Mrs. Flinger: A work in progress

UPDATE TO Mrs. Flinger October 16, 2015

Because the Universe has a wicked sense of humor, after this delcaration, my blog threw up all over my last upgrade.

So I'm starting over using Craft. Turning 40 and kid entering Jr High next year, sometimes it's just time for a change. These archives will still exist in the way the last child goes off to college and their room is the same for 20 years, but it's just time to move forward.

Bob Marley, Three Year Old Style Nov 07, 2007

#Life#The Flinger Family

One day in the bath, while Mr. Flinger bathed LB and I bathed Baby O (the “usual” night time routine), he told LB to get up, stand up. I started singing, “Get up, Stand up! Stand up for your rights!” We all sang this song, or rather, this one verse, until bedtime and again the next night feeling so smug with ourselves.

About a week later LB starts singing it on her own. “Get up stand up! Stand up for your lefts.”

At least she knows her opposites.

The Dog Ate My Homework, 2007 ed. Nov 06, 2007

#Life#Posts that suck#{W}rite-of-passage

I came to the coffee shop to get some work done here and here and here. I got comfy with my decaf, sugar free, fat free milk creamer Americano (per this.) and replied to a couple of emails. I opened a new browser tab (thank god for this) and typed in “T-W-I-T…” thinking my browser would bring me to twitter from the history list.

It didn’t. I ended up here. And, well, I love him and I subscribe to her and their podcast and go to bed at night praying ours will be that good one day.

I saw he was up for a weblog award and I clicked over to vote. Then I realized, “hu, weblog awards? Again? Dude. I NEVER know when these things are coming up. I’m like the weblog award bastard child. I’d LOVE to nominate some people, damnit!” This is true. Luckily, though, I went this category and saw someone I adore in the running (er, rather, lead). Then I saw she was nominated here and voted. And she is nominated here. And then it hit me.

I read a lot of kickass blogs

Which explains, in a very roundabout way, why I’ve neglected this here blog, this here website and this here website.

I also have a note from my mother.

(You can thank me for all the time you just spent clicking on those links. See? Procrastination makes us all work better. Not harder, just smarter.)

Poo and Frogs and Unnatural Water: What the world is coming to. Nov 05, 2007

#Life#Rants and Raves#{W}rite-of-passage

Well, whaddy’a know? I missed Day four. Day. Fucking Four, people. And by F’ing four I mean Frogs. (Wait, I’m getting ahead of myself, hang on.)

So, it turns out I chose naked time over posting. I chose a date and a clean house and grocery shopping over posting here yesterday. I picked out the Mexican Restaurant, The Movie, and The Place To Do It, but I did not pick out a topic to write about here. So I won’t be winning any stunning prizes this month. But that’s ok. I got to Do It.

Not that I’m one to kiss and tell.

.... moving on ....

The cursing has increased tenfold here. Have you noticed? Yes, Yes you have. You said to yourself, “Well, effing holy hell! Look! I can say fuck and not get banned!” and then you laughed and cussed and clicked your heals together because it’s fun to cuss, even if it’s just you, your innocent self typing dirty words alone like some reformed prison mate caught with his hands in the cookie jar. Well, shit.

I have to cuss here because around The Kidlets now I say things like, “Oh, Poo!” and “Darnit!” and “What the Frog?!”

What the frog?

Yes. What the frog.

It’s not the same ring as what the fuck, but it gets the job done in a pinch. It’s not as easy to make an acronymn to “F.R.O.G.” as it is to Mother F.U.C.K.E.R. I’ve tried, trust me. “What the Flogging Red Oddball Goatbutt” is that?” See? Not the same.

Feel free to come up with something lovely for What the Frog and I’ll make up a button for you. No! It’ll be Fun! Funolicioius! Like Delicious but Funner. Funolicious. Write it down, that’s a keeper. Darnit.

All of this leads up to my outburst today while shopping. This caused me to first laugh, frown, and say, “WHAT THE FROG” in front of my two children. LB replied, “What’s wrong, mommy? What is it?”

“Nothing sweetie. Nothing is wrong. The world is just Flogging Ridiculous, that’s all. Frogging Natural Water. Dear God.”

Site Business.. an incredibly boring day 3 (Sorry ahead of time but it has to be done) Nov 03, 2007

#Life#Posts that suck#{W}rite-of-passage

I have this hobby. It’s a little more than a hobby, in fact, I teach it. I make a living doing it.

I just wish I did it better.

I’m re-vamping a few bugs in this design here. (And by Bugs, I mean my fear and loathing of Internet Explorer.) I’m also working on a few other teeny tiny projects that I’ll be able to share with you again. In the mean time, here’s where this here website stands.

In shit.

Ok, sorry, that was the short short version. Now? For the long(ish) version.

I’ve been keeping my fitness posts here. But that page is all effed up right now. And I still want a place for everyone taking part in the Weightloss War to update and everyone struggling or triumphing over their weight to confess/open up/share. Yaknow? Like, in private and with people you “know”.

And then I have activities posts here. But nobody knew about those so I didn’t update much. But I still want to. Really.

So (here’s where you can wake up again, shake off the drool. come on, we’re almost finished…) all posts will just show up here. Here. Right. Here. There’s a cutsie little icon to let you know what type of post it is.

I’ll still keep member fitness posts here. And you’ll want to update your porftolio when you log in. For link-ish reasons. So I can link you. Like all official. Members! Links! Randomly! (I’m not the first to do this. I just like the idea a lot.) Be sure to upload an avatar. That’s what will show. Like over THERE

< --------- under "people I read to be cool." So please? Avatar. Thanks.

Passed out yet? I'm not. I am still here, blogging on day Threeeeezeezezezezzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzz

Ok. I've officially bored myself to tears. I promise to do something more fun.


I used to talk about sex! A year ago! *sigh*

P.S. Lemme know if this site still looks wonky to you, would’ya? Apparently, IE 6 is a cunning bitch. We knew that.

In Which We Promise to Make Fools Of Ourselves (Nablopomo #2) Nov 02, 2007

#Life#{W}rite-of-passage#Weght Loss and Body Image

This weekend, Michelle and I will take part in the Pineapple Classic on behalf of Mamaspod. We’ll be podcasting live from the start and finish of the race. This race is to help blood cancers like Leukemia and Lymphoma. If you’d like to make a donation, please click the DONATE button below.


(Did I mention it’s an obstacle course? And we don’t train? And we have to work as a team? And there will be pictures and podcasting? Oh, I did mention that. ... )

Nah blow me Nov 01, 2007

#Life#Posts that suck#{W}rite-of-passage

Last year I watched as everyone played
I wasn’t sure I could hack it
This year I thought, what the effing hey?
Maybe I’ll take a crack at it

Day one and I’m here a-trying
to write a post in rhyming
It does truly suck
but what the fuck
Nobody said I had good timing.

(You can blame Jennifer for this. I do.)

(Are you doing Nablopomo? Lemme know, yo. So I can add yer bad ass self to my lonely ass online networking dweebness. Pleaseness.)

(No more rhyming and I mean it!)

(Anyone want a peanut?)


One of these things is not like the other Nov 01, 2007

#The Flinger Family

We did the whole “head out and get candy from strangers, but kids, never do this again unless I tell you it’s ok and I will always eat your candy to be sure it’s ok” holiday. LB wasn’t too sure about things at first until she found out she got suckers.


Baby O was a pea in the pod (all together now? Ahhhhh.)


LB was Cinderella (comment on her shoes here. Oohh! They LIGHT UP! Oooolala!)



and I?

Well. I was the scariest of them all.

With the ability to make small children bawl, husbands slink off to the kitchen to do the dishes, and three year olds choose an hour of alone time in their room instead of spending time among the wrath:

I was PMS, hormonal, postpartum, sweat-suit wench woman.


I eat small children and raw macaroni necklaces. But only together. And with salt.