Dear Mr. Kirby,

I love your vacuum. Thank you for the 210 minute presentation in June. It was exactly how I wanted to spend my Saturday.

Question- In that amount of time, your rep could have cleaned my entire house. Why stop at one room?

Today, the same girl who poured flour on my carpet, offered me a vacuum cleaner massage, and gave me an entirely new opinion of the phrase, “vacuum cleaner salesman” came by my house… again.

She stated, “You look so familiar.”

I said, “I should. You spent 3 and 1/2 hours trying to sell me a vacuum in June.”

She started telling me how all of my neighbors are going to let her clean a room. It really helps her out because Kirby pays her twenty-five dollars…  (At this point, I had tuned her out, and was thinking about what to make for dinner.)

In case you want to send her by again, I thought I would write you a little note. For the record, I do not care about the following:

- Her free trip to Vegas, even though she has always wanted to go and could never afford it.

- How I can get a special deal today only- she just needs to get approval from her manager. “WAIT! OMG! I have him on the phone! He is going to offer you the BEST DEAL EVER! I can’t believe he is doing this! Thank you, thank you, thank you, Mr. Manager! You don’t know how much this MEANS to me!”

- If she sells one more, she will bonus.

- She gets paid $25 whether she makes the sell, or not, and really needs money for school.

- “It is SO HOT out here today! I would enjoy coming in and cooling off!”

- “It is only one room. I won’t be NEARLY as talkative this time!”

- About your special financing. There is nothing special about a bazillion percent interest.

Please tell your Kirby rep that we have a magical system called the internet- where Kirby vacuum cleaners are going for $500 on EBay.

Love,

FrickinMom

(Your Biggest Fan, Ever)

P.S. Thanks for cleaning up the throw-up from my car seat.

I can be bought. I’ll admit it. My brand loyalty only goes as far as the freebies. There is nothing like a good drawing or give-away to get me all worked up.

I don’t even care what the prize is- if there is a drawing or a contest, I am sure to enter. In fact, just this year I have won t-shirts, hats, a bike, hair cuts, chocolate, money, movie tickets, motocross tickets, and a free trip.

As far as parades- I love them. Love the candy, love the coupons, and love, love, love coming home with a hat and t-shirt from the some random dental office.

Apparently, one of my coworkers feels the same way. Macey’s Market is holding a contest involving song tunes, lyrics, and their coupon book, and Scott Cowley is going for the gold. My favorite line: “Can’t find a better ham.”

My thoughts: Go Scott! If I were the judge, you would be a shoo-in.

I did it. I bought a trampoline.

Is it a blast? Yes.

Do our children love it? Yes.

Am I a complete moron? Frick. Yes. Yes, I am.

I grew up on a trampoline. Literally. We jumped, got sunburned, drank Diet Cokes, and slept on that bad-boy all summer long. Some of my first relationships started and ended on that trampoline. (What can I say? Relationships don’t last long when you’re a teenager. Think about your teenage romances. OK, that’s enough. Come back to me.)

When we were at Primary Children’s Medical Center with Jon last year, we vowed to protect our children from anything that could cause sickness or injury. We never wanted to see a child struggle to live again. This means no trampolines, four-wheelers, wave-runners, skateboards or breathing for our children. A year later we have eased up on the germaphobeness (Yes, that is a word. OK, fine. Maybe not.) and are becoming a little more normal.

Like most husband/wife discussions, our trampoline talk went like this: 

Lori: The kids really want a trampoline.

Tim: Hmmm.

The next day

Lori: Sadie was asking for a trampoline, again. There is a tramp at Kid’s Camp and she loves it.

Tim: Oh.

A couple days later

Lori: Trampolines are ugly and will make our yard look like white trash. I am having such a hard time deciding whether or not we should buy one. 

Tim: Yeah.

A week or so later

Lori: Corinne wants a trampoline, too. She has been begging for one. I loved jumping on our trampoline when I was a teenager.

Tim: Yeah.

Later that day

Lori: I think I am going to buy a trampoline.

Tim: I thought you said they were dangerous.

Lori: They are. There are the same number of admissions to PCMC for trampoline injuries as skateboards, bikes, and four-wheelers combined. We shouldn’t get one.

Last Saturday

Lori: I am on my way to SLC to buy a trampoline.

Question:  What is more awesome than a Fireman?

Answer: Nothing.

I hung out with the Utah County Fire Chief for a few minutes and he let me take some video of the fire today. (Watch the video of a helicopter putting out the fire below.) He also gave me the following information:

- There are three helicopters working to put out the fire.
- The helicopters each carry a bucket with 500 gallons of water, which weighs 3500 pounds.
- They have a 30-man crew working the fire.
- They have been fighting the fire since early this afternoon, and expect to have it extinguished by tomorrow.

A resident of the neighborhood to the west  (where the fire started) said that he saw a couple of boys shooting guns by the water tank and it was his belief that they started the fire. It was within minutes of him hearing gun shots that he first saw smoke. (BTW- the guy at the end of the video is my source.) When he mentioned this to the fire chief, the chief responded that they will find out who started the fire, and its point of origin. He also stated when they locate the fire-starters, those involved can be held responsible for the entire cost.

The resident said that they came really close to being evacuated. Livestock in the neighborhood was evacuated because the fire burned right up to the barns.

If you live close by, you may have heard some explosions. These were on Camp Williams property and were most likely ammunition on the ground that the fire ignited.

Watch the video of a helicopter fighting the fire.

As any good mother would do, I recently took my 13 year-old to see Jacob, Edward and our BFF, Bella Swan, in Eclipse. This was an excellent move (and yes, I meant move, not movIE). Nothing says parental responsibility like escorting your teen to uplifting movies that encourage chastity and virtue. I am pretty sure I scored points in Heaven for this outing.

The movie is definitely better than the 2nd, but I was disappointed that they didn’t include another Edward/Bella piggy-back scene, flying up a mountain like the first. Nothing and I mean nothing can top that. It was truly magical.

However, they made up for this minor mistake by making all the vampires hotter. IMHO, this definitely helped. Instead of Edward looking like someone struggling with insomnia and allergies, he looked like a guy that hadn’t seen any sun in awhile and needed a strong prescription of Zoloft.

What can I say about Jacob? I am worried about criticizing this teen God, for fear that a 40 year-old, screaming, Mom-of-four will attack me, or bake me cookies with Ex-lax. I will unknowingly take these cookies to work where we will overload our bathroom pipes causing the entire city of Bluffdale to shut down. Pretty soon the Mayor or other city official who dissed our office Open House, will be knocking on our door demanding retribution. This would get me fired, and I love my job, so that is no good.

Instead, I will say: If you are 17 or younger (but not too young, so if you are my 13 year-old daughter, Corinne, please skip this paragraph) you are allowed to have dreams of Jacob running towards you in a field of flowers. Feel free to add a unicorn, a rainbow, and a midget, if you like.

Bella. Oh my darling, Bella. How can I help you, Sweetheart? You are a very confused young lady. I think that you need counseling, new friends, and a mother/daughter “wait until you are married,” talk. Every time you spoke, I felt like I needed to cover my daughter’s ears. Please stop. Please, please, please, stop talking.

FrickinMom’s Eclipse Movie Review:

58 minutes of Bella talking/asking/begging to do certain indoor activities with Edward

22 minutes of Vampire history

12 minutes of Edward resisting Bella

10 minutes of Edward and Jacob fighting over Bella

9 minutes of Bella kissing/hugging/loving and denying her feelings for Jacob

7 minutes of Jacob looking hot

6 minutes of Vampires fighting each other

Final Thoughts

Favorite line from the movie: Edward speaking to Bella about Jacob, “Doesn’t he own a shirt?”

Also, I would rather marry a dog than a blood-sucking, depressed creep that isn’t alive. How about you? Would you rather live forever as a member of the undead?

Related posts: Frickin Bella, Frickin New Moon

My iPhone died on Sunday. It was quite traumatic. In fact, I believe I went through all seven stages of grief.

Stage 1. Shock and Denial: At first, I kept trying to turn it on. I was in denial that it had truly died. When I couldn’t get it to turn on, I asked my husband to try. What?! An iPhone dying? NO FRICKIN WAY! This never happens.

Stage 2. Pain and Guilt: What had I done to my poor iPhone? It was working earlier that day. Is it because I had constantly cursed AT&T’s crappy network? Is it because I skipped Church on Sunday? I am SORRY!

Stage 3. Anger & Bargaining: Stupid iPhone! After all I had done for it! I protected it against the elements, kept it fully charged and THIS is how it treats me? It didn’t even say goodbye! Please iPhone- I will do ANYTHING! Please, please, please come back!

Stage 4. Depression, Rejection, Loneliness: I miss my phone. I miss texting. I miss Facebooking. I miss Tweeting. I don’t even have energy to get out of bed. How will I update the world with what I ate for lunch on Twitter? I can’t survive without you. Come BAAAAACK!

State 5. The Upward Turn: I can do this. I can live one day without an iPhone. The Apple Store is open tomorrow. I can make it!

Stage 6. Reconstruction & Working Through: What?! I have a home phone! Who knew? I didn’t know these even existed anymore. Better yet, my calls are never dropped. Between that and my laptop, I think I can survive this crisis!

Stage 7. Acceptance & Hope: I now know that it is possible to live 24 hours without an iPhone. Sure, you may lose a mayorship or two on Foursquare, but lack of a phone does not have to cause permanent depression.

Why I Heart the Apple Store

My cute husband made an appointment for me at the Genius Bar yesterday. This made me feel pretty important. I had a scheduled appointment with a genius. I think I may have “arrived.”

I show up right on time and a cute little Cortnie welcomes me, offers me a beverage and asks me if I would like to have a seat. OK, maybe I exaggerated a little there. But, she did welcome me, take down my name and told me a genius would be with me shortly. Then something magical happened! I saw my name appear on a screen. It was almost like I was watching a stand-by seat open for a free flight to Figi!

Within a few minutes, JD showed up. JD is the bomb. He asked me what was wrong with my phone. I told him that I had offended the iPhone Gods and they were punishing me. I was a little nervous because I knew my one-year warranty had expired. But he was all over it. He knew exactly what to do. He went into a magical room in the back of the store, where beautiful fairies make all Apple problems disappear, and came back with a brand new iPhone! He smiled a Mr. Wonderful-Smile and said, “Let’s just pretend it is June 1,” (the last day of my warranty). I laughed. I cried. I shouted for joy. Within minutes, I was connected again.

Life is good. Thank you, JD.

I would write more, but I have some catching up to do on Facebook, Twitter, and Foursquare.

Four year-old + long hair + KitchenAid = BAD

Very bad. Here’s the story.

My four year-old wanted to make cookies on Monday. As much as I would love to resist a warm, chewy, chocolate bite of heaven and have a carrot stick instead, I gave in. (It was a really hard sell.)

We combined the ingredients and the KitchenAid was mixing the dough, when my daughter leaned over the mixer.

In went the hair.

In a matter of one or two seconds, her scalp was attached to the mixer. I was able to unplug it fast enough that the hair wasn’t ripped out, but she was stuck. Really, really stuck.

Picture this: your daughter on her tiptoes, leaning over the mixer, her face smashed against the bowl, and her hair tangled around the flat beater. Not a super-fun, grab-your-camera, and call-the-grandparents moment.

In comes Dad. I am sure his thoughts were WTH, but instead he was calm. He quickly started taking the mixer apart (by the way, when you Google “hair caught in kitchenaid,” there are actually a lot of results).

When it looked almost hopeless, we discussed cutting her hair. In the cutest-voice-ever she begged, “Please don’t turn me into an ugly boy.”

This one statement cost us $300. We sacrificed the mixer to save her hair. Dad dismantled the machine, while I held her and told her stories of unicorns and really brave princesses. Ninety minutes later she was free. Was it worth it? Abso-frickin-lutely.

Love her. Love her dad.