Steamiest music video ever made
And you thought I was kidding about making a music video.
Due to a desperate desire to play with the video camera, Evanzstox Studios decided to remake what many people call “the sexiest music video ever made”.
Enjoy this attempt to pay tribute to Mr. Chris Isaak and his melancholy Wicked Game.
Time goes by fast
Those are four words I have heard repeated over and over since I was a young child. Time IS slipping away! The phrase makes perfect sense, unlike the photo displayed above.
So why am I always completely taken back when I realize my age? I’m not old by any means, and in another 10 years I’ll surely look back at this time and consider myself a baby.
It is said that age is a state of mind. In my mind I’m about 28. It’s a mind game, and it’s not funny.
The 20 year old waitress, actor and athlete, in my demented mind, all look the same age as me. My mentality fogs the truth and then I nearly die of shock when I do the math and realize I’m over 10 years older than them. It takes my breath away. I then usually check my math with a calculator.
I do not want to be 20 again, although I miss the constant hilariousness of my youth. Those of you who know me from childhood have many forms of blackmail to dangle and taunt me with, thank heaven there was no youtube when I was in high school. I guess it’s the blackmail or the stories that matter, right? Everyone has a story.
The length of my story is starting to show up in photographs. I am often shocked at my image in recent photos. Did you hear that confession? It’s not one I embrace often, you may want to bookmark this page for proof that it was said. I like who I am today, I just can’t get over the fact that my eyes have little lines and all the sun damage I swore I’d never care about is starting to bug me. Damn all that sunbathing and baby oil.
In my story, the circus act childbearing chapter just ended. It has been bitter sweet. As women we know whether or not we want to have children early on, and if we do, it is something we figure into the equation of our life plan. When I was a girl, I played with dolls and daydreamed about the names I would give my children. Becoming a mom always seemed far in my distant future. Then, POOF, over night I have three little creatures calling me momma. I’m still amazed I gave birth. Wow, I did that? Are you sure? Because I’m certain I was camping overnight in line for Billy Idol tickets with my girlfriends, like yesterday.
Once the baby factory is closed for good it is easy to feel a little old, even though in your mind you are still young enough to prank call that cute guy in political science class. Conversations with my girlfriends have changed from “should I date/marry that older established man? Maternity boobs, and weddings”, to “should I date/marry that younger guy? Spanx, and Botox”.
I still watch Billy Idol videos, not because of the awesome music, but because he is a babe. Twenty years ago I would have said “total hot babe”. My age as taught me to simplify.
I was asked by a 22-year-old college guy whether or not it is appropriate to go after a girl who has a boyfriend. My immediate reply was “yea, go for it”. It was a simple natural response and I meant it, but I stopped myself and followed it with “however, my answer would have probably been different 11+ years ago”.
In my mind I was saying, “simplify, my man, simplify. Go for it, and keep it fun, because time goes by fast”.
Whatever Anywho people,
I’ve got my Ramones t-shirt on, a video camera, a can of spray paint, a mega pack of toliet paper, and Map Quest in my car, who wants to go?
Can we go get a latte and spray tanned first?
Yes, we can listen to David Bowie, we will listen to Prince first though.
Then we will go and make a music video, we can’t let these crazy kids take control of our turf.
Dear Mister Spider,
We need to talk.
My interest in your well being is confusing to say the least, because if you were in my house I would send my husband to capture and smash you to your death and I wouldn’t think twice about it.
But, for some reason, I can’t help but feel tormented by your unfortunate situation.
You have spun a web to catch yourself a fly or two for dinner. I personally, would prefer a turkey sandwich but that would be a bit excessive for you, plus turkeys don’t fly, nor are they small enough to get caught in your web. However, if you develop a craving for a turkey sandwich and catch a turkey in your web of terror, I’ll stand corrected.
In the meantime, look at your life and what you have done with it. You have spun a web, an unsuccessful web, right next to this:
As you hunt hungry and defeated right next to what I would assume any spider would consider a grand buffet, I can’t help but feel a little bad for you.
And I don’t like spiders.
But here I am, sitting at my desk thinking about you and your empty belly. I can’t help it. You poor little spider bellied up to the buffet without a plate, fork or spoon.
You need to get it together.
Signed,
Steph
she is like me
After I told Sessy “today is the first day of fall”, she opened the front door and ran off into the darkness.
Yes, she is my daughter.
As for little man, he couldn’t figure out why the females in his family were mourning the change of season.
So he did what any little boy would do and started to dance as if he were Lord of the Dance.
Yep, he is his father’s son.
I see myself
Yesterday, after dropping Sass off at her riding lesson, I ran a few errands. When I returned I sat and watched her while she rode a horse named Honey Girl. Sass didn’t know I was back. I love moments like these when I can watch her and wonder what she is thinking.
Sass sat on her horse, she looked stoic as she gazed out over the pasture. Both her and the horse stood still and stared for what seemed like a long while. Her instructor was working with another student. I kept thinking the instructor was going to ask Sass what she was doing just sitting there.
I wondered what Sass was thinking. She was deep in thought.
Suddenly, Sass woke out of her trance. She clicked her heals and jolted her horse into a rapid trot then run.
The instructor stopped and yelled “NO RUNNING!” “Sass, what are you doing?!”
Sass quickly stopped while replying “Okay”
She then swerved her horse around and while turning their backs to the instructor Sass leaned over Honey Girl and stroked and patted her neck while saying “good girl, you are a good, good, girl”. She then sat up and with her lips pierced together she straightened her back and slowly slid her mouth into the biggest grinning smile I’ve ever seen. It was evil.
I stood and watched my daughter beam with delight. It was then that I understood exactly what she had been thinking during those moments as she stood and stared off into the pasture. She wanted to see what that horse could do. She didn’t want to ride on the side of caution. She wanted to push the envelope. She wanted to ride off into the sunset.
As a chill ran down my spine, I couldn’t help but join my daughter with a grin of my own.
My daughter is like me.
As her mother I worry, but witnessing her passionate spirit break out of her shy little physique I stood with all the joy of a proud parent.
To Sass’s story I could add many of my own that would illustrate how much my daughter is like me, but I can’t. Instead I need to run and help my husband off the floor. After telling him about Sass’s thrill ride he has been rolling around and saying something about his heart, or his lungs, I’m not sure, but he is convinced he is not going to survive his daughter’s teenage years.
I say, bring em on!
Misunderstood
Even though I know what my daughter meant in this poem, many mothers read this and stood aghast, which made it all the more funny to me.
I found it hilarious, a bit embarrassing, but damn funny none the less. I do take my children to feed the ducks often, and we endearingly refer to the ducks as “mates” as they couple and walk around together in the spring. Although Sass and I have had the birds and the bee’s conversation, she has never been taken to the park to watch the ducks mate, at least not on purpose.
Yesterday my other daughter Sessy represented her mother well when she told her class “my mom only gets a runny nose when she sniffs up the white stuff”. Yep, my new title in the gossip circles is Peeping-tom coke head.
The white stuff Sessy’s mom sniffs is this.
Is it so wrong to fight off colds?
Labor Day weekend, a gory end without option
To rub lemon juice into my wound, the weatherman has informed my glorious city that we are in for an abrupt change in weather. Abrupt meaning SNOW in the mountains. Yes, snow. SNOW in the mountains.
This awful forecast left me wishing I was being offered a choice. An option perhaps equally as awful, but still, an option to choose my own demise. Such as: would you rather have snow over the Labor Day weekend OR would you rather pass silent but deadly gas in the dentist chair while having a filling replaced? This is the kind of situation you cannot hide from, the guilt of your offense is obvious and you have nowhere to run and no one to blame it on. You must choose wisely.
Yes, I would rather THAT, passing the deadly wind in the dentist chair in front of the dentist, the kind of gas that clears the room and requires the fire department to open and waft the windows, YES, YES, THAT! Instead of enduring SNOW OVER LABOR DAY WEEKEND! Please, anything but that.
To the weather man I say “you must be kidding me”, and then I fall to the ground like a fish out of water, convulsing until I fall flat on my back with my legs in the air, and then after what seems like hours, my legs drop. I have X’s on my eyes, and I lay still while humming “Mr. Sun”.
Can’t breathe
With all this back to school business, along with dwindling summer days, the noose around my neck seems much more than a fragment of my imagination.
Make a lunch people, this post might be long. Long, random, and grammatically incorrect. . .
In between fretting about the germs at our elementary school, buying up all the 4 oz hand sanitizer Bath & Body Works is discontinuing, and one last jaunt to Bear Lake, I was able to watch swimming legend Mr. Phelps, give the world a sports thrill not even Hollywood could have mustered up. Eight gold metals at one Olympic games! Thank you Michael, not only for the best week of entertainment, but permission for all us butterfliers to give our swim coaches harassing phone calls. Yes, the morning after Phelps swam his butterfly event harassing phone calls to swim coaches were made all across the U.S. to point out how wrong they were to tell swimmers “NEVER TAKE A HALF STROKE at the end of the race”. Michael, we will forever thank you for proving all our coaches wrong. Although I would never call and harass Steve, my old high school swim coach, because he would make me do push ups, I do indeed revel in the fact that I witnessed Michael Phelps, the current Olympic Champion take a half stroke to win the gold.
A few posts ago I told you we don’t drive the scenic route to Bear Lake. Lucky for you, our last trip required us to go the beautiful way because of some major road closures on our usual route.
See what I mean? This is the view once you leave Logan canyon and enter the land of Bear Lake.
Makes you want to drive your car right straight down to the beach doesn’t it?
There was more OM on this trip. OMMMM.
And schools of fish, of which I am deathly afraid of.
Once, long ago, while I was windsurfing this lake, the wind completely died. completely. Leaving me far away from the shore. Floating on the lake was delightful until a school of fish crossed my waters. Wiggling and splashing their way around my board, they just about killed me. Until Norm, a wonderful family friend came out on his jet ski to help, but his jet ski broke down so we had to paddle my windsurf and his jet ski in while being terrorized by a school of carp.
Just now, I nearly passed-out from reliving the contents in that last paragraph.
Moving on to another thrilling moment of terror, my son went missing while he was with my husband I was in the shower. As I took off looking for my baby, I spotted him making a run for the lake. Yes, I know, and yes, I did threaten divorce.
This photo is of a total stranger.
I am highly aware of the kind of negative energy I’m generating while posting such a private moment. But since this is a public lake, she should have been more considerate and used the restroom. Let this be a warning to you all: Don’t whiz in my lake! Especially don’t whiz right in front of me. This urinator squatted and tinkled inches from my children and Willy.
This is Willy, he has feelings too.
Our last night on the beach was breath taking, literally. I have felt like I’m suffocating each and every day we get closer to the last day of summer.
Due to my sadness from returning home from Bear Lake, and lack of oxygen, I decided to go on a wild adventure with my husband and three children to the top of Hidden Peak, a place where there really is no oxygen. No we didn’t hike. We here at Evanzstox don’t hike. Get real.
We rode the tram, i.e., puppet airplane with no wings, engine or seats. I was absolutely out of my mind because when we lifted up and swung back and fourth while elevating 11,000 ft I grabbed ahold of the germy railing and while peeking through my half shut eyes, I saw Santa in his red sled with the Easter bunny, 2Pac, and my childhood dog, fluffy, lord bless her sweet soul, they were mocking me.
No amount of Om was able to save me once we reached the top,
because landing way up there meant one thing - sooner or later I had to go back down.
We were all fine on the chairlift, but I must admit, I missed the security of the fluffy-soft white snow.
Did I just find something positive to say about winter?
Wow.
Three flats and a Tasmanian Devil
Shopping with my son is always a circus because my Little Man is never content unless he can climb the walls and skydive off the scaffolding, or blow something up, or worse, eat a piece of regurgitated bubble gum off the floor.
With that said, it is no doubt I was pleased to find a stroller he loves to be confined ride in. Our beloved stroller, which we call Bob, is permanently placed in the back of my car so if there is ever a reason to attempt a little shopping with our Little Man we are prepared for battle.
Today, the universe wanted to teach me a lesson in patients and wickedly decided to hit me below the belt by popping all three of Bob’s tires and not tell me until I already drove all the way out to Target with a car full of kids who were singing: “Hooray we are going to choose a new Wii game and our Mom is the BEST”.
When I pulled Bob out of the car nothing seemed wrong. I watched my son eagerly climb up inside his stroller with his juice and a box of raisins. That is when I realized we had serious problems with Bob’s tires. I stood there for a while, looking at the entrance to Target, then to my two happy girls, then the three flat tires, and then back at the store doors, then to Little Man’s hands grasping his raisins and juice, then back to my car. I looked deep into the back of my car as if a new Bob would magically appear.
As the universe stood still, my neck started to tighten as I muttered a few slurred sentences you would only hear out of a sailor’s mouth, I then folded Bob up and slid him back into my car. Taking a deep breath, followed by an even deeper breath, I lovingly explained to Little Man that he will be walking, and that he will need to be good, Real Good, so help him, or forever live in a kennel in the garage.
As we waltzed into the store I snapped at the voice in my head that said “why don’t you just put him in a shopping cart?” by replying: “BECAUSE I DON’T NEED MY SON COMING HOME WITH SOME BARKING MONKEY DISEASE!” and then the rows of shopping carts melted down to a pile of metal and plastic and all the shoppers ran out of the store screaming something about some crazy lady having a gun.
No gun people, just a really loud rambunctious little boy with untamed super natural powers, and a mother who yells at the voices in her head.
We were in Target for 20 minutes. I aged 5 years and grew a mustache, which I plan to have waxed as soon as I can get some help tearing this strait jacket off.
Motherhood.
Random E, F,G and H
E) I love this photo of Sass, she is doing the happy happy joy joy dance.
F) Every time I see the Olympic male swimmers in their awesome synthetic shark skin full body swimsuits, I laugh as I remember all the boys on my high school swim team who suffered through wearing speedos.
G) When we are leaving the house, why does my son always wait for me to set the alarm to announce that he has poops? why?
H) I start to laugh harder when I remember how many of the boys on my high school swim team would hold a kick board in front of their “man parts” to hide the obvious, and they thought we girls didn’t notice.
