This post brought to you by Bristol Palin and Oh! Calcutta

Ugh this pic doesn't even do them justice

When I heard today that Bristol Palin is going to be on Dancing With the Stars, I knew I had to honor the Palins immediately.  I needed to find an occasion to wear those shoes.

  I'm 5'9.  And so is Mr Incredible (height may or may not be his only un incredible characteristic.)  And what better place would I have to wear these than an Indian restaurant?  Where I can one up small Indian men two times with 1) my height 2) my thick (er?) Buffalo accent?  I bet Bristol felt like me, too.

Bristol are you feeling self conscious than your leg is bigger than his head?  Very relatable tonight, Bristol.  Very relatable.

Sarah, why do your legs look so much hotter than mine?:

and this pic DOES NOT DO MY LEGS JUSTICE.

One Oh! Calcutta martini (two parts liquor to one part pineapple juice to one part Indian cologne)

Indian waiter, "you get rose he get beel."

Do I have loose ends not tied up?  Have I made a complete thought throughout this whole post?  Sorry.  Oh! Calcutta.  and mr incredible's left over beer.  good. night.

Welcome to the Family

I've discovered something new about me today.  I'M NOT A NATURAL AT DOG REARING.  I've discovered something else about me today.  I take back all the times I self deprecatingly shook my head at people when they would say that I'm natural and good mom.  BECAUSE I AM.  My new dog told me so.

New dog, you say?  Kiera, what's this?  Answer:  I don't know!

Here's the story.  We wanted a labradoodle.  We as in I suggested a dog to Mr Incredible.  Ya know, someone to play fetch with.  Labradoodle- hypoallergenic, relatively mild, kid friendly.  I always wanted a big dog.  So it met the criteria.  Yesterday we go to the pet store, conversation as follows:
Me: Mr Incredible just so you know if there's a labradoodle in there I'll want it immediately.
Him: No, we're going to go through a breeder, not the pet store,
Me: Just sayin.

Lo and behold, there was the sweetest lookin' labradoodle you ever did see there.  (commence whining and my argument why we should get him right.now.)

Until took him out and played with him, that is.

Just a flesh wound.

My sweet little timid, timid, scared of any living thing (potato bugs included) children asked to play with a puppy that was little and sweet.  We chose a little Havanese puppy.  Upon delivery to my arms the pet shop worker said, "this dog is basically dead it's so chill."  

Right. up. my. alley.  Eldest daughter held this dog (!!) for 15 minutes (!!!!).  And then said "I want to buy him."  *heart melting*

Blah blah blah I can't believe I'm giving you all these details.  

cut to the chase next day we bought dog.  Named him Peppy.  

I did my research on Havanese dogs, but maybe not so much dogs in general.  A) You have to take them out in the middle of the night?  B) You have to let them "cry it out in the cage?"  THIS is the point that I'm emotionally detaching myself.  None of my kids "cried it out" in their cribs (and btw, they sleep through the night in their own bed (cept the baby is still in our bed))  But I'll be damned if a dog ends up in bed with me.  I'll be damned.  C) Dogs have "rest time" and "play time."  I thought dogs just laid around all day waiting to harass the mailman.  No?  No.

Needless to say, I'm more tired than I've been in a while.  Although this is the nice type of tired because my body isn't recovering from labor.

Meet Peppy

in all his glory.

With Pep in his step.

We must rise as a nation and send them to meredith.

I'm stealing these family photos from her to make sure more people can appreciate this.  Because I'm crying laughing and beer literally just came out of my nose looking at these.  Meredith, thank you for the good word that you spread throughout the 'net.  I wouldn't have laughed yet tonight if it weren't for you.

BUT before you look try to think if you have any awkward family photos.  If you do, you too can be featured.  Send 'em.

now some of my own research:

google.  duh.

Narcissism. And don't walk alone on bike paths.

I've said it once and I'll say it again:  Thank God for Wordless Wednesdays.  I started writing about Altemio Sanchez, Buffalo's notorious bike path rapist of 26 years who was finally caught a few years ago and is sharing a cozy ol' time now with his cellmates called Bubba uno and Bubba dos, but then I realized there was no good way to blog about him.  Although I do have to say that I'm not mad or scared, I'm so so sad for him.  I know, my emotions are twisted in that sort of way.  I told my dad that I was so sad for Altemio and he looked at me and asked if I was equally as sad for his victims and their families (he was a killer, too).  silence.  I've already spent too much money on therapy (that's a lie.).  WHOA rein myself back in.  My point of wanting to start writing at him is, ladies, even though he's in jail and everyone thinks that they're in the clear, you're not.  Don't go on bike paths in woods by yourselves, please?  Thanks.

So onto WW.  You know the only reason I'm putting this is to make up for my lack of smarts from yesterday.

In simpler words, I look glamorous throwing my bonneted baby up in the air whilst wearing pearls and sunglasses.  This was 3 years ago.  What this picture doesn't tell you is that you could not see the floor in our apartment, and since laundry overwhelmed me too much I would just make underwear and undershirt runs to Target.

True stories.

Happy Wednesday!  Oh, and don't forget to check in tomorrow because here goes another giveaway!  (I'm easily persuaded)

Wordless Wednesday

Thank my lucky stars for wordless wednesday.  Because we all know that I don't have much else to say this week.  I don't even really have a good picture.  Oh well.  

like mother like daughter.

oh and don't forget last day to enter!

Wordless Wednesday circa 04

on a rainy, windy London day.  Ya know, because I go to London every now and again.

Phase 2. Complete. Finally. Update*

*No Blogger, NO!  K, people, the pics didn't post correctly, so I just put up my day 0 and then now (day 60).   Oh boy this is getting confusing.

This picture right here is for you Mom, Dad, Mom's friends, Friend's Husbands and My Dignity:

Let's make this all clear.  I am not that type of person who would post my picture in a sports' bra, or a string bikini.  I simply wear a tank top, then roll it up.

I put this particular picture up to note 1) Mr Incredible takes notoriously bad pictures. 2) I look like Britney Spears being accosted by papps in a 7-11 with a bag of Doritos.  This would be the cover Star Magazine.  Or Globe. (global?  what's it called?)

Measurements are what I've lost from day 0-60, then from 30-60.  Brain Energy, k?

Weight: -10 pounds, -6 pounds

Chest: -2 1/2, 0

Waist: -3 1/2in, -1 1/4in

Hips: -3 1/2 in, -3 1/2 in

Rt thigh: -2 3/4in, -1/2 in

Lf thigh: -2 3/4 in, -1/2 in

Rt arm: -1 1/4 in, +1/4

Lt arm: -3/4 in, 0

K so on to the pictures:  This is even confusing to me.  So first picture per line is Day 0 Day 30 then Day 60.  With me?  So the white tank top is most recent.

And lastly, the diet.  We are not trying to follow the p90x part, but we've both just been eating much better.  Less carbs and sweets, and normal people filling foods.

My motivation is lacking like WHOA.  I'm kinda ready to be done.

I've been substituting in runs and swimming instead of doing the cardio videos.  I feel better after running outside, or swimming than staying inside my house do The Cardio/Kenpo video.  Again.

So there you have it, my promised people.  Encourage me for the last 30 days, k?

Put on Christina Aguilera. This post is that good.

Readers:

I hope you appreciate how undyingly faithful I am to you.  I did a shakedown in my parents' house TOP TO BOTTOM yesterday looking for some Irish Dancing photos.  You don't understand.  We probably have THOUSANDS and the fact that I could find nary but a handful was absurd.

And then finally.  After I found every single date dance and prom picture with every boy in Buffalo (lie.  Maybe like 6) and London pictures and carousing like a fool pictures, finally.  I found 2 Irish dancing photos.

I know you don't care that much.

But I am committed to you, you fools.

I do not have their permission to put their photos on the 'net.  I'm on the far right.  This was at the Nationals, and this was my 4 hand team.  Because you care.

That is our real hair.  Danged new fangled kids now wear wigs.  That hair was blood, sweat and tears. 

I am too lazy to scan the other picture, and I know you don't care that much.  If you do, leave a message and if I like you at all, I'll put the other one up there.

I'm in a wicked bad mood today.

Most Incredible Belly Flop. Wordless Wednesday.

Cue Molly Mallone. (you don't know that song? rise up irish people of the world.)

Is anyone else outrageously excited for St. Patrick's Day?  No?  allllright.

St. Patrick's Day is my fav for a few reasons:

• the mark of spring.  I think last year I got sun burned at the parade
• the abundance of beer.  and soda bread with jam.  and cabbage.  I love cabbage.  sick.  
• crazy celtic music blaring IN YOUR FACE ALL THE TIME.  I won't lie.  I've already started it up here in Incredible land (<--- is Incredible land really Michael Jacksonish?  should I change that?)
• Irish Dancing throwback.  Love it or leave it.  Think it's "weird" or know that my hard shoes can make your tap shoes cry.

I think come St Patty's Day (or March) I'll be sad that I shared this pic with you.  No fear.  I'll put up more.

Capitalizing on the Church and Army

Would I ruin this awesome picture if I were to explain what is really going on?  Or should I just make you think that there was a revolution of sorts at Sunday mass, my Dad overthrew the clergymen, and now I am his trophy daughter, with my trophy kids, of course.

My favorite part of this picture is the Advent candles.  I think it adds to the hilarity of the captured moment.

Really, though?  I don't have it in me to let you think that that's the type of people we are.  Because the truth of the picture is just almost as funny.

• Brother in Iraq
• Church we attend has 24 hour web cam that is on the Church website
• Brother is Baby's Godfather
• Brother could virtually attend baptism (as long as we were on the altar where camera is recording)

Therefore: we collectively agreed on this: why would he pay for internet and we pay for Skype when we can all gather together here?  See you next Sunday, Brother.  

and for all you other people with less of a sense of humor, that is a joke.