything you can to take away even their smallest pleasure. If you can find even a tiny article that supports your abuse, you run with it. Now you are even taking away their beds and making them sleep in a pile of piss soaked blankets. You truly make me sick.
Now, I'm not going back to proof read this so if I spelled something wrong, make sure to log out of your Emily Blogger account and leave me an anonymous comment on what word I spelled wrong.
It is not bullying to wonder why the hell you didn't take your child to the doctor until he fell into a coma. And it is not bullying to point out that you don't feed your family enough food if you have one quarter of a spaghetti squash for dinner with no side dishes and that feeds the whole family with leftovers for Dna.
Emily, it is not bullying to have a few paradies of your whackadoodle life. You even said...
Emily has left a new comment on your post "Emily": Braincells, Great idea! I think anyone who is creative enough to spoof us deserves a kudos. (I may even read it myself.) Just don't take our stuff to do it. Here is my feed link. I don't get any income from this. If you want to let people know who you are spoofing, you can send them here. (:http://under1000permonth.blogspot.com/feeds/posts/default
And then with the following comment, you even supplied possible parody material. You were practically foaming at the mouth to goad us into posting parodies.
Emily has left a new comment on your post "Send us your Emily/Dan material!": How is it that no body has come up with anything? Dan and I have come up with a bunch of hilarious parody themes, including pitching a tent in the Walmart parking lot to save rent money over the summer, saving money on soap nuts by not allowing the family to wear clothes, strategically moving to a flood zone around flood season and saying we're refugees, vaccines containing Satanic mind control, and is human sacrifice biblical. How utterly lacking in creativity you and your readers must be!
So lay of the sobs of "victim of severe cyber-bullying" That is total bulshit and you know it.
You treat your children like objects, and you do everything you can to take away even their smallest pleasure. If you can find even a tiny article that supports your abuse, you run with it. Now you are even taking away their beds and making them sleep in a pile of piss soaked blankets. You truly make me sick.
Now, I'm not going back to proof read this so if I spelled something wrong, make sure to log out of your Emily Blogger account and leave me an anonymous comment on what word I spelled wrong.
Monday
Hey all. I'm really sick, sorry for not posting yeaterday (didn't realize she had blogged yesterday) and today's post is boring anyway, about sprouting rice. She found some theory that oatmeal blocks digestion of nutrients. Whatever, it's just a way to take away someting else that the kids probably enjoyed. Now she ffed them sprouted rice, with just a bit of cinamon.
Here's the feed link
http://under1000permonth.blogspot.com/feeds/posts/default
Here's the feed link
http://under1000permonth.blogspot.com/feeds/posts/default
Sunday, February 21, 2010
Savory Sunday
I’ve decided to offer a bonus for my faithful fans – a double post day! My first Sunday post will be a book review. My second post will be Savory Sunday where I explore classic recipes but put my own frugal twist on them. That way anyone can enjoy fine dining no matter their budget.
When I married my mother gave me a copy of The Joy of Cooking. However, once I looked through the book I realized that it would not work with our budget or our dietary plans. It relied a lot on vegetables, spices, lean cuts of meat and those are not in our plan.
However, I did not get rid of the book since we don’t get rid of anything, preferring instead to make piles and piles of crap stacked everywhere and covered with dusty sheets. That how we like it! So yesterday I was looking for a heavy book to use in making more floor pressed cheese and I ran across this volume. I decided that adapting these classic recipes with frugality in mind would be a wonderful way to share my inventive culinary skills with my legions of fans.
Therefore, following will be the original recipe and in parenthesis will be my frugal substitution.
Blue Cheese Spread with Walnuts
8 ounces cream cheese, softened (homemade cream cheese - $0.20)
¼ cup crumbled Blue Cheese (pressed cheese sitting for two weeks in humid bathroom to produce blue veins of mold - $0.35)
2 tbsp port (2 tablespoons of kefir water - $0.02)
1 tbsp chopped walnuts (1 tbsp crushed soap nuts - $0.10)
I mix the cream cheese and the crumbles of my homemade blue cheese and add some kefir water and soap nuts. Voila. A delicious spread for crockpot bread for only $0.67. Dan loved this though he did chip a tooth (again!) on a soap nut piece. Remember to only use used soap nuts as that way you’ve gotten two uses out of them!
Chipped Beef and Gravy
8 ounces sliced dried beef (I take the tube meat, make patties and put in crockpot with 2 cups of salt and leave on high for 2 days. Then they are dry and Christ-like since Jesus loved salt and therefore we eat a lot of it. We only use 2 ounces as that’s all we need to sustain us. Dan gets one ounce, I get ½ an ounce and the boys split the other ½ ounce. Tube Meat Patties - $0.15)
3 tablespoons of butter (we use lard because butter may contain GM foods. I tried to make our own butter but realized that lard is much better for us. We prefer lard. That’s our dietary plan. We use 2 cups of lard for this recipe. $0.30)
3 tbsp minced onion (I have a jar of garlic from when we were married so I just used a teaspoon of that. As long as you spoon out the slimy mold from the top it will be good as new. $0.05)
3 tbsp flour (I used my weevil-enhanced King Arthur flour. I first soak the flour in 2 cups of whey and a teaspoon of kefir water in order to soak the grains so they pass through our colon better. $0.10)
2 cups of milk (since we ran out of milk when I went to make this recipe I used diluted breast milk. Thomas doesn’t like to eat too much anyway and I don’t want to waste anything. Besides, breast milk is free!)
I left the tube meat patties in the crockpot. I added the lard and let it melt down. Then I added the garlic. I omitted the green peppers as I felt they weren’t needed. I let the garlic steep in the lard for ten minutes. Then I added the soaked grain flour and whisked until it was combined with the lard. I let it sit on high for 2 hours. Then I added the breast milk and whisked again until it was thick. It wasn’t as thick as I wanted at first so I added some of my homemade ricotta cheese to thicken up the sauce. Dan wondered what the black flecks were. I told him pepper (even though it’s the Devil’s spice as opposed to the Jesus-approved salt) though they were actually active weevils. For some reason he doesn’t like the crunch of weevils. I’ve told him that they add extra protein for free but he gets obstinate about some things. I usually just lie and hope he doesn’t notice them wiggling in his mouth. Total cost: $0.60. So far this week, this has been my most inexpensive recipe. I think it’s going to be a keeper.
Pita Salad
I was nervous about making this one as it had a lot of different ingredients, but I am a good steward of our resources so I knew I could adapt this to suit our tastes.
1 small cucumber (I used 1 spear of our lacto-fermented pickles. $0.05)
1 teaspoon salt (I used 1 cup of salt in honor of Jesus. $0.15)
½ head romaine lettuce (I used our coffeepot lettuce. 2 leaves were enough for our family. $0.01)
3 medium tomatoes (I used ¼ of a can of crushed tomatoes. $0.10)
6 scallions (I used a handful of chopped Dollar Store frozen onion. $0.10)
2/3 cup parsley (instead, I used some leaves off my spider plant that hangs in the living room. It was a little wilted so I cut it into strips. Free!)
1/3 cup cilantro (since the spider plant worked so well I used some of the grass outside the apartment building. It smelled fresh and clean. It was a little brown because that’s where the neighbor’s dog usually goes but I know it’s been well fertilized. Free!)
2 tbsp chopped mint (I chopped up an Altoid from Mystery Shopping and ground it into a powder. Free!)
I take all the above ingredients and put them in a large jar. I cover with whey and let sit for three weeks. When it bubbles I pour it into the blender and blend until smooth. Then I combine it with a teaspoon of melted lard ($0.02), lemon from one of my almost-empty deodorant lemons ($0.02), a teaspoon of dried and pulverized garlic powder ($0.01), a cup of salt ($0.15) and a few teaspoons of dried weevils (as we don’t keep pepper in the house). Then I toss all of that with:
2 pita pockets, torn in strips (I simply made crockpot bread and let it sit for 3 days until it was hard and crisp. Then I tore it in little bits after I scraped off the green parts. $0.10)
It’s a delicious summer salad and a welcome, fresh treat for the dead of winter. Total cost: $0.71. Since it’s the most expensive dish on the list I only make it twice a year. But it does yield enough for Dan to take to work for lunch and for the boys and I to graze on all day long. Plus, it has a lot of lacto-fermentation which makes me happy.
I look forward to sharing more recipes with you with my really original frugal tips! Next week: Chateaubriand, Charlotte Russe and Waldorf Salad.
When I married my mother gave me a copy of The Joy of Cooking. However, once I looked through the book I realized that it would not work with our budget or our dietary plans. It relied a lot on vegetables, spices, lean cuts of meat and those are not in our plan.
However, I did not get rid of the book since we don’t get rid of anything, preferring instead to make piles and piles of crap stacked everywhere and covered with dusty sheets. That how we like it! So yesterday I was looking for a heavy book to use in making more floor pressed cheese and I ran across this volume. I decided that adapting these classic recipes with frugality in mind would be a wonderful way to share my inventive culinary skills with my legions of fans.
Therefore, following will be the original recipe and in parenthesis will be my frugal substitution.
Blue Cheese Spread with Walnuts
8 ounces cream cheese, softened (homemade cream cheese - $0.20)
¼ cup crumbled Blue Cheese (pressed cheese sitting for two weeks in humid bathroom to produce blue veins of mold - $0.35)
2 tbsp port (2 tablespoons of kefir water - $0.02)
1 tbsp chopped walnuts (1 tbsp crushed soap nuts - $0.10)
I mix the cream cheese and the crumbles of my homemade blue cheese and add some kefir water and soap nuts. Voila. A delicious spread for crockpot bread for only $0.67. Dan loved this though he did chip a tooth (again!) on a soap nut piece. Remember to only use used soap nuts as that way you’ve gotten two uses out of them!
Chipped Beef and Gravy
8 ounces sliced dried beef (I take the tube meat, make patties and put in crockpot with 2 cups of salt and leave on high for 2 days. Then they are dry and Christ-like since Jesus loved salt and therefore we eat a lot of it. We only use 2 ounces as that’s all we need to sustain us. Dan gets one ounce, I get ½ an ounce and the boys split the other ½ ounce. Tube Meat Patties - $0.15)
3 tablespoons of butter (we use lard because butter may contain GM foods. I tried to make our own butter but realized that lard is much better for us. We prefer lard. That’s our dietary plan. We use 2 cups of lard for this recipe. $0.30)
3 tbsp minced onion (I have a jar of garlic from when we were married so I just used a teaspoon of that. As long as you spoon out the slimy mold from the top it will be good as new. $0.05)
3 tbsp flour (I used my weevil-enhanced King Arthur flour. I first soak the flour in 2 cups of whey and a teaspoon of kefir water in order to soak the grains so they pass through our colon better. $0.10)
2 cups of milk (since we ran out of milk when I went to make this recipe I used diluted breast milk. Thomas doesn’t like to eat too much anyway and I don’t want to waste anything. Besides, breast milk is free!)
I left the tube meat patties in the crockpot. I added the lard and let it melt down. Then I added the garlic. I omitted the green peppers as I felt they weren’t needed. I let the garlic steep in the lard for ten minutes. Then I added the soaked grain flour and whisked until it was combined with the lard. I let it sit on high for 2 hours. Then I added the breast milk and whisked again until it was thick. It wasn’t as thick as I wanted at first so I added some of my homemade ricotta cheese to thicken up the sauce. Dan wondered what the black flecks were. I told him pepper (even though it’s the Devil’s spice as opposed to the Jesus-approved salt) though they were actually active weevils. For some reason he doesn’t like the crunch of weevils. I’ve told him that they add extra protein for free but he gets obstinate about some things. I usually just lie and hope he doesn’t notice them wiggling in his mouth. Total cost: $0.60. So far this week, this has been my most inexpensive recipe. I think it’s going to be a keeper.
Pita Salad
I was nervous about making this one as it had a lot of different ingredients, but I am a good steward of our resources so I knew I could adapt this to suit our tastes.
1 small cucumber (I used 1 spear of our lacto-fermented pickles. $0.05)
1 teaspoon salt (I used 1 cup of salt in honor of Jesus. $0.15)
½ head romaine lettuce (I used our coffeepot lettuce. 2 leaves were enough for our family. $0.01)
3 medium tomatoes (I used ¼ of a can of crushed tomatoes. $0.10)
6 scallions (I used a handful of chopped Dollar Store frozen onion. $0.10)
2/3 cup parsley (instead, I used some leaves off my spider plant that hangs in the living room. It was a little wilted so I cut it into strips. Free!)
1/3 cup cilantro (since the spider plant worked so well I used some of the grass outside the apartment building. It smelled fresh and clean. It was a little brown because that’s where the neighbor’s dog usually goes but I know it’s been well fertilized. Free!)
2 tbsp chopped mint (I chopped up an Altoid from Mystery Shopping and ground it into a powder. Free!)
I take all the above ingredients and put them in a large jar. I cover with whey and let sit for three weeks. When it bubbles I pour it into the blender and blend until smooth. Then I combine it with a teaspoon of melted lard ($0.02), lemon from one of my almost-empty deodorant lemons ($0.02), a teaspoon of dried and pulverized garlic powder ($0.01), a cup of salt ($0.15) and a few teaspoons of dried weevils (as we don’t keep pepper in the house). Then I toss all of that with:
2 pita pockets, torn in strips (I simply made crockpot bread and let it sit for 3 days until it was hard and crisp. Then I tore it in little bits after I scraped off the green parts. $0.10)
It’s a delicious summer salad and a welcome, fresh treat for the dead of winter. Total cost: $0.71. Since it’s the most expensive dish on the list I only make it twice a year. But it does yield enough for Dan to take to work for lunch and for the boys and I to graze on all day long. Plus, it has a lot of lacto-fermentation which makes me happy.
I look forward to sharing more recipes with you with my really original frugal tips! Next week: Chateaubriand, Charlotte Russe and Waldorf Salad.
Saturday, February 20, 2010
No Storage Solutions today
I thought Saturday's were supposed to be storage solution day? I guess after telling us how to store paper in the magazine rack she ran out of ideas, LOL
To those who have asked, we had a great time at the spiritual life retreat . As someone who cooks a lot, I was looking forward to a few days without cooking. Still I found myself in the kitchen helping out the students [and showing them how to do things right~ OMG, I bet the other students were mortified at her cooking and hygeine, can you imagine?] as a way to get to know them a little better. Many of these students I was meeting for the first time, so I really enjoyed my time with them. [Why was she meeting them for the first time? Isn't this Dan's 12th year in Babble College? Don't they go to church together? Me thinks Emily doesn't actually go to church]
The teaching sessions were awesome, but we were only there for the tail end of the retreat, so we didn't get the full message [ Emily, you never get the full message, but you seem to have no problem running with partial information, so...]. Still, we came away invigorated and thankful. [The Quiverful, Snippy Fundy, greatful? Well knock me over with a feather, I never thought I'd see the day]
The kids were a big hit. Everyone wanted to hold Bobby, but he wouldn't let them. Thomas, though, was passed around to everyone [I think they were trying to formulate a plan how to run away with them and feed them, or give them a bath, Poor Booby probably thinks all adults are going to take him and feed him fermented salsa so he got scared]. It reminded Dan and I of our pre-kid life when holding a baby would be the highlight of our day. Now, it is our whole day [in between blogging and feeding Therese], but still a great joy.
Most of all, this was a retreat for us. We were able to put away the stresses [I'd be stressed in that foul apartment too, never going anywhere] of our daily lives for a few days. We didn't think or talk about the blog, work, or even classes. That was refreshing. [Emily, the blog should not be causing you stress, after all, you are doing everything right and everyone else is wrong, what is to stress about? And how is a Walmart janitor job stressful? Or Basement college?]
Mattresses, Mattresses, Mattresses
I think there has been some misunderstanding about the no-mattress idea. [Confusion, what confusion? Emily said Matresses will not be part of their plan]
First, the links I posted of alternatives were not of alternatives I was thinking of getting, but ideas of bedding types I was inspired by [Then you should say that. You should be clear what you want, especially when you are asking for people to do the work for you. But I guess if you are vague, it gives you wiggle room]. Beds that fold up or roll out are neat and worth considering, which is why I used the word "like" when mentioning them.
Second I don't want a conventional mattress for reasons that have been discussed [One article that is not supported by any scientific evidence. But any fruitloop idea if it supports depriving your family is valid right Emily?]. I think the best alternative I am looking at is a nice blanket mattress. This would not be a blanket thrown on the floor, or even folded once or plopped on the floor. This would be three or four blankets folded three or four times, depending on the size and type of bed we end up with. It would also depend on what my kids want for firmness and it may talk a few nights to figure out exactly how that will go. Then, when we've got them the way we like them, I would sew them together in a way similar to how you would sew a quilt to keep the batting in place. They would then be covered and put into place. If people genuinely think this would be uncomfortable, go get a stack of blankets, fold them up and see if it is cozy. [This whole thing just makes me sick. I can smell the stink already of three boys pissing away on a pile of blankets held together with thread. Of course 'mommy' will be too busy blogging to wash any of it. Maybe she will give it a mist of soap nut juice every once in awhile.]
It will take longer for my husband and I to convert our own bed to this, since we simply don't have that many blankets. I imagine we will achieve this by the end of the yard sale season for our bed. [The last thing you need is more blankets to turn greige. You need a bed with a set of clean sheets and a nice warm quilt/comforter. I was going to say a Duvet, but I cannot image you being able to properly care for one. Can you imagine a duvet washed in the wonder wash with soap nut juice and hung up to dry in that fermented hovel? My local thrift store sells bags of blankets for $5. You just go in and ask for a bag of dog blankets.]
After I wrote the post about helping Haiti without money, I received an email about one more way to help. It took me six minutes to donate $1 through Brickfish. All you have to do is go here, make an account and submit a photo. For each photo, they will donate $1. You can then tell others about it so that more money can be donated. Here is the photo I submitted:
It's just a picture of her boys sitting on one of the black blanket draped pieces of furniture in their hovel
Enjoy the day people, I'm off to buy my dog another bed at Costco today. I have better bedding for my dog than she does for her kids and that is pretty sad.
To those who have asked, we had a great time at the spiritual life retreat . As someone who cooks a lot, I was looking forward to a few days without cooking. Still I found myself in the kitchen helping out the students [and showing them how to do things right~ OMG, I bet the other students were mortified at her cooking and hygeine, can you imagine?] as a way to get to know them a little better. Many of these students I was meeting for the first time, so I really enjoyed my time with them. [Why was she meeting them for the first time? Isn't this Dan's 12th year in Babble College? Don't they go to church together? Me thinks Emily doesn't actually go to church]
The teaching sessions were awesome, but we were only there for the tail end of the retreat, so we didn't get the full message [ Emily, you never get the full message, but you seem to have no problem running with partial information, so...]. Still, we came away invigorated and thankful. [The Quiverful, Snippy Fundy, greatful? Well knock me over with a feather, I never thought I'd see the day]
The kids were a big hit. Everyone wanted to hold Bobby, but he wouldn't let them. Thomas, though, was passed around to everyone [I think they were trying to formulate a plan how to run away with them and feed them, or give them a bath, Poor Booby probably thinks all adults are going to take him and feed him fermented salsa so he got scared]. It reminded Dan and I of our pre-kid life when holding a baby would be the highlight of our day. Now, it is our whole day [in between blogging and feeding Therese], but still a great joy.
Most of all, this was a retreat for us. We were able to put away the stresses [I'd be stressed in that foul apartment too, never going anywhere] of our daily lives for a few days. We didn't think or talk about the blog, work, or even classes. That was refreshing. [Emily, the blog should not be causing you stress, after all, you are doing everything right and everyone else is wrong, what is to stress about? And how is a Walmart janitor job stressful? Or Basement college?]
Mattresses, Mattresses, Mattresses
I think there has been some misunderstanding about the no-mattress idea. [Confusion, what confusion? Emily said Matresses will not be part of their plan]
First, the links I posted of alternatives were not of alternatives I was thinking of getting, but ideas of bedding types I was inspired by [Then you should say that. You should be clear what you want, especially when you are asking for people to do the work for you. But I guess if you are vague, it gives you wiggle room]. Beds that fold up or roll out are neat and worth considering, which is why I used the word "like" when mentioning them.
Second I don't want a conventional mattress for reasons that have been discussed [One article that is not supported by any scientific evidence. But any fruitloop idea if it supports depriving your family is valid right Emily?]. I think the best alternative I am looking at is a nice blanket mattress. This would not be a blanket thrown on the floor, or even folded once or plopped on the floor. This would be three or four blankets folded three or four times, depending on the size and type of bed we end up with. It would also depend on what my kids want for firmness and it may talk a few nights to figure out exactly how that will go. Then, when we've got them the way we like them, I would sew them together in a way similar to how you would sew a quilt to keep the batting in place. They would then be covered and put into place. If people genuinely think this would be uncomfortable, go get a stack of blankets, fold them up and see if it is cozy. [This whole thing just makes me sick. I can smell the stink already of three boys pissing away on a pile of blankets held together with thread. Of course 'mommy' will be too busy blogging to wash any of it. Maybe she will give it a mist of soap nut juice every once in awhile.]
It will take longer for my husband and I to convert our own bed to this, since we simply don't have that many blankets. I imagine we will achieve this by the end of the yard sale season for our bed. [The last thing you need is more blankets to turn greige. You need a bed with a set of clean sheets and a nice warm quilt/comforter. I was going to say a Duvet, but I cannot image you being able to properly care for one. Can you imagine a duvet washed in the wonder wash with soap nut juice and hung up to dry in that fermented hovel? My local thrift store sells bags of blankets for $5. You just go in and ask for a bag of dog blankets.]
After I wrote the post about helping Haiti without money, I received an email about one more way to help. It took me six minutes to donate $1 through Brickfish. All you have to do is go here, make an account and submit a photo. For each photo, they will donate $1. You can then tell others about it so that more money can be donated. Here is the photo I submitted:
It's just a picture of her boys sitting on one of the black blanket draped pieces of furniture in their hovel
Enjoy the day people, I'm off to buy my dog another bed at Costco today. I have better bedding for my dog than she does for her kids and that is pretty sad.
Saturday Advice
So far I've blogged about our bathroom habits (d-mn Clown House crap food), my desire to use a used Dixie Cup from the Walmart bathroom for my monthly flow, my use of lemon as deordorant, giving birth on the crusty sheets and, of course, my unnatural relationship with my crockpot. Today I purpose to discuss something important to each woman: yeast infections.
Yeast infections happen because the Lord has deemed my lady parts too hot to handle and with the kefir fumes, lacto-fermenting salsa coursing through my system, the general humidity in our home from the dripping Wonderwashed clothes and the weird green stuff growing on Brad my life is filled with mold spores. But this is how I planned it!
Doctors will tell you to use Monistat 7 but we believe doctors are in league with Eli Lilly and only want to make money. I have gone to Private Nourishing Organic Traditions to research natural ways to combat an itchy va-jay-jay. Plus, we believe in being frugal and spending $8.00 on a tube of cream is not in our budget.
I was happy to find out that kitty litter can do the trick. It soaks up moisture and is a cheap alternative. Plus, many of them come scented so it's like deordorant. Of course, I want to stay all natural so I planned on using unscented kitty litter. But when I went to the Dollar Store I found out that the price per pound was $2.00, which is outside of my $1.00 per pound rule. Since kitty litter is basically like a sand and gravel mixture. So I took the children to the playground and while I was there I scooped up some sand from the sandbox.
It's very simple to use sand as a yeast infection cure. I simply took a pair of Dan's old tidy whities and sewed a little liner using used floor cheese straining cloth. Yes, I boiled it first in the crockpot. There's no reason to believe I used whey encrusted cloth. Then I filled the little pocket with sand and voila I had something to soak up the moisture and remove it from my body without using chemicals. The best thing was that it was totally free. I used a cup I found in the playground trash to carry my sand.
I think this is a great, frugal way to combat yeast infections. I've also decided to use playground sand to soak up the urine on Daniel's mattress, to make a crunchy coating on crockpot chicken, and to use in my soap nut liquid cleaner as an abrasive.
How do you save money during yeast infections?
Yeast infections happen because the Lord has deemed my lady parts too hot to handle and with the kefir fumes, lacto-fermenting salsa coursing through my system, the general humidity in our home from the dripping Wonderwashed clothes and the weird green stuff growing on Brad my life is filled with mold spores. But this is how I planned it!
Doctors will tell you to use Monistat 7 but we believe doctors are in league with Eli Lilly and only want to make money. I have gone to Private Nourishing Organic Traditions to research natural ways to combat an itchy va-jay-jay. Plus, we believe in being frugal and spending $8.00 on a tube of cream is not in our budget.
I was happy to find out that kitty litter can do the trick. It soaks up moisture and is a cheap alternative. Plus, many of them come scented so it's like deordorant. Of course, I want to stay all natural so I planned on using unscented kitty litter. But when I went to the Dollar Store I found out that the price per pound was $2.00, which is outside of my $1.00 per pound rule. Since kitty litter is basically like a sand and gravel mixture. So I took the children to the playground and while I was there I scooped up some sand from the sandbox.
It's very simple to use sand as a yeast infection cure. I simply took a pair of Dan's old tidy whities and sewed a little liner using used floor cheese straining cloth. Yes, I boiled it first in the crockpot. There's no reason to believe I used whey encrusted cloth. Then I filled the little pocket with sand and voila I had something to soak up the moisture and remove it from my body without using chemicals. The best thing was that it was totally free. I used a cup I found in the playground trash to carry my sand.
I think this is a great, frugal way to combat yeast infections. I've also decided to use playground sand to soak up the urine on Daniel's mattress, to make a crunchy coating on crockpot chicken, and to use in my soap nut liquid cleaner as an abrasive.
How do you save money during yeast infections?
Friday, February 19, 2010
FAQ Friday, Part Two
I get a lot of questions because I’m so wise and intelligent that others seek my counsel on a regular basis. Therefore, this Friday will have a two-part FAQ. Aren’t you lucky?
Why are you so snippy?
I’m not snippy. Anyone who says so is just too unintelligent to understand my writing style. Further, if you don’t like what I have to say or do, keep it to yourself. We have a plan and that plan does not include mattresses, low-fat healthy foods, vegetables, adequate room for our children, birth control, cleanliness or living without stacks of crap everywhere. You’re lucky that I share my life with you in the first place let alone sending me critical comments because I think it’s okay for my three-year old to juggle knives and sleep in a crawlspace under the floorboards.
Do you control Dan?
No, I am a perfect submissive wife and if you ask Dan he better tell you the same thing unless he wants further caloric restrictions on his diet. Dan is the head of the household so he is the one who makes the final decisions. If I don’t agree with something he says I agree to his face but then I hide his shoes and withhold the kefir soda. It works for us. This is how we like our life.
You said that part of the Bible was outdated but you also have said that all of the Bible is unerringly true. Which is it?
If you’re too dense to know which parts of the Bible to follow then I can’t help you. You must not have gone to Ed Smith’s Super Dooper Bible College like I did for my year-long certificate in Loopy Bible Theory or attended an unaccredited Bible College of the Holy Basement like Dan, where they compare the Book of Job with Family Guy. Obviously, you don’t know anything about the Bible and I’m too busy with the crockpot to educate you. Further, if you should start asking me about inaccuracies in the Bible and my beliefs I’ll simply remove myself from the conversation. This topic is closed for discussion.
Why don’t you post any more recipes on your blog?
I have posted all the recipes of all the food we eat. We have a fourteen day meal rotation and never eat anything else. We like eating the same foods over and over and over again. The only reason Dan wakes up crying in the night is because he’s so grateful for the home cooked gloodles and lacto-fermented stevia I feed him. If he asks for something that’s not on our rotation I simply go on with my plan and hope he forgets about salads, fresh green beans, rice (which I don’t like so no one gets to eat it), fresh tomatoes and a bag of Funyuns once in a while. I’ve found that the less he eats the less he remembers to ask for different food so if he gets particularly upset about not ever having a Twinkie then I simply halve his food intake and pretty soon he spends most of his time passed out on the crusty sheets and I don’t have to cook anything but gloodles and crockpot bread.
Why won’t you accept gifts from well meaning people?
It is none of your business if we want to tie our children in plastic bags and hang them from the ceiling to sleep. When I asked for help to redesign the boys’ room I just wanted some adoring fans to simply tell me to stencil cars and trucks on the wall and maybe remove half the dust bunnies (Daniel has named the rest of them so they are staying!). Since it’s our decision to allow our children to wallow in filth and sleep underneath chain saws and play with matches, it is inappropriate for supposedly well meaning people to send mattresses and fresh food to us. If you want to send something to us you must ask first as we don’t appreciate spontaneous generosity. Approved items are: additional crockpot so our present crockpot, Maurice, can have a friend; King Arthur flour with weevils for extra protein; gift certificates for Star Trek dvds; boxes of band-aids for Vulcan ears; notebooks for Dan to write in and I can put in my revolutionary magazine rack; and codes for Swagbucks. Unapproved items include: mattresses; fresh food; junk food so Dan can have a small bit of pleasure in his life; fresh bedding; a new spatula; shoes for the children; in fact, anything for our children at all; or a plane ticket for Dan and the boys to run off to my evil, materialistic mother who will shower them with love and fresh food.
I sent a very nice and respectful comment and it wasn’t posted? Why?
Because it was well-written, well-reasoned and in some miniscule way questioned what I was doing and how it isn’t right to force my children to sleep under the couch or in the kitchen cabinets. If you don’t like everything I do and say or disagree with our plan in the slightest then don’t bother to comment at all. But please click on my blog repeatedly so I can make $4000 a day and hoard all the money so that I can afford my own semi-trailer home and a crate of deodorant lemons.
That’s it for FAQ Friday. I may post on Saturday if I feel like it and if I do you’ll be the luckiest reader in the world and feel free to weep with gratitude if I do. To whet your appetite for my outstanding Saturday posts, which are usually amazing in their originality (eg. magazine rack fun, printer ink information), I will post this Saturday about how to organize your fridge by putting large things on the shelves and small things in the door. Stay tuned!!!
Love,
Emily
Why are you so snippy?
I’m not snippy. Anyone who says so is just too unintelligent to understand my writing style. Further, if you don’t like what I have to say or do, keep it to yourself. We have a plan and that plan does not include mattresses, low-fat healthy foods, vegetables, adequate room for our children, birth control, cleanliness or living without stacks of crap everywhere. You’re lucky that I share my life with you in the first place let alone sending me critical comments because I think it’s okay for my three-year old to juggle knives and sleep in a crawlspace under the floorboards.
Do you control Dan?
No, I am a perfect submissive wife and if you ask Dan he better tell you the same thing unless he wants further caloric restrictions on his diet. Dan is the head of the household so he is the one who makes the final decisions. If I don’t agree with something he says I agree to his face but then I hide his shoes and withhold the kefir soda. It works for us. This is how we like our life.
You said that part of the Bible was outdated but you also have said that all of the Bible is unerringly true. Which is it?
If you’re too dense to know which parts of the Bible to follow then I can’t help you. You must not have gone to Ed Smith’s Super Dooper Bible College like I did for my year-long certificate in Loopy Bible Theory or attended an unaccredited Bible College of the Holy Basement like Dan, where they compare the Book of Job with Family Guy. Obviously, you don’t know anything about the Bible and I’m too busy with the crockpot to educate you. Further, if you should start asking me about inaccuracies in the Bible and my beliefs I’ll simply remove myself from the conversation. This topic is closed for discussion.
Why don’t you post any more recipes on your blog?
I have posted all the recipes of all the food we eat. We have a fourteen day meal rotation and never eat anything else. We like eating the same foods over and over and over again. The only reason Dan wakes up crying in the night is because he’s so grateful for the home cooked gloodles and lacto-fermented stevia I feed him. If he asks for something that’s not on our rotation I simply go on with my plan and hope he forgets about salads, fresh green beans, rice (which I don’t like so no one gets to eat it), fresh tomatoes and a bag of Funyuns once in a while. I’ve found that the less he eats the less he remembers to ask for different food so if he gets particularly upset about not ever having a Twinkie then I simply halve his food intake and pretty soon he spends most of his time passed out on the crusty sheets and I don’t have to cook anything but gloodles and crockpot bread.
Why won’t you accept gifts from well meaning people?
It is none of your business if we want to tie our children in plastic bags and hang them from the ceiling to sleep. When I asked for help to redesign the boys’ room I just wanted some adoring fans to simply tell me to stencil cars and trucks on the wall and maybe remove half the dust bunnies (Daniel has named the rest of them so they are staying!). Since it’s our decision to allow our children to wallow in filth and sleep underneath chain saws and play with matches, it is inappropriate for supposedly well meaning people to send mattresses and fresh food to us. If you want to send something to us you must ask first as we don’t appreciate spontaneous generosity. Approved items are: additional crockpot so our present crockpot, Maurice, can have a friend; King Arthur flour with weevils for extra protein; gift certificates for Star Trek dvds; boxes of band-aids for Vulcan ears; notebooks for Dan to write in and I can put in my revolutionary magazine rack; and codes for Swagbucks. Unapproved items include: mattresses; fresh food; junk food so Dan can have a small bit of pleasure in his life; fresh bedding; a new spatula; shoes for the children; in fact, anything for our children at all; or a plane ticket for Dan and the boys to run off to my evil, materialistic mother who will shower them with love and fresh food.
I sent a very nice and respectful comment and it wasn’t posted? Why?
Because it was well-written, well-reasoned and in some miniscule way questioned what I was doing and how it isn’t right to force my children to sleep under the couch or in the kitchen cabinets. If you don’t like everything I do and say or disagree with our plan in the slightest then don’t bother to comment at all. But please click on my blog repeatedly so I can make $4000 a day and hoard all the money so that I can afford my own semi-trailer home and a crate of deodorant lemons.
That’s it for FAQ Friday. I may post on Saturday if I feel like it and if I do you’ll be the luckiest reader in the world and feel free to weep with gratitude if I do. To whet your appetite for my outstanding Saturday posts, which are usually amazing in their originality (eg. magazine rack fun, printer ink information), I will post this Saturday about how to organize your fridge by putting large things on the shelves and small things in the door. Stay tuned!!!
Love,
Emily
Fock You Friday
Emily Answers some very imprtant questions...
Do you follow Bill Gothard's movement? Are you part of ATI or do you strive to be? Will you use their homeschooling program? Do you associate with the quiverfull movement? Have you read the No Longer Quivering blog?
I had to ask Dan who Bill Gothard was[See, I'm submissive, I really am. I could have swagbuck searched, but instead I asked the Head of the Household]. He described Bill Gothard as "the guy who believes that single women in their sixties should still live at home and be under the authority of their father, who is in his nineties." The fact that I had never heard of him means we don't follow his movement.[Actually it means that I haven't been told I follow his movement, or someone hasn't sent me a whacky article that makes absolutely no sense for me to jump on. If someone out there has an article of him saying mattresses are bad, or that lacto fermented food is good, I can change my mind and jump on that bandwagon]
Dan didn't know what "ATI" [Dna thought it eant Away Team Intelligence, snort!] was and neither did I, so I did a swagsearch [If the Head of the Household doesn't know, then it is permissable to swagsearch, but always go to your cousband first ladies] and came up with a bunch of odd technical things until I came across Bill Gothard's homeschooling curriculum site. Although I'm sure it is a fine curriculum, we are not planning on using it.[I'll be making my own curriclum from various fruitloop ideas I find on the internet. It is what is best for our family] I will be writing a separate post about what we will be using for curriculum in the future.[ And I bet it will be a doozy, and published right around a time when the blog is lagging in hits. I'll really rile them up with the half baked ideas I have for curriculum]
I wrote here about our lack of association with the quiverfull movement. [I don't want to be associated with them. Even though a lot of them are fruitloops too, too many of them are materialistic and give their children beds, food and clean clothes. That is not our plan]
I have come across the No Longer Quivering blog, but I don't keep up on it. If I remember correctly, the administrator believes that the Bible does teach families to desire a "full quiver", but that that part of the Bible is out-dated. [What I mean is, it didn't fit in with the plan we have for our family. It doesn't support some of my crazier ideas and it encourages women to escape a life of servitude. They really should just pretend to submissive to the cousbands and then take control of their lives. It can be done, I am doing it]
What do you wear when you swim?
I wear shorts and a t-shirt. I don't wear shorts any other time, since I find them not-so-cute, and I have a t-shirt designated for swimming. [we try not to swim too often though as the chlorine gets our clothes too clean and we feel that cleanliness leads to weakened immune systems. People in 3rd world countries have less illness than we do. No, it's true, I read it on http://www.whackedouttheoriestosuitmyneed.com/ and I'm not changing my mind, cleanliness will not be part of our home!]
On some of the forums that talk about you, people are talking about sending you gifts and things they think you need. What will you do with these things if you receive them?
It will depend on what it is. If it is something that we could use [like Star Trek DVD's or band aid ears] that would add value to our quality of life, we will keep it and use it[ if it's something than can add value to the kids lives, it will be craigslisted ot tossed]. If someone sends us something we don't need or can't use, it will go to charity. To those who are seriously thinking of boxing things up and sending them through the mail, feel free to email me first just to see if it is something we want [because if you even think about sending anything for my boys, I'll throw a snippy fit and tell you how it doesn't fit the plan]
How do you know that your children don't need glasses like you if you aren't taking them for regular check-ups?
First, a child's first eye routine exam is at six months. Both Bobby and Daniel went to their six month check-up and Thomas isn't old enough. The second is at the age of three. Daniel is going for regular check-ups and the other two boys are not old enough for this eye exam. [See how great a mom I am? I know when they need to go to the doctors and you all didn't. How dare you tell me when I am a master swagbuck searcher]
Second, considering the real possibility that what Daniel had was genetic,[Wait, I thought she had determined that it was caused from sleeping on and under the crib mattress? I'm confused again by Emily's contradictions] all the boys are going to doctor's appointments. I don't think routine visits before would have prevented a genetic disorder in Daniel, but I think that if either of the other boys has it, it will be helpful for them to have a solid medical history for doctors to work with [Too bad little Dna hadn;t been to the doctor's for routine visits before he was sick, it might have helped the doc's to have that history. Oh wait, it was the mattress, so it wouldn;t have mattered].
Third, my need for glasses is not genetic. Out of five biological siblings, I am the only one with glasses, but I will be writing about that topic in a separate post. [The story of how I got my glasses is so riveting, it deserves it's own post, but why my kids dont go to the doctor can be said in a snippy two paragraph's. Me, me, me, it's all about me.]
What kind of soap do you use to wash dishes?
I use Dawn foam in a pump. I've tried natural dish washing cleaners, but nothing works like Dawn. [although it doesn't work on my filthy crotchpot, or my pizza cutter, or the grout on my table]We have a lot of fat in our diet [and that is not changing, that is the plan, we like it that way and we always buy full fat tube beef] and thus have some greasy dishes [Whew! I'm glad she stopped at greasy dishes, I was afraid we were about to get another indepth look into their bathroom habits]. Dawn cuts grease. Nothing else comes close [I have sent Dawn the stats for my blog and I am really hoping they will want to advertise here]. I also use it as a laundry pretreater for grease stains I get from cooking and Dan gets from work.
Do you follow Bill Gothard's movement? Are you part of ATI or do you strive to be? Will you use their homeschooling program? Do you associate with the quiverfull movement? Have you read the No Longer Quivering blog?
I had to ask Dan who Bill Gothard was[See, I'm submissive, I really am. I could have swagbuck searched, but instead I asked the Head of the Household]. He described Bill Gothard as "the guy who believes that single women in their sixties should still live at home and be under the authority of their father, who is in his nineties." The fact that I had never heard of him means we don't follow his movement.[Actually it means that I haven't been told I follow his movement, or someone hasn't sent me a whacky article that makes absolutely no sense for me to jump on. If someone out there has an article of him saying mattresses are bad, or that lacto fermented food is good, I can change my mind and jump on that bandwagon]
Dan didn't know what "ATI" [Dna thought it eant Away Team Intelligence, snort!] was and neither did I, so I did a swagsearch [If the Head of the Household doesn't know, then it is permissable to swagsearch, but always go to your cousband first ladies] and came up with a bunch of odd technical things until I came across Bill Gothard's homeschooling curriculum site. Although I'm sure it is a fine curriculum, we are not planning on using it.[I'll be making my own curriclum from various fruitloop ideas I find on the internet. It is what is best for our family] I will be writing a separate post about what we will be using for curriculum in the future.[ And I bet it will be a doozy, and published right around a time when the blog is lagging in hits. I'll really rile them up with the half baked ideas I have for curriculum]
I wrote here about our lack of association with the quiverfull movement. [I don't want to be associated with them. Even though a lot of them are fruitloops too, too many of them are materialistic and give their children beds, food and clean clothes. That is not our plan]
I have come across the No Longer Quivering blog, but I don't keep up on it. If I remember correctly, the administrator believes that the Bible does teach families to desire a "full quiver", but that that part of the Bible is out-dated. [What I mean is, it didn't fit in with the plan we have for our family. It doesn't support some of my crazier ideas and it encourages women to escape a life of servitude. They really should just pretend to submissive to the cousbands and then take control of their lives. It can be done, I am doing it]
What do you wear when you swim?
I wear shorts and a t-shirt. I don't wear shorts any other time, since I find them not-so-cute, and I have a t-shirt designated for swimming. [we try not to swim too often though as the chlorine gets our clothes too clean and we feel that cleanliness leads to weakened immune systems. People in 3rd world countries have less illness than we do. No, it's true, I read it on http://www.whackedouttheoriestosuitmyneed.com/ and I'm not changing my mind, cleanliness will not be part of our home!]
On some of the forums that talk about you, people are talking about sending you gifts and things they think you need. What will you do with these things if you receive them?
It will depend on what it is. If it is something that we could use [like Star Trek DVD's or band aid ears] that would add value to our quality of life, we will keep it and use it[ if it's something than can add value to the kids lives, it will be craigslisted ot tossed]. If someone sends us something we don't need or can't use, it will go to charity. To those who are seriously thinking of boxing things up and sending them through the mail, feel free to email me first just to see if it is something we want [because if you even think about sending anything for my boys, I'll throw a snippy fit and tell you how it doesn't fit the plan]
How do you know that your children don't need glasses like you if you aren't taking them for regular check-ups?
First, a child's first eye routine exam is at six months. Both Bobby and Daniel went to their six month check-up and Thomas isn't old enough. The second is at the age of three. Daniel is going for regular check-ups and the other two boys are not old enough for this eye exam. [See how great a mom I am? I know when they need to go to the doctors and you all didn't. How dare you tell me when I am a master swagbuck searcher]
Second, considering the real possibility that what Daniel had was genetic,[Wait, I thought she had determined that it was caused from sleeping on and under the crib mattress? I'm confused again by Emily's contradictions] all the boys are going to doctor's appointments. I don't think routine visits before would have prevented a genetic disorder in Daniel, but I think that if either of the other boys has it, it will be helpful for them to have a solid medical history for doctors to work with [Too bad little Dna hadn;t been to the doctor's for routine visits before he was sick, it might have helped the doc's to have that history. Oh wait, it was the mattress, so it wouldn;t have mattered].
Third, my need for glasses is not genetic. Out of five biological siblings, I am the only one with glasses, but I will be writing about that topic in a separate post. [The story of how I got my glasses is so riveting, it deserves it's own post, but why my kids dont go to the doctor can be said in a snippy two paragraph's. Me, me, me, it's all about me.]
What kind of soap do you use to wash dishes?
I use Dawn foam in a pump. I've tried natural dish washing cleaners, but nothing works like Dawn. [although it doesn't work on my filthy crotchpot, or my pizza cutter, or the grout on my table]We have a lot of fat in our diet [and that is not changing, that is the plan, we like it that way and we always buy full fat tube beef] and thus have some greasy dishes [Whew! I'm glad she stopped at greasy dishes, I was afraid we were about to get another indepth look into their bathroom habits]. Dawn cuts grease. Nothing else comes close [I have sent Dawn the stats for my blog and I am really hoping they will want to advertise here]. I also use it as a laundry pretreater for grease stains I get from cooking and Dan gets from work.
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