Archive for the ‘Thick Hair’ Category

I have been trying to limit my time on Facebook because it sucks my serenity like a Dyson Vacuum Cleaner without the ability to empty the dust.  In twenty minutes on any thread, here is the fungus that Facebook sets forth:

1) The Whole Foods Scandals

  • Dead bunnies at Whole Foods as a meat product. Just No.
  • 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”…)
  • ¬†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. I love him and his foods.
  • Blogs telling me that if I shop at Whole Foods, I will actually save money. Yes, If I buy two apples and a kumquat.
  • Someday, when I have time, and a trust fund,¬† I want to walk up in that hizzle, with 600 plastic bags from Wal-Mart, a giant grape Slurpee, and ask the WholeFoodacates, “Hey where the Aqua Net at, I got to keep this formaldehyde from fading”

2) 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.

3) Moral outrage over moral outrage over lack of moral outrage over moral outrage over everyone’s’ lack of perceived¬† moral outrage ON FACEBOOK? . Fo. realz.

4) 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.
natural feathered hair.
fabulous hair without a pinterest 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, whilst planking.

I digress.

5) 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.

6)) The comments section on any¬† article/blog where people slice each other up in vitriolic rage only seen before by Jack Nicholson’s “A Few Good Men” or “The Shining” .¬† Seriously my eyes bleed therapy bills after reading people’s pent up rage IN A FACEBOOK COMMENT SECTION?

9) Parenting epiphanies. I do NOT understand  how anyone with children have an epiphany.
My Epiphany?

– I remember to dress my children in their dress rehearsal attire for dress reshearsal.
-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, said Puker-child makes it to the bathroom AND to the ter-lit. (that’s country for toilet)

10) Cryptic, passive-aggressive 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.

11) ISIS.¬† I Know it’s awful. It’s terrible. They are terrorists and everyone should be disgusted with their actions. Please. stop. telling. me. this: “If you are not scared of ISIS , You should be scared and here is why you should be scared right now and if you are still not scared, you are a moral disgrace to our country”¬† This isn’t just Facebook. I had to stay on the phone until my 75 year old father , turned off the¬† “Isis Terror Infor-mericals” and Google something “Funny”.

“Dad, Google cat- kicking a dogs ass to protect a little child. Seriously now, it’s on the internet and it’s epic¬† , brah. I mean Dad.”

12) Articles like this.¬† “FIVE THINGS TO NEVER EVER EVER EVER DO AS A PARENT EVER EVER, or¬† your children will grow up to be a Kohls-coupon-stealing, foul mouthed gamers, who drain your 431k and your dreams of living on a boat/RV/ cute cottage in Maine, and your pension will crash against the death slicing barnacles of your said dream house in New England”.¬† Yep, actual title.

13) or this “Have your read this list of 8000 books?¬† If you haven’t you are an uneducated person, just like your ‘Kohls-coupon-stealing-house-barnacle-smashing-kids”

14) Oie Vey:¬† “The War On Grain”¬†¬† Just stop.¬† And, to the guy who wrote ‘Bread Belly’ or ‘Bread Head’ or ‘Wheat Gut’ . You kind of ruined bread for like EVERYONE.¬† I’ll save the stale, tasteless, cardboard, crackers for you at my next party.

15) Hashtags and Made up Hashtags that are two lines long.¬† I used to be right there with you , “hashtagging” up the joint, until I re-read some of my hashtags, and cried for my inner hipster child.

I still love Facebook.  It is a hyperbole for my #adhdocdchickenlittletheskyisfallbreadheadhead.  Next time, just do everyone a favor and link the active Kohls coupon codes.

Revised version.

Ten reasons I am ‘mos def’ not PTO Mom material

1) I cried laughing when the teacher/ DJ played Jimmy Buffet’s “Jamaica Mistakia,” at the 3rd grade Luau and “A++hole” & “s**tty” were not edited out. That was hours ago and I’m still laughing uncontrollably. No one else was amused. Actually, I don’t think they heard it which I find EVEN FUNNIER. I think I snorted.

2) I did not wear my flowing Luau attire, with my gold~lamey~boot~thong (no, not that kind silly) sandals. I wore shorts that I do not remember being as short last year. Either my legs grew (at age 42??) Or my child bearing hips came in nine years too late. And I wore ridiculously high wedges.

3) My sun glasses are NOT cool. Maybe that’s because I have been banned from buying “designer” shades since I misplace, break or dive off boats with them on my head into giant lakes. That’s another blog. Needless to say, my dollar store shades make me look very non~PTO~ish and quite frankly, I don’t think they protect my eyes. I have a screaming headache either from them squeezing my head or them not even shielding the sun.

4) I asked if I could drink one of the bottled waters, under the snack tent, and I felt like I walked up holding Joe Biden’s hand at a Republican convention.

5) I do not say things like “How are you doing baby doll sugar pie honey sweetie” or “Let’s all make sure we make good choices during musical chairs” I’m like “Whatz up son, don’t act a fool now.”

6) I do not hide my discontent if some kid is mean to my kid. I will speak to your child directly about this matter, and there will be no “oh honey child sweetheart” used in my verbiage. No worries, I do not use profanity, but I’m pretty stern. That’s another blog as well,¬† but it may reason why I have not been “asked” to run for PTO President.

7) I’m really not that social. Yes, I have friends, and I will absolutely make small talk with other Moms, but I do not greet other gold~-lameyed~sandaled Moms with “Heyyyyyy babycakes sugarplums ITSOOOOONICETOSEEEYOUUUUUU” accompanied by giant bear hugs etc etc..Chances are I know you as “so & so’s Mom” and I’m embarrassed because I should probably know your name by now.

8) I do not like bouncy houses. They freak me out, so if I were on the PTO, they would be banned. I would nominate the ban,¬† second the nomination and ban bouncy houses. I would be known as the PTO Mom who ruined School Parties. I strongly dislike clowns as well….Who held hands with Joe Biden stealing bottled waters at the Republican Convention.

9) I just don’t think I have PTO hair. I can fix the front, but the back of my head, usually lacks any type of “stylin'”. I’m always transfixed by how some of these PTO moms look like they had literally every. Piece. Ironed. Flat. OR expertly. Crafted. Into~a ~”messy”~ curl. You know the song “I woke up like this” by Beyonce. Yeah, I wrote that, but it has completely different context where I am concerned.

10) I kind of have a two hour window on when I feel like I’m going to pass out from exhaustion from being around so many children. I’ve tried. I substituted , I even did Vacation Bible School once (Gasp! I know right? I’m kinda shocked I didn’t spontaneously com-bust in the church recreational room either!!).¬† I just don’t have the “you aren’t making good choices” fortitude or DNA. Quite frankly, I most certainly did not make good choices as I child. I was kind of a rebel. A free spirit. I talked back and “sassed” and was probably on the “problem list.”¬†¬† Today at the pool I muttered a string of profanity while my kids had swimming lessons, with a very religious , gentle-souled teacher. I’m pretty sure I saw her throw water on me and pray.

If you know my blogs, you know I still have not received the manual from the hospital whence my children were born, because the only one I have stopped at three months. I have yet to hear back from my complaint at said hospitals.

I do know who and what I am. I over-try. I over-compensate. I actually sweat and my fit-bit explodes with “goals-met”, while I’m parenting. Sometimes it comes out side-ways and I have a¬† case of¬† Resting-Bleep-Face and some Moms might find me , unsavory.¬† My R.B.F, is not haughty disdain for other moms or the PTO Mom, it’s knowing I can’t always protect my kids from the world and I do wear that on my sleeve, a lot.
No, I’m not PTO-Mom material, and I learned how to own “that” FROM my children. I watch them and¬† soak up every single bit of their tenacity and confidence infused into the cells of their young people souls. I learned that trying to be something I am not, only brings confusion. I can only hope that one day, they are holding hands with Joe Biden’s kin, drinking unapproved water bottles, laughing at inappropriate jokes, and being unequivocally themselves.¬† (I mean, it would be awesome, if it were at a Republican convention, but let us not get greedy…)


To know me is to love me. Or strongly dislike me. I’m like a hot cup of coffee on a hot day. Hence the name Scrappie-Momma.¬† Where did I get this name from? No, I do not scrap book.¬† I tried and you want to know how much I completed? One page out of a 500 page book my darling husband bought for me after I declared “Oh Honey I can’t WAIT to stay home with the new baby and scrapbook, cook novella cuisine dinners for you nightly¬† and who knows maybe I’ll even start gardening or something really domestic.”¬† You see, I had just signed a generous severance package from a bank I was working at as a Human Resource manager and hubs was a little nervous about what was going to happen after that severance ran out and I was all comfy and cozy with new baby and my fabulous scrap book creations. Clearly we will be able to survive on my crafty “craftmanship” scrapbook creations won’t we?¬† That story to be told another day..¬† He said one of the reasons he fell in love with me was because he thought I was going to be a high powered executive in Human Resources. Oops.

Okay, so now you know Scrappie does not come from scrap-booking.¬† Do you remember the show Friends? Well there was an episode when Phoebe told Monica she was Scrappie or Scrappy (the spell check thingy majiggy keeps saying scrappie is misspelled. whatevs, now this whole sentence is underlined in red..) Anyways, Phoebe told Monica she was Scrappie because Monica “scrapped” her way back in to Phoebes life after Phoebes decided she did not like her! Well that’s kind of me in a nutshell. If I like you and you do not care for my presence, hang around, because I will warm your soul like a hot cup of coffee. You just might need to wait for it to get cold outside (or go into a well air conditioned building) before you actually enjoy my presence.

Today was a typical Scrappie-Momma type of day.¬† I tend to run about 6-8 minutes behind schedule, I am not usually “late” but because of my ability to navigate this fake,extra-time sequence in to all my clocks, and tell myself “oh I have an extra 6-8 minutes” , I’m usually hurriedly completing easy tasks in a frantic fashion.¬† For instance, I have thick hair. No thick is an understatement. I have hair that could be used to make a chain link fence. I could shield bullets with my helmet of hair. I have had it thinned and feathered but it just grows back in thicker and I then I have a thick, overgrown mullet.¬† Ask any hair dresser who has cut my hair they have all exclaimed “DAMN you have a lot of hair,¬† I didn’t realize how thick your¬† hair was, wow, we might need a few more minutes with your next appointment.”¬† OK, maybe they didn’t say Damn, but I can tell from their expression they want to and they also want to charge me more for dulling their scissors with my chain-link metal hair.

My point being, I was running late and I was trying to get 4 big chunky necklaces around my neck (CHUNKY CLUNKY jewels are IN my FRIENDS, and Friends from Friends too.) and they all got caught in the chain-links of my hair. I broke one and managed to get two off, but they are mangled and tangled together sitting on my husbands side of the sink for him to fix , after he gets home from a long trip because that was what he was longing to do, after sitting on a plane, and in Atlanta traffic for five hours.  Seriously, how does one BREAK  a necklace in her hair?  Me. due in part because I have mutant-Ly thick hair and due in part because I built in 6-8 minutes of time that never existed in the first place. Typical Scrappie or Scrappy or Crappy behavior.

I made it to my destination a few minutes late but not absurdly late, and my day started to even out time-wise; however, the rush of adrenaline from fighting with my chain-link-helmet-sheild hair or from the 650 cups of coffee, fueled me into wide-eyed Scrappie Momma mode.¬† So I pulled out of a parking lot and admittedly even thought I did glance to the right,¬† I didn’t see the Prius honking it’s horn of justice , no scratch that, laying ON THE HORN for 30 seconds straight,¬† with I think both middle fingers stuck out the window because I had inadvertently cut him/her off. I could not tell the gender because the face was blocked by the affectionate traffic gestures of love. Maybe I was his/her Valentines?¬† I’m not, by any means, condoning my driving skills and I want to apologize to the man/women I cut off, It was NOT intentional.¬† My helmet hair got in the way of my peripherals.

Lastly, I made a stop at TJMAXX Home-Goods because we are re-decorating my sons room and I thought what the heck , they might have some distressed antique /industrial looking furniture that , ok , ok momma really wants and almost tween son could give two shakes of a lamb tale about.¬† I could bring home old hospital furniture and he’d be like “sup” “looks good moms”.¬† Anyways as I was frantically taking pictures (and Texting to my husband who was in a car with his boss) of all the AMAZING DEALS on SOLID WOOD vintage-couture-industrial-shabby-chic-antique pieces that now I was kind of salivating because I was thinking “Hey this might look great in the ……..”¬† I bumped into someone and my Starbucks Soy Latte splashed all over another piece of furniture (do not worry it was not one of the pieces I wanted for my son/living/tea/guest room. Phew.

I am not a person who splashes and doesn’t tell so I did run to the front to alert the very disenchanted staff and management who then proceed to call “Josh” over the paging system:¬† “WE HAVE A CLEAN UP IN THE BACK. SOME LADY SPILLED HER STARBUCKS.”¬† Josh and his attending (I’m not kidding, he had an assistant ) came rushing to my assistance. Thankfully , the splash was still “active” and my latte was made with organic soy milk so, like it was¬† Vegan, Paleo, Atkins, South Beach and Nutrisystem approved¬† AND¬† gluten/pesticide free; therefore it did not harm the furniture. Josh, myself and his attending were all very relieved that I did not scar the cute little end table from Morocco.

In closing, the collateral damage and klutzy sins of Scrappie Momma was atoned for.¬† I said a quick “I’m sorry God I will really try to pay more attention when I am driving and I do have a big ‘no Texting’ sticky note on my dashboard, so please let Jesus know that I do have that sign on my dashboard and I do refer to it quite a bit.” ¬† Although I wasn’t Texting (omg texting isn’t a word yet??, it’s coming up RED as misspelled…) at the time of the Prius-Valentine-Rendevouz- I just hadn’t clipped my helmet back enough.¬† But no excuses, I will do better.¬† Finally, an apology to Josh, and his attending for quickly rushing in to clean up the remnants¬† of my sweet & salty soy latte.¬† I have to admit , I was in mourning the loss of the rest of my latte because that was the frothiest soy latte I had had in a long time.

Starbucks tomorrow? I promise, I will look both ways before turning out onto the street and I will not bring my frothy delight-fulness into any home goods or boutiques.  Peace and Happy Early Valentines Day!