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.