What have you been up to? I was just researching online about how to fix a leaky outdoor faucet. Then I realized that if I had time to think about doing something like that just so I could have bragging rights over my husband (along with the superior attitude), then I had time to blog.

A couple of weeks ago, I got the coolest t-shirt! It says, “Last Night A Blogger Saved My Live.”

Find your own at JC Penny’s

How awesome is that? I’m pretty sure that other bloggers have saved my life a few times, so it’s true.

AND, when I wore the shirt on Saturday, I happened to save my newborn nephew’s life. Maybe. Possibly. And let’s not get tied up in semantics about I’m the blogger and who saved my life and whatnot. The point is that I wore that shirt and then did a good deed. Basically, I suggested that my sister-in-law, who was 39 weeks preggers, go into the doctor when she experienced some unusual symptoms. She thought it wasn’t anything to worry about, but I insisted. I drove her to the hospital, and it turned out she needed an emergency c-section. It all worked out; everyone is healthy now. Thank God. And blogger t-shirt magic.

The new baby’s name is Logan. (Should have been named Angelo after me, or perhaps Baby Biscuit, but whatever.) I posted pictures of him on my personal Facebook page. Then I posted a photo of the nurse holding him up like the daddy lion does in The Lion King, and I captioned it “Baby Simba.” A friend thought I posted two babies — twins, since the names were different: baby Logan and baby Simba.

That made me laugh so hard. There is only one baby, but what a name combination for twins! Logan and Simba. How about Isaac and Jin-Choo? Or Thurman and Seamus? Destiny and Edna? Biscuit and Pita Chip?

Do you have funny name combination suggestions just in case any readers are having twins? Or stories of life-saving bloggers? Please post them in the comments!

I didn’t mean to offend you. I realized today that my last article was about ruthless prioritization and then I didn’t post in a month. Skeptics would say that my readers are not important to me, but that couldn’t be further from the truth.

The reality is that I’ve been very busy with the only things that take priority, which are mainly family and work. Here’s a true illustration of my commitment to you:

I have fire ants in my bed. Every few nights or so, one or two mysteriously appear on my side of the bed, deep in the sheets. This has been going on for a couple of months. The fire ants seem near death when I find them every morning because I destroy them in my fitful sleep, but still.

When I first found a few ants in my room, I deep cleaned and had the pest control guy out and whatnot. My mattress is new, and I wash my bedding vigilantly. The ants went away for a while, but now they’re back to get me. The only explanation I can come up with for the new ants is that there’s an air vent over my side of the bed, and one fire ant at a time drops down from the ceiling occasionally.

Every day I forget to call my pest control company about the new ants. The owner goes to my church, and I told him about this issue on Sunday. He asked why I hadn’t called, and I shrugged. I’m too busy with other things to worry about fire ants biting my legs in the middle of the night. On Monday, he called me to follow up. I still haven’t returned the call.

Because of the the ants — and possibly the wine — alligators, snakes, piranhas, and more snakes visit me each night in my dreams and snap at me.

But here I am, posting on this blog when I could be taking action against the things really causing the bites on my behind.

So, the blog ranks here: God, family, work, the hit TV series Homeland, blog readers, urgent fire ant problem.

I hope you know how much I appreciate you all.

Love,
TCB

With a huge company to run and a newborn baby, that’s how she determines how to spend her precious minutes. I’ve been trying to run my life with ruthless prioritization because it’s the only way I can stay on top of things. It’s not super fun, but I’ve become quite an efficient machine. Plus, with only a few Christmas-related exceptions, I haven’t stepped foot into TJ Maxx or Michael’s in a couple of years, which has saved me hours upon hours. Those stores make my blood run warm and sweet… oh gosh, the self-control makes my body ache. I need some unneccessary craft products NOW!

But ruthless. I love the word ruthless. It implies an unmatched level of sharp, logical decisions that might hurt feelings and make people mad, depending on where they rank in your priority ladder. It’s not personal. Ninjas and CIA agents are ruthless—all the cool people, you know. I love the word because I romanticize it, and I romanticize it because I’m the opposite of ruthless. I’m a softie people pleaser who cries at the drop of a hat and is distracted by fun and interesting things. Usually.

The only exception is when it comes to Santa Claus. I’ve always gotten pleasure from telling children that there is no Santa and then laughing at them when they cry. I tell them with laser-like focus and intensity. Then I laugh.

What can I do for you today?

Are you ruthless? How? And most importantly, why? I think it’s important that you enjoy it.

*I had lots of wine while writing this and thought it was hilarious. My bad. Also, I haven’t spilled the beans on Santa since I was five or six, but the thought of those kids’ faces still makes me laugh.

The submarine belt buckle reminded me of the somewhat questionable clothing I’ve recently worn.

Me, in a bright green blouse and purple coat, ready for a party: How do I look? Is it too colorful?

Andy: Uhhh… good. Kinda like the Joker, but in a good way.

How is that good? Do I need to change?

Andy: It’s the Joker’s colors. Just like if I had on all black you’d say I looked like Batman.

No. No, I wouldn’t say that.

My husband and my best friend both criticize my clothing choices on a regular basis, but as long as they hurl creative insults, I’m okay with it. I recently brought home a fitted leopard print dress. I was a little unsure about what to wear to a special event, and I thought it was a safe move. Wait… I thought a full-body animal print was safe? Gosh, there’s a strong possibility I have horrible taste.

Do you like this dress?

Andy: Mmm, no. You look like a New Jersey mob wife. It fits well, but it’s too much. What’s with that gold chain on the neck? Is that part of the dress?

Yes, it’s part of the dress. This is a nice brand. You really don’t like it? Would you be embarrassed to be seen with me?

Yeah, I would. You look like a cougar at a Holiday Inn bar. I don’t like it at all.

What??? The Holiday Inn bar? I don’t even get the Hilton?

No, not the Hilton. This is definitely more of a Holiday Inn look.

My friend, who came over later to give an opinion: Mmm, I don’t know. Are those the shoes you would wear with it? (pointing to the black bootie heels I had out)

Yes… (slipping shoes on so she could get the full effect)

(snickering turning to outright laughter) You look like Stifler’s Mom.

Regarding Stifler’s mom from the American Pie movies: It’s not what I was going for.

So that was a solid no on the leopard print dress with extraneous gold chains.

A couple of weeks later these two told me that my new scarf looked like a Bill Cosby sweater. They advised that wearing the scarf and matching hat sent me over the edge into African Diplomat territory, but the scarf on its own was acceptable because Bill Cosby sweaters are still in the midst of a comeback. It was a risk I was willing to take. I looked Cosby-tastic on my recent trip to NYC and got preferred parking at several United Nations sites.

Check out these Bill Cosby sweater cookies:

You know you’ve reached the pinnacle of pop culture success when you’ve been embodied in sugar cookie form. Photo from kscakes.blogspot.com

What odd trinkets/ belt buckles/ scarves/ general weird clothing are you a fan of right now? Do you receive any entertaining insults?

In other words, how will I know what set of keys to match you up with? You probably need to read my last post for this to make any sense whatsoever.

It was already dark when some friends and I got out of the car to go into the theater, but a set of keys on the ground in the parking lot caught my eye. I picked them up and looked around; the owner was nowhere in sight. The keychain had a yellow submarine on it. In the back of my mind I knew I had recently seen another yellow submarine, but I couldn’t pinpoint it. Hmm. I turned the keys in at the theater desk hoping that the owner was in the movies and not at one of the several surrounding restaurants or shops.

Once we were settled with our popcorn and drinks, I recognized one of the people sitting in front of me. She works in customer service at a store I frequent. She’s easy to remember because she has a very alternative look, but there was no reason for her to know me so I didn’t say hello.

Halfway through the movie, it dawned on me. The last place I saw a yellow submarine (besides on the keychain) was on this woman’s belt buckle when she helped me in customer service about two months earlier. I just knew that the keys had to be hers. I couldn’t concentrate on the movie anymore because 1) Marius sounded like a frog (in the movie), and 2) I could not wait to tell this chick that I found her keys that she probably didn’t even know were missing.

So, as soon as the good part of the credits were over, I tapped her on the shoulder and asked if she happened to be missing her keys. She replied, “Do they have a yellow submarine keychain?”

YES! Oh my gosh! Yes, they do!

Excited and breathless, I told her how I found them in the parking lot and I recognized her from the store and I knew she had a yellow submarine belt buckle so I figured they were hers and OH MY… She started to get a really creeped out look on her face.

I tried to pretend like this wasn’t weird by joking that everyone should have matching keys and belts so we’d know whose stuff belonged to who, but it didn’t help. Then I started explaining how amazing this was. Frankly, I expected her to be a little more in awe of the coincidence and my sharp observational skills. However, she pretty much mumbled thanks, looked at me like I was a stalker, and then promptly got up to get her keys from the front desk. I wonder if she suspected foul play. There I thought I was used by God to make her day better, and she thought I was sent from Satan to freak her out.

On the way out of the theater, I explained the whole story to my friends who had only witnessed part of the conversation, and they were appropriately amazed. THANK GOODNESS they were because I was gonna be really disappointed if nobody thought this was remarkable. They laughed about how she must have thought I was so weird, but the whole situation was a series of cool coincidences. I found the keys, the owner happened to be sitting right in front of me in in the same movie in a huge theater/restaurant/shopping complex, I recognized her, and I remembered she had a yellow submarine belt buckle.

Tell me that’s not cool. Oh, and I’d like to go by Sherlock from now on. (Have you seen that new show Elementary about Sherlock Holmes? It’s a fun show! I highly recommend.) But I’m actually not like Sherlock at all. I read Les Mis the book, listened to the soundtrack repeatedly in college, saw the play, and still couldn’t remember the story. It was all new to me. In my defense, I’ve read several books by French and English authors about Paris; it’s like a French prostitute stew up in that part of my brain. And I think I’ll end with that statement.

While it’s not really my thing—my taste doesn’t extend beyond plastic costume jewelry—it’s nice to have an easy gift to buy for my family members who do enjoy collecting the charms. Pandora has a bead for everything. You can buy them to commemorate events and symbolize vacations, people, or activities. For a limited time, you can even buy a Black Friday charm that looks like a little gift box.

Andy and I saw a Pandora commercial last night, and it made us laugh. It’s so cheesy—please enjoy: Jared Galleria of Jewelry commercial for Pandora on iSpot.tv. The fact that they blush over the Red Hot Love bead made us crack up. It was late, and I was under the influence of cold medicine, but still.

The beads and charm choices are designed with the blushing suburban lady in mind. If you are that woman, Pandora wants you to “express your personal style.” But how can Pandora executives judge what women want? And Pandora likes to push the limits to find new best sellers, so they put riskier charm choices in select test markets to see how they perform.

But sometimes women reject these test market charms, and family members are too scared to buy them as gifts because they might not be well received. Believe it or not, there have been charms on the market that were potentially more embarrassing than the Red Hot Love bead, and some were simply depressing.

Here’s a list of Pandora charms that were such poor sellers they were immediately removed from shelves, never to be spoken of again. And now, Tall Curly Biscuit presents…

Pandora Bombs

1. Stomach Flu Weekend 2012 Charm with flecks of viral matter suspended in amber
2. The Nagging Charm in sterling silver
3. Serpent Cult Charm in silver-plated lead
4. Wealthy Industrialist “I once laid off 500 workers” Bead in 14k gold
5. Television Viewing Charm with abstract gold design
6. Teenage Pregnancy Charm with enamel umbilical cord, baby, and school bag
7. North Korea Charm in matte gray with uranium
8. 5000^th Load of Laundry Charm with cubic zirconium chips
9. Anal Sex Charm in murano glass
10. The Hider Bead for storing small amounts of cocaine in a non-reactive murano glass screwtop
11. Second Cousin Once Removed Family Love Charm with red enamel heart
12. Low Cholesterol Achievement Bead in wood

Rumor has it that a few Pandora marketing folks will be fired over some of these bead decisions for what the company says was “a total lack of judgment with regard to our target market.”

Did you discover any other Pandora Bombs before they were yanked from the shelves?

*Thanks to Andy who came up with all of these while I rolled on the floor laughing. ♥

I asked for nothing. My husband wanted me to ask for a rain jacket so I will stop stealing his extra jacket the one time every two years that we happen to be out in the rain (he holds grudges, apparently), but I didn’t ask for anything.* I could have slept late, but instead we got up early to help with a service project. I could have requested that we drive into the city to go to my favorite Thai restaurant, but instead we saw the new James Bond movie and ate pizza. I could have asked for an ice cream cake, but instead I selflessly baked my own birthday cakes (yes, plural). Ah, the supreme control spent on goodness for the family.

The power trip wore off by 4:00 p.m. when I started craving fine leather goods and lemongrass, but whatever. Then it was time for wine.

Family and friends gave me some fun and thoughtful gifts—they’re sweet! I have to share one of the gifts with you: my mom helped my 10-year-old daughter craft a beautiful box out of paint and molded clay.

Isn’t this pretty?

I was almost choked up with tears of joy from the thoughtfulness, but there was more. My daughter insisted that I open the box.

Cue the sarcastic horror music and laugh track. If anyone searches “decapitated head” and finds this humor blog, I think they’ll be disappointed.

This surprise decapitated Barbie head was good for multiple laughs throughout the day, and I have a feeling she’ll show up in someone’s Christmas present.

I love humor gifts, and this one reminded me of another funny gift. I used to—and still do—keep a healthy supply of restaurant napkins in my glove compartment. One of my favorite gifts ever was when my college roomies went around to every fast food restaurant near the campus and collected napkins for my truck. Who knew Wendy’s napkins could be so thoughtful and hilarious?

Hmm. I guess you had to be there.

Well, I’m over this low maintenance birthday thing. The power trip alone no longer works because right now I have to wash the cake stands from my birthday cakes that I made. Yep, I become high maintenance starting NOW. I hereby demand ice cream cake, Thai food, and genuine leather goods for no good reason.

What’s your ideal birthday—or for those among you who are also high maintenance—your ideal regular day?

*Further explanation: My husband owns a water-repellent jacket and an official rain jacket. Once every two years, he lets me borrow his official rain jacket because it’s the smaller of the two. He’s nice about it, but it secretly drives him crazy. Both jackets are ugly, so I don’t know why he cares. I can only figure that he’s a rules guy, and it’s important to him that he is wearing Official Waterproof Fabric in the drizzle. And he’s willing to spend big money so I can have an official rain jacket of my very own. WE PRACTICALLY LIVE IN THE DESERT. But, guess what? After my birthday—after he had given me a non-waterproof present because I refused his rain jacket overtures—I found the perfect pink rain jacket at an outlet store and purchased it. My husband practically thanked me for spending money on what I consider to be a frivolous item. There’s a lesson in here somewhere, ladies. Please don’t use it for too much evil.

Between that and the helpful reader comments on Brussels sprouts and squash from my last post, I thought about all the helpful foodie hints that I’ve collected over the years, and I want to share.

1. As of this weekend, I know that lamb + caraway seed = smells and tastes like a band of Gypsies.
2. People who eat the grapes in fruit salad march to the beat of their own drummer. Weirdoes!
3. Even when you are in an alcohol and snack emergency, DO NOT MIX Flavor Blasted Goldfish and red wine. This causes a flavor blasted chemical reaction that will make your whole party very ill.
   

   Consuming two glasses of wine and Flavor Blasted Goldfish will chemically react to create another kind of blast that you do not want to experience. Hey, I didn’t have any other snack food at my house, okay? This is a reenactment, but in real life, I passed out in the restroom for an unknown amount of hours. My friends who partook in the Goldfish had this too. WEIRD.

4. We get spoiled to Halloween bounty very quickly. Look at me complaining about the Butterfingers and Snickers polluting our candy bucket.
5. There is no wrong time to add a pepper of some kind to your food, but too much Cinnamon Trident will permanently burn your tongue.
6. Do not enter a roach eating contest, no matter how tasty they look. A man in Florida recently died from eating 50 live roaches to win a competition. The prize was a python, but he never even got to enjoy his new snake because he was dead.
7. Nobody knows what the blue Gatorade is called, but it probably includes the word blast. And what’s the clear flavor called? How are we supposed to speak intelligently about drinks that don’t have fruit names to match the color?
8. You can eat this candy and consider it a health food because of the ginger. Just like I do with those delicious Ricola cough drops! They’re medicine.

No matter what, eat your veggies and have a lovely day!

This month is our one-year blog anniversary! Even if you and I got in touch well after last fall, we can backdate it in our minds because I’m not sure that anyone cares. Eat some cake anyway! I choose a big piece of butter cake with chocolate frosting and lots of vanilla ice cream. What about you?

Unfortunately I’m gonna have to eat imaginary cake because I’m kind of on a diet, and I’ve already had my daily allotment of peanut butter oatmeal chocolate chip cookie dough. I’m on a food plan that was customized for me, by me. It’s not really working all that well.

Our first blogiversary. Can you believe it?

A lot of things have happened over the past year:

• My husband and I have had lots of good laughs over your funny comments and blogs.
• Dried organic goji berries. Try ‘em.
• I’ve taken a really awesome editing job at Movable Media (in spite of this blog, not because of it).
• I finally painted my kitchen table. Sewing bedroom curtains?  Eh, that’s another story.
• Bangs.
• The Twitter. (Over 1,100 followers, and most speak English!)
• I went from hating Brussels sprouts to roasting large quantities with sea salt every week. My children are least happy about this change.

Don’t be jealous of my thrilling activities and barely mediocre success over the past year. My kids still think I’m embarrassing.

Thank you for all your support and love through comments, Facebook likes, Twitter follows, and shoutouts in person. I’ve also met lots of cool bloggers online who I fully intend on latching onto like a toddler on the leg if we ever end up at a blogging conference together. I stalk a few additional bloggers because they make me laugh, and, although they do not know I exist or chose to ignore me, I’ll add ‘em to my shout out list anyway.

These friends and stalking victims include but are not limited to:

Robin at Hollow Tree Ventures (I wish we were related and she were forced to spend holidays with me.)
My aunt Jeanie, President of the TCB fan club (She IS forced to spend holidays with me.)
Nicole at Ninja Mom Blog
Jamie at Six Oak Street
The Possum Posse music and blog
Alistair at Scaryduck (He does not acknowledge my existence, but I stalk him.)
Roo at Nice Girl Notes
DJ at Thoughts from Paris
Kim at One Classy Motha
Paige at There’s More Where That Came From
Perry at Nouveau Old
Amanda at Parenting by Dummies
Jen at Jeneral Insanity
Leslie at The Bearded Iris (The ellipsis article changed my professional life.)
Susan at Divine Secrets of a Domestic Diva
Ramsay at Trinity Pest Management (Don’t ask.)
Jenny at TheBloggess (Thanks for the tear-producing laughs and for taking my money each month.)

What would you like to see this blog do over the next year? Step it up to moderate success instead of mediocre? Would you at least like the Brussels sprouts recipe?