Archive for the ‘humorous’ Category

I have been trying to limit my time on Facebook because it sucks my serenity like a Dyson Vaccum Cleaner without the ability to empty the dust.  I spent a mere 20 minutes on Facebook today and listed below are all the horrors I have thus  learned:

1) Dead bunnies at Whole Foods as a meat product.

2) Fake olive oil at Whole Foods AND  PAUL  NEWMAN’S company. I buy Newman’s Own Products  because all their profits go to charity and I can eat as much as I want because “it’s all natural”
. (insert sarcasm re “all natural”…)

3) I do not even shop at Whole Foods and I’m pissed. I do buy Newman’s Own stuff as  aforementioned because of the charity thing. Do not burst my bubble if you are a Newman Whistle blower.

4) A New York times article  about “moral facts not being taught in the classroom.”  I could not read the whole article because I felt as though I might be gaining actual knowledge, culture  and insight.
As my brain cells started to churn with actual interesting information – FROM A LINKED ARTICLE ON FACEBOOK..My shallow fingers danced on  Google for the latest  Kim/Kayne/Queen Bae/Taylor/Iggy scandal or for any GIF of “cats acting like jerks” (because that isht is funny!!) …..just to kill off my confused, educated  and culturally charged brain cells. Phew. That was a close one, Teach.

5) Moral outrage over moral outrage over lack of moral outrage over moral outrage over everyones’ lack of perceived  moral outrage ON FACEBOOK? . Fo. realz.

6) Whistle blowers blowing on whistle blowers inability to blow whistles whilst thinking  EVERYTHING ON THE INTERNET IS TRUE.
I watched the end of  “Argo”, three times this weekend because I am homesick for:
rotary phones.
encyclopedias.
natural feathered hair.
fabulous hair without a pintrest board as guidance.
bad movies. (not Argo but fake ‘Argo’)
SMOKING  being  a “bad for you” sexy vice
..For example , Nowadays , if I have a diet coke, I hide,   because my health friends may capture me and make me do keg stands with a celery kale cleanse  smoothies for a week.

I digress.

7) A gym selfie of a ripped couples’ abs  causing  the washboard thingy in my laundry room to uncontrollably   weep in convulsions, all while  consuming the rest of my chocolate and diet coke stash.

8) The comments section on any  article/blog that is not about fluffy puppies and rainbows.

9) Parenting epiphanies. I do NOT understand  how anyone with children have an epiphany.
My Epiphany?
-everyone is alive  not in the ER.
-less than five curse words exclaimed in a twelve hour period
-no one is projectile puking on that one last clean carpet space OR silver lining, -Puker-child makes it to the bathroom AND to the ter-lit. (that’s country for toilet)

10) Cryptic, passive-agressive philosophical posts that end with a prayer. I am pretty sure Jesus does not have time for decoding Facebook  posts and please stop tagging  Him unless IT’S REALLY IMPORTANT.
He’s my co-pilot and asked me to pass along # 10,  via WordPress , not Facebook.

I never know how to end a blog and should Facebook/facebook be capitalized?

1) My son came up stairs while I was half asleep and said “Hey Mom, watch this ” and blew a Spitball at me.
“Isn’t it cool, I made a Spitball machine out of all the straws and tissue in the house” as he wipes his nose on his sleeve.
2) My daughter woke me up in the dead of sleep by coughing into my face. “Mommy I have a bad cough.  fix me”
3) My son put my exercise core ball thingy on the treadmill , then hit the highest mileage and elevation , until it exploded, now I will never have that six pack of abs.
4) My kid hide their dirty clothes with masterful deception rather than just placing them in the dirty laundry hamper.
5)  minecraft……..
6) I miss my kids when they are at school but I have full -blown-splotches on-chest-panic-attacks when I think about snow days and summer breaks.
7) When children have stomach viruses  it’s always on spaghetti or ice cream cake day and time always ends up  on the one clean spot of carpet.
8) My kids think kleenex and general hygiene is kryptonite  for their soul.
9) Children recognize their power in numbers. I have the utmost respect for teachers and they should  be paid 7 billion dollars a semester or 1 billion per each child , with a bonus billion for a child who has parents who think their child is “not being challenged enough” by the school curriculum or thinks their child is some sort of prodigy.
10) They dance when they eat and they dance on their food like it’s prey so as to smoosh into the other only clean part of the carpet.

bonus. whoever invented carpet did not have kids or pets.

That is all.

Target under 20 minutes.

Less than $100.

Used bags & coupons.

Bomb-ass deal on Starbucks coffee.

Resisted the urge to splurge at Ulta.

Laundry NOT in procreation mode.

Lived in the moment by guzzling said coffee down like gatorade while speed-reading Melodie Beattie  meditation book.

Restrained from smooshy-face-furrowed-brow-syndrome-resting-bitch-face tantrum over malfunctioning  technology.

Filled up gas tank before it bellowed out in disdain “GET SOME FREAKING GAS  WOMAN”

Jammed out 30 minutes of kickboxing without giving a shit about “which body part was targeted for my skinny jeans or whatever the eff”. (…can not type the actual cuss word here..  dammit I’ve lost all my South Boston Mark Wahlberg street cred…)

Refrained from rolling my eyes inappropriately in irritation at things that irritate me because I’m easily irritated as denounced from smooshy-face-irritation-syndrome aforementioned.

That’s my marathon,  bitches. So let’s put that on a sticker  and slap  on the back of my bad-ass truck.

betwixt peace & love of course.

Based on this title, you are probably are saying to yourself, “Why do you have a Word-Press account if this is what writing feels like to you?”  I  do not know the answer. I know I LOVE writing. I know that my husband calls me the “computer murderer” so sufficed to say, the “dream-phone-analogy” answer lies between those two answers.   At this very moment, I googled “HOW DO USE SPELL CHECK ON A EFFIN’ SURFACE PRO” and “HOW DO USE SPELL CHECK ON FREAKIN’ WORD PRESS”.  apostrophes and all.

I  love writing. I talked to a close friend yesterday and she asked me what would be the best compliment you could ever receive from someone, and I answered “They “got” my writing, not that they LOVED it, but they “get” my flow, man.”  Again, I do not take any type of feedback well (including compliments) because I over think EVERY-WORD; therefore,  anytime, anyone gives me advice, I search for the underlining meaning, like Nicholas Cage on a Treasure Map Hunt, hence my permanent Nick-Cage wrinkle betwixt my eyebrows.  We also texted later about the subject of writing and we both agreed that Word-press was a damn heart-breaker. Her text was “word press will make you cry”.  I have ended up red-faced, flushed in a puddle of tears boo-hooing over both WordPress and iTunes or any kind of curfufffledschmuffled program.  I take their incessant need to constantly challenge that technically dormant part of my brain to a personal level.  I think I tried to engage iTtunes in a street fight one day.

Please ask me how many books I have ordered from Amazon about how to write a book or how to effectively navigate through word press and I will tell you more than one is too many for this OCD_ADHD raddled technology delinquent brain. I do keep a hand written journal  but I consistently maintained a C- or lower in “hand-writing” during the elementary years.  Last night I just wrote one word sentences in my journal, in the dark because I read a blog on how any kind of light before bed makes it more difficult to fall asleep and of course anything you read on the internet is 100 percent true and accurate and should be applied to your life IMMEDIATELY.

I have written entire stories in my brain while falling asleep, I am constantly “writing” thoughts throughout the day, through my contorted facial movements.  Apparently, the current terminology for “writing thoughts” is affectionately called “resting-bitch-face”, and I may be ground zero for RBF.  Twitter is a fabulous place to practice concise-contorted-facial-movement-writing-RBF-thoughts and if you are fairly obscure and do not have a ton of followers, you are in no inherent danger of starting a “twitter-war” or an media-maggedeon because you tweeted something that virtually offended someone via the cyber-sphere.

I think the most difficult challenge for me in writing every day is I do not transition well between tasks and I might be slightly addicted to sticky-note ‘to do’list. (think Gone Girl MINUS the money and the crazy-hot-bitch-psychosis). Let me give you a head-dialogue example of my brain when it comes to writing and parenting. ( Side note, I am extremely impressed with bloggers who publish a blog-post on a consistent basis because my brain is like a snap-dragon firework (not the Katy Perry Firework kind) when it comes to transitioning between “WHO SPIT THE MOUTHWASH AIMED AT THE LIGHT FIXTURE?”  and “ok, lets PICK one of my 873 writing “ideas” in this file and churn out a blog.  )

Dialogue in my brain:

“Ok! kids on the bus! wow didn’t I just vacuum 33 seconds ago?”

“How many chunks of food do I need to actually throw in trash can or can I jam them in the rechargeable vacuum stick?”

“What is that smell? oh, yes laundry, let me get started on the smelly pile first”

“Alarm! Alarm! Alarm! Alarm”  with the words WRITE BOOK”

“What does this sticky note say?  I think I need to re-write and re-post in a more prominent place so I will actually ‘wash the windows this spring” (yes, wash windows by spring – is on a sticky note., on my fridge..)

….desperately-clinging-to my-youth-Beastie-Boys-ring-tone-on-my-colossal-technologically-advanced-smartphone that I am unable  locate ….” oh no!!!, is the school calling?..on CRAP-DRAGON where is my phone”

and so on and whence-forth.

The dialogue in my brain as it pertains to actual writing is  complicated.  It’s filled with self-doubt, ego, confidence, happiness, sadness, peace, butterflies, dragons, George Takei facebook posts, oceans of emotion, and the most evil of all kryptonite to writers, comparison. I am human. Yes, I compare myself to other people. Other moms. Other writers. Other Professionals.  Other people who seem to have their shit so tight that you just want to grab their smart phone and shuffle around their appointments and yell “YO! YOU HAVE BEEN PUNK’D”.

I KNOW ,I KNOW, no-one truly has it all together. In fact I avoid the  “perfectly put together”  persona as much as I conversely avoid hot-messes of drama and high-maintenance persona. I have made tremendous strides in my self-acceptance and catapulted from the comparison trampoline with resplendent careless abandonment more so in my forties, than I ever even DREAMED of in the my teens and twenties.One of the biggest perks of aging is  a exquisite, priceless subscription to “No-f&^%s-given-monthly”* which I welcome with open arms.

In closing, I am content this very minute with where I am in my “writing journey”. I love to read my journal and laugh so hard that I cry because I would be a lobotomized zombie of driveled doom and depressive gloom if I lost the ability to laugh at myself.   The other day I read a passage in which I wrote “Dear God, please help me find two forks to put in my eye at this v’ery moment”  (I was testing out a Cheerleader phase with my daughter and I was a cheerleader in high school so I should be more tolerant)> Thankfully, she likes dance more and I love her dance place, it’s a forkless-in-the-eye atmosphere sans any kind of bye-felicia-talk-to-the-hand-dance-mom-drama.

The great friend I had lunch with the other day  reminds me  “I AM ENOUGH”. She may not say it to me directly or daily, but through actions, her interactions with other women, the way she approaches her life, her writing , raising her kids, her faith, – she teaches me to be  kind to myself , especially when it comes to the passion I have for writing and THAT IS ENOUGH.

Caveat, As I was finishing this blog I yelled “you bring this wrath upon yourselves” in reference to me having to put the game controllers on top of the TV and shut down mine-craft.

* footnote, I stole the “No f*&% given monthly” phrase from the Daily Show with Jon Stewart

Cheery blog post right?  Well, with so many blogs on how to prevent illness or how to beat off age with a thorny stick, I thought I would try a a different approach to aging and sickness.  The other day, my beautiful daughter got sick with the flu, and I stood vigil by her bedside. (I just finished watching Malifiecient so old Fairy-land English and imagery may pop up in this blog).  At one point, as I lay snoring next to my daughter, she rolled over and coughed  INTO my mouth.  At this point, I knew that precaution I should have been taking to avoid the flu,had been rendered useless. (I know, co-sleeping with a feverish child is not much of a precaution)

I thought I’d share some feverish observations of being sick at 40 ish. Listed below are the ten things that did, do or did not happen during my illness of 2014.

1)  All of my irrational behavior-like hormones from my teens, came rushing back during each fever spike.  At one point, I lay crying on the sofa, peppering my husband as to why he had not made me a bowl of soup or offered to take my temperature during this horrendous ordeal.  Did he not realize that IT WAS ALL ABOUT ME??

2)  On one of my feverish escapades, at 2 am, I took my temperature  and texted my husband “My fever is at 100.5, please check on me before you leave for work to make sure I am okay and I am able to take care of the kids today”.   Approximately twenty minutes later, I woke his ass up and said “OMG my fever has spiked to 102, you absolutely can not go to work tomorrow, I forbid it!”  He asked me why I had not taken any medicine and I said that I could not remember which medicine I had taken last and I was scared I would poison myself.  He went downstairs and came back with  Aleve and I told him I couldn’t take Aleve because he upset my tummy. This type of cheery dialogue transpired for a bit, until he told me I better take something, preferably  with a hefty sleep aid.

3) Seriously, whatever collagen I had left from my youth was metabolized by this particular strain of flu. You know in the Indianna Jones movie where the dude says “You have chosen POOOOOOOORLY” and his face ages on hyper-speed after he drinks what he thinks is the cup of eternal youth?  Yes, that’s my face right now mid- hyper speed.  I think I may have feverishly ordered Cindy Crawford’s Dream Miracle Rewinding Cream one evening because I was so frightened by my sunken in face.

4) I have not lost one single pound.  I keep hearing these wild tales about how “so and so lost ten lbs” with this violent strain of the flu. I don’t want to lose ten lbs, in fact, I don’t really want to lose weight but seriously, It would be nice to be able to put on my skinny skinny skinny skinny jeans for a day or prance have “dat abs” for a day?

5) I have lost muscle and collagen; therefore mathematically, the scale does not compute. Where did my muscle and collagen flee too? Do my neighbors have it?  Will their faces look like a full, cherub angel on Christmas morn? Did that creepy elf steal my collagen and muscle tone?  Will Sparkles be jamming to a Kickboxing video on Christmas morn?

6) Whatever they put in Day Quil affects me a lot more , now, then when I was in my twenties or they changed the formula. I took a shot of Day Quil, and headed to the market, because I was the martyr of all Sick Super Moms and had to run those last minute Christmas errands.  I ended up weeping  in the baking aisle, staring at all the Moms dressed in their Tori Burch boots, with their gorgeous blown out hair, and heathery-smokey-eyes, gathering their ingredients for festive baking activities.  While, I cowered over the Madagascar Vanilla screaming to Martha Stewart “Why hath thou Forsaken me this year?”.  For what it’s worth, I can only bake like two things.,

7) In  my twenties, I used to GO OUT AND PARTY in this condition.  I do not have enough energy shower and change pajamas. At some point during this strain of plague, my husband politely suggested I would feel better if I showered and changed into some clean clothes.

8)  My fever induced zero tolerance for shenanigans.  I yelled at my kids for laughing and accused them of messing up the house just to disturb my slumber. “Silence Young Padawans, ye must obey my laws of tyranny”  See? Malifeicient vernacular, mixed with a little Jedi-Speak.

9)My fever induced zero tolerance for anything that is remotely annoying, ie Facebook., I literally , just. can’t. even.

10) I can not read the back of any medicine bottles, so I guesstimated the amount of everything I ingested.  I do have “readers” somewhere, but I expended all my energy, showering, meandering, crying, yelling, and woefully proclaiming the injustices of this years strain of the flu.

I know there is a bizarre strain of the flu this year, I have read and heard all about its reign over the village-folk, frantically trying to prepare for festive festiveness this year.   My wish to you, young or old, if you did catch this years strain, be KIND to yourself. Don’t fight it, let it take over!!  When I let myself rest, and binge watch Soaps (wow, these people come dangerously close to marrying second cousins and such) and just let it go, I actually feel a bit better.  To the young-uns, though, I would deter the “partying while sick”, activity.

Weather in Georgia. For the day.

“where are my flip flops??”

“hats. we all need big fluffy hats today”

“will someone PLEASE open the windows?”

“my feet are FREEZING, honey will you fetch me some socks from the singles, sock pile. I’m too cold to get up or try to match socks.”

“I’m sweating from my eyelashes again!!”

“everyone!! quick by the fire ..it’s like that scene from “The Day After Tommorrow” (you know, the movie with Jake Gyllenhaal, before he turned into a kind of scary but still kinda cute & sweet, actor) where they all have to burn books and snuggle to stay warm.”

“Why am I sneezing?? Is something blooming ??”

“What?? It’s going to be 84 on Christmas? Have you seen my toes and legs? Honey ! get the chainsaw and sanding machine out of the garage please.”

“Where are my LL Bean layers?? the windchill could possibly make my skin flaky.”

“Ok, pack summer and winter clothes for holiday travels because Mee Maw and Pee Paw keep the heat on 99, so changing outfits are not a problem”.

“Let me hold the baby, they are warm, wait a second…where are you going, are those tickets to Cabo?”

“Where is the umbrella? Yes I know I just asked for my sunglasses. ”

“I am really wrestling over the decision on whether to wear Uggs or Flip flops on Black Friday. I’ll draft s survey for my friends Facebook for assistance in outfit decision making ”

“Snow in the forecast. Now is NOT the time to go gluten-free. WE MUST HUNT DOWN ALL THE BREAD (WITH EXTRA GLUTEN)  IN THE METRO ATLANTA AREA”

“Wait. What is the logical purpose of an open-toed-shboot (shoe-boot-sandal) with heels?? , oh yes,  these were designed specifically for Atlantonians”

Oh it’s that time.  the Holiday Hoedowns.  Secret Santa Elephant Tree Recycle Gala.   The” WHEN DID I SIGN UP TO DO THIS?”  The, “Should I even try to add WHOLE wheat flour to the Christmas baking again so I can be rejected by my family and end up sobbing with a bag of cookies in the corner?” The “WHY AM I BAKING?  because the kitchen looks like an episode of the ‘Blindfolded Chef searches for a Bachelor who can cook”

Due to my ADHD-OCD  tinged with the incessant need to plan, pre-plan , over-plan, cancel plans –  juxtaposed with my spontaneous and carefree nature,   all recorded in hand- written calendarS, glitter adorned journals, smart-phone-gratitude -app-journals, sticky-note-hoarding-piles and this gem:

What was that phrase someone EMBLAZONED ON A GIANT PILLOW FOR ME  “Keep it…Keep it…oh darn, what was it                                               (simple.)

November 20th  I volunteered to help out with a science experiment at my son’s school. I  failed all lab experiments in College so I should be a beneficial asset. .. Maybe driving around listening to Journey and Rob Base in my friend’s car with the really LOUD speaker system, during lab, wasn’t the best use of my collegiate time.

November 21st  the 56790th orthodontist appointment this month.  My son’s expander fell out of his mouth. He denies any starburst consumption as the cause.  (‘Da Dun’ SVU music playing..)

November 22nd Nutcracker practice.  I ignored all emails from Dance Director because I assumed  vicariously living through my children through  Hip Hop Dance Class would translate into non-Nutcracker performances because  If it were my Dance Studio, I would do the whole Run DMC Christmas in Hollis Queens Dance Recital, yet maybe why I do not own a Dance Studio. #bizloandenied. Seriously, I am excited for them to be apart of The Nutcracker, sometimes the facetious nature of pointing out my idiosyncrasies, sounds way too sarcastic and flip.

November 23rd, same thing as above but I also have written “Truck $4382648732649873687264  payment”,hmmm, what could that mean?

Week November 24, my husband informed me we would be leaving for his Mee Maw and Pee Paws EARLY this vacation week because ‘I needs to get to cookin’.’    No I’m just kidding, he did not say this 1950s , stereotypically Southern phrase.  He did say we were leaving early, I missed the rest of what he said because the previews for ‘Mocking-JAY-part-1-of-56-HungerGames-omg-jlaw-is-literally-so00000amazing‘  was on the television.

  • Additionally, TAKE beautiful candid pictures next to cool barns and pastures, in hipster outfits with our Soap Opera messy-gelled- straight-curly with feathery wisps – gently cascading in the wind and ostensibly, in front of our face, but not –  “OMG-PLEASE-GET-YOUR-HAIR-OUT-OF-YOUR-FACE-FOR-THE-PICTURE!!!” — for Christmas cards.  Or see what the Kardashians cooked up this year and try to imitate that Goth masterpiece.   I love how my computer tries to spell check Kardashian to Guardianship.

December 3rd some kind of appointment for some child in my house AND I signed up to be a Secret Santa helper on the same day on purpose for some reason.  I think I actually wrote “intentional” on my calendar.

December 4th, a bunch of automatic payments are coming out of our account because it’s all red and highlighty on my calendar, wait I thought all payments were frozen to boost Holidays sales because that is the primary purpose of the season, cash-money.

December 5th  USA?  what does that mean? or USAA? ok, o think we owe them something monthly, maybe that thing that protects us from being sued if we drive horrendously in parking lots.

December 6th  Dress rehearsal for the Nutcracker AND My daughters chorus concert…rest Assured, I have emailed all affected Directors and  thoroughly explained my scheduling plight in grave detail, because essentially, all of these concerts and recitals are ABOUT ME and ONLY ME and collaterally pertains to the scheduling of my family.

December 7th. The NutCracker.  It’s gonna be Crunk.

December 8th “alkajdfp987349823″ I can’t read my handwriting. I think it’s someone’s birthday. Oh Snap, my sisters birthday is the 6th. and the 16th.  and the 12 and maybe the 8th.  I have 3 sisters, so . carry the 1 and…. Usually I just send them their birthday cards when I send the Christmas cards which are all late. It’s the thought that counts.

December 11th.  Help a teacher out.  Bring in Kale/Quinoa/gluten–dye-soy-dairy-air free Holiday PinTree-cakes drizzled with wheat grass infused compote.

December 13th an appointment on a Saturday?  WHO IS THE KEEPER OF THIS CALENDAR?

December 14th.  34500000 sticky notes on the fridge on how I really need to get shopping and wrapping. wrapped up.

I also bookmarked some article in Huffington Post titled “The disease of being over scheduled?”  Maybe I will read that in between unknown doctors appointment and Secret Santa on December 3rd.   Happy Holidays  (Which, as a phrase, is a hot-trending-topic right now on Social Media, get the popcorn out…..  )