Skeen in the New Year!

With 2009 right around the corner, I'm feeling the new year's resolution itch. You know most people like to make resolutions of things to do like lose weight or stop smoking or stop itching, in my case. Not Bryan and I. We like to make resolutions of things that we aren't going to do. That way we can't fail at resolutions. Take that all you fatties who get suckered into those gym memberships that you use for like one month and then you stop going. We ain't failing this year, 2009. We're not making resolutions this year, we're making a revolution.

So, 2009, here is our list of what we promise not to do this year:

1. Do drugs. (But don't ask us to give up our wine.)


2. Have a baby.


3. Steal things from our neighbors. (We've looked through their stuff -- it's not that good. )


4. Cut our hair. (That's right, amish-style.)


5. Start our own business. (Our corndog stand idea didn't work out this past year...so we're given up on our dream of a frozen banana stand. for now at least. of course you know what they say: when life gives you lemons, eat a frozen banana dipped in chocolate.)


6. Lose any weight. (Let's be honest, it's hard.)


7. Gain any weight. (and by not gaining weight, I mean baby weight)
   
8. Invest in anything. (Penny for your stocks?)


9. Have a baby.


10. Go green. (One word: we don't care enough. And this year we're going blue. Figure that one out.)

I wish you all good luck. And when you fail, you'll be thanking us for reversing this sick joke called new year's resolutions.

HAPPY NEW YEAR!!!

Carlos says "Hairy Christmas!"

(Look, you don't have to laugh. It's not that funny. Truth is, I was at my parents house and I had this old picture of Carlos in a Burberry scarf and I posted it with a cheesy tagline. You caught me at a weak moment. I ran out of material. I ran out of material and I couldn't write about my family because they read this blog. So, don't laugh. Really, it's okay. Merry Christmas. Seriously. Merry, not Hairy. In fact, do not have a hairy christmas. I don't even know what that means.)

"Saving money makes me laugh..."

Today Bryan told me that he thinks savings accounts are a funny thing.

I'm still waiting for the punch line.

(Chicken) Bones, Thugs & Harmony

We woke up this morning to find an old chicken bone on our front porch. I, being slightly paranoid-schizophrenic, was a little concerned about this. Perhaps this was the sign of a local gang just before they strike? Maybe a chicken bone on the front porch is equivalent to a dead horse head in your bed? Did we somehow piss off the Kerrville Mafia? Is there a Kerrville Mafia? Maybe they meet at KFC every Thursday night after Grey's Anatomy and then kill people. Maybe they saw my post from the other night and the chicken bone on the front porch is a Sweet Sue's potted poultry bone. Maybe I've pissed off the un-natural food gods. Forver more I will be haunted by spray cheese in a can and have cases of vienna sausages thrown at my doorway.

Anyways, I googled "chicken bone on the front porch" just in case we should be worried or on the look out for a mafia crime to follow in the next couple of days. The results were uncanny and unfortuantely, very unconclusive. No signs of mafia or gang crimes related to chicken bones, but I did get a hit for a myspace profile. "Chicken Bone, female, 44 years old." To which I reply: Dear Ms. Chicken Bone, what a weird name to give oneself. And i'm assuming by the age and the existence of a myspace profile, you are tragically single and looking. As with most food names, Chicken Bone is not a good marketing tool for internet dating. Neither is Roast Beef or Doritos. On the other hand, I didn't think Meat Loaf was a good name either, but he sure did prove me wrong. Somehow I've gotten off subject...

So as Google says, we are safe from gang or mafia violence in Kerrville. For now, anyways. You know what they say....Curiosity killed the Chicken, then cut off it's foot, skinned it and placed the bone on someone's front door.

Whatever happened to just toliet papering someone's house? Or throwing kool aid all over the yard so when the sprinklers come on, it turns the lawn blue or red? Or even a burning sack of dog dookie? Now that's funny. But chicken bones on a front porch? You people are sick. Wherever you may be.

You say Tomato, I say Pizza.

I said I wanted a salad for dinner. Bryan's response? "You want to go to Mr. Gatti's...or CiCi's?"

At this point, I'm not even sure he proposed to me. I think we both showed up at the chapel on the same day, at the same time.

Mr. Gatti's for a salad? I do.

Where is the FDA?

While on the search for Velveeta tonight at HEB, we ran into this:

I vomited. I vomited all the way back to the car.

We never made it back for the Velveeta. I guess we'll have to settle for real cheese.

A Case of the Monday's

A couple of loose thoughtlings from today:

1. Why does panty hose come in un-human colors? I kept looking down all day and dialing 911 because I thought I had finally developed diabetes and my feet had died and needed to be amputated. But no, I was just wearing panty hose in the color "Putrid". I swear someone whispered "Jaundice" when I walked by today. Of course, I had also accidentally marked all on my face with a yellow highlighter, so maybe they were referring to that.

2. What's with wrapping presents? I'm so over that business. I mean it's December 15th and none of my gifts are wrapped and you know what I think? So freaking what. It's such a waste of money and valuable facebook time. I think I'm going to start wrapping my gifts in something useful, like an old blanket or paper towels. Or better yet, t-shirts. You still get the unvieling affect when you take the shirt off the present. When my family looks at my oddly, I'll just say I'm going green.

3. Nevermind.

4. Kerrville does not like my rust colored pants today. But they do like my teal windbreaker and dallas cowboys cut-off jersey.

5. And lastly, this is what my hair looks like in the morning:

Apparently my dreams are explosive. When I looked in the mirror, I checked my pillow for blood; I was for sure my brain had seeped out during the night. But alas no hole, no blood. Just a need for a long shower and a lot of detangler.

Mean Skeen Cleaning Machine

Do you know how we tell that it's time to do laundry in the Skeen household? When socks and panties start falling out of our pants in public. That means we've worn that pair of pants one too many times.

I hope you are laughing at this point, because this is a serious matter. Tonight a sock fell out of Bryan's pants and sure enough when I got home, I looked in the laundry room we had a pile of dirty clothes waiting to be washed. Works everytime.

Some people use calendars to keep their lives in order, we use dirty laundry.

hold the presses

I wrote this.
http://biz.yahoo.com/bw/081205/20081205005075.html?.v=1