Enter Godzilla

John is going to kill me when he reads this. But I just can’t not write about it.

My daughters are… a bit weird. Not weird in the way that they are strange to everyone, just weird in that if they didn’t look like carbon copies of me, I would SWEAR they were switched at birth with…. some princess’ brat.

They are total pantywaists. Never has there been two more whiny, sensitive, fraidy-cat, sissies put on this earth.

OK, maybe the aforementioned princess popped out something that comes close, but I’m guessing that mine take the cake.

We live in SOUTH Texas. Bugs are a fact of life down here. And while we don’t have roaches in the house, it is entirely due to the quarterly visit of the exterminator.  And I know what you’re thinking.

Yes. I do.

Krissa, if you would just keep a clean house they wouldn’t come in. Keep the food put away and post little signs around telling them they can’t use the facilities…

WRONG. I’ve done all that. (Put up little signs in English AND Spanish)

SOUTH Texas. People who live on The Gulf Coast know about all this.

Anyway, since they were mere babies, if they saw a roach, or spider, or mosquito hawk, heck, you name it. Anything. They screamed for me. I became the “go to guy” for all things icky.

Damn you and your consistent job history, John! I was the one there with them, murdering bugs raising them and being their knight in shining armor.

Well, that was all a bunch of crap. I thought they’d grow out of it. They are TWENTY AND TWENTY-ONE years old, now. Do you know how many times I have heard, “MOOOOOOM! COME QUICK!”, and gone charging UP the stairs second guessing all the way about whether or not I should have brought the  pistol with me, only to find a “child” lying on her bed bug-eyed, (HA! “bug”-eyed!), pointing at a roach that is trying valiantly to die due to a toxic chemical barrier it has wandered across?

Do you have any idea how hard it is for me not to have the most outrageous run-on sentences? Are you now realizing I don’t care?

So I calmly walk over to the bug, remove my flip-flop, whack it, replace flip-flop and turn to go.


Yes, I have made them clean up their own murder scenes in the past. It’s just a lot less drama to snatch a tissue or bit of toilet paper and do it myself.

AANNYWAAAAAAY, yesterday morning, I was sleeping in and all of the sudden the bed was bouncing and Kes had thrown herself across it and John, who had yesterday off was standing there. They are looking at me saying things about a lizard in highly excited voices.

Let’s be honest here. I was SOUND asleep when they came in. A gentle whisper in my ear would have sounded frantic to me.

So they’re saying something about come quick and lizard and Purzza, our ancient gray house cat. So, like an idiot, I do. I leap out of bed, (Once again wondering if I need the pistol.) I mean pandemonium, people. 

They hustle me down the hall and into HACK. (Longtime readers, will know that this stands for HalfAsstic Central Kommand. It is also the dining room. Whatev.)

Kes has explained by this time that Pruzza had a “HUGE” lizard in her mouth and Kes “thought it was a snake”, and swatted Purzza so the poor thing would drop it and it’s a lizard and it’s “HUGE! I MEAN HUGE”!

It occurred to me later to wonder why on earth she would want the cat to drop it if she thought it was a snake, but I never really got a good answer for this.

So I walk over and pick up the poor lizard and rinse him off under the tap, since he is hopelessly tangled in a dust bunny from behind the wine fridge, and take him outside.

He thanks me politely, sympathizes for a moment with me about the crazy people in my house and lets me know that Purzza still has good reflexes for such an old cat.

He moves off into the grass.

When I come back in I am looking for the MAN of the household. Hummm, there he is. Looking all sheepish.

Kes pipes up and says, “Dad was never gonna be able to catch that lizard, Mom. He was trying to use a paper towel to grab it.”

I dissolved into hysterical laughter and I’m not sure, but I think John blushed.

It’s a good thing he’s so damn cute.

In which I explode with happiness.

Guess what!? Remember how whiny and pathetic I was on Valentine’s Day about having received a pretty new necklace that I LOVE, yet not being happy with that and going on to demand working bigger and better appliances?

Do not despair. (Cause like, I know you totally are.)

What is THIS?

It’s MINE! That’s what! This is my new crush. He lives in my utility room and deals with all my “dirty laundry”.

Er, no. Actually he deals with my DIRTY LAUNDRY.


Anyway, he is beautiful and shiny, (I will always gravitate towards the shiny.), and he sings to me and gives me chocolate.

With almonds.

I have to admit that it was kind of distressing as well. There he sat, looking so damn sexy and beside him?

It’s like a bucket of cold water thrown over my heated up bod. No. This will never do.

NOT TO MENTION, the damn thing sounds like the clubbing death of 5 or maybe 6 baby seals. You have no idea how badly this beast squeals and shrieks. Even with the door shut to the utility room it is impossible to relax when the dryer was running. I KNOW the neighbors have considered calling the SPCA on us since we are obviously torturing the dogs.

Then, day before yesterday, Sunday, February 20th 2011, my dear friend Lisa’s husband, Roger, delivered me from the bowels of hell. OK, actually he delivered my new dryer, but you get the gist here.


Roger, if Lisa ever leaves you, I will do your laundry. Love ya, man.

Hello people! I hope each and every one of you are having the fun filled, chocolate covered, prelude to a sugar induced coma kinda Valentine’s Day that you do so deserve!


How old, unromantic and downright frumpy does it make me that I just want a new washer and dryer?

I know. Pathetic, right?

However, I am only moments away from being overcome by the odor of soiled linen. No, I don’t mean poop-soiled. Just soiled.

Our present set of laundry appliances is 12 years old… a combined age of 24. That’s older than my children.

I have treated them like gold and they are betraying me in a most unkind manner.  The washer only agitates with the bottom thingy and it appears the top thingy is now “just for looks”. Color me unimpressed.

It no longer spins fast enough to open a Downy ball. The ball is about half full when the load is done and as I retrieve it, fabric softener spills all over the “clean” clothes, making blue spots all over the stuff going into the dryer.

The dryer almost audibly laughs and mumbles something about not worrying since it won’t actually dry anything anyway. It’s not like it could make any kind of SET IN stain.

Then the dryer is started and the dogs run for cover. OK, me too. It squeaks, squeals and whines for about an hour on a medium sized load of clothes and then needs restarting.

Can you say “Energy Star”? Not at my house.

There is no longer any such thing as “laundry day” at Casa la HalfAsstic. It’s an hour by hour struggle that Never. Freakin. Ends. A constant, that rivals the Hundred Years War in monotony and probably lives lost as well.

Until now. Valentines Day will be my deliverance. SO HELP ME, GAWD!

So don’t preach to me about “romantic” until you can say what a lovely, freshly made bed I have and NOT have to avert your eyes from the damp areas and unsightly blue spots of fabric softener.

In which I wax on about nothing…

I have just been shushed in my living room because Kes and Gilly are attempting to watch Sex In the City. On my TV. I think it would be safe to say they are even breathing my air.
Anyway, I’m not just gonna sit around and take that!
I left and came into HACK to do a posty-poo…. Only to find that I don’t have anything very blogworthy.

Here’s a rundown of the current goings on:

It’s night time and the meatloaf is in the oven, potatoes are about to boil, and get mashed. Thinking about peas with some honey on them, the way Mither likes them.

I am wearing pink and white  stripped with green frogs flannel PJ’s and have only just recently changed out of the nightgown I wore to bed last night.

I am now taking a good hard mental look at my wardrobe, doing a little self-judging and deep speculation about my…. laid-back attitude.

OK- Done. Yes, I am definitely just laid-back. Not the least bit lazy or slatternly.

Remember- the speculation was “deep”.

The current ear worm is Billy Joel Keeping the Faith. While it could be much worse, it has been the same damn thing for DAYS.

I am now passing it on to you.

You’re welcome.

It is supposed to freeze hard tonight. Really cold and all that shit. I am in south Texas people. We don’t know what cold is down here! My poor parents are getting a good thick layer of snow on top of the thick sheet of ice that was dumped yesterday. Heh! North Texas.

Poor Ree, up in Chicago, is buried in snow by this time. I emailed her this evening and she wrote back saying that she was stuck in a meeting on the 35th floor and it was a white out outside. Hope she made it home. Put it this way: Jim Cantore of The Weather Channel fame was on his way to Chicago this morning. You know if he’s coming to your city it’s time to leave.

So when it comes down to me talking about the weather? It’s time to call it a day, admit defeat and close down HACK. I wish John would get home… I’m hungry and want to eat.

Stay warm, people!

Kitchen Aid is crap….

Yet another high-end kitchen appliance fails me…

The KitchenAid coffee maker, the Bosch Microwave Oven, the Bosch Dishwasher… all gone the way of the dinosaur.  Actually, that’s not entirely true… we still have the bloody dishwasher, after having poured almost as much money into fixing it as it cost originally. Repeatedly. And I am only guessing, as it was already here when we moved in. I’m sure the dirty bastards that used to live here thought they were doing us a huge favor leaving the damn thing behind…  Now, the blender is on the fritz. What if I need a margarita?

Remind me to look into Margarita Insurance.

Anyway, I had a conversation, chatty style, with the KitchenAid rep. on line and she was EVER so helpful. Here is the copied and pasted chat with Debra T.

Debra T: Thank you for contacting KitchenAid! My name is Debra T. I will be with you momentarily.
Krissa Lopez: Thanks, Debra!
Debra T: Hello Ms Lopez. How may I assist you today?
Krissa Lopez: Hi. the gear on the blade assembly of my blender is worn out. We have only used it a handfull of times. Do you have any blade assemblies for sale that are better made? Like maybe of metal instead of plastic? I wouldn’t mind paying a little more for better quality. That’s what I thought I was doing when I bought the Kitchen Aid…
Debra T: I am sorry to hear about the issue you are having with your blender. There is repair available for this issue. How old is your unit?
Krissa Lopez: Maybe two years old… something like that.
Debra T: do you have an extended warranty on the product?
Krissa Lopez: No.
Debra T: Ok. Well you can have the unit repaired by one of our service centers. You can find a list of local service centers at http://caservice.kitchenaid.com/
Krissa Lopez: Nooo. I just want to order the blade assembly and stick it in myself. Don’t you just unscrew the thing on the bottom and then tighten up the new one once it’s in?
Debra T: I am not a technician and I don’t have access to the repair information. I apologize but I am unable to assist you with the repair of the unit other then to refer you to a technician. It is not recommended that you repair the unit yourself.
Krissa Lopez: Then why are the replacement parts available on line?
Debra T: It is not recommended, but we cannot prohibit you from performing the repair.
Debra T: I just can’t tell you how.
Krissa Lopez: Too funny! OK, well, back to my original question. Is there a better made blade assembly than the plastic one that the blender came with?
Debra T: I have not been made aware of a new one. We only have the same one the unit came with available.
Krissa Lopez: Is there any kind of warranty on the replacement blade so that when it wears out again, (as it surely will), I don’t have to keep paying for new ones?
Debra T: As far as parts go, they have a 30 day guarantee.
Krissa Lopez: Great…
Debra T: Are there anymore questions or concerns?
Krissa Lopez: OK, I want to order another one of the same, please.
Debra T: You may phone the KitchenAid Customer Satisfaction Center at 800-541-6390.  Our hours are 8am – 8pm Monday through Friday and Saturday 10am – 5pm (ET) to order as we do not take orders via chat at this time.
Krissa Lopez: OK, that makes sense. Thanks Debra. Could you please let someone know about my dissatisfaction with this particular product?
Debra T: Yes ma’am I will document that for you. Thank you for contacting Kitchenaid. Have a great day!
Krissa Lopez: Thanks, Debra!
Debra T: You’re welcome.

I am SO FREAKIN’ NICE, it’s obnoxious ridiculous.

Now, I am OBLIGATED to make margaritas every single day for the 30 day warranty period the new part has. How else can I make sure it is of good quality?

You realize that’s a rhetorical question, don’t you?