Daddeo does it again...

A conversation between Janna and Dad:
It's sunday, Janna is laying downstairs on the floor with her feet up on the fireplace, when my dad calls her cell phone. (keep in mind he's just upstairs)

Dad: Janna what's your phone number?
Janna: (silent for a moment, feeling confused) ??? Uh, didn't you just call it?

An Ode to my Friend Kellie.

My Sister from a different mister calls me up today, and asks me when I'm going to blog again. I have so many stories to tell, I don't know where to begin!

Anyway, she goes on to say, you better write one soon... Oh, and PS, Can you just mention my name in there somewhere? Maybe dedicate the entree to me... (wait... this isn't a dinner plate) Ahem, excuse me. Maybe dedicate this ENTRY to me?

So Kellie. Here's to you. a Little Ode for my Red Headed Senorita.

*Ode to the girl who 'ripped a toot' in the car while her ex was in the store getting candy, and then, when he returned and got a whiff, she blamed it on me.

*Ode to the girl who helped me conjure up a joke on my brother Mitchell, who was distraught and sunburned so bad he couldn't move. We told him soaking wet white wonder bread would absorb the heat, and take the burn away. We then proceed to put soggy wet bread on his back, and went outside to play. Half an hour later, we return, and he's still sitting there, waiting for this nasty, soggy, falling apart wonderbread to take away the burn.

*Ode to the girl that always busts out some face, strange walk or dance move, making me laugh hysterically.

*Ode to the girl who slept on the tramp with me, got scared cause of a creepy neighbor who was outside, proceeds to try and sneak of the tramp to sneak inside without making a sound, falls off the tramp, starts laughing hysterically, and wets her pants.

*Ode to the girl who stood by my side when we had a group of friends (boys and girls) gathered in my living room talking. And when I dozed off and woke up to roaring laughter, because of the two farts that accidentally escaped from me while resting my eyes, she still remains my friend.

*Ode to the girl who dropped to the floor sobbing with me, when I was moving away to college.

*Ode to the girl who pushed me around in her garbage can with Jamie, Placed me in front of her new neighbors houses, rang the doorbell, ran, and hid. The neighbors didn't think it was so funny when I popped out of the garbage can and scared the heeby jeebies out of them.

*Ode to the girl who drove the mini pocket motorcycle bike as Jamie V and I held onto a rope behind with our rollerblades on, when she got a bug in her eye, swerved into oncoming traffic, nearly kills us, then looks at us after- "What? I had a bug in my eye!"

*Ode to the girl who rode a mini trike with Jamie and I, down a big hill, didn't think twice about it, wrecked it, and called it fun :)

*Ode to the girl who video recorded me, all wrapped up in bags so I didn't get gross toilet water all over me while I tried to unclog the toilet.

*Ode to the girl who dares me to do things she knows I can't turn down.

*Ode to the girl who coerced me into opening the shower curtain 3 times while Jamie was showering, run out of the bathroom, and laugh hysterically. 2 Times, Jamie yells at us, The third time, she runs out of the shower, and starts chasing me naked all throughout the house. I was so scared I almost cried!

*Ode to the girl who daily, embarrasses the snot out of hubby Kyle by telling all his embarrassing stories..(aka the runs on the mission, the runs at the store)

*Ode to the girl who always makes me feel like I'm funny. Cries on cue with me. Has a red headed temper. Practically lived at my house, and became my sister, has made these childhood through adulthood years something to remember. I've loved it all Kellie. You're an amazing friend and sister. Love you girl! This one, is for you. :)

Sweet, Sympathetic Daddy

Dad's going to sit on the couch today, Janna is on the opposite side. She sends Kalli and I this text about a conversation between Dad and the Cat.

Apparently, Dad picks the cat up out of the spot on the couch he wanted to sit, and just tosses it on the ground.

Dad says to the cat:

"I guess I could have been more polite about that....But, I hate you."

Hahaha, oh my, poor cats. We don't abuse them, I promise!

Secondary vs Second Degree.

Today at church, in Relief Society, our lesson was on Anger. Our RS Pres, Abby gave a great lesson, and everyone in the room participated. She discussed how Anger is a secondary emotion, and although she's not saying you can be perfect and never experience Anger, that we can choose to control our anger. It was a great lesson, especially for Kalli.

Kalli comments in class about how she wanted to wear this dress to church today. So she ironed it, got it all nice and prepped to wear, then set it on the floor so she could finish putting on her makeup in the bathroom.

When she come back in the room and puts on the dress, she starts sniffing the air, thinking, "Man, something really stinks!"

She smells the armpits of the dress. They're fine. she smells all around, and suddenly sticks her nose into a patch of cat pee on her dress!

She flips out and and starts yelling. Those dag nab cats peed on her dress! Nobody even likes cats in the family except for little 8 year old Jamie.

Jamie comes flying in the room, defending the cats.

Jamie: KALLI! Don't yell at the cats! Don't yell at Timmy!

Kalli: GET OUT!

Jamie: He didn't pee on your dress!

Kalli: YES HE DID! LOOK!

Jamie: NO HE DIDN'T! You peed on your dress!

(hahaha can you imagine Kalli squatting over her dress, peeing on it!?)

Jamie goes flying out of the room crying. Kalli is irate.

Needless to say, Kalli commented in Relief society about how she should have been slower to anger. After Church Kalli and I are driving home in the car, discussing the lesson. She really liked how Abby said that anger is a Secondary emotion. The conversation goes as followed.

Kalli: That was such a coincidence that the lesson was on Anger! I love how Abby was discussing how anger is a "Second Degree" emotion.

Bobbi:-(puzzled expression) A what?

Kalli: Anger is a "Second Degree" emotion.

Bobbi: Hmmm. What's the "First Degree"?

Kalli: (Puzzled expression on her face)

Bobbi: Did you mean Secondary?

GO KALLI! Oh man, I was crackin up. What a day.

Trauma in REM

Last Saturday the 24th of October, after working the closing shift at work, it was nearly 9:45 pm when I walked in the door to my homestead, and carry my belongings (purse full of cheep one dollar lipstick, a wallet without any money, a cell phone with no calls or text messages inviting me to come play on a Saturday night, a used-multiple times- tooth flosser, and Listerine strips) downstairs. Seconds later I hear my sister Kalli walk in the door, with her friend Kyle. I was still dressed in my work clothes, looking fly, so I decided to run upstairs to say hello. Yeah, I didn't walk, or jog up the stairs, I ran. That's desperation for attention on a Saturday night right there.

I visit with Kalli and Kyle for a bit in the kitchen. They're going downstairs, my mom is in the front room sitting in the rocking chair and calls for me to come chat with her. I'm cold so I grab this nice fleece robe and put it on over my dress clothes, then go and sprawl out on the couch. Trying to get cozy, I unbutton my pants, unzip my zipper, (don't act like ya'll don't do it too) kick off my clogs and just let loose.



My mom was working on this project she's been doing for a while, on my laptop. I think she wanted to read it to me, but in a matter of minutes, I was zonked out. I swear (only sometimes, and on accident, or when scared...uh, right word, wrong meaning..back on track now.)- I can sleep anywhere, on anything, and stay that way all night. Not only that, I sleep in really awkward positions. I have since I was a wee lit'l lass. Some things never change..
We all have our favorite sleeping positions. Mine is simply that I have to sleep with my hands covered. No matter where that entails.
Except that, covering hands while sleeping does encounter some problems, unless you gain the proper method..
When I sleep with them under my head, they fall asleep and go numb, due to the lack of blood in the vessels. I only like when my brain falls asleep, not my hands. It tickles when all that numbness leaves, and the blood begins to recirculate in my veins. Not the "haha I'm laughing cause somebody is tickling me". It's the, "I wanna cry cause I'm tickling myself and I wish I could stop". But you can't stop yourself. So first, I wake up in the middle of the night panicking from the lack of feeling in my fingers, thinking some thief came and chopped off my hands, due to the numbness. Then I end up yelling at myself, telling me not to tickle me. "Dangit Bobbi, quit tickling Bobbi!"


If I put them between my thighs, they again fall asleep, and my wrists hurt in the morning.


Between my face/ pillow=drooly hands

In armpits=claustrophobia slash stinky slash sweaty hands


So, I've found the perfect place to keep them, is in my pajama pants :)

Just take it easy ok? It's the perfect place. Not to tight, drooly, claustrophobic, and my hands don't fall asleep. It's not like I put them in my undies!


Anyway. I'm sprawled out on the couch. One leg on the cushions, one half hanging off. My pants are unbuttoned, and unzipped for the whole world to see. I have an ugly robe on over my fully dressed self, AND, my hands are...you guessed it. In my pants.
Like I said before, in just a matter of minutes I'm zonked out. And probably have my mouth hanging wide open, drooling all over the place. Yeah, not attractive. (refer to pictures above). So here I am, all tuckered out, in lala dream land. That is until I hear some ruffling about at 2:00 a.m.


I start to stir in my sleep, I hear faint laughter, and I'm not sure if I'm dreaming?? I like laughter, and my mouth begins to form a half smile, but I'm only half conscious. The laughter doesn't stop. and by now I know I'm not asleep... I open one eye to see Kalli hunched over, laughin her butt off. Kyle awkwardly glances away from me, and musters out, "Good morning beautiful." My mom is still in the chair, plugging her nose, as if it were helping suppress her laughter. I still don't know what's going on, so I don't move, I just lay there grinning like an idiot, wondering why everyone is laughing, unaware that my hands are chilling down my unzipped pants.


I was so incoherent so I just fell back asleep, Michael Jackson style (crotch grabbing dance move). Eventually, Kyle left.


The next day Kalli asks me if I always sleep with my hands down my pants.

My mouth drops open as I recall the confusion I felt the night before.

Oh the Trauma in REM. That just did me in. It happened. It's going down in Bob history as A -Really Embarrassing Moment-while in Rapid Eye Movement... Gosh. I'm such a creeper! Who sleeps with their hands down their pants??? Please tell me I'm not the only one.

Holy Moley! - Marshmallow's Anyone?

It was my Aunt Pams birthday a few days ago, and the discussion got opened about embarrassing zits.

We all know those little zitters don't just go away after you turn 21...no. no. We go into adulthood, believing we've left our acne faced adolescence behind...but on a monthly basis, those little (and big) goobs come around to show us who's boss. They come unannounced, and then go as they please. Taking no thought as to if they were invited. It's not just like they pop up to visit in convenient places either. IE- your chin line, or hair line. Easily coverup-able area's. No. They come out on in the most highly visable places on your face. Like, for instance, on the tip of your nose.

Common terms for these unwelcomed ~zits on steroids~ are: "Rudolf" - "My Third Eye"

I've also heard them referred to as -"My Friend Jessica came to visit".

In this case, you know you'll be getting those, "I'm trying to look you straight in the eye, but my eyes won't peel away from that nasty huge zit" looks from every conversationalist you encounter.

Needless to say, once upon a time, many months ago, I watched Oprah Windfrey. In this particular show, she offered what I thought was a wonderful suggestion.

She says, when you have those ugly blemishes, play them off! Color them in as if they were a mole!

She then goes through a series of pictures on "How to Cover your blemish so it looks like a mole"

I get so excited! I already have a plethora of moles on my face, what will one more add?

I was at my grandmothers house in Afton, Wyoming at the time, and it just so happens that I have "a big one" on the right side of my face, between my mouth and nose. It was one of those, "I'm so big, you can't not stare" goobers.

I put Oprah to the test. I found a brown eye pencil, and I colored her in.

IT LOOKED FABULOUS! I felt like Cindy Crawford!

I went to church that day, feeling confident, strutting my stuff. Nobody would know it wasn't a mole!

Church ended, I went back to my grandma's.

My cousin Ben, and his brand new wife, (this was my second time meeting her) Kara, came to dinner that night. So it was my grandparents, Ben, Kara, and myself eating.

I cheerfully and confidently look at Ben, with a huge old grin on my face, The conversation goes as followed.

Bobbi: Hey Ben!

Ben: Hey Bobbi!

Bobbi: (excitedly, I turn my head to the side, and thrust my face closer to Bens eyes so he can have a closer look.) Does this look like a MOLE!?!

Ben: (awkwardly)- Uhhhh? Ahem, Uhhhh, (getting really uncomfortable) N, nn, no?

Bobbi: (loosing some confidence, I sink into my chair) Oh. Really? Well it's not, it's just been a long day and the makeup has probably worn off.

Ben: (Silently shifts his horror stricken face down towards his food, and won't look up at me as he tries to change the subject)

Bobbi: (Disappointed, shrugs it off and continues eating)

Dinner ends, and we continue to chat and laugh about old times like cousins do. Ben never looks at me for more than a few seconds at a time. I think nothing of it.

Conversation dies, and I decide I need to use the restroom.

I do my business, and I'm washing my hands when I look up in the mirror. My jaw drops, I back away from the mirror. Bringing my hands to my face in shock. I shake my head in disbelief, and then erupt in laughter. My "mole" didn't look like a mole at all! It had transformed into a BIG HUGE WHITE HEAD! Not just a little "Peek a boo! I'm coming out!" White Head. It was a "HEY YOU, Yeah YOU! Don't pretend your not looking, I'm HUGE" White Head. I might as well of had one of the mini marshmallows chillin on my face.

Poor country boy Ben! He was trying to be so polite... and I just shoved my face into his. He was probably scared the gooby was going to burst all over him! -Marshmallows anyone?

Needless to say. If you periodically glance in the mirror to make sure you don't have a nasty gooby whitehead popping out, I think, covering your blemishes with eyeliner is a great solution!

What do you think?

It's working right?

Holy Moley-Oprah, you've done it again!

Jamie's Prayer

Little 8 year old Jamie says a prayer before bed:

Heavenly Father.....

....and please bless all the nocturnal animals that they will have fun tonight.

Kids say the darnedest things. Isn't that so hilarious!?