The best thing about writing this post was spell checking it.

So this is us, pretending like it hasn't been two months since I blogged.

Just go with it.

TWO MONTHS?!!?

WTF!?!?

And you know, not one single comment asking as to whether or not I'm alive, have been sucked into a black hole or just don't like any of you anymore.  Not. A. One.

Lame asses.

So, what have you guys been up to? (I'm asking, but I don't really care and it's not like I'll hear your responses anyway, but hey! I asked! You guys didn't! So, by default, I'm now nicer than you are. I rule.)

In summary, it has been a hellacious couple of months.  (Sidebar: Ohmigod! Spell check just tried to turn "hellacious" into "fallatious"!!! Um, that's fucking awesome.  Oh, and let me assure you, it has NOT been a fallatious couple of months because we have pretty much been falling into bed already asleep. Aaaand now you know.)

And that's about all I have to say about that....nothing major, just hectic with work, school, extracurricular activities, yadda, yadda, yadda.  The same shit that all of you do, so why in the world would you want to read about it here?

Short answer: Ya don't. 

Moving on....

Things I'm thinking about/loving/googling/dealing with:

1.  Mike & Molly--ohmigod! The is, quite possibly, the BEST show on TV since Friends! And because I'm a teenager/young adult of the 90s and early 00s, Friends is like, the shit! If you haven't seen this show, WATCH IT! (Sidebar: I do not watch this show because it's about people who are overweight...the media has kind of made that the whole point, but I think, that is asinine (which, by the way, is one of my absolutely favorite words).  Basically, making it about the actors' weight is demeaning to their talent as comedians.  And now, I will gladly get off my soapbox and continue my witty banter.)

2.  Can you use Proactiv if you're pregnant? No, I'm not pregnant...(but if I was, holy shit balls! You guys would have totally heard about it because I would have absolutely freaked out!!!!)...but I have a very good friend who recently got pregnant through IVF, and this was a conversation we had today via IM.  Were we busy at work? I'm certain of it.

3.  How many activities are too many activities for a kid? I never want to make the mistake of being the "Over-Scheduling Parent", but seriously....she has GOT to have something to do besides be up my ass.  We're about to wrap up fall softball and now we're trying to figure out what's next...basketball, dance, karate, underwater basket weaving????  Not sure, but I've decided it's gotta be somethin'....

4.  How cheap am I willing to go on whiskey?? Yep, that's right.....I'm dieting again....(read all about my first diet fail with Crown and water here).  But honestly, it's going much better this time around! The hubs and I are carb dieting and I could almost swear to you I've got loose pants in the closet! I know!!! Me! Not having to lay on the bed to zip my shit every morning!!! Who knew!!?! Anyway, so now the dilemma is: Crown Royal is frickin' expensive.  Canadian Club....cheap, but hmmm....not so much the same. 

5.  Check engine light: OH. MY. GOD. My car is a total fucking bitch.  The check engine light?!!?! REALLY!?!?! It's like the drama queen's fake cry for help or some shit!! I know there's nothing wrong with you....I have your oil changed regularly and keep you all cleaned out and whatnot and YOU HAVE THE NERVE TO LIGHT UP YOUR LITTLE NAMBY PAMBY CHECK ENGINE LIGHT!?!??! I hate her. 

6.  Auto Zone: Did you know....if you take your car with the check engine light on to the Auto Zone, they will plug it up to this nifty little machine thingy that will tell you exactly what's wrong with it?? Fancy, huh?? They will NOT, however, be able to clear it so that the mother effing light goes off, NOR will they be able to sell you the shit that will fix it and make the mother effing light go off.  What in the hell is the point of "getting in the zone" then, Auto Zone??? To waste my flippin' time??? Well, then, mission accomplished....yay, you.

7.  The Saints are doing pretty damn good so far and Thank. God. They beat the Texans.  I'm starting to go a little overboard with the Saints gear though....got the shirts, got the cups, got the beads, got the stickers, got the "When the Saints go Marching In" bottle opener (how FUN! Open the bottle and it plays the song!!!)....it's getting to be a bit much.  Along those same lines, I'm turning in to quite the obnoxious football fan for certain college teams, too.  Who is this person and where did she come from?? I don't know, but it's a damn good excuse to spend Saturday and Sunday in front of the TV or at a sports bar drinking beer....dammit....Crown and.....nope....whiskey and water! Oh wait, never mind....NOW I know where this person came from.

8.  Recent discovery: there is a vineyard and winery FIVE MINUTES from my house.  Not kidding.  FIVE FRICKIN' MINUTES!!!!! Man, my life just got better.  And my Sunday was pretty awesome, too...the mom and I hit the vineyard and winery.  Made for a tough Monday though.

So yeah....

That's what's going on with me...sort of....or maybe not.  Maybe I just made up this whole flippin' blog post. 

You be the judge.

It's like those people who wear socks with sandals....they're cool with it, so why do I care?

Over the summer, the kid and I had multiple opportunities to go places with water, like the swimming pool, water park, lake or beach.  When you live in Texas and it's 118 degrees, you do what you can to stay cool.  (And no, this is NOT the part of the blog post where I rant on and on about how fucking HOT it is outside...you already know and it's pointless to bore you with repetition).  SO, the water park...or the pool...or wherever we were, generally there were people in swimwear.  Makes sense, right? Right.

O. M. Jesus.

Apparently some people don't own mirrors.

And honestly, some of them were so bad that I started wondering....you know, maybe it's just me?

Maybe I'm the one with the insane body-image issues and these people have one over on me, you know? Hey, they're cool being who they are (even if who they are is a 350 pound woman in a string, rebel flag bikini (yes, I saw that....and I'm here to tell you, there are some things you can't "unsee")).  So, who's the one with the problem here? Them? Or me?

I'm thinking it's me...and I'm pretty sure that my whole world is shifting because of it.  Do you know that in these moments of clarity I've actually considered wearing a bikini?? ME! In a TWO PIECE!! It's never happened before....but I'm thinking about breaking it out.  (After, of course, a few hours laying out in the backyard in it so that my stomach can get a *little* sun.  My momma's friend used to always say, "Tan fat is better than white fat!"  Words to live by, my friend.)

Here's the thing: these women are comfortable with their bodies and comfortable in a two piece swimsuit...so why shouldn't I be? I'm athletic, fairly toned and a nice average double-digit size.  I don't have to shop in plus sizes or anything.  No, my stomach's not flat (damn you, Miller Lite!) and yes, my thighs jiggle a little when I walk, but hey, maybe I should embrace this body I live in--cellulite, stretch marks and all.  I'll never be as thin as a model and I'll never have six-pack abs, but why should that put me in the "mom swimsuit closet"?? I'm starting to think it shouldn't!

I feel like I'm having an epiphany.

But then I actually think about being out in public in a two piece swimsuit and I start hyperventilating a little.  So I'll just start with baby steps...like laying out in the backyard. Or maybe just wearing it when I shower. Or in my bedroom with the lights down while no one else is home.

*sigh*

Men don't have to deal with shit like this...they can be fat and shirtless at the pool and no one says a thing.

Gotta love well-informed employees

I recently took a road trip over to South Louisiana to spend some time with some girlfriends that I don't get to see very much.  It was an awesome time...nothing like old friends and all that.  In order to get to our meeting point, I had to travel through much of southeast Texas, more specifically, Port Arthur, part of the Golden Triangle in Texas and the birthplace of one of my heroes, Janis Joplin.

I have been a Janis Joplin fan since junior high, when I declared her to be the coolest rebel chick I'd ever heard about and began to listen to her music pretty much non-stop. It was one of those "I'm so misunderstood and Janis was so misunderstood and ohmigod, we have so much in common" kind of things.  My mom was a little concerned....namely because my proclaimed "hero" was a bisexual drug addicted hippy who died of an overdose.  But, you know, it was all about the MUSIC, man!

Anyway, so road trip through Port Arthur...I google something like "Janis Joplin memorial" and find out that there is a really cool statue that was commissioned by some bad-ass sculptor dude and it is somewhere in Port Arthur.  Okaaayy....but where? And as a side note, let me just tell you that there are areas of Port Arthur that you don't want to just be driving through unawares...so, after more googling, I figure out that it's either in front of, near or actually inside the Gulf Coast Music Hall of Fame Museum.  So I call them.

And here's what went down:
Rashad: Thank you for calling the Gulf Coast Music Hall of Fame Museum.  This is Rashad. How may I help you?
Me: Hi Rashad.  I have kind of a random question for you.  I'm in the area and would really like to see the Janis Joplin memorial statue, but I can't figure out where it's located in Port Arthur.  Could you tell me where it is?
Rashad: I don't know.
Me: *pause* You don't know?
Rashad: Nope.
Me: Didn't I just call the Gulf Coast Music Hall of Fame Museum?
Rashad: Yep.
Me: And you have no idea where a statue of Janis Joplin, who is a female blues singer from Port Arthur, would be located?
Rashad: Nope.
Me: Oooookay.  Is there anyone else there who might be able to help me?
Rashad: Um, hang on.

Steve: Thank you for calling the Gulf Coast Hall of Fame Museum.  This is Steve.
Me: Hi Steve, I'm trying to find out where the commemorative statue of Janis Joplin is located in Port Arthur.  Do you know?
Steve: No.
Me: Really?
Steve: *silence*

Julie: Hi this is Julie, can I help you?
Me: Julie? What happened to Steve?? Oh well, whatever....okay, Julie...you're like the third person I've talked to.  So, here's the deal, I'm looking for a statue of Janis Joplin that is somewhere in Port Arthur.  Do you happen to know where?
Julie: Ummm....
Me: *incredulous silence*
Julie: Okay, I googled it and it looks like the one that we have here in the museum in our Janis Joplin display on the 2nd floor.
Me: Okay, so it's actually *in* your museum.
Julie: Yes.
Me: And you have two employees there who had no idea that was the case?
Julie: Apparently.
Me: Awesome....just so we're clear on that.  Okay, so what are your hours and admission fees and whatnot?
Julie: We're open daily from 10:00 to 6:00 and it costs $4.00 for adult admission to the museum.

I feel like I just ran a marathon.

And still? No picture of the statue, me with the statue or even visual proof that the statue does, in fact, exist.

Rashad, Steve and Julie, you guys ROCK.

4 out of 5 swamp people have been affected.

Sooooo.....

It's summer.

It's hot as shit outside.

We live in the air conditioning like couch blobs or in the water like floating blobs.

And that's pretty much what's going on around here.

Man....seriously.  Human beings were not meant to live in places with upwards of 100 degree temps.  The Grand Designer should have made us unable to withstand anything higher than, like 80 degrees.  If that was always as cold/hot as it ever got, life would be so much nicer.  Well, at least, less "sweatier" anyway. 

You know, I don't really have a problem with sweating in general, but I feel like I should be doing something to earn my sweat, you know? Like working out, or running, or trying to put on skinny jeans in a non-air-conditioned dressing room.  Those times? Totally "sweat-worthy".  But just sitting?? Sitting on your ass outside? You should not just sweat.  There's just something wrong about it.

I think the main reason I have an issue with it is that (brace yourselves) I sweat like a frickin' MAN.  Seriously.

It rolls down my back, off the tip of my nose and between my boobs.  It's not "glistening" or "perspiring", it's flippin' SWEATING.  Like a whore in church.

But at least I don't have the trouble that my husband does....he tends the sweat in all the same places (minus the boobs), but also in other, more, um...delicate....areas. (And no, before you freak out, I'm not going *there*)

So yeah...sweating...on your butt....(Sidebar: In your butt? No that totally sounds disgusting.  Hmmm...sweating out of your butt?? Holy Lord! Even worse...not sure what the appropriate terminology is here kids....moving on before you just click off this blog and forget you ever even read it...).

Anyhoo: butt sweat.  Referred to by my husband as "swamp ass".  Never heard that? Okay, think about this: you're outside, it's 7:30 am...cooler weather and all that.  You start working.  Next thing you know it's noon and by this point you are sweating pretty good.  So you take a lunch break, cool off, grab some grub whatever.  Back to work....and this is the HOT stretch...1 pm to dark...it's HOT...like 104 degrees hot.  But you make it through, jump in the truck and head home....cooling off with that nice AC.  By the time you get home, you've now sweated and cooled off about 4 times throughout the day.  Your underwear/jeans/shorts are now the bearers of "swamp ass".

Get the picture?

And the ever-so-helpful Wikipedia defines it as as common Marine Corps terminology and says: swamp-ass – unpleasant collection of sweat soaking undergarments.

Well....they made it sound so much simpler.

Think Swamp People get swamp ass??

And now for your daytime viewing pleasure...

I’m just not that into daytime TV. And when your job allows you take extended amounts of time off in the summer, you have (for some unknown reason) chosen to settle in a southern state with temps upwards of 187 degrees and you have no pool, there’s not all that much else to do.

I’m not a huge fan. My roommate in college was a die-hard (and I mean, die-hard) General Hospital fan. Like she recorded it on our VCR everyday while she was in class and then before she headed out to study group or whatever (because she was ridiculously smart and majored in biochemical engineering or some such nonsense and was ALWAYS freakin’ studying), she’d watch the day’s episode and eat dinner. I have to say, I kinda got into it after a while. I mean, if your TV is going to be high-jacked while you’re eating, eventually you start paying attention to what’s on it. But after college, you know, my soap opera phase ended….along with my Doc Maarten’s phase, my plaid shirt phase and my maroon lipstick phase. The 90s were over, I had to deal.

I do, however, enjoy a good trashy talk show as much as the next person. I spent many afternoons studying….erm…vegged out on the couch, royally hung over, eating Sonic and watching TV (sorry, Mom). I saw so many transvestite love triangles on Jerry Springer that I started suspecting my neighbor of being a cross-dresser who had a secret relationship going on with his roommate who was actually cheating with the weird, short kid that came over to “study”. Seriously, Jerry Springer can warp anyone’s world view.

Alas, my days of Jerry Springer viewing are over. My daytime TV viewing after the kid was born consisted of Super Why, Between the Lions and Curious George. (Gotta love the educational PBS line-up!) Those days, if it didn’t have a spelling lesson, at least one puppet and some sort of moral, I hadn’t seen it.

Fast forward a few years and few hundred conversations with my husband about why I don’t want satellite and why he does later, and now my daytime TV viewing consists of Disney channel on loop showing the same 30-minute, “I have a problem, I made a bad choice to solve it, oh-no! now I have to apologize to my friend, whew glad everyone learned their lesson here” storyline.  But strangely, the wardrobes are slightly reminiscent of Jerry Springer...anyone else notice that?? Weird.  AND, can someone please explain to me the shorts/boots combination?? I mean, for Alex Russo, I get it...a good place to stash her wand, but Bridget Mendler's character on Good Luck Charlie?? No point. But the absolute worst thing? I can sing all the damn songs that come on...Lemonade Mouth, Selena Gomez, Hannah Montana....

I’m starting to miss the puppets.

It's like my second job, but without a paycheck.

Because pretty much all I have to talk about these days is tee ball, shuttling the kid to tee ball, who made tee ball all-stars and why we even *have* tee ball all-stars when we don't "officially" keep score, or how insane work is right now, I'm going to bring up something that has been on my mind for a while and still confuses me.

Namely: why my husband still attempts to initiate sex with me in the morning when he knows that A) I don't like it and B) I am *always* running late to get out of bed, shower, get the kid up and get everyone where they need to be on time.  Well, at least reasonably on time...give or take 15 minutes.  (Sidebar: I swear they've started keeping a "tardy note tab" on my kid at school and I'm sure she's going to have to like, make up hours in kindergarten d-hall where they'll make her sit and think about what a bad parent I am for not being able to get my kid to school on time or make her write pages of multiplication tables like my principal did when I was in elementary school.  Except that may have not happened until I actually learned my multiplication tables....hmmm....  Anyway, I'm pretty sure the school secretary hates me.)

Back to the topic at hand....Ronnie's actually come up with a fairly convincing argument, which is pretty much, besides locking the child out of the house (and really, how obvious is *that*), there's just no other time of day that works.  We all get home from work, school, ball practice in the evening, have dinner, do bath time and watch some TV or read books (okay, mostly TV...don't judge me) and then we all crash.  Well, except for the "I'm never going to sleep again and you can't make me" kid that we created.  But Ronnie and I? Totally out.  Exhausted.  Done.

So it's kinda rare for us to get the opportunity in the evening or at night.

Which leaves the morning. 

Bleh. 

You know what I do in the morning? Get up, shower, drink coffee, get ready, get the kid up, get her ready, load the car and go to work.  You know what I don't do in the morning? Talk.

Ever.  Well, at least until I've had one cup of coffee.  And then only if it's something really important like, "I think the house is on fire".  Other than that? Not so much a morning person.

So if we don't get a date night soon? I may have to resort to getting up early to have coffee and brush my teeth before he busts his move. 

Jeez...my mom wasn't kidding when she said marriage took WORK.

Redneck GPS

The other day my husband and I were driving to a crawfish boil at a person’s house that we don’t know very well. (Sidebar: Okay, that sounded weird. In our defense, he’s one of those “friend of a friend” type people. We don’t make a habit of gate-crashing all crawfish boils in the surrounding area. Although, now that I think about it, what a fantastic idea! Hmmm...must consider all angles on this one....)

Anyway, so we’re driving to a town that’s about 45 minutes away and having to navigate the streets of suburbia…which for two rednecks is like driving through a bowl of spaghetti. I can find my way somewhere using only county roads that may or may not be paved quicker than I can navigate my way out of Carriage Ridge of the Hills Subdivision (or whatever lame name is given to neighborhoods that generally do not house any carriages, ridges or hills whatsoever).

Enter the oh-so-handy GPS.

Seriously, I. Love. Her.

But Ronnie? Hates her with a passion.

• In 200 yards, turn right.  Then, bear left.
• In 150 yards, turn right.  Then, bear left.
• In 100 yards, turn right.  Then, bear left.
• In 50 yards, turn right.  Then, bear left.
• Turn right.  Then, bear left.

And he’s all, “No shit Sherlock.” And I go, "Well if you don't like her, we can change her voice to a dude.  Hey, my mom's is Australian! We could change to her an Australian dude! Or maybe there's a British guy or a an Irish brogue guy....niiiice...".

And then he’s like, “Why can’t she just give you normal directions like a normal person? Like, ‘Hey, you’re going to turn right up here, but stay in the left lane'”.

Thus was born my idea….Redneck GPS. (Think "Larry the Cable Guy" voice.)

"So you’re gone go past where Bubba got his truck stuck and round the curve by Ol’ Man Jones’ place and then you’ll see this big ol’ bull in the pasture. Don’t worry…he’ll be there…he’s always there cuz Ol’ Man Jones don’t let him in with his cows till night time. Turn right."

 "After you turn right, look for one a’ them big bass mailboxes, that’s where SherryLynn lives since she moved out of her momma’s place after her momma ran off with the preacher from the Trustin' Love Fellowship and stolt all her money from workin’ down at the Dixie Mart. Turn left right past that."

"Go about 2 miles as the crow flies and that dirt road you see on your left with the dead catfish heads on it? That’s my brother Jim Bob’s place where them crawfish are boilin’. "

And now I know exactly where I’m at.