Tuesday, December 14, 2010

You'll Shoot Your Eye Out, Kid

On one of the blogs I read regularly (shaunaglenn.com...which seriously, if you haven't read it yet, what are you waiting for?? Hilarious!) recently featured a contest to see who had gotten the worst Christmas gifts ever.  And because I secretly like shiny things even though I don't typically wear them and one of the possible prizes was this beautiful Michael Kors watch that literally made me drool, I entered.

Which started me thinking about the worst Christmas presents ever.  And how maybe Ralphie didn't get that Red Rider bee bee gun because he *actually* would have shot his eye out.

And that bad Christmas gifts would make a kinda funny blog post.

So here you go....oh, and feel free to leave yours in the comments, but sorry, no Michael Kors watches here....if I could afford one, I'd keep it...just sayin'.

We refer to one Christmas growing up as “The Year of the Pastels”. It was the late 80s, so you really can’t blame my mom, but still. My sister and I got pastel and plaid walking-shorts outfits….that matched! Um, no.  I think this may have been the same year that I got a lavender ten-speed and lavender jam box....both of which were totally cool...sans matching plaid walking shorts.

And then one year, my dad thought it would be awesome to get my mom a brand new lamp! Really?? A lamp? Like for the living room?? I'm pretty sure the rest of Christmas was very quiet around our house...what with mom not speaking to dad and dad sitting and reading quietly by his brand new lamp.  I guess he's lucky it didn't end up in some place other than the living room, if you know what I'm sayin'....

Some of the funniest Christmas presents I ever got were from my grandmother…who did not like us.  I know, I know...how crappy is it to have a grandmother who doesn't like you?? Grandmothers are supposed to give you cookies and make you drink hot chocolate and be full of sunshine and denture cream.  But ours? Not so much.  So when she actually decided to get us presents, it was less "I picked this out just for you sweetheart" and more "I found this in the bottom of my kitchen junk drawer and shoved it in a bag when I heard your car pull up." So we always got cheap, crappy gifts on the holidays she actually decided to give us something.

The two best?

-A red sweatshirt with a carousel horse ironed on it outlined with gold glitter puff paint.  Really? Okay, let's review: Glitter. Puff paint. Carousel horse. Yeah....not so much Grandma.

-One year we each got an evening purse (because when you’re 12, those black-tie galas are every freakin’ weekend!) and, wait for it…..a black and white polka-dotted shower cap.  Um, what?? Newsflash grandma: kids don't wear shower caps....like, ever.  At least the pictures were funny.

Oh and in case you're wondering, no, I did NOT win the Michael Kors watch....but I can't even feel bad about it because the girl who won was given pictures of her boyfriend and his brother's girlfriend, um..."going at it".  And she opened the box in front of the whole flippin' family! Um, dude, you totally won...hands down.  You can read the story here: http://www.shaunaglenn.com/happyhour/shaunas-holiday-gift-guide-slash-wish-list-its-like-oprahs-list-except-its-not-like-it-at-all/

Monday, December 6, 2010

Redneck USA

Text message from my husband to me: Hey, I'm going to the grocery store....do we need anything?
Me: No, I don't think so...why are you going to the grocery store?
Him: I need rubber gloves and a scalpel.
Me: Um....what?
Him: Rubber gloves and a scalpel...to skin my deer.
Me: (Holy shit...well, good thing that was your answer because seriously? I was totally picturing you as a serial killer.) And you think they have them at the grocery store??
Him: Yeah, they have everything there.
Me: I'm going to go out on a limb here and say probably not that.

Couple of hours later:
Him: You were right....no scalpels at the grocery store.
Me: Duh...
Him: But I did get a package of them. From Tractor Supply.
Me: Of cour....wait....a "package"??? Like, how many do you need?? (Serial killer image coming back to mind....)
Him: Idk, but this way I'll have extras.
Me: And why in the hell does Tractor Supply have scalpels??
Him: For cattle castration....duh....
Me: Oh.  You mean not everyone uses their pocket knife like my dad did?? Weird....
Him: Really??? And *I'm* the biggest redneck you know????

You can't make this shit up.

Tuesday, November 30, 2010

Yes, Virginia, there really is an afterlife....you just don't really want to think about it.

No, I'm not dead.  I'm just completely overwhelmed with work, the impending holidays, the recently passed turkey day and all the day-to-day crapola that it takes to keep a household running, a husband at least somewhat happy and a kid halfway between "homeless child wipedown" and "clean".

However,  if I really was dead, then I'd be typing this from the beyond...weird, huh? So this would be a message from the afterlife, more specifically, *my* afterlife....which I'm pretty sure will be....er...South.  Do you think computers can withstand flames? I mean, I guess being raised Catholic and attending 13 years of parochial school left me with a fairly healthy respect for the idea of hell.

It also left me with a pretty good idea that I'm probably going to end up there at some point.

I mean, I'm pretty sure you don't live out my 20s and still get to push the "Up" button....just sayin'.

So here's what I picture: I'll die, wake up in a hotel hallway facing an elevator bank and all the buttons will only point down.  Left with no clear choice, I'll push the down button, the elevator doors will open and voila! The elevator will be filled with Madalyn Murray-O'Hair, Ozzie Osbourne, Osama Bin Laden, Hitler, 50 million cats and like 20 people I know. (No, not you....I would never say you're going to hell.  Oh, yes, definitely you.  And you.  And most likely you.) And I think, despite the threat of eternity in hell, there will be a bit of a festive atmosphere.  At least, I hope.

Not really...I'm just being twisted and perhaps funny? Probably not. But I plead temporary insanity brought on by exhaustion.

However, I do now and will always maintain that cats are from the devil.  So they are probably the truest part of this scenario.

This is so NOT what I intended to write about when I sat down at my computer...I mean, who says to themselves, "I think I'll write about going to hell today".  Jeez....I'm such a weirdo.

Thursday, November 4, 2010

Friendship Guidelines (not so much "rules"…just "guidelines"….sort of like being a pirate with Johnny Depp)

#1: If you're in the midst of a crisis, PLEASE call! I'll talk to you, I'll agree with your gripes, I'll cry with you if need be! DON'T go through a crisis and get all pissed off at me for not using my Jedi mind powers to know that you were going through something and needed a friend. And facebooking your crises and expecting everyone to comment on your "poor, pitiful me" status updates is LAME. You don't need a friend in that case, you just need attention.

#2: Don't tell me what a total freakin' loser/jerk/dick/douche/bitch your husband/fiancée/boyfriend/girlfriend/life partner/significant other is and then expect me to be nice to him/her/it the next time I see y'all together.

#3: I generally don't feel the need to talk to my friends every single day. I know you are my friend and you know I am your friend. We should feel secure in our "friendness" with one another. I may, however, text you in the middle of the night after a few bottles…er...glasses of wine letting you know that I think __________ (insert random person/picture/email/facebook post) is the funniest damn thing I have EVER SEEN! This serves as validation of our friendship…it means I like you, not that I want to annoy you….even if annoying you accidentally happened in the process.

#4: Along those same lines, I enjoy being alone. My saying "no" to hanging out with you has way less to do with you and your issues and way more to do with me needing downtime. It just gets tiring being this freakin' awesome all the time…I mean, the awesomeness has to get some rest! So, don't take it personally. (Yes, I'm totally kidding about the being freakin' awesome part…but not so much about the being alone part).

#5: I don't like cats or little fluffy dogs (please refer to this and this for specific details). I still have somehow managed to like you even though you like cats or little fluffy dogs….don't fuck it up by allowing said cat or little fluffy dog to climb on me, sit near me, lick me or hunch my leg.

#6: You are welcome at my house any time of the day or night. No problem! We can hang out! Bring beer! Do not expect my house to be clean. I will feed you, but I will not clean for you. You probably won't even notice since we'll most likely be hanging out outside. If you do not like to hang out outside and would prefer to hang out in a nice, clean house, how are we friends?

#7: I like to eat….and have drinks. I do NOT like to: work out, exercise, go running, go walking, try the new Latin dance class you're going to that's really a workout hiding behind funky music and hip gyrations. Happy hour? Call me. Work out? Phone a(nother) friend.

#8: While I am a sarcastic and cynical person, I do have my insecurities. When I call you feeling insecure and whiny and you are concerned about me and think we should get together and talk so you can "cheer me up", happy hour is a perfectly reasonable suggestion. For the love of all that is holy, SUGGEST IT!

#9: Yes, I do have friends that don't drink. I don't *always* have to drink alcohol to have fun. I like non-alcoholic outings such as going to festivals, going shopping, riding horses, etc. These things are not generally good mixes with alcohol. BUT. If you have invited me to: play golf, go bowling, fish, hunt, go to the lake/river, go to one of those indoor kid's game/pizza places, go out to dinner or come over to play cards, cook out and sit by the fire? I will come with an ice chest or order wine. Don't judge.

#10: I really don't have another one, but I can't stand lists with odd numbers of items on them. OCD much? Why yes, don't mind if I do.

Friday, October 29, 2010

Oh Canada!

My husband sold his truck! Good news because: 1) no more truck payment and 2) new (to me) car for ME!!!


The weird thing about it was, he sold it to some guy in Canada. CANADA! Holy crap dude! That's a long damn way to travel to buy a truck! I mean, they do sell trucks in Canada, right?? But apparently, they're like, super expensive and it's hard to find a good used one because of all the salt they use on the road for the ice and snow and blah, blah, blah. (Can you tell when I quit listening?)

Anyway, the whole experience has been rather….odd. Because there's a lot of back and forth and mailing deposit checks and working with international banks and yadda yadda yadda. So it's kind of been a cluster fuck and it's still not over! I think we're seriously going on like a month of bank/funds/international dealings.  (Don't we sound so worldly??)

So Ronnie's telling me all about this and how our bank is talking to their bank and on and on…and then he's all, "And I just couldn't get a clear answer, so I decided to call the Bank of Montreal and talk to the guy who signed off on the cashier's check and figure out what the hold up was." And I'm all, "Yeah, I can see....Wait. You called who?" And he says, "The Bank of Montreal". And I'm like, "YOU CALLED CANADA?!?! ON YOUR CELL PHONE?!!?" And he's all,"……yeeeaah……why? Was that bad?"


"Um, Canada's like a whole other country dude! That probably cost like $5.00 a minute! WTF!?!? How long were you on the phone?!?"

"About five minutes…besides, Canada's like the US…I mean, it's just right up there north of us."

Okay, yes, that's it…Canada's totally the US….except for the fact that it's its OWN FREAKIN' COUNTRY!! Didn't you see the Southpark movie where we declared WAR on Canada?!!? Why would we declare war on ourselves, you moron!?!? (Sidebar: in retrospect, not the best argument for why Canada is its own country, but I was so flabbergasted by his whole 'It's just the extreme northern US' argument, I couldn't come up with anything really coherent...) (Second Sidebar: Don't you just love using the word "flabbergasted"?? Me, too!!)

And he's like "Jeez…chill. It's not that big of a deal…I'm sure it wasn't that expensive."

In other news: Verizon Wireless confirms that calls to Canada are $.49 per minute. Oh, and Canadians have confirmed that they are, in fact, a country.

Oh, and yes, I freakin' LOVE my new car.  Seriously.  Like, I just want to move into it.  I spent most of Sunday just sitting in it in the driveway.  I'm not kidding.

Thursday, October 21, 2010

So, Vanilla Ice apparently has mad construction skills.

So. (Sidebar: Have you noticed how many times I start sentences or posts with "so"?? Weird.) Anyway, so we recently acquired cable…well, satellite actually because we live in the boonies and can't get actual cable. I did not want the satellite…preferring instead to spend my time in much more useful endeavors like reading….or facebooking…or drinking beer. So (there it is again! Dammit Jim!), guess who did?

Yep. HE wanted the satellite.

So (Ohmigod…make me stop!) to the satellite store we go. Not really…I mean, you order satellite off the infomercial when it comes on regular TV by quickly dialing the 1-800 number they flash on the screen for like .03 seconds when there's no way of actually dialing the entire number before it disappears from view. Or, you get on the intraweb….man is that thing handy.

So (seriously, it's like an addiction at this point…), anyway, we have satellite.

And, can I just tell you that the hours that he has since spent watching the hunting channel have a direct correlation to the hours that are NOT spent doing useful things like cleaning the house, playing with the kid or, you know, showering.

And I hate the satellite.  (Not so much because of that…because let's just be honest here, how much housecleaning was he *really* doing when we didn't have satellite? At least now, he's not following me around while I'm cleaning wanting to know if we can have sex….he's occupied with The Duck Commander…who I'm pretty sure can scare anyone off of having sex for a good long time. Have you seen these dudes?? SCARY.  Yet oddly representative of the North Louisiana redneck I grew up with...)

But I digress (again).

I hate the satellite because I am now sucked in to the most random shit on TV and it clogs my brain with useless trivia that is taking up space where other information (like when my kids' birthdays are, my voicemail password or the last time I shaved my armpits) needs to be stored.

So (Holy Lord...I'm going to have to start some sort of 12-step program!) I now know, for example, that Vanilla Ice's retirement plan includes owning his own construction company. He specializes in remodeling and has his own show on the Do-It-Yourself Network.

Reality Shows I Could Host/Star In When I Retire:
- Bottles vs. Cans: The Ultimate Showdown
-Living with Three Dogs and Why You Shouldn't Do It
-25 Minute Meals That Convince Your Family You *Actually* Cooked Dinner
-Pint Glass Collection Roadshow
-Save the Hoohas: A History of Women's Body Hair Trends

On another note, this is blog post 100! Holy shit balls! I can't believe I actually came up with 100 posts of random crap to talk about! I hope you have been at least a little amused…thanks for sticking with me! ~NTS

Thursday, October 7, 2010

The Whales Have Their Own "Save Us" Thing, So Why Can't We??

So the last few posts have been swirling around in my brain for some time trying, somehow, to mesh into this fledgling idea for an advertising campaign.

Let's review:

-I should've/almost/sort of went to law school

-My husband almost died of salmonella, but was saved by a hot Brazilian doctor and her rectal exam

-I am strongly opposed to vaginal abuse

Um, okay, so the second one really has nothing to do  with with anything....BUT

What do the other two coalesce into in my (arguably) brilliant mind?


Think: "Save the Tatas" or "I Love Boobies", but without the requirement for fundraising.

Isn't that freakin' awesome?!!?

A whole advertising campaign centered around a woman's right to choose the state of her hooha hairiness without being forced to give in to the media pressure to be bald, blinged, shaved or sugared!

Just picture it: wristbands urging consumers to SAVE THE HOOHAS!, T-shirts that say "I *heart* my hooha" or "I love coochies", infomercials urging women to make informed decisions about shaving, waxing, sugaring, threading or vajazzling their nether regions by getting all the facts FIRST!

*GASP* I just had the best idea!!! Vajazzling kits done in our very own lime green ribbons for "Happy Hooha Awareness Month"!!! OMG!!! LOVE IT!! (And yes, the color for this campaign is lime green. Um, look around…I flippin' love lime green. Oh, and pink, besides being already taken for "Save the Tatas" is also, somehow, grossing me out as the color for a vaginal-treatment awareness campaign. Blech.)

Man…it's going to be awesome.

We are changing the world one neatly trimmed vagina at a time, my friends. We should have a kick-off event! But none of the typical fundraising things like a bake sale or a 5K or whatever. How about a margarita tasting (hellooo..lime green!)?!!? $20 bucks gets you a margarita glass (inscribed with "I have a happy hooha!") and several margarita tasters! All proceeds benefit….um….our vaginal abuse charity (or, me).

I feel like Mikey in the Goonies "Down here, it's our time! It's our time down here!"…or "down there"…as the case may be. 

And I only picked June because nothing really happens in June....besides summer...and my husband's birthday, but nothing like "national" or anything.

Tuesday, October 5, 2010

Well, hey sugar! Come on over here and have a seat!

I had dinner with a girlfriend the other night...which is something that like, almost never happens. For some reason, it's just too much of a hassle to get the kid home, wait for my husband to get home, get all ready and then drive downtown. Because really? What's the point of going out to dinner with your girls if you're just going to the same restaurant you always go to with your husband and kids??

Um, no. Girl dinner is all about good wine, good food and good company.

So it was great. I hadn't seen this particular friend in a while and she travels regularly for work, so it was good to sit down and catch up over Italian food and red wine.

But then.

She proceeds to inform me about her latest salon discovery.


Basically, here's what I got from her: It's a process where a person (I'm assuming a small Asian lady because they are apparently the only people trained in the art of waxing/threading/hair removal), covers the area to be "waxed" (yes, generally your hooha) with this odd sugary/honey mixture and then RIPS IT OFF!

So, pretty much like waxing, but I guess it smells better?

Anyway. So that's not even the worst part...I mean, we're all old hats at the shaving, threading, bleaching, waxing game when it comes to showing body hair who's boss, right? Heck, we've even bedazzled some of our *ahem* hairier regions.  And I'm sorry, but seriously, can they call it something else? "Sugaring" brings to mind either a cooking show with Paula Dean or a bachelor party at a strip club.

The worst part is that when you get "sugared", the person doing the sugaring proceeds to "sugar" in all the creases, cracks and crevices!
I for one was incredulous.  "Really?!?! For the love of all that is holy! Why?? Why must this insanity continue??".  And she was all "It's no big deal...it's kinda cool.  My sister-in-law got it done for her wedding night and I have a couple of other friends who have done it before for special occasions."  Then? It clicked.

After realizing exactly what she had just desribed to me, I believe my exact response was something like, "Um, wait. So this lady sugared your taint?? And your butt??".

And yep, that was pretty much it in a nutshell.  Let me just say for the record that there is no "occasion" special enough for THAT to happen.

Wednesday, September 29, 2010

Salmonella actually has nothing to do with salmons

My husband has an irrational fear of raw chicken. 


If I decide I'm going to cook chicken and use the cutting board to cut it while it's still raw, he is lurking right behind me immediately ready with the Lysol antibacterial spray to clean every single surface the chicken *may* have touched.  Including, but not limited to, the coffee maker, the knife, the drawer handles, the dog and/or my face.

I'm not sure I can blame the guy though...he did almost die of salmonella once.

We actually didn't know that's what it was until he had spent FOUR, yes FOUR days in the hospital.  Because apparently that's how long it takes for salmonella to grow in a petri dish.  Who knew?

Okay, so here's what happened. We went out on a Thursday night to see a concert at the rodeo in town.  I was pregnant, so I had a huge serving of rodeo nachos (for those uneducated in all things Southern, rodeo nachos are corn chips slathered with fake cheese and huge jalapenos....often seen at rodeos, ball games and NASCAR races).  My husband, being not pregnant as only guys can be, had about three beers during the rodeo and the show.

A grand time was had by all (mmmm...nachos...).

The next day, he literally cannot get out of bed.  He starts complaining about his stomach hurting and generally spends the day either in the bed or in the bathroom.  I am convinced that he A) has food poisoning or B) has turned in to a giant pansy and can't handle three draft beers.  This goes on for about a day and a half....and he's still assuring me that he doesn't need to go to the hospital.  At one point, he stumbles from the bedroom and says he's actually hungry.  No problem....food, I can handle.  A sick man? Not so much.

After making a trip to get food that he DIDN'T EVEN REMEMBER! I decided it was time for medical attention and hauled his ass to the hospital.  Now that we're going to the hospital? He's convinced he's dying.

So we get there and they immediately start IV fluids and pain killers and boy does that loosen up a man who's been on the verge of death and has had nothing to eat in three days.  Then he notices that his doctor is a hot little Brazilian number....and proceeds to turn on the charm like only he can (well, like only he can when he's been given massive amounts of Percocet).  In his drug-induced haze, he's convinced she finds him the hottest thing in a hospital gown to ever grace the paper mattress cover of her ER.

And then she totally bursts his bubble.

She cheerily informs him that they are going to do blood work and cultures and whatnot and "Oh, yes, and we're also going to have to do a rectal exam".

He went from Percocet-induced "Yes, hot doctor lady, I'll do whatever you want me to do because I love painkillers." to "Holy shit balls Batman! You want to put what in where?!?! Not just NO, but HELL NO! I'd rather just die! Surely dying from whatever food poisoning I've got isn't that painful.  In fact, you know what? I'm really feeling so much better! I think I could just recuperate at home...really....and by the way, have you met my girlfriend?" pretty quick.

I'm not sure who was more embarrassed.....me, him or the cute little Brazilian doctor lady.

Monday, September 20, 2010

And that's why I never made it to law school

You may not know this, but I was a political science major in college.

I feel like there's a lot of nodding and "Oooh...that explains it" going on with some of you. 

But yes, you're right, it does make sense that I majored in politics...I'm good at talking....and debating....and just kind of bullshitting in general.  Oh, and my dreams of becoming a hot-shot lobbyist at the state capitol? Meh...I got way more interested in going out than going to law school.

You would think that being a "poli sci" (that's what all us cool cat political science majors called it) major would have influenced me to keep up with the daily goings on in world politics.  Or even state politics.  Or hell, even who's on the board of my kid's school district.

But not so much.

Mainly because? The news nowadays is depressing as hell.

War. Hunger. Hurricanes. Tsunamis. Crooked world leaders. Genocide. Lindsay Lohan peeing dirty. (Seriously?? Is she EVER going to get her shit together???)

And therein lies the other issue....the news now is either A) totally depressing or B) totally pointless and not worth my time.

Case in point? (Sidebar: OMG! That sounded so "lawyerly"! Maybe I really did miss my calling!) Headlines from Yahoo news:

-"Bedbugs Shutdown Nike Store" (ever heard of "foot lice?" *retch* I don't like feet).

-"Comedian Returns to Network She Slammed" (Margaret Cho returns to ABC for DWTS.  Probably not the "grand comeback" she pictured when they pissed her off and cancelled her show, huh??)

-"Michael Vick Wronged After Great Game" (And we care about Michael Vick's feelings because?? Can we maybe hear a comment or two on the dogs Michael Vick wronged??)

-"Mystery of Blue Jeans' Origin" (I can die fulfilled now...I've always wondered who invented blue jeans.  I'm sure it was someone with a sado-masochistic tendency who wanted to punish women for the five pounds gained over the holidays...but I didn't read it.)

-"Snazzy Outfits for Phil and Tiger" (It's really not so much about their golf games as it is their snappy dressing!)

And people wonder why I don't watch the news....or read the newspaper.  I guess if Yahoo news is really my source of current events, I should probably be prepared to not have much to contribute to dinner conversation about Obama's health care reform. 

But hey, did you see what Phil was wearing on the back 9???

Thursday, September 16, 2010

Green Death

I'm sick.  I don't feel good and I certainly don't feel funny.  So I've left you in the oh-so-capable hands of Mr. Leary. 


Tuesday, September 14, 2010

The Bucket List

Or as I could have also titled it "I should be working, but it's my birthday and I don't want to so there".

Oh, and there will be no Morgan Freeman or Jack Nicholson or any other endearing curmudgeon making an appearance in this post (Sidebar: Seriously, how awesome is it to use the word "curmudgeon"?? Love it!! Sounds so smartsy!).

Today is my 31st birthday.  And there's just something about birthdays that put one in the reflective mode, yes? Yes.  So I'm reflecting...on my previous 30 years.


No wonder I'm tired.

Everyone has their "List of Things I Want to do Before I Die"...or as the movie so cutely put it, "The List of Things I Want to do Before I Kick the Bucket", which I guess is still really long or whatever, so they shortened it to: "The Bucket List", right?

So today, I made one.  And then I realized I had done a lot of the things on it.  How does that happen?!?! I'm not old enough to have done all of these things?!?! What the hell??!?

Don't believe me? Check it out:

-See Europe.  Wait...
-See the parts of Europe that I really want to revisit (Italy and Spain) while avoiding the parts that were gloomy and cold.
-Party in Vegas. Done that one a couple of times.
-Party in New Orleans. Check.
-Party in general. Check.  Check.  Check.  Check.
-Rodeo. Check.
-Act in a play. Check. (Okay, it was high school, but still....)
-Get a tattoo. Check and check.
-Go to Mardi Gras. (possibly in the plans for this coming February...stay tuned!)
-Sing karaoke. Check.
-Sing karaoke in Vegas. Check.
-Sing karaoke in New Orleans. Check. (Yes, I love the karaoke...don't judge)
-Drink mimosas on Sunday mornings for no reason other than they're fantastic. Double check.
-Go on a cruise.
-Snow ski. I'm not good at it, but I'm going to call this one a Check.
-See at least one Broadway show a year (even if it's off Broadway).  Check.
-Enjoy being single. Check.
-Volunteer with children. Check.
-Get a dog. Triple check.
-Get married. Last time I checked...
-Enjoy being married. Check....mostly.
-Go on dates with my husband. Check.
-Keep in touch with old friends. Check (Still hang out with my friends from high school...and NOT just because of Facebook.)
-Have a kid. Check.
-Enjoy having a kid. Check.
-Take a family vacation to Disney World/Land.
-Start and maintain a blog. Check....oh, and you're welcome.
-Buy a house.

So basically, I have to skydive, go to Italy and Spain, go on a cruise, hit Disney and then buy a house and I'm all good???

Holy shit, dude.  I could die in like 10 years if *this* is all I have left to accomplish.

What's on your Bucket List?? Just curious....tell me in the comments!

Wednesday, September 8, 2010

Redneck Pillow Talk

You probably don't want to read this.

I know I've said that before and what happens? Most of you just keep right on reading. 

Just know that I am not responsible for you continuing to read.  If you are making that choice on your own, then you have no one to blame for any residual effects other than yourself.  However, if there is a meth-addicted burglar in your house right now and he's holding a gun to your head while demanding all of your cash, jewelry and cigarettes and insisting you read this blog post RIGHT THIS FUCKING INSTANT OR HE'S GOING TO CALL CHRISTOPHER WALKEN TO COME DOWN HERE AND SMITE YOU!, then maybe you're not totally responsible because I happen to agree that Christopher Walken is creepy as hell.  Still.  Consider yourself warned.

So this morning, it's raining.  Which is not new and shocking information because seriously? It's been raining for days....non-stop.  Because of the rain and potential flooding, school was delayed for two hours.

My plan? Sleeping in, doing a load of laundry, making breakfast tacos and running errands on the way to drop off the kid.  My husband's plan? Wednesday morning nookie.

Okay, fine, I can go with that....kind of nice with the rain on the tin roof and whatnot, we're not in a huge rush to get out of the house this morning...sure, cool.

So we're getting all cutesy and laughing and "So why don't you come on over here?" and "No, you come over here" (hey, I warned you.  Stop complaining...at this point, I think you're committed.  And yes, moving across a king-sized bed requires negotiation as to who's doing the moving).

And then he says something to the effect of putting something in my garage.

"Really? Did you really just compare the girly wallet to a garage??? WTF?? Did you have to compare it to something sooo....cavernous and roomy??"

"Well, I am about to park a Peterbilt in it."

And that's when I snorted....which kinda killed the mood.

But I gotta give him points for a quick comeback.

***Redneck dictionary: A "Peterbilt" is an 18-wheeler.  As in "a big f'in truck".  See why I snorted??

Friday, August 27, 2010

Fun Facts About Kindergarten

Fun Fact About Kindergarten #1: Having a locker in your classroom, even if it's only a locker that's big enough to hold a midget and an umbrella, is the epitome of COOL.

Fun Fact About Kindergarten #2: Because the aforementioned locker is just so damn cool, the highlight of the day is putting things into, and taking things out of, the locker.

Fun Fact About Kindergarten #3: Learning people's names is not nearly as important as what they are wearing.  For example, the kid has made a new friend and she has no idea what her name is, BUT she was her partner for an assignment and she was wearing a cute outfit.  Friendship material? I think yes.

Fun Fact About Kindergarten #4: The "holding area" in the mornings is the Multi-Purpose Room (MPR).  We did not have such things when I went to school....but the kid just thinks this is the coolest room EVER! "Mom! It's like a gym...but with carpet!"

Fun Fact About Kindergarten #5: You can sit by whomever you want to in the cafeteria at lunch.  Me: "So, who did you sit by?" Her: "I don't know her name." Me: "So, what did you talk about?" Her: "Um, lunch." Riiiight. (Sidebar: Sarcasm at age 5?? Seriously?!)

Fun Fact About Kindergarten #6: There are not ONE but TWO playscapes on the playground.  And they have SWINGS! But you have to wait your turn for the swings and if you're wearing a skirt or a dress and you swing, then it flies up and shows your shorts, so you should always wear shorts under it because, otherwise? You're showing your panties.

Fun Fact About Kindergarten #7: If you are late (by even one minute...I swear it was 7:46...really?!? One freakin' minute?!!?), you have to stand outside of the MPR room and miss morning announcements.  Please don't ask how we know this after only FOUR days of school...

Fun Fact About Kindergarten #8: Evening activities may as well cease completely the first week of school.  At cheer leading practice yesterday evening, the kid was standing in the glazed-over, blind-stare pose of someone who is sleeping with their eyes open while standing up (yes, that happens...I saw people doing it all the time in college).  When the kid who never sleeps tells you "Mom, I can't even stand up anymore.  I'm too tired.  I need some rest or a nap", everyone should immediately STOP what they are doing, take that kid home and put her in BED.  This will be documented as the day that hell froze over.

Monday, August 23, 2010


I never knew that it could feel so good to be needed...

That one little word could invoke emotions ranging from panic to embarrassment to euphoria....


I didn't intend to be a mother quite so soon...a fact that I don't share with you, but I would never hide from you...if that makes sense.  Maybe I wasn't expecting you, but honestly kiddo, I've never known what was best for me.  Luckily? God does....which I've heard is one of the best things about Him.

So I was given you.

The most beautiful, challenging and complex being I've ever met.

You are a lot like me.

Yet nothing like me at all.

You are like nothing or no one who has ever been or ever will be.

You are you.

And you are extraordinary.

Today, you started kindergarten....another chapter in the journey of your life.  A journey that will most likely include years of formal and informal education (most things I learned in life about people, I learned from the junior high and high school cafeterias....I wish I was kidding).

But today wasn't about the years to come....it was about minutes.  The minutes I spent pacing next to your crib wondering if your fever had broken yet.  The minutes I spent rocking you and feeding you at 3 am praying that you would go back to sleep easily.  The minutes I took to pack your bottles and later, your lunches, for daycare.  The minutes I stared at you while you were sleeping because I had, quite literally, never seen anything so beautiful.

Preparing for today took years, but seeing you blossom took minutes.

The minutes I held your hand while walking into the building and down the hall to your classroom.  The minutes spent unpacking your supplies and putting them away.  The minutes I took to snap "just one more picture". 

And the minute you turned from me with an "I love you, Mom.  See you this afternoon!" and a gleaming smile on your face.

And in that minute, I knew you would be fine and that I'd never be needed in quite the same way again.

Wednesday, August 18, 2010

Stand Up

So I have this fantasty life (I have several, actually...check them out here), in which I am a stand-up comedienne.  And people actually pay to come and listen to me rant about various and sundry things...much like what I write about here.  But you're all getting to enjoy this shit for free....can you say "thank you"?? Yeah, you're welcome.  Anyway...I digress (as usual).  So because I have this fantasy life of being in stand-up comedy, I LOVE to watch it.  I have a good friend who shares this enjoyment with me and is always telling me about new stand-up she caught on Comedy Central and if it was worth a damn and all that good stuff.

Her newest discovery is this guy....Holy Lord....he's funny.  Check out the link and tell me I'm lyin'....

Thursday, August 5, 2010

Lessons on Jesus

Thank God.....I am finally back at work.

Now I can get back to blogging more often working!

And my husband and I can have a more appropriate amount of together time so that we don't kill each other.

Luckily, we all survived the summer.

We are, however, all a little shocked that school will be starting in two weeks so we're trying to squeeze in a few more lake trips, pool trips and movie days before we have to get back to the scheduled grind of the school year.  The kid has decided to squeeze in one more camp before heading off to kindergarten, too.  So, she's been attending vacation bible school with her cousin this week.

Which I may have to reconsider for the next few summers.  Not because of any religious reasons or whatever, but more because I didn't realize how seriously she would take all of it.  The first day she gets in the car and I'm all "So how was camp today?" and she's like "Good.  We learned about Jesus.  Did you know he's dead? That makes me sad for Jesus....I bet his mom cried." Me: "Oh no honey, he didn't stay dead, he was raised from the dead after three days".  And she immediately perks up and asks when her pony, Sally, is returning to the pasture. 

Parent biblical explanation: FAIL.

But then some of the stuff she's told me about it has been pretty damn funny.  The next day I'm like, "Did you have fun at camp today?" and she says "Yep, but today was water play day, so we didn't talk about Jesus, we only talked about God.  On water days, it's God and on the other days, it's Jesus".  And then yesterday, I ask her about camp and she says "Today was fun.  We talked about Jesus and how we need to follow him.  But I don't really know where he's going....I guess we'll learn that tomorrow."

Catholics never really *did* the whole vacation bible school thing.  I'm not sure why, but to be honest, since I went to school with the same kids I went to church with, not seeing them over the summer wasn't all that bad.  Of course, I was raised with a healthy appreciation for Jesus...although I have to admit that I never realized he had such an aversion to water.  Maybe that explains the whole turning it into wine thing and why he didn't want to get his feet wet so he just walked on top of the water.

The things I missed out on learning by never going to VBS... 

Tuesday, July 27, 2010

Other People's Kids

A couple of days ago I took the kid to McDonald's.  She was thrilled.  Really? What is it about that place?? It's an indoor playscape for crying out loud...nothing too original about that.  But ohmigod! She loves the McDonald's...

So we went.

And because it was Sunday and my husband was at the deer lease with his buddy, we stayed for as long as she wanted to.  Which seriously? Was THREE HOURS.  Yes, THREE HOURS.  Holy Lord.

While sitting there for THREE HOURS watching her play on the oh-so-original-and-popular indoor playscape, I realized something: I'm not a fan of kids.

Oh, sure, I like my kids...most of the time.  But Holy Obnoxious Batflaps Batman! Some kids? Are just downright annoying.  For example, "Personal Space Invader" kid was out in full effect.  You know these kids, right? They're the kids who have never met a stranger, like to tell you random stories about their grandma's teeth and have no problem at all sitting extremely close to, or on top of, you or your kid.  And they're usually sticky. 

"Personal Space Invader" kid's cousin, "Oversharing" kid was also there. "Hi.  My name's Molly and I go to West Elementary School and we live in the Western Falls subdivision and have a dog named Chuck.  My daddy works out of town alot and my mommy likes to eat Cheetos and watch Desperate Housewives, but we're not allowed to watch it with her".  Well great, Molly! It's so nice to meet you! I'm going to continue to ignore you and refuse to give you eye contact in the hope that my reading my book is hint enough for you to stop talking to me.  Oh and by the way, maybe you shouldn't approach a stranger and give them all this personal information in case they're "Creep at the McDonald's Playscape" guy, mmmkay??

Then there's the "Smart Ass Preteen Who Was Dragged to McDonald's with her Little Sister" kid.  She threw a smooth-ass fit because her mom got her a cheeseburger rather than a hamburger.  Her mom was all "Ohmigod, just eat it Mya and quit being a brat".  And this kid looked at her mother and goes, "No, Mom.  That's N-O.  I'm not eating it because you screwed it up".  And you know what this mother did? "Whatever Mya, you're so grounded.  I'm sick of your attitude." And the kid proceeds to roll her eyes and bury herself back into her Nintendo DS.

Um, really?

Where was the "I'm whispering but I'm really yelling at your right now and you'd better straighten your shit out while you're still in public and I can't tell you what I'm really thinking" mom voice? Or the "Would you like to go to the restroom and have a private conversation about what I really think about your little attitude"? Or even the flat-out reach across the table and oh-so-subtly pinch you on the arm so you can adjust your attitude and eat your fucking cheeseburger and like it because I paid for it and there are starving children in Ethiopia?

None of that.

Instead, Mom buries herself in her iPod Touch.

No wonder kids don't have manners nowadays....neither do their parents.

Thursday, July 15, 2010

Anniversaries and gray hairs...damn, getting old sucks.

Actual text conversation between my girlfriend and I today:

Me: I'm pretty sure I just plucked a gray hair from my eyebrow....depressing.
Her: Surely it was leftover from your blond days and just blond???
Me: Nope, I stared at it for 15 minutes trying to convince myself it was blond, but I really think it was gray.
Her: I now have 4 gray hairs.  Question--do pubes go gray, too?
Me: So I've heard, but I have no evidence.  Since I don't, like, make a habit of looking at old lady vaginas.
Her: I'm glad.  What about old man penises?
Her again: Off subject--We should wear maternity pants always.  That thick elastic band is so comfy!
Me: I know! Btw: Is it tacky to bring champagne to a resort? I'm sure they have it there, but I'm sure it's cheaper at the liquor store.
Me again: And bleh--I don't even like looking at young man penises...penises are just weird looking.
Her: Before I got pregnant, I would bring wine.
Me: So it's not tacky, just smart shopping, right?
Her: As long as you're not bringing it out like to the spa or whatever and just drinking it in your room, yeah.

What have we learned today boys and girls?
Gray hair, gray pubes and looking at old man young man penises: BAD.
Maternity pants and cheap champagne in your room at the resort: GOOD.

And on a totally unrelated note, today is my anniversary (well, I guess it's sort of related...we are going to the resort where I will be smuggling in some champagne and coincidentally, my husband has a penis.  But it's not old....and it doesn't have gray pubes...TMI? Yeah, sorry).  And I know that usually, bloggers like to write sappy prose about meeting the love of their lives and yadda yadda yadda.  Surely this is not your expectation of me at this point?

Okay, okay....I mean, I do like the guy...hey, I married him, right? So here goes....

I was fortunate enough to marry someone who accepts me unconditionally, is a good father, looks good in a cowboy hat and likes to have fun almost as much as me.  Not to mention, we like the same brand of beer, he boils some mean crawfish and loves my cooking.  And I have to say, I think that makes me pretty damn lucky.  Happy Anniversary babe!

Friday, July 9, 2010

Summer lovin'....or not.

This is what it feels like when I have writer's block....or when I feel the need to imitate a primate....or when I think I may have lice.  Or when I can't remember if I turned the coffee pot off this morning.

God, it's just so easy to pick on him....I mean, just look at him for God's sake.  He just *looks* like a dumb country boy....and trust me, when you rodeo, you've met one or two dumb country boys before. 

But this is not a political blog and I don't want to incur the wrath of my Republican readers (of which I'm sure there are only a few), so moving on.

My whole grand plan of having lots of time off in the summer to write extra-witty, super-funny blog posts has not come to fruition.  At all.  *sigh*  Instead my time off this summer has been filled with cheap movies, free bowling, the public library and pretty much anything else that's free/cheap and entertains my children for at least a couple of hours.  Otherwise, they stare at the TV (I think I've pretty much seen every Hannah Montana ever made....and now I'm excitedly awaiting the premier this Sunday of the last season....I wish I was kidding).  Sidebar: One cool thing they have discovered this summer is Wizard101.  I'm not sure if your kids play it or not, but dude, you have got to check it out.  Like, *I* want to play it.  But of course, they will play it for 7 hours straight unless made to do something more productive.

The other thing that's happened to prevent the creation of my blogging empire this summer is that my husband has been hanging out.  Like, with me.  And the kids.  All this family bonding is about to drive me fucking crazy.  This is the blessing/curse that comes with a husband who owns his own business.  He can blow off a couple of hours of returning phone calls, etc. to come with you to take the kids bowling.....which is really annoying fantastic obnoxious....er....nice.  Which in turn results in this conversation:

Him: Are you really ordering a beer at free summer bowling at 11:15 in the morning?
Me: Are you really sitting here with me right now?
Him: I mean, I guess it's no big deal, but you're like the only person in this whole bowling alley drinking beer.  And there's like, tons of kids and parents around... 
Me: I'm a trend setter. Besides, all those moms over there? They're totally wishing they had spiked their travel coffee mugs with vodka.
Him: Yeah, they like had to get the bartender guy from the back where he hadn't even clocked in yet to fill your beer....don't you think that's a message that maybe it's a little early?
Me: Have you even read the first amendment? I have the right to life, liberty and the pursuit of happiness, which really means, drinking beer whenever and wherever the fuck I want to....duh.
Him: I don't think that's what that means.
Me: Oh yeah? Well, shut up.
Him: That's real mature.
Me (in a high-pitched voice): That's real mature.
Him: I'm going to work.

Mission: Accomplished.

Saturday, July 3, 2010

I think it's safe to say we all learned our lesson

You know those phone calls you get from daycare at 11:15 that immediately indicate to you something is wrong with your kid?

Yeah, I got one of those on Thursday.

And I'm immediately all "Okay, I can leave work a little early to grab her and get her to the doctor because I'm sure she's running fever.  And then tomorrow, Ronnie can spend the first half of the day home with her and I'll take the afternoon shift because they won't let her come back to daycare until she's fever-free for 24 hours.  I'd better stop on the way to daycare and get some more ibuprofen because I think we are almost out and I wonder if it's her 6-year molars again or if she's got another ear infection.  Jesus, I thought we were finally done with ear infections!"....a little over-anxious much? Probably.  But this is what mothers do...because I think men are incapable of attending to that many details at once. 

But I digress.

Turns out? She let one of her buddies at daycare stick a berry in her ear. 

Actually in both ears, but her teacher managed to get one of them out with tweezers.

So she's got a tiny little berry stuck in her ear.

And they can't get it out.

So I leave work, Ronnie gets her and we meet at the house. 

No luck with the berry extraction.

I had already called the pediatrician and they got her in within the hour (which is awesome, by the way, and almost never happens). 

I will say they gave it the ol' college try....2 hours and 3 physicians later? No berry.

So to the ENT we go.

And finally, with the introduction of the Ear Vacuum, the berry is out.  Sidebar: I am totally thinking that the Ear Vacuum is something that Billy Mays would have done an infomercial for and sold on TV for three low easy payments of $49.99.  But I just can't figure out why people would think they needed one?? But you know, I have the same question about most things sold on infomercials, so perhaps this is a moot point.  "Don't delay! Get your Ear Vac today!"

Lesson learned this week:
-Antibiotics during 2 years of ear infections: $300
-Two sets of tubes: $200
-Co-pays incurred during the berry incident of 2010: $60
-Hearing your kid say she'll never stick anything else in her ear again because the ear vacuum "totally freaked me out"?? Priceless.

Saturday, June 26, 2010

The Fourth (of July)

I can't believe that June is almost over.

And of course, now the question that everyone has is "So what are y'all doing for the Fourth?".  Which you should just automatically understand to mean the Fourth of July...I mean, what are you? Stupid? Anti-American? A Saddam Hussein supporter? Jeez....

We have a couple of friends who are having parties and then my family is headed out to the ranch. Choices, choices, choices.  Whatever, we're totally going to the ranch to drink lots of beer and celebrate our independence and freedom to do things like own guns and shoot shit.  I'm sure it'll be a blast.

But I have to admit, the Fourth (of July) is not exactly my favorite holiday.  And no mom, I'm not an anti-patriot....I swear.  My beef with the Fourth (of July)?

It is miserably HOT.

And then? You GRILL....because a fire is definitely in order when it's already 104 fucking degrees outside.

Or? You pop fireworks....again, because you absolutely need fire when it's this warm, and the lack of rain in the summer makes this a fun and SAFE family outing (she says, without a hint of sarcasm).  Don't get me wrong, fireworks are fun, but we spend the majority of our time when popping fireworks keeping our pyromaniac son from lighting them and throwing them in the front seat of the truck.  Or the bed of the truck.  Or in the dog's collar.  Or his sister's ear.  Seriously, that kid is dangerous with fireworks.  He gets this crazed look in his eye and starts saying, "Fire! Fire! Fire!" all the time.

My perfect Fourth of July would include the lake, a boat and drive-thru.  No cooking, plenty of water to cool off in, minimal heat and no fireworks (other than the ones the city has already paid for and is so graciously providing for your viewing pleasure....miles away from where my son is located so that he doesn't go all arsonist on us).

This must have something to do with the fact that in my family, the Fourth (of July) was always a day to work cows.  Yes, I'm serious.  Basically, when you own cows, a couple of times a year, you need to pen them up, sell off whatever you're selling that year, spray them with fly spray, brand any new ones you're keeping and cut any bull calves you want to sell as steers (if you have questions about that, go ask your father).  Anyway, so this is how my Fourth (of July) was spent....sweating my ass off, listening to my dad yell at the stupid cows and riding horses for 3 hours in the Louisiana summer heat.

Inevitably, after it was all over, my mom would say something like "Well, glad that's done! It's the Fourth (of July)! We should cook out! How about  burgers?!"

To which my reply was something along of the lines of "You have got to be fucking kidding me".

Enjoy your Fourth (of July)!

Tuesday, June 22, 2010

It's good to have goals

Letter to some editor out there who wants to take me on as an author and one day publish all of my random rantings and make me millions of American dollars:

Dear Mr. Publishing Company Man:

Hi.  You don't know who I am because I try very hard to protect my identity from freakshow right-wing conservatives who object to the use of the words "vajayjay" and "fuck" and might want to get me fired from my real job.  Don't worry, when it's time to cut me a royalty check, I'll be sure and give you a call so that you get my name right on that fucker.  Oh, and yes, I have a real job....but please, don't let that convince you that I'm not fully dedicated to my writing. The issue is that the electric company doesn't accept "I'm a starving author" when your bill is due...they'll pretty much turn that shit off in the absence of money.

Anyhoo, I write pretty much just like I talk, but again, because we won't have a conversation until it's time to send me money, you'll just have to trust me on that one.  I usually write about odd, random or totally unbelievable, vaguely redneck shit that *actually* happens to me.  And I for one happen to think I'm pretty damn funny.  Also, I have a whole 7 followers....dude, tell me these people are not totally cutting edge?? Two words: Trend. Setters.

Still not convinced?? Okay, well then how about this: how many redneck bloggers can you think of who can spell or know when to make a new paragraph and shit?? Yeah, exactly. 

So back to that whole "paying me to write" thing....you should totally do it.  All the cool kids are....come on dude, drink the kool-aid.  (Sidebar: did you not just totally fucking love kool-aid when you were a kid?? Man, I sure did! My mom never made it because it was all "high in sugar" and "unhealthy" and whatnot.  But my aunt next door ALWAYS had a pitcher of kool-aid! And all the way over there I'd be all "Man, I can't wait to get to Aunt T's house and drink some kool-aid!" and then just my luck, I'd get there and it'd be grape.  Fucking grape.  Disgusting.  But still, I'd force down a glass or two just because it was sugary as hell.) 

In conclusion, I am available to any publishing company who is looking to break the "next big thing" into the world of fiction.....which would be me in case you missed that part.....seven out of seven followers agree.


Tuesday, June 15, 2010

One Bad Mother....

Confessions of a bad mother:

  •  My kid hasn't had a bath since Sunday. I was having a couple of beers  all set to put her in the tub last night and realized that today is "Water Play Day" at daycare. Score!
  • I have a job that enables me to take a lot of time off (especially during the summer) and I am still planning on taking my kid to daycare at least a couple of days a week so that no family fatalities ensue.
  • Dinner at my house last week consisted of dry cereal, Sonic and frozen waffles because I hadn't been to the grocery store in like, 2 months.
  • I regularly allow my kids to eat 2 to 3 of those little cups of vanilla ice cream a day. It's not worth the argument and makes them feel like they've somehow won something.
  • Lots of people have issues with kids watching too much TV. I am no longer one of those people. Especially after working all day, cooking dinner, packing lunches for the next day and cleaning the kitchen/house/laundry. You wanna watch 3 hours of the Disney channel? Go for it….mommy's having a cocktail.
  • I allow my children to dress themselves. This means that my 12-year-old stepson typically wears all of one color…he hasn't quite mastered the concept of "complementing colors" vs. "matching colors". If it's all red, it matches. This also means that my 5-year-old daughter is wearing something vaguely resembling that of the starving Ethiopian children they show on those Sally Struthers commercials. She has now taken to asking me "Mommy, do I look like a homeless child in this?" 
  • I also allow my daughter to pack her own lunch for school. She has taken frozen waffles, cereal, a whole stalk of celery and a mayonnaise sandwich at one time or another for lunch.
Wow....and this was just the first 7 I could come up with off the top of my head....stay tuned.

Thursday, June 10, 2010

Chips and bread

I have nothing to say.

I have been sucked into the black hole that is the end of the school year and am just recently clawing my way back out.

Things have been crazy hectic…vacation at the coast, end of the school year, preschool graduation, friends' graduation celebrations and work. I'm tired just from writing all of that.

I think I may have finally caught up on sleep, but we drank celebrated so much this past weekend that I have only had two beers this week. Yep, that's right….TWO….and it's THURSDAY. That's like half a beer per day. Who am I all of a sudden?

I have also, within the last month or so, boycotted grocery shopping.

Seriously. There is no time.

We have been going from function to function and stopping at the convenience store to buy beer to bring on the way. Typically, these functions have included free meals, so while there's really been no time, there's not been much of a need either.

Well, maybe a little bit of a need….

So on Tuesday I get a text from my husband that says "I got chips and bread". Which I later find out meant that he went to the grocery store and LITERALLY bought chips. And bread.

Chips. Bread.

That is all.

So lemme get this straight. You drove the 10 minutes to the grocery store, parked your huge-ass truck in the parking lot, walked all the way inside and rather than purchase things that we could actually make a MEAL out of like chicken, vegetables, lunchmeat or milk, you expended all that energy to buy CHIPS and BREAD?!?!


Meals you can make out of chips and bread:

1. Chip Sandwiches

2. Hmmm....I got nuthin'.

So now, I will have to write out the gigantic grocery shopping list and go grocery shopping on Friday.


Guess this means I'll have to actually cook at some point, too.

Thursday, June 3, 2010

Warning: This Post Contains Gross Generalizations About a Group of People (and not like "gross" like "eww", but "gross" like "big-time")

I have done it.

I have drunk (drank? No, I'm pretty sure it's drunk….but I'm really not sure and I'm generally super-anal about correct grammar and spelling. Hmm…hang on; I might have to Google it. No, that's stupid…spell check didn't underline it with that squiggly red or green line, so it's probably okay. Moving on…). Okay, sorry, ADHD moment.

So it's official.

I have drunk/drank the Kool Aid.

I have signed my daughter up for cheerleading.

I know….I feel like such a sell-out. I feel like I'm single-handedly responsible for setting the women's rights movement back like, 50 years. But my husband's all, "Jeez…calm down, it's not that big of a deal. Why do you always have to make everything so political?? She wants to cheer, let her. You're not, like, the President or something". And I'm all "Oh yeah? Well…..shut up."

And I know that he's probably right. It's probably not *that* big of a deal in the long-run, so we will go through with it. And she'll wear the cute little uniform and the cute little bow and carry the cute little pom-poms. And I'll try not to hate her….you know, since she's my kid and all.

But I'm sure it'll be fine.

The thing of it is, I wasn't so much the "cheerleader type" in high school. I did a variety of activities, but they were mostly sports, rodeo or speech/theater. Yeah, I did say a "variety. One of my very best friends was a cheerleader all through high school and was actually head cheer leader our senior, so it's not like I have anything against them….it just wasn't my bag. Of course, cheerleading has changed drastically since then….now you have to like tumble and do acrobatics and shit. And it may or may not involve cheering for an actual team…which is just odd to me. Like, what the hell's the point? Who are you cheering for if there's not some sort of sport being played?? Um…no thank you.

The worst part? I'll have to sit at practice or in the bleachers with the other cheerleader moms. Who were probably all cheerleaders in high school or even college and will want to relive their glory days while wearing their workout clothes since they just came from the gym and "Oh! Wouldn't you know it; I can still do a round off back handspring and toe touch. What? No, I couldn't….well, okay, maybe just one time if you insist!" All while watching our five- and six-year-olds learn cheers.


So let's see….what should we talk about first? Hmmm….the 8-point buck my son shot this year? The war in the Middle East? The impact that Cold War politics has had on 21st century America? How my daughter already knows how to clean freshly killed dove? The fact that I can out-drink most sorority girls? My concern that cheerleading might be a detriment to young girls' self-image?

Probably not.

This is going to be a blast.

Wednesday, June 2, 2010

Things I learned while vacationing at the Texas coast

(Yes, we've been on vacation....okay, it was like a "mini-vacation" because it was basically just a long weekend down at the coast.  But when you're po'? Yeah, it's a vacation.  Anyway, that's why I haven't been writing...it takes a flippin' act of Congress to get all the shit together for a family of four to vacation.  I swear I've done enough laundry to outfit a college fraternity.  So yeah, that's my excuse for not posting in a while....and I think it's a pretty damn good one if I do say so myself.)

• Do not show the five-year-old what a jellyfish looks like so that they may avoid stepping on or getting stung by said jellyfish. It will only serve to freak her the fuck out about getting in the ocean and then you'll spend the rest of the trip by the condo's pool.

• Drinking beer all day in the Texas summer heat will produce the expected results unless you eat lunch…or at least breakfast...or even a bag of peanuts.

• I would be the size of my refrigerator if I lived within 100 yards of a Whataburger (which our condo was). Taquitos for breakfast, cheeseburgers for lunch?! What's not to love?

• The bonding experienced between a husband and a wife while everyone is at the front of the boat and the husband is standing between you and the shore so that the people fishing on the shore can't see you sitting and peeing in a bucket may be the cure for the divorce rate in this country.

• If you can pee in a bucket with three adults and three children on the same boat with you plus the, oh…say…five or six dudes fishing on shore possibly watching you, you can say with absolute conviction that you do not have a shy bladder.

• God Bless the person who invented the car DVD player. I'd like to shake that dude's hand and personally let him know how that I only had to say "Don't make me stop this car!" like, once on the drive down to the beach.

• If four adults and three kids can survive a long weekend together in a total of about 300 square feet of space, I don't see what the problem is with letting the Chinese have more than one baby. Overcrowding-schmovercrowding....

• Should you be out fishing all day and think it's funny to text your wife and tell her to bring some cash and meet you at the boat launch because you're being escorted in by a game warden to take a field sobriety test, which is completely NOT TRUE?? Forget all of your "pee time bonding"….she will be pissed. And then retaliate by hiding the vodka. Don't fuck with her.

Wednesday, May 26, 2010

Imagination schmagination

Lately the kid has been really into her imagination.

Which is better, I guess, than being really into the Disney channel or watching the Shrek movies over and over….you know, it's more "creative" and all.

Her newest thing is pretending to be a mermaid.

And not just any ol' "I need a prince to make my life complete Ariel from The Little Mermaid" type of mermaid will do. This girl wants to be the "Barbie bad-ass surfer chick whose mother just happens to be a mermaid and turns into a mermaid when she's 16 and saves mermaid land" type of mermaid.

So every day in the tub it's "Look at my mermaid tail!" or "Mommy! I’m a mermaid now that I'm in the water!"or "I'm saving all the mermaids from the bad lady!" and whatnot. And it occurred to me last night that I don't remember ever pretending that I was a mermaid. I guess because I pretty much knew there was no such thing? For that matter, I don't know that I really ever pretended I was a princess or an animal or anything else she pretends to be…

I think I must have been born cynical.

How sad is that?

My imaginative play as a little girl:

-Communion—Come on, we were Catholic. And there was this weird allure to being the priest (in a bathrobe) and handing out the little round wafers. My cousins and I played communion all the time. We would even take loaves of white bread and use cookie cutters to make little circles out of them. And then sometimes, we'd carry baby dolls up with us so that the "priest" could pretend to bless them. We may or may not be going to hell for this.

-Cashier—Yes, I'll admit freely that I thought the bar code scanner thingies in the grocery store were the coolest things I have ever seen. I remember when they used to have to key the numbers in manually and then once the scanner/beeper things came about? OMG! Fascinated. And I always wanted a fake cash register so that we could play grocery store, but unfortunately, we had to make do with scanning the items and going "BEEP" with our mouths. *sigh* Such a deprived childhood. But now? SELF CHECK-OUT! I'm reliving my youth every time I go to Wal-Mart.

-Teacher—Because we had a huge chalkboard in our play room and I really enjoy being in charge and telling people what to do. And that's pretty much the only reason to play teacher. 

-Cops and Robbers—We played this for hours on end it seemed. And you know, being raised in the South, we all had toy guns. And we pointed them at people and pretended to shoot them or held them at gun point and took them to jail. And I'm happy to report that we are all pretty well-adjusted contributing members of society and not super violent serial killers or neo-Nazi skinheads intent on world domination. We just liked to play cops and robbers….

-House—I was blessed to have a kick-ass playhouse as a kid. It was HUGE and had a little bunk bed and kitchenette in it. And we played house in that thing forever. We'd cook and take care of babies and act like our mothers.  (Cool Sidebar: My little one is playing house in it now since my mom had it redone when I had a little girl.)
-Cowgirl—Hello?!!? We had horses. My parents both rodeoed. My sister and I rodeoed. This is not imaginative.

So I'm not sure that's very "imaginative" imaginative play? More like "totally boring and realistic" play. What a lame ass. 

The kid's got much more going for her in the imagination department.

Wednesday, May 19, 2010

Fatty McGee

So I recently took a good long look at myself and said, "Self, you have really got to cut back on the greasy food and beer because none of your summer clothes fit and it looks like two mutant babies have taken up residence under your armpits". And myself promptly replied, "Fuck you fatty…I like to eat!" And I was all, "Look self; you don't have to use rude name-calling to motivate us into going on a diet and trying to lose a few pounds. We just need to look at little more toned in our tank tops and shorts." And then myself was like, "Can you repeat that? I didn't hear you over the massive tacos and beer fest I was having. You want one?"


I have started a diet.

And I couldn't tell you the last time I had a corn chip….or bread….or a cheeto….or beer. (Okay, yes, I'm totally lying on that last one…but I mean, really? Can you seriously call Michelob Ultra "beer"?? More like "beer flavored water", if you ask me. Besides, I only had like 6...5…4 on Sunday so that's not so bad, right? Right.) Anyway, so last night, because I just couldn't stomach the thought of Michelob Ultra (never mind the fact that we didn't have any), I decided to have a Crown Royal and water with just a smidge of lime, which is really odd for me, because I'm not much on whiskey (which I know you already knew because you have read my bio, like 187 times and have it memorized, duh).

But, Oh. My. God.

It was gooood.

So now I'm addicted to Crown Royal and water with a twist of lime.

At least it's not as fattening as beer. (See? I'm a health-conscious alcoholic.) (I'm not an alcoholic mom, I was just kidding. Really. I'm not. I took a quiz and everything.)

So as part of the diet plan, I'll figure out how many calories/carbs to save up for a drink or two an evening and that way (maybe) I'll lose my beer gut and actually look decent (for a 30-year-old mother with a softball player build) in my shorts and tank tops.

What's that? You think I should just quit drinking alcohol all together because of the extra calories or carbs and diet at the same time so I can maximize my weight loss potential??

You must be shitting me if you think I can handle all that. It's like I don't even know you anymore…

Baby steps people, baby steps.

Wednesday, May 12, 2010

Public Service Announcement: The More You Know...

Oh the humanity!

When will the vaginal abuse end?!?!

So it's not enough that we have to make sure the girly wallet is trimmed or waxed or even shaved as bald as the day you were born, plus make sure it stays all fresh and clean….NOW we have to decorate it?!?!?!

Holy Lord.

Surely our mothers did not have it this difficult? I mean, sure, you want to keep the hoo-ha on top of the latest trends or whatnot, but I'm not sure the nether regions need their own bedazzling treatment??

And is it just me or does this say "tramp"?

Is there such a thing as "tasteful vajazzling"? Probably not.

And of course, my husband's number one concern: does it hurt men?? I mean, yes, this picture is okay…it's vajazzled on the top away from the area where he would really need to worry about it hurting.  But I saw some more graphic pictures on the net when I Googled it. (Um yeah, of course I Googled it...and yes, I'm aware that does make me seem a little pervy. Hey, I was curious as to what it actually looked like.) Anyway in some of the pictures, the crystals were more *ahem*….strategically placed, if you will. And I think if one of the crystals came off while you were having sex, it could create some discomfort for both of you. But maybe not unl.....OHMIGOD! What if it unglued from your vajayjay and became lodged in his pubic hair?!!?!? Holy shit balls! That would hurt him like a mother!

I'm here to tell you kids: Practice safe sex. Keep all metal and glued objects away from the private areas. It's for your own safety, really.

And just because Jennifer Love Hewitt and Kathy Griffin do something does NOT mean it's cool.

This is why I am glad I'm not single right now…I can't handle the demands being placed on the vagina in the singles' scene these days. I'm just not sure anyone should vajazzle a hoo-ha after birthing something through it. You might be "accentuating your problem area"….just sayin'…..

Tuesday, May 11, 2010

The kid *really* needs to start sleeping through the night

Conversation in my house this morning:

Him: "Hey, we need dog food…the dogs are totally out."

Me: "Okay, I'll stop at the store and get some on the way home."

Him: "Oh and we need cough syrup for the kid and lunchmeat…and salsa….and probably chips and bread."

Me: "Didn't I just say I'd stop on the way home?"

Him: "Well, yeah, but I was telling you what else to put on the list."

Me: "You know, since you already know everything we need, why don't you just go to the store? Aren't you going to be working close to home today anyway?"

Him: "Yeah, but I'll have been digging post holes all day outside in the heat and won't feel like going to the store."

*My head spins around backwards and fire comes out of my nose*

Me: "Really??? REALLY?!?! So my job is not as hard as your job since I work in an office with A/C?? And that means I should be responsible for all the grocery shopping, too?? You know what, Mr. Manly Man? Screw you. I work just as hard as you do…if not harder."

Him: "Yeah, okay…."

Me: "For your information, Ronnie, my job involves lots of brain power, even if I am sitting in an office in front of my computer for the most part. AND research has shown that using brain power is as exhausting as actual manual labor."

Him: "Umm…I'm going to work."

Me: "Umm…yeah, I think that's best…before I start hurling dirty dishes at you. You know, it wouldn't kill you to wash some dishes every now and then, too. And that research I was talking about? It's real….just so you know. You could, like, Google it and it would totally prove my point."

Him: "Okay, well I'm leaving now sooo….have a good day."


Sidebar: This entire conversation *could* have had something to do with PMS and severe lack of sleep (seriously, the kid was up like the whole damn night), but I would NEVER tell him that.

Thursday, May 6, 2010

The Blame Game

I find myself blaming a lot of stuff on my kids lately.

Nothing major or anything, we're not having like family drama or anything.

It's just that I blame them to get me out of stuff I don't want to do.

For example, we got invited to go to a shindig on Saturday and I just really don't want to go. But I also don't really want to tell my friend, "Hey, you know…I just don't want to come on Saturday, so I'm ditching you to hang out at the lake and drink beer all day". That's just not cool….but apparently we have some sort of obligation to go to this get-together (at least, according to my husband).

My plan? Blame the kids.

"Oh sorry, we won't be able to make it on Saturday; the kid's tee ball game got rescheduled".

Yes, that would be a total lie and no; I wouldn't feel bad about it. (Okay, maybe a little bad, but then I'd get to the lake and start drinking beer and I wouldn't feel all that bad anymore.)

This is one of the major benefits of kid ownership. They're an excuse to NOT have to do things I don't want to do. Creepy weird guy from the office invited you to meet him and his "girlfriend" for drinks on Thursday? "Ohhh…Thursday? I'm so sorry…Thursdays are just tough because the kids have ball practice until like 8:00. Let me check my calendar and I'll get back to you." Or when the neighbor you don't particularly care for comes by for a visit? "Oh Cindy, gee…I'm sorry, I can't let you in. Yeah, it's just that the kid woke up feeling a little warm this morning and I'd hate for it to be something contagious."

Does creepy weird guy need to know that ball practice is generally over by 6:00 and you could totally make it for drinks if you really wanted to? No. Does Cindy need to know that your kid is playing in her room right now and the only reason she was warm this morning is because she wore her flannel pajamas to bed and it's May? No. Will you need to give some extra money in church on Sunday because of the lie you just told? Probably.

(And before you burn up the comments section with hate mail about telling lies, I get it…it's not a good thing…but these are little white lies that you tell so people don't get their feelings hurt and think you're a total douche, so they're sort of almost kind of okay, right?)

On the other hand, kids are also a great reason for doing stupid shit like playing skee ball at Chuck E Cheese's even if I *do* happen to be 30 years old. (Dude….it's SKEE BALL. I love skee ball….don't judge). They're also good for stuff like riding all the rides at the carnival, or going down all the waterslides at the water park, or doing hair, or watching the Disney Channel, or going to see the final Shrek movie in the theater. "Yeah, you know, *I* didn't really want to see it, but you gotta do it for the kids, right?"


Oh, and by the way, we'd love to be able to come over and play on Sunday afternoon, but the kids have to go to this underwater basket weaving competition….sorry. We'll definitely do it some other time…you know, when the kids don't have so much going on.

Monday, May 3, 2010

Fish stories and dead dogs

So my husband fished in his monthly bass tournament all day Saturday. He left our house at 3 am! WTF?!? The only good things that happen when you're awake at 3 am include sex or Whataburger…and I can guarantee that he wasn't getting at least one of those.

What did I do all day Saturday?? I'm so glad you asked….I was in charge of handling the double-header tee ball game all alone. Lemme be the first to tell you that "dugout duty" with 5 and 6 year olds is like herding cats. I was ready to duct tape them all to the bench…which I'm pretty sure is illegal, but would have made the dugout much less chaotic.

He totally owes me.

Anyway, he fished with his cousins and they had a great time. The cousins invited us over for drinks on Saturday night so they could relive all their fish stories or whatever. As engrossing as fishing stories are for people who weren't actually there, but were in a dugout full of rambunctious 5 and 6 year olds all day long…..I agreed to go. I'm a big fan of drinks.

So we're having drinks and listening to the fish stories and by this point the fish are like 4 feet long. And that's when it happens. The little fuzzy dog jumps on the couch and proceeds to sit in my lap.

Oh, hell no.

"Um, hey, little fuzzy yappy dog…I don't really *do* little dogs, so could you get the fuck off me because you're creepy little pointy nose and beady eyes are giving me the heebie-jeebies."

But no…turns out? She loves me. And I can't get rid of her…she's obviously a glutton for punishment. I mean, it's not like she was getting encouragement to sit in my lap. She just sat there and looked at me and tried to use her Jedi mind powers to convince me that I liked little fuzzy dogs.

And it didn't work.

The cousins also have a huge spaniel looking dog that stays outside. She's gorgeous…chocolate brown and white. But she's very, very old. She doesn't see or hear very well. And she's fat. See? She's much more 'my people' than the little fuzzy dog.

So I tell the cousins "Ohmigod…I can't believe you still have Sadie! She must be getting pretty old by now!" And Ronnie's cousin promptly responds "Yeah, she is…we've had her grave dug out at the ranch for about two years now and every time she gets fatter, we have to make it a little bigger. But she just hasn't died yet."



I think I may have spewed beer on their leather couch.

Friday, April 30, 2010

They don't speak Martian on Venus

I was raised in the middle of nowhere. I have ONE sister who is 7 years older than me so we both had our "only child" time with our parents. We rode horses, played softball, cheered and danced. My father worked out of town a lot, so we were very "estrogen heavy" in our household. I have a daughter and she is the only female grandchild on my side...so my mom and sister dote on her...alot. 

My husband was raised out in the middle of nowhere, too. He is one of FOUR boys and they are all within 8 years of each other. They all rode horses, played football and baseball, and showed livestock. They ate 2 loaves of bread and drank 2 gallons of milk A DAY. The boys were all, at one time or another, grounded, getting a spanking or being made to move the rock pile in the yard to a different location so they could "think about what they had done". His dad coached all of them in baseball or football at one time or another so he was definitely in a testosterone driven environment for the most part.  In his first marriage, he had a son who is a great kid and a "boy's boy" through and through.

And now, my husband is raising a girl.

And Ohmigod…the learning curve is steep.  And I am amused.

Because the same rules? Don't apply.

For example, you cannot "tickle" or "wrestle" a girl out of a snit. When she is pissed, she is flat out pissed. And no amount of "funny daddy tickling time" will get her out of it. In fact, it generally serves to make her madder and then the crying starts. And then she wants to tell you how you hurt her feelings and she's not your best friend anymore. Which makes Ronnie laugh, but in "girl speak" is like, the meanest thing you can possibly say to someone.

Also, the brushing and fixing of the hair can make or break your day. If it's tangled and you're too rough? Drama ensues. If it's not fixed exactly right? Drama ensues. If she wants to wear the lime green barrette that matches absolutely nothing on her outfit rather than the pink one you say she has to wear? Drama ensues. And what does my man who is one of four boys and had a son the first go-round of being a father know about doing girl hair? Not much.

And clothes? *psssh* I once picked my daughter up at school after Ronnie was in charge of getting her dressed and there and she was dressed in head-to-toe camouflage. And the worst part? It wasn't even matching camouflage! Dude. Really? Was it, like, declare war on the other preschools day at school or something?

The other night, we were watching Parenthood (my new favorite show by the way) and the dad opened up a package that had been delivered that day from Victoria's Secret. He was all, "Wow honey…this black lace bra is going to look great on you. What's the special occasion?" And his wife was all, "I didn't order that…it's addressed to your daughter."

And he freaked out.

And so did Ronnie.

I'd feel sorry for him if I didn't think it was so good for him. Or if I wasn't kind of bitchy in that I enjoy watching him squirm at the thought of our daughter in a bra.

Oh Ronnie, the things we have yet to teach you, dear. Just wait till prom…you may have to just go out of town that weekend.

Wednesday, April 28, 2010

Ed HardLY

Four years ago, my sister (who has always been much more fashionable than I) showed up at a party of mine in this super-cool vintage-looking tee shirt. I flippin' loved it! It was black and had all these vintage tattoo-like images on it and Ohmigod! It was awesome. It was so punk rock. It was…

You guessed it….

Ed Hardy.

And since then?

He has fucking taken over the universe.

No lie. It's not just clothes and shoes anymore, people….we're talking ALL facets of retail marketing have been inked up with Ed Hardy tattoo designs.

You can now buy Ed Hardy wine glasses:

Ed Hardy car accessories:

Ed Hardy school supplies:

Ed Hardy laptops:

Ed Hardy computer accessories:

Ed Hardy housewares:

Still don't have enough??

How about putting some Ed Hardy on the inside?!!? That's right…you can drink up some Ed Hardy….

Or beer:

Of course, you could do all of this at once and multiply your coolness! You could wear your Ed Hardy underwear and jogging suit with matching shoes while resting on your Ed Hardy bedspread and playing on your Ed Hardy laptop with your Ed Hardy USB plugged in while you sip some Ed Hardy wine out of your Ed Hardy wineglasses and your husband sips on an Ed Hardy beer checking your kid's homework in his Ed Hardy folder. Later if you feel like going out for pizza, jump in your car with all the sweet-ass Ed Hardy car accessories.

And we'll all call you Jon Gosselin from now on.