happy muhvers day.

(And you wonder why I want to have Hallmark’s babies.)

Law School, The End.

May 9, 2006-The day I started this blog.
May 9th, 2006
May 9, 2009- The day the reason I started this blog ended.
May 9th, 2009

We survived law school.


An open letter to motorcycle riders.

Dear man on the motorcycle next to me,

I get it, you like to ride your motorcycle. It’s fast, it’s good on gas and it makes you feel manly to have a loud engine between your legs. It lets you cheat in traffic jams, gets you into the HOV lane and gets you all best parking spots. I also understand the “Motorcycles are Everywhere” campaign. You’re small and quick, you must be watched out for by distracted drivers.

Much like people must watch out for little kids, especially when they are holding a magic marker or safety scissors.

But here’s the thing. If you want me to watch out for you, quit being a risk taking derfwad assuming that I’ll accommodate your lane changes without a blinker, your passing on the right, your crossing over the double lines and weaving between cars simply because a billboard and a few bumper stickers tell me to.

If you want my respect on the road you’re going to have to give the rest of us some too.



What do you get when you cross a Jew and a Mormon in google chat?

My favorite blogger has always been and I dare say always will be Metalia. If you do not read her, go read this post, come back and you’ll know why I adore her so.

If you do read her?

Enjoy this-what happens when an overtired Jew and a punchy Mormon stay on chat too late.


M: How WAS the Hallmark thing, btw? (Asking about the day I spent touring Hallmark world headquarters in Kansas City last month.)

C: Amazing. I want to have its babies.

M: Yeah?

C: When Gabi says “Casey sort of fainted when she encountered this room. ” she meant “Casey sort of died when she encountered this room.” My dream is to work there. Ironically Kansas City is where we wanted to end up in the first place.

M: MAKE IT HAPPEN. You are one of those people that seems to be able to do that.

C: And then i can have hallmark babies and send everyone Hallmark cards about them.

M: DO IT DO IT DO IT “So, you’ve gotten into your first fender bender!” “Happy Talk Like a Pirate Day” etc., etc.

C: “There really are some days kids are only good for tax deductions!”

M: HA! “You know what you do for a pulled groin? Nothing. Feel better…whenever”
Okay, so maybe that one’s not the best
But someone in my office just pulled his groin!

C: it made me lol.

M: What card do I send him, Casey? THERE ARE NO PULLED GROIN CARDS!

C: “You make me LOL when no one else can, Happy Anniversary.” “If a blogger LOLS and there is no keyboard to type with, DID IT REALLY HAPPEN?”

M: There should be twitter-centric cards, too. “If I could follow you 10 times, I would. Happy Valentine’s Day, lover.”
“Sorry you only got five comments on that last post, Blogger. You’ll get StumbledUpon soon!”

C: “I love you enough NOT to send an e-card…cherish me.”
“Don’t let the fail whale get you down, sport!”

M: “I want to retweet our love for all the world to see.” So, basically, what I’m saying here is that you and I should MAKE OUR OWN GREETING CARD COMPANY.

C: NO KIDDING. etsy here we come.

M: PEOPLE WOULD BUY THEM, I don’t know if that’s sad or not, but whatever.

C: I KNOW. I’ll make a potato stamp of the twitter bird!

M: I have ribbon, so.

C: I have a graphic design degree!

M: I have…still, just some ribbon
but it’s pretty!
pretty ribbon!

C: never underestimate ribbon, hallmark had frillions of ribbons. FRILLIONS!

M: And also, I can do calligraphy. Frillions, you say?

C: I have good handwriting…

M: We should do this, this might be my sleep deprivation talking, but STILL.


Who wants to be our first customer?

(Oh, and my legs from the other day? Me being too lazy to unpack my big girl razor and instead using the disposable two blade razor which was readily available, and also which was apparently half bloodthirsty vampire.)

pancaking my battles.

the only true way to enjoy a hot dog.

Two pairs of mismatched babylegs with a summer dress and snowboots on a warm day in May?

*sigh* If you must.

“OH HAI, CASEY? This is Pledge. We want to hire you, come film the dirtiest corners of your house and have a celebrity host judge your complete lack of skill at cleaning.”

*sigh* I know I need help.


I’ll tell you all my deepest darkest cleaning secrets.

(ENJOY! Some of the other bloggers have PICTURES!)

“HI! Casey? Want to be a local pancake eating celebrity for charity?”

*sigh* I’m so picky about my pancakes.

But for charity?


Who knew writing about my life on the internet would land me face first in a pile of pancakes with a new spring in my cleaning step? (Yeah right, so I really doubt this Trish Suhr lady can fix a whole lot. *hotmessrighthere* BUT SHE CAN TRY.)


In case the moosh grows up some more while you’re not around.

There are certain things Miss LeMoosh says that I don’t want to correct because it’s just too cute.

I don’t even care if you think it’s cute.

Her grandparents read this blog and demand moosh cuteness.

Hippopotamus-Hippa-Muss A-Pot-A-Mus

Fabulous- Fam-U-Mus

Watch the Backyardigans? There’s a song that goes “Oh the things! That Goblin has grabbed!


“Gonna Get You” By Blondie? “One way, or another I’m gonna get you get you get you. One way, or another...”

“Gonna Get You” By the moosh? “One way or an udder, I’m gonna getchu getchu getchu. One way mama tiger..

Picture by Cory Bracey Footprints of Grace Photography.

While at the zoo, “Hey! moosh! Why do you think those Lemurs are acting so bonkers?”

Because they’re LAME-ers.”

While showing her dad a toilet paper penguin she made at school, “Hey dad, wanna play with my penguin? IT’S FRESH!

It’s fresh indeed.

Heavy heavy hangover thy poor head.

I have a recordable Hallmark card for my mom for Mother’s Day (SURPRISE MOM! You’re getting a recordable card!) and I’ve had it for weeks.

I don’t know what to record.

Chances are she’ll show it to her friends, so I have to make her proud.

At the same time I have to keep her on her toes.

I like to think that part of the reward of having me as a daughter is that you’re never quite sure what you’re going to get.

I also consider it a huge gift to Cody, his life would be so boring without me.

(Side note, the other night at boring law function #3 he could sense my overwhelming distaste for lawyers and how much they like to hang around each other, use big words, congratulate themselves and be all encompassing in their complete and utter boring. I don’t feel so bad about this. Lawyers and other “professionals” even have a term for people like me, “Layperson.” If lawyers are going to come up with a snarky sounding dig to my kind I’m going to roll my eyes when no one is looking at their kind. Cody felt it necessary to scold me before boring law function #4 ate my face and I took to flying around the room with a gavel screaming “Justice is BLIIIIIIND! YOU CAN’T HANDLE THE TRUUUUTH!!!1!!!!1”)

Today while lying around recovering from the toxic chicken fingers from boring law function #3 (apparently one must build up tolerance to law function food, especially when not chasing said food with flammable beverages) I thought that maybe I could tell all my mom the stuff I did that she never knew about but lived through.

Or maybe she did.

Regardless, SORRY MOM!

Now that I’m a mom I’m beginning to realize just how many superhero perks come with the job. Catlike reflexes, eyes in the back of your head, uncanny lie detection ability and well stocked saddlebags (just to name a few.)

I distinctly remember coming home the morning after a night of warm Goldschläger shots, a night that landed me face down in the grass in someones backyard after vomiting on at least seven pairs of shoes (one of them belonging to my boyfriend at the time. Whoops.) I had lied to my mom about the entire night saying I had fallen asleep after a movie and whoops! so sorry! (If you weren’t well aware that my very existence during my teenage years was a little touch and go, YOU ARE NOW.) I stumbled into my room in the morning claiming flu, when in all reality it was the WORST HANGOVER A HUMAN HAD EVER EXPERIENCED.

My mom dragged me out into the living room and asked “Would you like to tell us about your drinking habits?”

Actually no, mom. I would not like to tell you, but given it was really hard to blink I muttered out some story “Goldscccchlagggerrrrr *urp*…warm…soooosick, didn’tnooooo sooORRRYY, neverrrrragain *burp* bad chhhooiiicceess. bednowkthx.”

I may have still been heavily intoxicated but I remember my moms face and subsequent words PERFECTLY. “I was actually referencing the bottle of whiskey I found in your bottom drawer.”

Oh crap.

I had just admitted to something she didn’t even know I had done.

Instead she was asking about the giant bottle of whiskey my (previously mentioned puked on) boyfriend had snuck up to my house on a day we had both sluffed school.

There was no way out of this little pickle.

Not only was I grounded until I turn 28 (one more year! yaaayy!) I had to go to work in my hangover laden state.

I worked the pie counter at a local pie shop.

Goldschläger Hangover + Pie = something that makes pouring salt in an open wound look very appealing.

I haaaated her for making me go to work, but now that I’m a mom?


Although it didn’t convince me to stop drinking (yet) it did convince me to a) not drink to the point of blacking out b) find better hiding places and  c) not get caught in the first place.

Nominee #1 for Recordable Hallmark Mother’s Day card?

Hey Mom! Happy Mother’s Day! One day soon I’m going to be the parent of a teenager! HOW’S THAT FOR VINDICATION? I love you!”

You say bible, I say, uh, bible.


So I had this brilliant idea to do NaBloPoMo this month. (You know, where I post everyday for a month?)

It’s good for me, I’m always happy when I do it.

But it’s only May 2nd, it’s 10:52 PM and I’ve spent the last ten minutes staring at a blinking cursor.

Oddly enough I made an awful lot of you you giggly and uncomfortable yesterday with the whole birds and the bees talk. A lot of you emailed me privately to voice your concerns about the transation of First Corinthians Chapter 7 Verse 5 that Diaper Diaries uses in her challenge. In my religion we read from and study out of the King James Version of the bible and the translation Diaper Diaries gave is from the New Living Translation of the bible.



Because I don’t.

No matter what religion you’re a part of or not a part of (*most*) babies are only going to get here one way.

I was just lauding the glories of loving the one your with. Regulary.

SO. Now that we got religion and sex out of the way in the first two days of May, anything else you want to know?