“The Last of Us” is an Oscar Worthy video game

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I lucked out with Mr. Who in the TV watching and video game department. We like all the same shows, mostly the same movies (although I like mine a little more Blood Light), and he rarely ever channel surfs. On the rare occasions when he does, it’s almost guaranteed he will stop to watch “Cops”. He also only plays video games when I suggest it.

Not in the :”I, CarrieLouWho, grant thee, thine peasant, permission to playeth yon game” kind of way. More of a: “Sorry, babe, I can’t watch TV tonight, I have to work. It’s a video game night for you”.  He will then sigh a deep, sad, fake sigh, kick an empty pop can across the floor, and with his manly shoulders hanging dejectedly will say “okay, I guess so”, then run to find the controller.

While working from home has its perks, I need more hours to do it.  The 3 hours a morning the kids are in preschool are helpful, but not enough to get everything accomplished.  On top of work, I’m taking a graduate class to renew my teaching license. While at this moment in time, thanks to the twins’…er…energy… I cannot imagine going back into a classroom full of MORE kids, but I’m renewing just in case. So I have to continue work after the kids go to bed, which is probably not productive as I am extremely tired, and very stupid by then.

But still, I get to sit close to my Mr. Who on the couch and write stuff while he kills stuff. He usually plays epic games like Final Fantasy or Skyrim, but has lately been playing “The Last of Us”. This game is a Walking Dead kind of game, but there is a girl who could possibly cure the contagion that has spread around the world. It’s Mr. Who’s job to escort her across the country, while fighting awful not-infected people, cannibals, and zombies.

While I sit there listening, I’m struck by how awesome the script is. The voice acting is really good, and it seems more realistic than other games we have seen. At one point, a man had to kill his own infected brother, then kills himself from grief (and possibly a brother bite, not sure). The music swells, the characters scream, it’s so sad, and very intense. I know intense. I was once at the very, very, very last level of Sonic the Hedgehog on Sega Genesis with only 1 life left when Teen Who, who was about 3 at the time, tripped over the cord and unplugged the game from the wall.

This was before memory cards. But I’m not bitter. I just like to remind Teen Who about it once a week or so. (For the last 14 years).

As far as the Last of Us, Mr. Who might not know it, but a few times I watched, I MIGHT have had a few tears well up from the story. I don’t want to CRY at a video game, dangit. I’m more of a God of War girl. I want weapons, and I want to kill stuff. I want to kill bad guys quickly, and with fire whips. That’s how I roll.

The Last of Us, should definitely be made into a movie, it’s that good to watch. Hopefully Mr. Who won’t beat it too quickly, so I can watch more of it.

And yes, you read that right, no memory cards! How did we live???

I Started a Contagion

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Mr. Who and I have killed hundreds, possibly thousands. Selfishly, gleefully, and more than once.  We have poisoned, maimed, and lured many of the unsuspecting to their deaths.

In our defense, they entered our home without permission, and the police are no help.  They do not care that hundreds of sugar ants have committed a home invasion.

In the winter. In  Ohio. What self-respecting ant comes out of their warm abodes in -10 degree weather? They deserve their little ant fates.

Mr. Who and I use the tried and true Terro Ant Killer for our little friends. They are attracted to the delicious Borax laden liquid and before they are slowly killed, they take it back to the colony to share it with their besties. It works well, and 2 days later our kitchen infestation is over.

It reminds me of the movies Outbreak, Quarantine, and Contagion. I can’t help but wonder what it was like in the colony when the ants come back with their infectious, little ant selves.  Here they are, the best of the best, sent out by their leaders to find some food. The starving colony anxiously awaits their return. Wife ants hold their baby ants close while waving goodbye to their heroic husband ants.

Then they return. But they are not the same. They are Dead Ants Walking.

One by one, they start acting strange, coughing a lot, sneezing uncontrollably, high fever, aches, chills, etc. Doctor ants are perplexed, and the ant hospitals are gaining more patients by the hour.  Other ants that touch those that came back from beyond are getting sick, too. Slowly they die, one by one.  The CoD (Center of Death) cannot pinpoint the origins, and soon they die, too.

They will never know that it was I, CarrieLou Who, like the rhesus monkey, the plague ravaged rat, and the guano infected banana eating piglet, who started the Contagion.

I’d like to say I’d never do it again, but I hate those freakin’ things.

My Sucky Day Could Be To Your Benefit

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Shhhhh….read this quietly. Twin Whos finally took a nap. I don’t know how long I have. It could be minutes or an hour.

It should be 3 hours to equal the amount of bickering, whining, and crying they have done today.  (To their credit, they told me I was beautiful, handsome, the best mom ever, their best friend ever, and that I am funny, many times, too.)

But that’s not why I’m writing.  I’m writing to tell you a few things you may not have known, or needed a refresher on, based on my day.

1. When Sodastream bottles say do not put in the dishwasher, apparently, it is an order, not a suggestion.

I don’t know what I was thinking! I was highly distracted, trying to make 4 different things for breakfast, while pretending I was amazed that Twin A peed in the potty for the 1000th time, finding the right movie, and beating Buzz Lightyear on Donatello, ’cause that’s how my kids play.

So I threw everything on the counter into the dishwasher and pushed GO! What came out of there was, well, I’ll say it…pretty damn funny. The bottles shrunk to half their size, and the bottom thingy – which is only held on by a 1/2 drop of wood glue – wobbled all over the place.  I tried to salvage it, but just bought new ones at Target today instead. Hopefully Mr. Who won’t notice.

2. When you are loading laundry and hear a strange crackling noise, do not ignore it.

Because if you do, when you go to put the laundry in the dryer, you may see a million squishy white things everywhere. Those white squishy things would be the inside of a used Pull Up that somehow got into the laundry. (Just pee, don’t worry).

3. Your child will accidentally poop in the potty if you promise him a toy.

Twin B has Potty PooPhobia and strategically times his #2′s when we need to put him in a diaper or Pull Up. Today, as he was peeing, I told him we ran out of diapers, and I would get him a toy (overdue, technically, since I’ve been promising them for filling up sticker charts 10 sticker charts ago) if he pooped in the potty. Suddenly, there was a small splash. He looked down, yelled “ew” and ran away. What was there was about the size of  2 quarters, but as I cleaned him up, he yelled: “YAY I GET A TOY!”

4. Even if your child picks out his own toy, he will always want someone else’s.

The kids were thrilled to walk around the toy section. I rarely take them since Twin A has decided he wants a giant Buzz Lightyear doll and when he sees it he freaks out. Today, they were great. They were squealing with delight, touching toys, and having fun. I directed them to the clearance area, and they each picked out their own action figure.  As soon as we got home, Twin B demanded Twin A share his toy, who looked at Twin B like he was nuts, and ran away. The next 40 minutes of fighting made me hide under the piano.

5. Mr. Who working on Saturday sucks. I’m hungry.

Mr. Who had to work today, and while the overtime is nice, I miss him. He always makes pancakes for the kids, and the most perfectly cooked dippy eggs and buttered toast. It’s like a little piece of heaven – if heaven was a hen house. Instead, I had to suffer with 1/4 of a bagel ’cause Twin A stole the rest and hid while he ate it all.

6. The tantrums end.

Just when you think it will never end, smiles appear and they tell you: “Sorry you were mean to me Mommy.” You gently correct THAT bit of wonky grammar, and then get a kiss, an “I love you” and an “I’m sorry I was whinering, thank you for my toy.”

And then they ASK for a nap.

Those are the days.

The $1400 Wasabi Pea


First, I would like to thank my childhood dentist for all the destruction he caused in my mouth. Apparently back in the 70′s, fillings were supposed to be 3 times bigger than the hole being filled.  I’m paying for that now as expansion and old age are setting in.

I don’t get it. I brushed daily when I was younger, flossed a few times a week, but STILL would get cavities. My younger brother Who, and I’m totally calling him out right now, in his youth would go DAYS without brushing his teeth, even after eating Cheetos. CHEETOS! Guess who had no cavities? I should have punched him more growing up, just for that fact.

My poor soft teeth. So many fillings.  My senior year in high school was when all the misery began. I had no idea the candy bar I threw in the freezer the day before, that I was hungrily anticipating, would become  The Frozen Twix Bar of Doom.  I bit into it, and part of my tooth came out.

OMIGOD, the PAIN! I had to get a root canal a week later, then a crown. That root canal back in 1989 took 4 sessions! Since that year I have had about 5 root canals, and most of my back teeth that are full of humongous fillings are starting to crack. Another dentist, who has since been disbarred or dedentistized, took 6 MONTHS to give me a root canal.  They told me that up front that it would take many sessions because it would be pain-free that way. LIES!!!! ALL LIES!!!

I’m such a good girl. I brush 3 times a day and floss at least once a day, but to no avail. Maybe I should have gone the way of Brother Who and built up a protective barrier of Cheetos and chip dip around my teeth over the years. (For the record, he has since gotten hot and Tom Cruise-y looking; another reason I should have punched him more.)

Last Christmas I broke a tooth on my grandmother-in-law’s famous Christmas popcorn balls. Root canal! This past October, it was a wasabi pea. Just one deliciously crunchy, hot wasabi pea. Root canal!

Mr. Who is probably going to get me liquored up one night and just start pulling all my teeth out with a wrench. It would be cheaper than the work that is likely to come.

I should be aware if Mr. Who starts plying me with drinks. I might wake up one morning wearing these:


I am the Pilot Light Princess

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I am CarrieLouWho, and I can light a gas furnace pilot light.

Without blowing anything up.

I find that a huge accomplishment. The lighting part, I mean. The not blowing up is a bonus.

I will be the first to admit that I am not exactly a leader in anything mechanical, electrical, or lawnmowery, but I am more than willing to try. As long as the teacher has patience, and understands that I don’t MEAN to ask dumb questions, they just come out on their own. I don’t MEAN to not understand it right away, but give me time and I will.

Sometimes Mr. Who doesn’t get why I don’t get it. To him, my science, mechanical, electrical, (oh, and lawnmowery) minded husband, this stuff comes easy! The toaster broke? Don’t worry, CarrieLouWho, I will just go to the store and buy a new thermocoupler and reinventionitize it to the epicenter of the bzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzz….

(The bzzzzz is what it sounds like to me. It’s the sound of wishing I had paid more attention in high school.)

When he gets frustrated, I just ask him what a glissando is (as he is not musical instrumentally savvy) and he backs off. Okay, he doesn’t back off, he totally makes up something about what a glissando is, and even though know what it is, his made up definition is really convincing.  He probably should have gone into politics.

So, a few weeks ago, (the first time in 2.5 years of living here!) it went out when I was home alone. The first thing I did was go on YouTube and try to figure it out. I made 6-25 trips back and forth to the basement to get everything in order. I emailed Mr. Who, told him what I was going to do, and set out to try.

He called me in negative 5 seconds to walk me through it. Since I’m still here, you know it was successful. I felt awesome. I highfived myself, AND slapped my own butt in victory. That may have been excessive, but that sort of thing is not something I would think to try unless I had to. I would totally try to eat a whole pie, paint my nails 10 different colors, or put a wrapped Peppermint Patty in the microwave (don’t do that), but not something all manly like lighting a furnace.

Since then, I’ve done it 3 more times in the last few weeks. That’s kind of a lot. I hope Mr. Who doesn’t think I’m in the basement blowing it out myself, like a big furnace birthday candle, just so I can be all studly and relight it.

Because I’m not.

I swear it.

Snow Bullying – Ohio Style


Ok, I’m from Ohio, so I can get away with some of the things I’m going to reveal about Ohioans.

We are skeered of snow. There, I said it.

So maybe not ALL Ohioans are afraid of the snow, (after all doing donuts and making snowmen are fun) but it certainly seems that way when the wet, white fluffies start coming down.

“What is this magical white, wet stuff that falls from the sky like manna?”

“I don’t know, but I think it’s EVIL!”


Same thing with rain, too.

I have lived in Ohio all my life, and it’s always the same. It snows or rains heavily and it’s like we have no idea what to do with ourselves. Granted, this year has seen a lot of snow, and I’m afraid Teen Who is going to have a summer break of exactly 1.5 days for all the school that has been cancelled, but it’s OHIO. WE HAVE SNOW!

Sometimes we have snow all WINTER!


Now, the irony is how we make fun of the southerners whose towns shut down for .08 inches of snow.  We snort, roll our eyes, and marvel at how people could be so afraid of white water. We brag about walking 20 miles uphill (one way, of course) in the snow naked and yodeling because we are so used to it.

We are lying to you.

There is no naked yodeling. At least not out in the open. (It’s actually very freeing…so I’ve heard, uh…from a friend).

Now, maybe I’m just jaded because I have the most amazing studded snow tires that ever was. Mr. Who totally hooked me up, and I am the Snow Amazon Queen. Fear me, worship me, bow down if you will, but I’m going wherever I want with these babies.

Just this morning as I’m taking Twin Whos to preschool, I am barreling down my 2 foot of snow-covered street like the Mad Max that I am. A poor schmuck in a Hummer was stuck in the intersection I needed to get to, so I put my minivan in reverse, backed into a driveway, and barreled my way down the opposite direction. WINNING!

I told Mr. Who I was going to start a charity called “Stud Masters” where I will go house to house and personally Bedazzle everyone’s tires so they, too, can be royalty on the roads. The roads won’t seem as scary when you’re driving on shark teeth.

But I digress.

My fellow Ohioans, be nice to our southern friends who don’t have the luxury of seeing snow all the time like we do.  They aren’t prepared for such weather.  I liken it to the rare weather phenomenon of Skittles falling from the sky. We wouldn’t know what to do with those, either.

Although, I would totally volunteer myself to collect all the pink ones.

Time to Stop Shaving for the Impending Ice Age

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I don’t ever remember it being this cold in my lifetime. There are places that freeze on me when I’m outside that I didn’t know I owned.

In NE Ohio, it’s -9 degrees with the wind chill making it feel like (and how it feels is very important) -36 degrees.

-36. Negative. Thirty. Six.

That’s 68 degrees below freezing point.  There should be a name for that…like “OMGIC!” (Oh My God, It’s Cold!).

I’m sure there are many people who scoff at my idea of cold as they run naked through -50 below wintry woods to dive into an ice hole to swim. And yes, I know my grandma walked uphill 27 miles in the snow one way to school every day, but to this Who, it’s terrible.

Before I drove Mr. Who home from the hospital last night, as he has a nasty flu but got Vicodin at the ER, so it was worth the trip, we held our breath and bravely strode the whole 10 feet to my car in the biting cold. It felt like a victory to jump into that icy minivan. We would have fist bumped had we not been afraid our knuckles would chip into ice pieces.

I told him I don’t think I could survive an Ice Age. He agreed. I’m that fragile and delicate.  Plus, I don’t remember seeing any wooly mammoths at the pet store. Everyone needs one of those to survive an Ice Age.

Or a tauntaun.

If you got that, you’re a huge nerd, and I love you.

One of my favorite movies is “The Day After Tomorrow” with the dashing Jake Gillen…Jake Gylan…Jellin’…gah…Brokeback Mountain/Prince of Persia guy.  The LA tornado scene was awesome, and I used that in my classroom a few times for weather examples, while scaring the crap out of my students.  But it was about another Ice Age.

How would anyone survive? It’s bad enough to think about a world with no power like “Revolution”, or a world with no power and Zombies, like “The Walking Dead”. Imagine if we added ice to that. We would have walking popsicles trying to eat us.

I don’t want to go like that.

I also don’t want to die from a Sharknado, but I’m safe from that for now.

I told Mr. Who I am going to stop shaving my legs so I can start to build up a nice pelt.  His mouth said: “ok” but his eyes said: “oh, lord, please don’t let that quarter Italian wife of mine stop shaving”.

That whole quarter is going to keep me warm.

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