in loving memory

What is up with the birds of this world? Or at least of our front yard? I mean come on!

CLICK HERE and let it play while returning to read this post.

It was a somber day at the Muirhead home. We did, unfortunately, lose another member of our avian family this afternoon. Well....(s)he wasn't so much our bird as (s)he was a bird. Mom spotted it outside the office window flopping around on the ground and I was sent to attempt a rescue. The poor thing shivered and twitched in my hands for a good ten minutes, and despite our valiant attempts at feeding and watering, and whispering magical spells into its ears, it kicked the can at 12:03 PM.

This is "Birdie" still alive.


This is Birdie dead.


Now we may be known for our lack of ability at keeping animals alive, but we certainly give them solemn farewells. Allow me to recount Birdie's funeral services for you, dear reader(s).

Birdie's casket, made custom by Champion Footwear.


How the girls felt about Birdie's tragic and untimely death.


The program for Birdie's funeral.



The pallbearers.


During the opening remarks.


We all said our final words to Birdie while sprinkling birdseed onto his/her grave and then Nichol graced us with an improvisational poem.


Birdie was buried as Michelle made up a very moving song on her violin. All in attendance were deeply touched.


Music brought to you by Kristen's iPod and Dewalt Power Tools.



Bye Bye Birdie. R.I.P.


In leui of flowers....please send candy.

p.s. I would not recommend digging graves today. It is much too sweltering out.

lazy sunday afternoon

Just the girls at home tonight spending a pleasant low-key evening together porch swinging, neighborhood strolling, speed scrabble-ing, and sweet tunes listening. I'd have to say the highlights included:

A) Waking up from a nap to this on the carpet:


Yes, you are looking at the longest word in the English language spelled out with scrabble letters and silently discarded. Oh the life of a 12 year old.

B) This crepe, which bore a striking resemblance to a certain recently erected Russian statue and left us all in fits of giggles.


C) The rule I invented during our plastic bag service project called "you have to wear your mistakes," which left me (zero errors) in fits of giggles and left the other two senoritas (muchos errors) with dirty looks directed at me. Mom ended up with a hula skirt, necklace, scarf, and (my personal favorite) native headdress of the Incas. Michelle's first bag left her with an interchangeable beard/hair piece. I think they were starting to feel bad about my amazing talent at crafting perfect bags, so to raise their self-esteem I donned a lovely oxygen tank nose tube. Don't worry, I totally pulled it off.

Some days just can't be beat.

zheleznovodsk, sloppiness, and 42 grand

Feed the homeless..... support more important causes. 

Easy choice for the Russians.

I'll toast to that.

CLICK HERE for the best news you'll read all week.

(Thanks J.)

heather's helpers

It looks like my amigo heather has been struck with a sudden desire to be charitable. (Dear h.b...by 'sudden' I of course mean 'has always been and will always be devoted to the welfare of the nations...')

Want to hop on the Do Some Good Train? If you are feeling extra bored or loving this week CLICK HERE and lend your beautifully manicured helping hands.

sneaky snakes are stupid

WEDNESDAY, JUNE 18 2008

12:02 AM: Kristen walks to shoe closet. Her contacts are drying, her feet ache, she is tie-urhd.
12:03 AM: Kristen kicks footwear into bottom shelf. Out slithers this:

12:04 AM: Kristen is reminded of recent encounters with snakes and is not anxious to repeat said occurences.
12:07 AM: Kristen has not moved even a smidgen in the last 4 minutes. Likewise for the snake.
12:09 AM: Chopsticks in hand (just in case), Kristen throws a roller blade at snake and hits it's tippie tail. Snake slithers forward.
12:09 and 3 seconds AM: Kristen is sitting on kitchen counter top nearly in tears eating off all of her fingernails. What to do?
12:14 AM: Kristen slowly makes her way back to the scene of the crime (please imagine Jack Skellington (from Nightmare Before Christmas) strut).
12:15 AM: Snake has not moved.
12:16 AM: Kristen finds that fishy. "Why haven't you moved?" she asks snake.
12:16 AM: Snake doesn't respond.
12:16-12:19 AM: Snake and Kristen face off in a staring war. Snake is very good.
12:19 AM: Kristen feels a moment of bravery coming on and hits snake on the head with a chopstick.
12:19 AM: Snake doesn't move. "It's a fake!" she yells in elation and then in disgruntlement. "It's a fake," she sighs.
12:20 AM: Kristen's heart rate has begun to make its way back down to normal as she stares into the heavens and curses toy makers around the globe. "You are the scum of the earth," she whispers to no one in particular. "Particularly those of you making moving snake toys," she particulates.
2:16 AM: Kristen lies awake in her bed. She is dreading dreams of slimy serpents.

ahoy there captain amazing

Just in case I missed you on my mass email extravaganza. I'm pretty sure this man is a superhero incognito.

CLICK HERE

when will you people learn, I am never wrong.

Here's an excerpt from a recent conversation I participated in:

Mom: "Dear favorite child, clean out the fountain."
Kristen: "No thank you. I didn't dirty it up."
Mom: "Remember last Tuesday when you invented that game called 'throw an entire bag of colored marshmallows into the fountain?'"
Kristen: "I have no response to that."
Mom: "Don't make me hurt you."
Kristen: "Oh, that fountain."
Mom: "Chop chop."

20 minutes later: Kristen is still scrubbing what appears to be a coat of half vomit half diarrhea (sorry friends...it's the only way to convey to you the vile-ness) with little to no success. Enter mother.

M: "Here's a bottle of Clorox...have at it."
K: "Have you lost your mind? And I'm serious this time."
M: *the look*
K (shielding eyes): "Remember how you like to watch birds drink out of this fountain? Last time I checked, robins don't like bleach."
M: "Just rinse it out really really well when you're done."
K: "Please don't make me become a birdie murderer."
M: "They will be FINE. Scrub."

(I believe this is where we began with the British accents, which of course led to me speaking like an Indian. No not Native American...red dot on the forehead Indian. All my attempts at being a foreigner leave me giving a riveting impression of Apu Nahasapeemapetilon. However, I will now stop killing you slowly with this tangent and save my language woes for therapy.)

K: "I declare madam! The fowl shall surely perish!"
M: "Peasant! I did not pay 4 shillings for a complainer! Thine life shall be my bidding!"
K: "Yur veeshous mie comehand."

And here we rejoin you one week later. What do you know, Kristen was right again and is in fact an avian assassin. Surprise!

just another day in the life of yours truly

I just walked directly into a closed door and actually hit my face on it. As in, face smashed in door = me. Try not to be too jealous.

Running into things is not uncommon to me. Once in junior high I was actually defending myself after being called clumsy when I walked into a chain link fence. I lost that argument.

This is bringing back semi-painful memories of another incident from my hooligan days (okay fine, it was like 2 years ago). One ordinary day (don't worry it becomes extra-ordinary) I was running (to be clear...sprinting) from the kitchen to the office (I've just acknowledged my obscene overuse of parenthesis), most likely in an attempt to escape from a 10-minute clean up.

Our house looks like this:

This is actually the blueprint we used for building. Let me explain the markings. The yellow dot represents my dear father sitting in a chair, silently thumbing through a book. The red line represents me, running quite swiftly. Please notice that this red line does not end in the office. It ends at the wall. To be precise, the wall which I hit at 77 miles per hour. The wall which knocked me off my feet and left my face planted firmly on the floor. Wait, here's the kicker. This is the point in the story where I think I have run into a human and am feeling bad about that fact. Still eating carpet, I begin to throw out my deepest of apologies. "I'm so sorry! Oh my gosh, I didn't even see you there! I just rammed right into you! I'm so so sorry!" And here's where previously mentioned parent looks up from his studies, pauses for quick analysis of the situation and then calmly let's me know, "Yeah...I'm pretty sure it doesn't care."

Thanks Dad. Way to take away my last shred of dignity.

enemies list

Sometimes when I'm having an especially glorious day I just feel like listing things I like. Counting my blessings, so to speak. Today is a bog-of-eternal-stench day and my attitude is less than glorious. It's allowed, so bite me (unless your name is Shirley Kidman because your response to that statement is just shy of publicly acceptable and left a mark on my arm for 6 hours). I believe The Pretenders once poetically and prophetically sang, "If you're mad, get mad!" And I say to that, "Okee-dokee. Sounds like a plan." So here we go...

(Pause: You may want to choose a somber song for this read. Might I suggest something along the lines of "Total Eclipse of the Heart" or the theme to Titanic.)

My Enemies (not to be confused with Enemas):

1. Enemas
2. Ants (real ones and the movie)
3. Pepto Bismol - You might as well eat Life Savers. They taste better and will probably cure your heartburn, nausea, indigestion, upset stomach, and diarrhea more effectively and without causing a lame song and dance routine to waltz through your head. Reading this blog has the opposite effect...for both the recollection of said song, and your gassy innards.
4. The sound of fingernails being filed
5. Cancer
6. Science (class)
7. Boy bands
8. Long fingernails (on me)
9. Long toenails (on anyone)
10. Whole milk- which sometimes cleverly goes by an alias...Vitamin D. Don't be fooled. The D stands for Disgusting.
11. Being cold
12. When someone starts a text conversation in the middle of the one you are attempting to have in real life. One word: URLAME.
12. Purple
13. Decisions (Anything ranging from "Do I want a small spoon or medium sized spoon with which to eat my Cocoa Puffs this morning?" to "What should I do with the rest of my life?")
14. "Because I Have Been Given Much"...I have an explanation, but not one that will satisfy you.
15. When people let grotesque verbage such as "LOL" and "OMG" actually escape their real life mouths and vocal chords.
16. Cat food commercials
17. Velvet (this applies to any and all surfaces including, but not limited to: furniture, windows, and humans.)
18. Treadmills
19. Slow or broken computers (namely PCs)
20. Bad perfume
21. Anyone who is getting annoyed with my overuse of lists lately
22. The time I discovered a song entitled, "Be Less Rude" and didn't like it, because need we kid ourselves? That's the raddest and baddest song title in all of history. Thank you to the Frightened Rabbits for wasting a good name on your craptastic singing. That was rude of you. Also,

BAD singing + good song NAME - 'singing good song' = Frightened Rabbits.

Get a pen and paper...don't forget to show your work.
23. I'm sorry, was that rude?
24. Crunchy peanut butter
25. I-15 construction
26. Redundancy
27. Redundancy
28. Sad attempts at cleverness
29. Bad writing for which people are being paid. (I'm not getting paid, so just suck that comment right back through your lips.)
30. PMS (no Jared, not the tea.)

THE END

growing up is poop

I'm having a hard time deciding what to be when I grow up (also known as now). I realize this is something I should have had at least semi-planned out like 13 grades ago, but guess what? I didn't. Get over it Paco. Actually, I take it back. That statement is not entirely true. Here's a little tidbit I found this morning from first grade art class:
So, yes. I had dreams and plans. No, they did not so much work out for me as crash and burn. (Although I just want to say that had the fire of desire within me to be a BYU football player been kept aflame, I am fully confident I would be on the team right now.) Also, if anyone has any ideas as to what appears to be the filmer's beaver tail might be, I'm still working on it myself.

Since I feel like I'm going in a backwards direction, I've decided to float with the flow and solve this problem backwards-ly. Instead of drawing up continuous blanks when asked what I want to be, I'll go ahead and list the things I know I do not want to be and why. (And let's remember to not get offended if you are say, a plumber or lion tamer).

1. plumber-duh
2. artist- please refer to above depiction
3. manicurist-the sound of files makes me want to eat my own fingers
4. keeper of the dog- :) oh that's right, I'm Hi-larious.
5. eye doctor - eyes are gross and i'd rather not blind anyone
6. dentist- this noise: "bzweeeegaaakakakaa!!!"
7. nanny- kids are mean and know good pranks
8. hairstylist- people care more about their hair than their children.
9. contortionist - click here
10. teacher- see #7
11. lion tamer - head + body + still attached = super
12. flight attendant - have you honestly ever met a flight attendant who didn't give you the heeby jeebies?
13. chef - the 3 times I've attempted homemade macaroni and cheese, the result was this:

In case this Rembrandt leaves you unconvinced...for breakfast this morning I had "pancakes" - also known as "a piece of bread with syrup on top."

I'm striking out all over the place. Feel free to drop your suggestions in the comment box below.

ready or not...here i come!

I spent a large portion of the afternoon playing hide-and-go-seek with Mer's kids. I'd have to say the 12 and a half minutes I spent zipped up in a suitcase were the least enjoyable of the day. But all is well (minus a ghastly headache)...I won. At least I now know I never want to be a contortionist. Check that off the list.

the postal service(s)

Bless the Postal Services. Both the United States one and the musically inclined one. (click here then down arrow...you know the drill.)

I would like to publicly apologize to UPS for a certain occurrence that took place a few days ago and for all the resulting pain said situation may or may not have caused. This apology is especially intended for the woman with whom I engaged in an undisclosed number of rather heated phone conversations, the likes of which possibly (likely) led to a serious hive break out. My deepest to you Madam.

Dear UPS,

I am so very sorry that I put you through what some might call "an experience not unlike an un-novacained root canal" the other day by making you search for a package for a number of hours I would rather leave anonymous at this point. I am so very sorry indeed that even after I realized, midway through your search that UPS does not in fact stand for United (states) Postal Service, I was too embarrassed to admit my faults and let you stop searching. So on you hunted like noble....mountain men for the box that was on it's way to my doorstep via the other postal service, namely the real one. I have pride issues, for which I do apologize most sincerely. In my defense, I forgot to wear my CTR ring that day and one always needs a visual.

Yours Truly,
Me

P.S. So sorry.

for k & e

Thank you for the best birthday week of my entire life. I'm sorry the blog has not been graced by your presence until now... it most definitely was unintentional.

Here are my top 10:

1. Meeting Mermo, He-nry, Lulie, and Goop. Thanks for sharing.

2. Royally catered meals. Thank you Martha.

3. "Julie caught a Jelly(fish), Minnie caught a Minnow, Roy caught a (Sting) Ray, your Boss caught a Bass, and Tina caught a _______" ..... SHARK!

4. "In lieu of flowers... please send candy"

5. "Portly" and "Cuddly" oh yes, and "Unbalanced"

6. This conversation:
K: "Maren, you know how there are different kinds of beans?"
M (the 6-year old): "Oh you mean like Kidney Beans, and Chili Beans, and Garbanzo Beans, and Pork and Beans, and..."
K: "Chili Bean!!! That's a GREAT ONE!!!"

6.5 (it correlates). "Where oh where has Freshly Picked String Green French Cut Been?"

7. This moment at the Playmill:












(all rights reserved. Love, Picasso)

8. This conversation:
Kristen: "How old are you turning?"
Patrick: "Uh....Eight."
Some girl in the corner: "Duuuuhhhh."

and this one too:

K: "Mawen, yoh sce-wy."
Maren: "Why do you talk funny? You said sce-wy, and you should say sce-wy."

9. "And they don't take insurance!"

and last but CERTAINLY not least:

10. When someone accidentally may or may not have hit a certain other someone in the forehead with a certain colorful suction ball.

Wait, can I have one more? Okay.

11. "Look! A triangular shaped pile of dirt!"

Oh shoot...and also the chocolate milk. Thank you I.F. cows. You beat out all 11. Point 5. You are the most favorite.

GRASSSSYYYYAAAASSSSS. Love you two stink pots.