Denial, denial, denial

Mr X and I have a little game we play. Some would call it passing the buck, although in this case I think it's more like passing the poo. We're generally clean people, but both of us hate cleaning up after Cat X or Dog X leave a biscuit on the carpet, or puke up the sour twizzlers Mr X keeps sneaking the dog. Yes dear, I know that Dog X is not just eating his kibble. Kibble isn't bright blue. Kibble doesn't make him fart the Star Spangled Banner at 3 am.
Mr X has to clean the litter box. I claim reproductive health. Once we're done reproducing, I'll claim it's always been his job and there's no sense changing it. I am a heartless wench.
Cat X is the main culprit. He usually pukes from eating too much dog food or he gets pissed because well..... He's a cat. Does he really need a reason to get pissy? He just is.
The rule here is that whoever spots it first cleans it.
But, you have to basically catch the person finding it to get them to clean it. We've both become very adept at pretending we didn't see it.
"There was a pile of poo the size of Baby X at the bottom of the stairs? Wow! Cat X must have just done it. Tough break."
It becomes a matter of who can't stand it more first.

I know. We're childish. It's disgusting to leave it laying around. It would be a simple matter to clean it up and get over it. But we still play this game. Every. Time.

When I get stuck cleaning it up, I require an entire roll of paper towels, elbow length rubber gloves, tongs, a handkerchief to tie around my nose and mouth, plastic bag, carpet cleaner, rag to scrub the cleaner in and one to dry. As soon as I have that mess knotted up a plastic bag it gets carried to the outdoor trash followed by the gloves, tongs and rags,

Mr X, grabs whatever scrap paper he can find and throws it in whatever trash can is nearby.

I must immediately scrub my hands in hot water with antibacterial soap because that shit is nasty.

Mr X goes back to eating his tacos.

As strange as my little animal poo disposal routine is, I have no issue with Baby X's diapers. We're talking about poo that could double as military grade adhesive. Toxic. The unholiest of all things great and small. Even worse because you know that this smiling little toothy monster created that Weapon of Mass Destruction. Yet, it doesn't bother me. Mr X looks at Baby X's diapers as Olympic achievement. I can hear him in Baby X's room changing said stinky diaper.
"That's my son!" with such pride I think Baby x must have just cured cancer.
No.
He just grunted out what looks like dog food (which is entirely possible since I caught Baby X in the dog's food bowl today).

That wascally wabbit.................

Remember when I mentioned that we weren't the nicest kids in the neighborhood? Well, we weren't always the smartest either.
We preferred to confine our moments of stupidity to the times we were left alone with our grandmother. She was a sweet woman but she would freak out over the slightest cough with such superb skill that it became a contest to see who could make her screech first, loudest, or longest. We knew who won by who ended up in the emergency room.
My favorite was the day she gave us mini bean bags. Brother X told Sister X that he saw a guy on tv stick something in his ear and it came out the other side. Sister X said that was impossible. Brother X called her a wuss and bet her that he could shove a bean in his ear and make it come out the other side. Sister X told him to go ahead and just to prove how stupid he was, she'd do it too.
My brother managed to get his in pretty far. My sister was less enthusiastic but still required the skill of our favorite ER Dr.
As my grandmother dragged us out of the ER, muttering about palpatations, my sister asked my brother who he saw on tv pull such a stunt.
"Bugs Bunny"

My sister probably would have beat him to death had my grandmother not threatened to have the Dr stitch her hands to her head.

Did you hear that?

That was the sound of Mr X dropping a pile of joint compound on the radio and sharing a few new curse words.

Mr X is a pretty handy guy. Right now he's trying to finish off our downstairs. He did the living room and guest room almost 2 years ago. All that's left is the bathroom and the laundry room.

I love a guy that can build and fix and create like that. I love it even more because with Mr X I know something will happen that will cause him to yell and then scramble to try to recover.
Example- Mr X decided we needed another storage closet. There was all this unused space under the stairs but it was blocked off by pesky walls. Mr X decides it would be very simple to just cut into it, build a small door and voila..... A closet.
5 minutes into the project Girl X, being 4 and a tattle tale at the time, came running upstairs panting, eyes wild and flailing her little arms excitedly.
"Mom! Daddy, broke the wall!"

Mr X hadn't been paying attention and cut into the wrong spot. He did fix it and we do have a nice little storage closet, but it's moments like that that get me giggly for his next home improvement project.

This one involves water. Pipes. So much potential for fun.

Too bad I wasn't home when it happened.

The first night he started working I had to take Girl X to cheerleading practice. When we came home there were towels all over my front porch. I asked Girl X to carry some of them into the laundry room while I got Baby X out. She came running back out to tell me that the house smelled 'funny'.
I had her wait with Baby X while I went in to check it out.
Mr X wasn't home but the kid was fooling. It smelled like someone had dumped rubbing alcohol, rubber cement and paint thinner all over my house. I started walking upstairs and noticed more wet towels.
The only note in the house was very simple:

"I TURNED THE WATER OFF"

Oh, how I wish I had been there with my camera for this one.

Mr X had decided that to continue working without further disruption to our ability to bathe, he would extend the water pipes and create his own shut off. Too bad he didn't turn the water off before he cut into the pipe.


Is it so wrong that I still giggle when I think of it?

Since he can only work on this during nights and weekends when we aren't dragging him all over the place, progress is slow. He has been hanging some drywall but can't do much more until he has someone to help him carry in the jacuzzi tub.

I should have months of fun with this.

By the way..........

If anyone could tell me how to add links to other sites, I'd really appreciate it! I tried to follow Blogger's instructions, but it didn't work!

Moments I wish I could clone myself

Any day this week (and last week for that matter) would have been a good day to have more than one of me. Far too much to do! Between physical therapy (me), Girl X's urology appt, her cheerleading pictures and practice, Dr's (Baby x), Dr's (me this time), Girl X's football game, and day to day errands, I haven't been able to get anything done at home. I know there is a post somewhere in my head, but I can't think clearly enough to get it out.

Baby X is cutting molars. I miss sleep. I guess sleep is the price we pay for his cheerfulness during the day.

Rehashing a Black Year

We had a barbecue this weekend for friends and family. Towards the end of the night I was sitting with my neighbor, SIL, and a friend just talking about random things when the conversation got turned to what I now refer to as my Black Year. I'm not big on sharing something so personal when I'm face to face with people but I've been trying to get better about it. I've come to realize that I need to speak up when these things happen or I end up where I was during my Black Year. Plus, I think that the more I talk about it, the easier it gets for me to deal with it and to handle the guilt I now feel. So now you, and by you I mean those random people reading this blog, are going to be a sounding board for me.
It started when Mr X and I decided to expand our happy little family. I was excited at the thought of 2 more little feet running through the house. As luck would have it, I got pregnant on the first try. We were so excited we couldn't contain ourselves and called everyone we ever met. I was due in early January. We happily began planning and even went so far as to buy the crib and dresser/ changing table. Then the unthinkable happened. I was 7 weeks along when I lost our baby. I was crushed, but I am (90%) of the time an optimist. I cried but I decided to brush it off.
I did feel a bit more desperate to get pregnant again. I could just feel that little baby, just out of my reach and I had no patience to wait.
This time it took 2 tries. We told our parents and I told a few friends, but no one else. I did not want to have to go back and tell everyone if something went wrong like last time. At the same time I was confident that it would be ok because lightening doesn't strike twice. Right?
Wrong.
I was 12 weeks when we went to hear the baby's heartbeat. There was nothing there. I'll never forget the sound of that Doppler echoing so emptily in the exam room. The baby had died 3 weeks before. I miscarried at 13 weeks.
I was destroyed.
I put on a happy face during the day for Mr X, Girl X, and everyone else. But at night, I let go. Everyone else would be asleep and I'd be in the nursery crying my heart out on the floor. Or if it was too much during the day, in the bathroom.
During the time that I was miscarrying, my bil and sil came over. They didn't know what we were going through as they didn't know that I had been pregnant again. I like to think if they had they wouldn't have chosen that weekend to tell us that she was pregnant again. I remember getting out a weak 'congratulations'. In my head all I could think was that she had my baby. God was punishing me by taking my baby and giving it to someone I could barely tolerate. I avoided her a lot for the next 8 months. I avoided a lot of things during that time.
This time getting pregnant was taking longer and I was falling apart every month. Looking back, I know I should have been seeing a therapist. At the time, I just functioned as well as I could.
Mr X went to get a physical. We were preparing to have fertility testing as we knew that would be the next step. Instead we got bitch-slapped.
We found out that Mr X had Hepatitis B. He got it as a child and never knew. If I was on shaky ground before, now I was working in a constant earthquake. Mr X had to get a biopsy and medication. We had a lot to work out.
I got pregnant again a few months later. The day after I took the test, lightening struck a 3rd time.
When Girl X would go to the school in the morning, I would have a good cry and scream, then go on about my day. I started to feel numb.
I think Mr X started to get an idea that all was not well in my world. We went on vacation. I was not entirely myself, but as the trip wore on, I let myself forget.
We had always said that we wouldn't want a Christmas baby. By this time though, I couldn't have gone a month without trying. Now, that baby just out of my reach was my tormenter. I could smell that sweet baby scent in my sleep.
When I took a pregnancy test the next month, I thought it would be negative. When it came back positive I started crying. I was terrified. I took a deep breath and went on.
I was in a constant state of panic during that first trimester. I ran to the bathroom every time I felt the slightest pain. My Dr let me have an ultrasound early and seeing the heartbeat helped immensely. 2 days later, I was back to panicking. At 12 weeks, we went to hear the heartbeat.
Silence. I sucked in my breath.

And then there it was. Steady and sweet.

I can't say that the rest of my pregnancy was easy. It was text book perfect, but my anxiety made it difficult to enjoy. I had spotting off and on during the early part of my 2nd trimester and that sent me into a bit of a tailspin. I worried between every Dr's visit. I worried when I couldn't feel the baby move. I worried during labor. I worried when he was finally here, but he wasn't crying. In fact, he never really cried. Turns out, he's just not much of a crier. He's the happiest baby I've ever seen.

Those 'what if's' followed me every day. Every minute. I blamed myself and my body for what had happened. I had convinced myself that I had done something horrible to deserve it. I wondered if I could continue trying without going insane. Sometimes they are still there.

Remember when I said we hadn't wanted a Christmas baby?

My due date was 12/25/05.

How's that for fate?

We lost power Sunday and it killed the computer. So much for surge protection.
It did make me realize how much I depend on my computer for adult contact during the day.

Don't get me wrong, I love being a stay at home mom, but there are only so many hours in the day an adult with more thana few working brian cells can sing along to the wiggles, play polly pockets and baby babble before going more than slightly mad. It doesn't help that Mr X worked late every night this past week. I realized I was in trouble when I started calling my sister every day just to hear an adult voice. Writing 'Help Me' in large purple chalk letters on the sidewalk was probably a little strange for my neighbors, but this is me. They should be used to ' a little strange' by now.
Mr X asked me why I was tapping out 'sos' on the counter the other night.

And now I'm going to be braver than I normally am and post my new favorite picture. I'm not sure how long it will stay up though.......... I don't know why it posted up there but oh well.........

Baby X- 1, Cat- 0

I was doing laundry and I had Baby X sitting in the laundry basket. He was playing patiently while I finished up. Our Cat was munching his Meow mix on top of the laundry table happily swishing his tail over the edge. We put his bowl up there so he'd be safe from the dog while eating. Dog never wants to hurt the cat, he just thinks it's fun to sneak up on him and watch him jump 5 feet.
Swish, swish went his tail. Just enough to cath baby X's eye. I saw my little angel get a wicked little grin and hunker down. He looked a like cat stalking it's prey.
"Uh-oh Cat. Better move."

Cat looks at me with his bored 'I don't have time to speak to the likes of you' look.

Too late.

Yank.

'RRREEEEOOOOOOOOOWWWWWWWWRRRRRRRRRRRR!'

Crash!

Followed by my little angels hysterical laughing.


I don't think they're friends anymore.

Temporary Hiatus

Did something funky to my arm. One-handed typing sucks. Be back when arm is better.

The great Mustard vs Ketchup battle of 1980-something

I'll admit it right up front. My siblings and I weren't the nice neighborhood kids. We were beasts unleashed from hell to wreak havoc on the neighborhood.
Have you ever seen that show Malcolm in the Middle? The writers must have been neighbors of ours. Neighbors who are being kind.

My dad and stepmom trusted alone in the house by the time I was 8 and the oldest of us was 14. They should have known better.

They loved to collect antiques. They had lots of antique tools hanging on the walls in the kitchen. Since this is where most food fights take place, it was probably not the most brilliant of moves.

One day my brothers got into an argument over which could shoot further from a bottle, ketchup or mustard. The only fair way to settle this was to try it out. We propped the bottles up a bit on the table with some of the fine irish linen my stepmom kept in one of the drawers. Then we broke out the measuring tape, and started firing away. They went pretty far, but let's face it, nothing works better than the packets. Especially when you pile about 7-10 of those suckers and hit them with a hammer.
I have no idea which went further. There were so many condiments flying around the kitchen no one could really tell. I can tell you 3 things.

*Relish doesn't go very far. Too heavy.

*Owners of neighborhood delis don't like it when you come in and take all of their condiment packets for your experiments.

and finally,

*Mustard and ketchup stains white walls and wooden antiques equally well.

As if they needed further proof that we're crazy.........

This requires a bit of explanation so please bear with me.
Mr X has been growing hair these past few years where before, there wasn't any. Ex: the middle of his forhead. There is this random lone hair that keeps returning no matter how many times I pluck it while he's sleeping. Ok, go ahead and call me mean. I know I am. While I'm at it, I'll admit that I pluck chest hairs to get him to stop snoring. He knows it. It never fully wakes him, just makes him roll over. It works. Yes. I am very mean. That is a story for another day.
Today, it's all about the random hair.
Baby X has been getting those random hairs. No, I don't pluck them. He, like many newborns, had the furriest of elfin ears I'd ever seen. Thick black hair on the top of his ears. Eventually, it fell out.
Then there was the eyebrow. It was pale so really hard to see, but there it was. This one random hair that stuck straight out from the others. It was like a little exclamation point, "here I am! I'm adorable! Love me! Feed me!"
I loved that little hair. I couldn't bring myself to cut it even though I knew I should. It wasn't in his eye, yet, but it was pretty long.
For some reason, every time I'd pick up the scissors to do it, I couldn't. Baby X would look at me with those big blue eyes and smile and I had to put the scissors down.

The other night I noticed it was getting in his eye. Unfortunately, I couldn't put it off anymore. Mr X held his hands and I cut the little exclamation point.

Now the part where we're nuts..................



It's now taped into his baby book.


Someday he is going to open that book and wonder what we were thinking.

....not a creature was stirring, not even a mouse

One of the most disgusting things about cat ownership is the occasional 'present' they leave you.
My old cat, Oscar, used to bring me field mice and leave them on my kitchen chair. There was also the one that he didn't kill right away. I came home from work one night to find him torturing the poor thing in my bath tub. It was 1 am and I had to lock Oscar in a room while I tried to catch this mouse with a pot and lid.
Today my anti-social, potty trained masochist cat brought me a mouse. Or at least what was left of it. I think it was a mouse. It was pretty nasty and rather hard to tell.
I need to find a way to stop him from doing this again. I'm not a terribly squeamish person, but ew. Ew. That's an image that is going to stay with me for way too long and will probably pop back up when we have dinner at my MIL's this weekend.


Ew.

When does a practical joke go to far?

I was reading another blog tonight, one that I recently found and really like. Funny guy. He was talking about some pranks he'd pulled years before. It made me think..... Is it possible to go to far with a prank?

Mr X and I are always joking around. I love messing with his head and he's a good sport about it. I've had our daughter help me out a few times. So far our favorite was last year. It took a bit of time, but the payoff was well worth it.
While he was at work, I pulled out all of his underwear and carefully sewed the seams together. Then I folded them back up and put them away.
I'm a light sleeper so I always wake up when he gets up for work. I'll never forget his reaction when, at 4:30 that morning, he tried to pull out a pair. He kept pulling until they were all out. Then he picked up one and started shaking it wildly. I pretended to be asleep as he shook it and mumbled. He finally got one of them seperate. Or so he thought. I lost it when he put them on and started to walk to the kitchen for his coffee; a trail of underwear following behind him.
He did get me back. We had a lone rat in our garage. Naturally, it was enough to ensure that I wouldn't be going anywhere near the garage while he dealt with the thing. 20 minutes later he came running in with a bloody finger. When I asked what happened, he told me that rat bit him and then got away. As I'm picturing rabies shots and wondering if it'd be possible to find the rodent, he was almost giddy watching me panic.
That one might have been almost too far, but here we take what every opportunity to poke fun at each other.

It's the Baracuda himself

I wanted a picture, he wanted my camera. We compromised. Er..... I compromised. I got a close-up and he got the strap.

Baracuda

My son has a new nickname. He's always been a chewy boy, but since his 2 lower teeth have come in, he has become the bite-and-run baby. Thankfully he doesn't do it while nursing. He doesn't want to lose his food. He seems to be mastering the art of the sneak attack.
Tonight I was putting him to bed. I thought he was asleep as I carried him back to his room. Then I felt this sharp little nip in my shoulder. When I pulled him back, he smiled at me. Little bugger.
He likes to do it when we're playing on the floor. He'll lean over as if he's going to pick up a toy and then quick bite my leg. Or he'll lean over as though he's getting tired then BAM! He bites my arm.
For months he's been grabbing my face and pulling me in for a 'kiss'. I come away with my face dripping wet, but I love it. Now, he bites. Not every time. He doesn't want me to know when it's coming. Just when he thinks I'm not expecting it.
He doesn't do this to Mr X or his sister, BC. Nope. For people, he only chews on me.
He does like to chew on his high chair though. And his crib.

Have you ever seen A Series of Unfortunate Events or read one of the books?
Baracuda reminds me of the little girl in those stories.

Too much time leads to too much thinking

I haven't thought much about my mom in the almost 6 years since she died. Thinking about her always made me angry so I just avoided it. Don't get me wrong, I bawled like a baby in the first few weeks after she was gone. But then I had time to think. I thought about her and all that had really happened between us. All the times she wasn't there or had said something cruel. I thought about how she often favored my siblings and flat out ignored me. I thought about how she laughed at my views on parenting and did the exact opposite of what I wanted with my daughter, just for spite. I started wondering who it was I was mourning. Was it really my mom? Or was it what I wanted her to be? Or was it the fact that now I'd never get to tell her what I really thought of her?
She died in a freak accident very early one morning.
We had, at best, a difficult relationship. She viewed motherhood as a heavy shirt you wore when it suited you. None of her kids lived with her. When any one of us failed to live up to her high expectations, she became a martyr, complaining to her friends or husband #2-5 how horrible we were to her. While my siblings eventually met with her approval, I never did.
Now? I'm grateful that I don't.
Still, there were some good times. Watching movies in the dark with a big bowl of popcorn between us late into the night. The few times she let me help decorate Christmas cookies. That one time she called me out of the blue and asked me to dinner. Her tears of pure joy when she was in the delivery room for the birth of her granddaughter.
I realized today that as much as she frustrated me, I really do miss her. Unfortunately, thinking of her also means thinking of the way she died. It's still a bit of a mystery exactly what happened, but I pray it was fast. I hope that she didn't realize what was happening to her.

I don't know what things would be like if she was still here. Would I ever have had the guts to tell her how I felt? Would it have made a difference?

I'd like to think I would've forgiven her either way. I guess that's what I need to do now.

I am evil.

Mr X had a golf tournament last Friday. It was something through work he does every year. His work pays for it, he gets a free dinner and at the end of the night they have a raffle. Mr X has won something a couple of years in a row now.

So, Friday afternoon at the 8th hole. The other foreman is up to hit. Mr X sees one boss dive to the left, the other dive to the right. He looks up just in time to catch a nine iron to the face. Mr X is a pretty tough guy, not one to complain when he gets hurt unless it's bad. This knocked him flat on his butt. His gums were bruised, a little bloody. His face was swollen. He had a cut below his lip. I think he may have at least chipped his cheek bone.
He got up and was ready to continue golfing despite his boss telling him to go get checked. The other foreman felt awful, very apologetic. Mr X brushed it off as no big thing. No one else knew what had happened and they let it drop.
At the end of the night, they have the raffle. Naturally, Mr X wins something.

Want to guess what he won?

Come on, it's really not that hard....................





A nine iron.


I almost peed my pants I laughed so hard. That is why I'm evil.



I love irony.

John Wayne




I did say it was ugly right? That lovely frame is plastic. Someone actually took the time to spray paint it gold.

Fart Humor


I don't know what it is about passing gas that makes my family laugh, but it never fails. We sit down to a lovely dinner, start talking about our days and then it happens. Something ripe and obnoxious fills the air and we play the blame game.
"That was Daddy!", "No way! It was the baby." "Quit blaming the baby, that was you."

And so on until someone finally owns up to it.

There was the time when our daughter was 4 and I caught her with her butt in my laundry bucket.
"What are you doing?"

"Farting."

"Why are you doing that in the bucket?"

And with a big grin she replies,
"It stinks real bad and I wanna' save it for Daddy."

But what can I expect?
She's the same girl who needed to know if fish fart. In case you were wondering, they do. A friend of mine looked it up while she was at work. Can you imagine explaining that one to your boss?

Today, she wanted to know who farts more. Girls or boys?

Even the baby gets in on it. You would think that something that small and adorable couldn't cause much damage right?

There have been many a time he's gassed me out of a room. Or actually had lift off from his seat because of the force. He always gets this little grin on his face before he toots. Not his full-on mega-watt toothy smile. Just a little they-have-no-idea-this-is-coming-and-I-hope-it's-a-good-one grin.

Now our daughter likes to toot on her Dad's pillow. I swear it wasn't me who taught her to do that. :)

Ouch!!


It's been a busy week. Wednesday, I should've stayed in bed. I was to take the kids to a kid concert at a park with their cousins. After ruining my favorite shirt, finding that another of my shirts shrank, I finally threw my last clean t-shirt on only to spill juice all over it. I was screwed and I hadn't even left yet.
Map quest gave crappy directions that left me wondering over a field with the stroller and a cooler for our lunch. The kids had a great time at the concert even though we were 30 minutes late.
Things were starting to look up until the bees started bothering us. One kept landing on Baby Boy and I was worried he'd get stung. I tried one final time to shoo it away and got stung instead. Bugger got me on the palm of my hand up by my middle finger. My whole hand felt like it was on fire for hours afterwards. The swelling finally went away today and it just itches like mad!
Still, I had to somehow manage to cross that field with a stroller, a cooler, and one hand in an ice pack.
I should have stayed in bed.
Tonight Mr X lost his John Wayne fan club card. We were watching Jeopardy and he missed the final question. I told him they were coming to take his club card away and I think he said he will now have to get rid of that felt painting. I think it's just wishful thinking on my part.
Incidentally, it's still hiding in the closet. I turned it around so I'll no longer have to face John Wayne's pleading eyes. Please burn me! I'm on freakin' felt! For that is good and manly, burn this thing!
Thankfully Mr X has a wonderful sense of humor, if not good taste in art.

I've been following this story lately:
Texas Man Makes History He Receives a Kidney Transplant from a Texas Stranger
Found On MatchingDonors.com. This is the first surgery in Texas history where the both a Patient and Donor from Texas met on a commercial website.
Site Endorsed by Various Health Officials, Ethicists and Doctors across the Country

So far, things are going fairly well. I have placed a lot of hope in this working for him as I know that someday too soon, I could be sitting in that man's wife's seat. We know that Mr X will need a liver. He has Hepatitis B, got it as a child and never knew. We found out Christmas 2003. His Dr gave him maybe 10 years before he'd need a liver then. That time is already moving too quickly.
I find myself looking closely to see if he's at all yellow. I know that his best hope will be with a living donor. Someone who thinks that perhaps his life is worth saving. I try not to think about it too much though. I can't imagine my life without him. He's my partner in crime. When that moment comes, I want to have these happier days to fall back on for support.

I also got this e-mail last night (names changed to protect the stupid):
My name is Scott @@@@@@@ Internet Sales Manager at Hyundai of @@@@@@.You may have worked with Ray @@@@ in the past. Ray was in my deptment and has choose to seek a new line of work. I would like you to know that there will beno changes in the quotes that you may have gotten from Ray. In fact I may be able to in most case sweeten thing up a bit. Please feel free to contact me for any of your needs. If you have boughten a car from Ray I would like to let you know that I would be happy to aid you in any contact that you may need at this dealership. My goal in the Internet Sale has always been to make it a team effort. Please stop in at anytime so that we can take time to meet and look over you auto needs. Once again thank you for your interest and business at Hyundai of @@@@@. I know that I met alot of Rays customers whenthey were here so the change should be very easy. I'm still always here to help as before.Come on in the coffee's always hot and I'll save you time and money like always.

To me, this screams unprofessional. I may not always be the best speller, and often I think faster than I can type so I mess words up, but that's what spell-check is for. For the record, we 'boughten' our car from a different dealer 4 months ago because this dealer lied to us.

Then tonight, another e-mail.
THANK YOU FOR YOUR INTEREST IN THE Hyundai .ONCE AGAIN WE HAVE MORE CARS THEN OUR RETAIL OR STORAGE LOTS WILL HOLD. IF YOU HAVE THE TIME THIS WEEKEND TO WADE THROUGHHUNDREDS OF NEW HYUNDAI'S TO FIND THE PERFECT CAR FOR YOU I'LLPAY YOU TO TAKE IT. BY THAT I MEAN THAT I NEED TO MOVE CARS NOW.I WILL DISCOUNT ALL THE INTERNET CARS TO ATLEAST $495 BELOW DEALERINVOICE PLUS YOU KEEP ALL THE REBATES FOR SUMMER FUN OR USE IT AS YOUR DOWN PAYMENT. THIS INCLUDES THE ALL NEW 2006 HYUNDAI SONATA'S. BRING ME ALL OFFERSTO GET THIS SPECIAL INTERNET OFFER JUST CALL ME OR E-MAIL ME AND LET ME KNOW WHEN YOU ARE COMING IN. YOU MUST SEE ME FIRST SO THAT I CAN SIGN YOU UP FOR THE SPECIAL OFFER. PLEASE BRING IN THIS LETTER AND THE INTERNETDEPT. WILL SAVE YOU A TON OF DOE. THIS OFFER IS FOR IN STOCK OR INCOMINGREGULAR STOCK CARS ONLY. DEALER TRADES WILL BE MADE IF I CAN NOT FIND YOU THE PERFECT CAR IN STOCK OR INCOME. AND THE COST OF THOSE TRADES WILL BE PASSED ON TO YOU IF IT IS A OUT OF THE AREA TRADE. I WILL FIND YOU THE VERY BEST HYUNDAI OF @@@@@ REP. TO HELP YOU IF I CAN NOT HELP YOU IN PERSON. SO SEE ME FIRST SO I CAN SET YOU UP TO GET THE VERY SPECIAL OFFER FOR THIS WEEKEND. DON'T PAY RETAIL THIS WEEKEND ANYWHERE. BRING ME ALL OFFERSBRING ME ALL OFFERS, I'M HERE TO MOVE CARS AND SHOW YOU THE SERVICE THAT WILL BRING YOU BACK TIME AFTER TIME. WE BECAME NUMBER ONE THROUGH HARDWORK, AND ALWAYS DOING THE RIGHT THING FOR OUR CUSTOMERS. WHERE OTHER DEALERS BUSINESS IS DOWN OURS IS UP 40 %. WHY ITS ALL THE REPEAT AND REFERALS FROM OUR CUSTOMERS AND THERE FAMILYS. COME BE PART OF THE HYUNDAI OF @@@@@ FAMILY. I'LL SAVE YOU TIME AND MONEY WHILE MAKING THIS THE BEST CAR BUYING TIME OF YOUR LIFE. BRING ME ALL OFFERS Scott

No it didn't format funny. That's really how it arrived in my inbox. Although, I must admit, I'm a little curious about how he's going to save me a lot of 'doe'.

LMAO, I just ran spell check for my entry and it went nuts trying to get through those e-mails. :P