Posts Tagged ‘comedy’

1) My kids are out of school.

2) I absolutely give myself an F in multitasking.

3) Seriously, I can’t walk and chew gum, it’s that bad.

4) When I start to get worked about about my “to do” list, it freaks me out and I get anxiety around the kids, which leads me to ..

5) I start comparing myself to Moms who have a 18 ab-pack, “stay at home” and “run a business”, or “work part time” or  “run a charity” or  cook, bake, dance, dust, plant, and ferberized all their children by the time they were three months. Even feberized the neighbors children and almost got them to feberize my children too, but 6 and 9 YEARS were above the cut in feberization training.*

6) When I start comparing, I get cranky. When I get cranky, I furrow my brow. When I furrow my brow, I have to set aside MORE MONEY for my future Botox treatments (no I haven’t had any..), because I already have the Victor Newman/Clark Gable deep forehead wrinkles that look fascinating on a man and not so much on a woman.

Caveat – I  need to be set  aside ALL our Botox money for college because according to the internet,  we are all dying from melting ice caps caused by the private jet plane fuel from the ostentatious Kimye** wedding,  GMO’s*** are in EVERYTHING, political controversy  gridlocks sneezing now and seriously, we are all going to die very soon. Bottom line,  the world will soon dissipate via spontaneous combustion because it gets clogged with TOO MANY KARDASHIAN** SHOWS, by the time my kids will be pursing their studies; thus, they will be receiving their education on Mars.

7) Did you read # 6? That’s pretty much any one of my “million” “complete” thoughts in a single day. It is kind of a miracle that I can blog , AT ALL really. You should see my writing scrapbook and journal. I can’t read half of what I hand- wrote. It’s fun, it’s like learning a new language when I go back and read stuff. I mean, I caveat my itemized lists?  WHO DOES THAT? Yes, I EVEN YELL AT MYSELF IN ALL CAPS IN MY JOURNAL.

8) I’m writing a book too,  I can’t multitask.   Like right now, the word count got stuck on that evil number and it wouldn’t move so it really freaked me out so I just started typing gibberish until the word count thing moved, and yeah, that’s kind of how my brain works.

9) In addition to my two children, we have a bearded dragon, name Echo who seems to go on some kind of hunger strike every three months. While I initially acquired this pet because a) My son completed some arbitrary task I had been begging him to complete and b) I THOUGHT it would be easier than a dog, he is kind of like having a third child. Oh ok, maybe a 1/2 a child. or 1/2 dog. or 1/2 cat or something.

10) Through all my self- help journeys, ONE MESSAGE, is abundantly clear to me lately is that I need to FREAKING RELAX and not worry about “getting it all done” or “I wonder what so and so thinks” .  When I do not “hold-still” and go a million miles an hour, I end up in a big giant pile of anxiety-produced-goo. In a nutshell, I’m going to take it easy on myself with my writing schedule and everything really, because life is short, and dammit I really thought this blog would be shorter!  I know some of you have my critical, yet short, attention span and if goes over thousand word count, I lose you. I get it!

Summary – I am not going to “sweat the small stuff” (Don’t Sweat the Small Stuff was a college graduation gift, I guess I sweat a lot, wouldn’t a case of Secret been more suitable?)  and as much as I love WRITING ; – blogging/book etc etc, are not  as important as the two and 1/2 mini reptile-humans I have under my roof that will need more of me than normal. :)

 

 

*Ferberization – Please Google it for the non-sarcastic definition. IN a nutshell it means letting your baby cry it out so they sleep 14 hours a night without bothering you and they live amazing, blissful, fabulous lives forevermore because you did not go running to their every wince and need when they were wee babies. . I was the Mom that absolutely could not do this. a) it sound like nail spikes on a chalkboard b) I wanted to sleep and I just couldn’t “tune it out”. I would sleep upright next to my sons crib so he could play with my hair.  I even BOUGHT a barbie doll (because, I did not have a girl YET) and try to prop her up, but the doll was to small and he could pull into crib and choke on a barbie doll so, yeah I don’t recommend the Barbie Doll Sleep Method.

Yes, my children still crawl into our bed very early in the morning..   ( like anywhere from 3 to 5 am)  GASP.   Some people think this is HORRENDOUS. Good Lord is it your bed? Please.  That’s another blog: 10 ways I keep my head from exploding when people without kids give unsolicited parenting advice OR people with kids try to tell you about their amazing parenting skills and they really do not have “many issues” with parenting, at all.  Vomit.

** Kimye -(I got that from Saturday Night Live, it’s Kim & Kayne’s name spliced together. You know from the Kardashians. If you do not know who they are , I applaud you for focusing on much more meaningful worldwide news.)

***GMO – Google it. I’m too exhausted to explain. It’s a “hot topic” so it will pop up maybe before Good Morning America?  (GMA)

 

++++++  Usual Disclaimer: DO NOT TAKE ME SERIOUSLY.  This stuff sounds extremely funny in my head, I have deemed myself a “comedic writer”, but I am too chicken to even attempt stand up. Anyhoo, another writer friend told me that comedic writing does not work well unless it’s narrated verbally, and people just think the writer is “angry”.   That’s so not the case, this is my free therapy and my goal is to make myself laugh at myself and for you to just LAUGH!
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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.

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 nomister 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.

10) I kind of have a two hour window on when I feel like Im 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 combust 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. A clown. (And I strongly dislike clowns!!); therefore I do not think its wise I direct groups of “youngins” in this manner. 

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,!!

“Ok kids! Time for your bottle!!!”

Disclaimer. Please. Do. Not. Take. This. Seriously
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Yeah, I know monks live without stuff, but if you know my writing at all, I  am somewhat facetious so please do not take every word I write, seriously! YES, I do write some serious stuff, but my main goal is to make people LAUGH LAUGH AND LAUGH, be inspired and not take themselves so seriously!!!

As I age, I crave the simpler life.  I yearn for slow walks through antique stores filled with cobwebs, spending hours getting lost in a book, in my pjs, not worrying whether the popcorn I am eating is filled with genetically modified aliens or “Did I eat enough fiber today???”     Life today moves fast and the newest fad is bitching about people using their smartphones to much VIA THEIR SMARTPHONES!!! ‘   The irony of weepy-creepy-music filled videos of people looking down at their smartphones while a tree bristles in the wind, LINKED FROM FROM A SMART PHONE, TO A SMART PHONE PLATFORM makes me kind of Lewis Black cranky because just thinking about it is like those horrendous math problems we had to solve in high school math. It hurts my head.   I GET IT AND I ABSOLUTELY AGREE, WE (I!)  need to disconnect MORE, but send the message BY DISCONNECTING YOURSELF and setting the example, not making these crazy-long-weepy-creepy videos/pictographs, of people using their phones and chastising people for LIVING IN THE MODERN WORLD!

Ok, I got off on a little tangent, I was going to make that whole paragraph above a separate blog, but  tangents are kind of my thing.  A College friend always told me “I just love your stream of consciousness thinking Laurie” .  The paragraph is important because I do and did have a bit of phone problem. I like to write. I like to create. Word Press is on my phone. Therefore I am trying to find a balance and this blog, helps me put things in perspective and writing is my therapy.

Here are 10 things I need:
1) Antiques. Pictured above is my Grandmothers Aunts Baby Daddy’s Victorian Sofa (Okay, maybe not the baby daddy part..) Her furntiure, these antiques, hold a lot of great memories. In fact, I’m pretty sure I was Linda Carter or some force of nature on said sofa, catapulting off with my magical-super-hero-powers  while she yelled “STOP JUMPING OFF THE FURNITURE!”

2) Laughter.  I simply could not survive this earth without a sense of humor.  Anytime I have gone through an entire day and have not laughed means a day where I need to sit down and figure out what the hell is wrong with me.  When I was anorexic and living with my sister, a quote that jolted me into seeking recovery was “One of the saddest things about this whole eating disorder thing is  you have completely lost your awesome sense of humor.”

3) My Family.  Nuclear and extended. Crazy and Sane.  Messy and Miraculous. Through my 42 years, I have lost a brother, mother, grandmother, uncle and more.  Loss sucks and it happens. I get that. I just hope that it happens a bit more naturally is all and that I preserve the memories better than I have in the past.

4) My Friends.  I used to think I didn’t need people. And I’ll admit, when things get blue for me, I want to isolate and shut out the world but the truth is, we all need friends, even if it’s just one.  We need people, and whether you are spiritual or not, scientifically we absolutely can’t live without them for very long.

5) Wrinkle Shield.   I can’t live with out the wrinkle shield on the dryer.  Ironing is like brushing my teeth with mayonnaise and dirt. And I’m not one of those people who is all on top of laundry in the dryer so Thank You Jesus for helping the inventor create the wrinkle shield button.

6) or the dryer and washer. Although, in trying to be simpler, I yearn for a clothes line again, but we live in a subdivision and they would have a coronary-bi-pass-genetically-modified -alien-filled-heart-palpitation if I put a clothes line up in my back yard.

7) Coffee. It’s not even about the caffeine (ok maybe a little). In essence, it’s a quintessential part of my morning ritual. The smell is like honeysuckle in the spring, pine needles in the winter, or the Lavender Lysol-Bleach combo smell during vomit-virus season. It’s COMFORTING and I like it.

8) Yes. The dishwasher. When  my second was 2 months old, ours broke and I told my husband, “Oh I can handle this, I used to hand wash dishes all the time growing up!” Two teeny tiny baby bottles later, I was Googling coupons for all the local appliance stores saying it could be my Christmas, mothers day, birthday, double Christmas present, but I could not live without a dishwasher.

9) Thunderstorms on a hot afternoon.  This is like xanax to me. No I don’t use xanax (anymore).   Seriously, I don’t know if it brings me back to #1, playing Wonder Woman inside because we could not be out side because of the Thunderstorm.  The darker the clouds the better.  No, tornadoes freak me out,  but a good old fashioned non threatening Thunderstorm is like a nap in a hammock for me.

10) My Faith.  I am not RELIGIOUS.\, but I do have a faith in a higher power.   I used to think I need to have a fancy, gilded, bourgeois, fearful relationship with God,     that’s the antithesis of spirituality (for me).  I pray everyday as much as I can, just like I am talking to you, and yes I even swear sometimes. (obviously I don’t like take His name in vain or anything. when I ‘m praying that is.)

 

 

 

 

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1) My kids slept in outfits below and ate cookies for breakfast.

2) My intention was to get everyone to cute little church at and of the road to get OUR PRAISE ON SON!,  today…but,

3) I slept in, ate three breakfasts, watched Adam Sandburg close the season of Saturday Night Live instead.
PS, I only let kids watch a teeny snip it, because I’m a good Mom :)

4) I am on my 5th cup of coffee and have accomplished Zero chores or tasks and I have zero plans to drink a healthy greencrimefightingdeathdryinglifechanging smoothie today.

5) I ALMOST deleted my Joel Olsteen tapings to make room on DVR (by accident!!).  I just love that guy, I will watch later, on my seventh cup coffee.

6)..I overreacted in yelling at my husband telling him not to overreact at my overeactions. Right? ,sounds like a 10th grade math~philosophy test question.

7) I have been brushing my teeth with a
Tiana and The Frog toothbrush designed for four year olds, all week and my new toothbrush is still downstairs on the kitchen counter.

8) I spent way too much time reading about the JayzSolangeBey Gate conundrum versus reading about our local Political candidates.

9) Wait, I don’t regret # 8. Politics is like brushing your teeth with said tootbrush coated in sand, grit, oreos, and mayonnaise.

10) I literally cannot  think of a #10 because I am that unproductive today so I have left my adoring fans with only 9 reasons..maybe 8, because 9 technically does not even count.

I wrote this a while ago. I’m catching up on all my handwritten blogs.  I have had a lot of dental work lately and my favorite drama on television is The Walking Dead. On with it.

1)  You witness a dental team utilize a mini arsenal of mini home improvement and home gardening tools ON YOUR MOUTH.  This way, if you every need pet zombies for protection (Michonne, Walking Dead) you can loot a dental office and mimic what you witnesses while people were gardening in your mouth; except, precision and pain alleviation will not be an issues.

2)The dental insurance companies cover one toof.  So either you have one really great toof, to use when you become a Zombie during an Apocalypse, or you drained your savings to save the other toofies. Either way, you will have something to work with as a Zombie if you visit the dentist regularly!!!  Yes I spelled toof incorrectly on purpose.  I do not know why, maybe it’s some kind of rebellious gesture towards Dental Insurance companies for the asinine  policy of COVERING ONE TOOF OR ONE QUADRANT of said Toofies.

  •     Side note. I had ZERO clue on how to spell asinine.  So I looked up “assynyne” on google. Apparently it’s very popular name for hip hop groups and rock bands.  And YES, I know how to spell toof. Remember, I’m rebelling.

3)Laughing Gas is awesome.  So if things start to go south during a Zombie Apocalypse, find a dental office STAT, to hide your posse in and hook yo’self up playah.

  •  I mean “go south” as it go poorly. Not “move towards the south”. This can be confusing, hence my clarification, because the Walking Dead is filmed in the South, in Georgia.  I never really thought of where the term “go South” as in “going poorly” comes from….?

4) Dental people have fabulous teeth. Zombies do not.

5) Dental offices are shiny, nice, sanitized, and play great family friendly movies like “Up” and “Despicable Me”; whereas,  any warehouse or church or home you take refuge in during a Zombie Apocalypse, you will most certainly not have said amenities.

6) If you are in a Zombie Apocalypse, make sure you have one of those Novocaine Needles filled with Novocaine. That way if you are about to get bit, you can jab the pre-bit area with said needle and it won’t hurt as much.

No Pain, you will be slain”  You may have to tell your Zombie-Attacker- Non -Human -Walker thing, to hold off for about five minutes until the Novocaine kicks in though…

7) Dental offices are loaded with awesome supplies and weapons to loot during a Zombie Apocalypse,  For survivors AND to ward off Zombies. Think about it. Also DON’T FORGET TO ROLL THAT LAUGHING GAS MACHINE WITH YOU WHEN YOU HEAD BACK TO PEOPLE-ALIVE-HUMANS CAMP. Seriously.  Don’t leave home without it.

8) If you go to the dental office a lot for surgeries etc, you are prepared for Zombie Attack pain.

9) If it were the Dental People versus Zombies as last people on earth, I would place big money on the Dental People winning.  They have great tools,  they have great teeth, they know how to keep sanitized and ward of zombie germs and mutations, and they will all be high on laughing gas so it won’t really matter anyways.

10) If you have great dental coverage and stay up to date on all your dental appointments, you will make one hell of a Zombie during an apocalypse, that’s the same as #2 , but that’s all I got.

 

 

or 10 things that happen when you end up in the emergency room. I have been in many ERS over the past year (no, not just for my children, my Dad was sick last year and we were  looking out for him etc etc,I  tell you this because if I didn’t you would be like WTF is wrong with this Mom).  Let’s cut out the insanely verbose scrappiemomma monologue and get right to it.  I write what I know:

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1) My son recently got the bubonic plague. The above diagram indicates how the puking episodes transpired.

2) They feel like biscuit fireballs with the fever. On day 2 of da plague, he said his body felt like it was stretching. I almost passed out myself when the thermometer spiked to 104.5 in like seconds,  threw it across the room, grabbed keys, my son  & didn’t even finish taking his temperature.

3) Frantically sped towards emergency room with hazards on blast and screaming at red lights wondering;  “is it really necessary to have traffic lights in the middle of the night?” I suppose the tractor trailers  barreling down the road, deems traffic control mechanisms necessary. To a panicked Mom, though, anyone being on the road seemed unnecessary.

4) There is really NOTHING worse than and ER doc who is “dismissive”. I am being gentle here.  The other word I had chosen when I first write this started with an A and ended with a Hole.  I KNOW they are busy, I understand they are overwhelmed, but there really is no greater  feeling of complete helplessness when it comes to your family needing medical attention and the  ER people act like you are at Starbucks complaining that your foam isn’t foamy enough.

  •   Funny, Funny caveat. Last year the few times my Dad was in the ER, not so funny at the time; there was this one particular ER where instead of an actual NURSE or Attendant coming in to ask you registration questions, THEY WHEELED IN A GIANT MOBILE CART WITH A FREAKING PERSON ON SKYPE. Ever watch Big Bang Theory where Sheldon decides to only travel TO AND FRO via Skype on his computer? Seriously SAME SCENARIO.   Coincidentally, while I was providing pertinent information to “Shelbot”, a patient came running down the hallway, half dressed banging on the window, jumping up and down, pointing to my phone saying she needed to make a call.   At this point in the scenario, I was rendered speechless, and if you know me, it TAKES A LOT TO SHUT ME UP.

5)  This past ER visit. I had forgotten I cut and stubbed my pinkie toe on this fabulous garden paverkeepsgrassfromgrowingintoflowergarden thingies ( (seriously I’m HGTV illiterate)  my husband had put out front a few days before.   I looked down at cut on my toe and I FREAKED. I was convinced I had contracted the flesh eating bacteria while in the ER and almost had a panic attack and passed out until I remembered that I’m extremely clumsy and the majority of the bumps, bruises and scrapes I bequeath are due to my inability to walk a straight line. Sober.

6) You will do anything for your kids when they are sick. I was ready to donate any body part needed at any point in time.  We compromised by ordering an overpriced Minecraft bat on Amazon and then got really distracted and decided I needed to order the “tangle free brush” for my daughter. I was so incredibly distracted (there is a lot of ANXIETY RIDDEN DOWN TIME (#ARDT) and waiting in ERs and hospitals) I ended up order  SIX Ultimate De-tangling brushes.

  • Note, I capitalized ANXIETY RIDDEN DOWN TIME  and coined/hash tagged the term (ARDT) to indicate there is a HUGE difference between REGULAR DOWN TIME (#RDT…watching HGTV and Walking Dead) and #ARDT where ordering things on Amazon seems to alleviate anxiety. Buy now with one click is a highly dangerous button while undergoing #ARDT.

7)  There is a vast difference  in aesthetics, food, activities, Nursing Staff, at a regular hospital and a Children Hospital. I do not know how else to elaborate other than the fact it’s like Disney versus Chuckie Cheese.

8) I had a giant fever blister on my lip the entire time my son was in the hospital which if you know anything about fever blisters, they THRIVE on stress, so it like grew exponentially, hourly. To make me laugh, my friends kept saying that the Nurses were saying “High Maintenance Fever Blistered Mom in room 235 needs us again, no it’s YOUR turn to deal with her…”

9) Even “funnier”, somehow in the process of being in two 3 ERS  shuttled through Atlanta in ambulance transports etc etc , somehow someone forgot to write down the name and number of my son’s pediatrician; therefore, it was written on his chart “Family has no pediatrician”.   So I am downstairs in the Disney Cafe, when my husband texts me from my son’s room “Social Services is here, we do have pediatrician right?”

  Fever Blister Ridden Mom Drops salad on floor and screams “DON’T TAKE MY BABIES”.   Yes, I have a pediatrician for my children.

10) No disrespect to ANY of the staff in medical facilities , even if you are “dismissive” like # 4, because I’m sure Anxiety Ridden Fever Blistered Moms  are no picnic for the medical community either.  Even with all the ARDT that comes with  having a really sick kid, being in the ER, or being hospitalized, I am eternally grateful for  ERs, Hospitals, Children’s Hospitals and Nurses!

 

Happy Nurses Week :)

 

profielic1I think I blogged about this before, but I absolutely have zero memory of what I wrote and yes, I could go back and read it.  However, one of the 10 things that happen when you turn forty is forgetfulness and lack of patience.   (picture is me 40, husband 38. Yep. I’m a Cougar.  you can barely see my lips, see # 1)

On with it:

1) You lose your lip line. I’m not kidding, your face starts to melt into your lip line. Lip Liners are not for youthful people. The entire Lip Liner Industry was targeted for women over 40 who wake up one morning, look in the mirror and say “OMG WHERE ARE MY LIPS??????????????????”

a) Caveat: You LOSE LIP FAT.  LIP FAT. That’s NOT EVEN FAIR. God, or Buddha, or your divine being that created you / me, I must ask  “WHAT WERE YOU THINKING WITH THIS ONE??? Wasn’t there somewhere else on my 40 year old body that you could have taken fat to use for whatever you need fat from my lip to assist the body part with the needed fat from my lip??? I could make a few recommendations? “

2) Spider Veins. Varicose Veins. Bumpy Veins. No, not the pretty ones that show on people who eat the perfect amounts of food and exercise perfectly and have pretty veins that barely show in their arms but kind of show because they are lean and strong. I’m talking veins that APPEAR OVERNIGHT in some cases that look like a cluster of blue bug bites.  Or Looks like your children got a hold of a blue sharpie, glue and blue confetti (not shiny or glittery, the dull confetti, the kind that sits out too long in the sun at the craft store and loses all its joie de vivre)  and decided to decorate your thighs and legs.

3) Cellulite.  Seriously. TRAPPED FAT?  Dear Divine Creator. Again, where are we going with this one? Fat being TRAPPED on your body. If the fat is there, isn’t it kind of already trapped?  Why do we need to make little pockets for it to stay trapped.  Its like Hotel California for FAT???   Purpose of Cellulite?? –  It gives the Celebrity Photo Shoppers a vocation.  OR it gives Celebrity Paparazzi something to chase after on the beach so they can hound some thin celebrity and broadcast to the world  “LOOK EVERYONE EVEN SHE HAS CELLULITE”  Nice.

a) Caveat: I recently took up foam rolling NOT because it’s a healthy and prevents injury.  I heard it “got rid of”  cellulite and I was all over that like paparazzi on cellulite on celebrities at the beach.  I know it does not get “rid of it”, I know the word was “reduces the appearance of cellulite” but in my book “reduces” = “rid of”.

4) Your metabolism? Wave good bye.  I had this whole long thing written out but there really is not a whole lot to explain.   Scientifically it’s the truth. I had to take a very long and cumbersome test when I was a fitness instructor and the ONE thing that they kept hammering over and over in the “Nutrition” section is the older you get, the more stuff slows down. Period. End of story.  I  passed the test (barely) but I know I got that answer right. The good news is if you foam roll, you will NEVER EVER get injured, have zero cellulite and can exercise off everything you eat. (I’m joking here…kind of….I’m really counting on this foam rolling stuff to kick in and turn me 20 again)

5) Ladies.  Your boobs. Will either go straight down or off to the side. I asked my friend if their was a cure for “armpit boobs.  Mine increasingly gravitate toward the side more and more, it seems like on a daily basis. I have to re-adjust them. Hourly. Dudes, I don’t know what happens to your instruments, but feel free to blog and let your 40 year old friends know all about whatever strange phenomenon is occurring  on an hourly basis, but keep it classy.

6) If you lacked patience before, expect to lack it even more. I went to very few camps or church gatherings as a child but there was one song I clearly remember  “Be patient Be patient don’t be in such a hurry, you will only start to worry, Just remember God has patience too, Just think of all the times others had to wait for you”.  The song frankly annoys me because it (as a song ) it invokes memories of people behind me in line, rolling their eyes and shooting me looks of severe disdain.  It divinely pops into my head when I am in the line from hell at Walmart or Home Deport or Lowes or Dollar General or DMV or where ever places long lines go to DIE.

7)  You eyelashes  leave their home and start a new home on your chin, , jawline , above your “un-lip-lined” lip, and the top of your feet. They move south for pre-Retirement years. No extra description needed here.

8)  Every time someone yelled out to you “Use sun screen” and you did not listen – turns into a sunspot, guess where??  The same place your eyelash hairs relocate to for their pre-Retirement party. Thus, you have a parade of unwanted hairs and GIANT torpedoed freckles on your upper lip, chin, jawline and feet in addition to the Hotel Calfornia’d cellulite and Micheal’s Craft store veins and so on and so forth.

9) You start giving your parent’s advice.  They don’t listen and they ignore EVERYTHING you say to them in form of advice and CHANGE THE SUBJECT TO SOMETHING THAT HAS TO DO WITH HIP HOP MUSIC?????   It’s like some twisted reverse-psychological- punishment for any hell you put them through when you were a teenager.   I really think they do it on purpose.

10) You drone on and on about “what happens when you turn 40″.  Mall teenagers, people in their “twenties” are mildly annoying, and TRUST me they find “people in their 40’s and above” as equally annoying. It’s just a vicious cycle of annoyance if anytime there is a mix of these ages; Which is virtually, any family gathering.  THE only PEOPLE that favor well at family gathering, are babies. So if you over the age of TWO, things just go down hill from there. HEY BABIES AND TODDLERS – Be prepared to be annoyed for the rest of your life. :)

WAIT, I almost forgot. Bonus) Forgetfulness.

WAIT, I just thought of another one when I was loading blog link to instagram.  SELFIES SUCK.

PS.This is ALL in good fun.

 

 

I was going to name this “10 Reasons why you should stop comparing yourself to others”  or “10 reasons why there should not be any comparison between the Stay at Home Mom (parent) versus the Working Parent” or “10 Reasons to accept yourself”   These are all very important topics, but I  really want to bring LAUGHTER into the blogging world.  Life is extremely serious, and there are things that need to be taken seriously, and there are amazing writers out there that are writing about very serious things and they all serve of equal importance in this extremely complex Universe. My problem is that my mind is an open web browser and every serious article/Facebook post/  of “you must change NOW”,  exploding in the informational highway, I absorb, over analyze and I get so distracted that I can not enjoy what is right in front of me at this very moment.

I KNOW it my opening paragraph is not Chuckle Hut worthy so on with it.  Here are 10 reasons why I will laugh at myself, (and Love) , I hope that you can find some time today to make yourself a quick list for yourself to help you love, laugh and accept yourself as to where you are at this very moment:

1) I wear Jackie Onassis dresses and love 1950s clothes, but I  also love really ratchet music. Like ratchet ratchet.  Like “Rack City” Ratchet. I mean, please, My Easter Dress looked like something out of Betty Crocker’s 1950’s picture-cookbook, all the while the top ten songs on my playlist are about “droppin’ it low”.  I will say; however, I do search high and low for the edited versions. I think that counts for something.

2)In continuation with my eclectic music and fashion sense, the song Let Her Go by Passenger makes me boo hoo like a baby. I do not know if it’s because of all the puppies and horses when it first came out or if it’s because it strikes some kind of peri-menopausal-tear-duct-gland or if when it’s played someone is cutting a onion nearby? I don’t know. It just makes me cry. It’s truly a beautiful song.

3) I cannot fold clothes if the floor needs to be vacuumed. For some reason it makes no earthly sense to me to be folding and putting away clothes when the floor is dirty.  You can imagine the havoc this wreaks if I get sick or my vacuum dies and my mop is on the fritz.  My sister lived with us for a while. She was very “on top” of the laundry.  If I saw her folding any stack of laundry, I would IMMEDIATELY, get the vacuum or mop out and start cleaning the floors. I would STOP whatever I was doing or convince her that she did not need to be folding the laundry because I am her sister and she should know I am just weird.

4) I have panic attacks at the grocery store when people bag my groceries.  I have to literally bite the inside of my cheek. I can’t do self- check out  either because I am very very slow and someone usually steps in and “assists” then I am back to the same conundrum.  Today I had a little freak out session because the bag person put all my cold stuff in the non cold recycle bags and vice-versa. Yes, I re-arranged all of this before loading into the car. I am sure I gave the person reading her People magazine in the car next to me a huge chuckle.

5) I am a horrendous drive-way driver.  Recently,  I was at a friend’s house and I literally drove right up over her cable box. It was pretty big. Cable still works in case you were wondering.    Oh, and last summer, my husband got a new truck with the back up ALARM system with the giant camera. I am backing up while we are on our annual beach vacation trip (so in my defense I was in a strange driveway) and the camera goes pitch black and the alarm things starts screaming, and I call my husband and ask him “Why is  rear aid back up alert flashing on the screen and why is it beeping extremely loud?’  His response; “YOU ARE ABOUT TO HIT SOMETHING!!!”   Lo and Behold , there was a GIANT PALM TREE about five centimeters away from the bumper. My friends were laughing so hard they could not even stand up.

6) I do not do well on highways either. I get very tense in “trafficky” situations. It’s not that I become a bad driver, I become a nervous, white knuckled driver. I hate the freeway or interstate.  Two funny stories:

a) One time I was with a friend,about 15 years ago , and I switched lanes rather quickly, possibly without using a blinker, because I had not gotten over fast enough due to my tense driving state of affairs.   I KNOW, it was not safe, but I was not intentionally trying to be rude or anything.  (that counts! Gold star for me!!) Immediately after my maneuver,  I looked back and I “thought” all these people were waving and me and I said to my friend , “Do we know all those people behind us?” as I fervently waved my hand out the window and smiled,  and she said “Um no, they are not waving at you, they are giving you the bird”.

b) I drove all the way from Maine to North Carolina with my sister when I went to college.  Several several times, truckers would pass us and give me the “hang loose” or “chill out” sign in response to my panicked, white knuckled “10 & 2″ on the steering wheel.

7)  There is nothing I love more that to drink a huge soda (ok I am trying to be healthier so I have been drinking a lot of seltzer water, I NEED fizz) and let out a giant burp. I like to burp.  I feel like it’s cleansing in some ways. Don’t worry I do not do this in public, it’s purely a stay at home mom type of activity.  Drinkin Seltzer and Burpin. Sounds like a country or a rap song. Maybe.  I even try to sound out a word or something like “Excellent”… I know juvenile, but oh so rewarding.

8) I love to over analyze, ok wait, maybe I love to “shallow analyze” and ask insane questions during movies that sometimes have absolutely no connection to what is actually going on during the movie. This is definitely a blog for later but here are a few quick ones,  “Why would she be wearing something like that during an Zombie Apocalypse?”    “Do you think they really really love each other deeply or is it a marriage of convenience?”   “Do you think she makes smoking look sexy? or is that just me?” (don’t worry I am not going to take up smoking..it was JUST a question). Again, a blog for later.. because I think I should be a movie critic for all those random questions you have in the back of your mind.

9) I am a Messy Perfectionist. I am still trying to determine what that means.  It’s just a crazy way to describe my brain and the way I organize “things”.   I want things to be perfectly organized, put away and Pottery-Barn-worthy-showcased, but my brain simply does not operate in that manner; therefore the best way to describe how are organize things in my house is “Messy perfectionism”.  The level of organization on Pintrest literally makes me want to seek therapy.

10)  I lose chapsticks, lip gloss, hair thingies like there is no tomorrow.  And so does my daughter. So then when it comes time to “clean up and organize my messy perfectionism”, I will have 4359 pins & hair things in my hair, 45 lip balms in my pocket until I can find their messy home. Sometimes they never make it home depending upon what other “messy perfectionism” project I delve into on my journey.

This was a bit longer than I had anticipated but I hope it gives you a chance to laugh a little and thing of a few reasons why it’s okay to stop, smell the roses and not try to be 500000 steps ahead of everyone else, even yourself.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

In continuation from the previous post, here is a fabulous email I sent my kid’s dance Director.  I think she has a voo doo doll of me that she jams pins in every time she hears a BING on her phone and it’s an email from the illustrious and  loquacious Scrappie Momma………..

 

Logan and Laney, is it ok if I drop both of them off at the same time and pick them up at the same time (30 minutes before for laney would be 3:50, for logan would be 4:10 so I was hoping I could drop both them off at 3:50?)

  For Pick up I’m a little confused (this is probably all me)  because  there is a Finale for the 1pm show and for the life of me I can’t find the Finale for the 6pm? or do they all practice that together? or is this a stupid question.  For Pick up,  it looks like they are both in the Finale at 6:05, so should I plan on picking them up around 7? or am I missing something?  Also Logan will be in both shows and both Finales, but Laney will not) Does that change anything?

Sorry I have read it a lot, and I even have coffee in my system, I just want to make sure I have this all marked in my folder and on my calender (s) because last year I kind of messed this all up.

 

Sincerely, A woman WHO NEVER EVER EVER GOT THE MANUALLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLL

 

Ouch. That hurt! I think she may have used extra pins this time.

Specifically, wordpress, computers as a people and automated services.

1) Yesterday, I couldn’t type on my computer. Its connected (??) VIA wireless mouse and keyboard because my husband thinks he’s Jack Bauer and I’m his hot side kick. I hate wireless attachments because THERE ARE NO WIRES TO FIGURE OUT THE PROBLEM. Ask me. Yes. I TURNED TO COMPUTER OFF 3x and I was able to restore sanity to the office.

2) Everytime I try to log into Word Press from my phone, I get a jacked up error message telling me there is a two step verification process to log in. I have zero clue what this means EXCEPT, periodically, randomly throughout the day and night, I get WordPress codes texted to me. If im being hacked, and someone is plagiarizing my genius writing, I will find you. I took apart a sink with my bare hands in college to find my friends “lovelier” (a Southern Friendship love debutante thang, I dont know either) . Needless to say, I am a top ~notch~ bad~ ass. I was tight with maintenace in my dorms and Debutants from here to Kentucky both fear and reach out to me when they lose their chunky jewels in the sink. Or maybe I really am Jack Bauers hot~ black ~ops~ sidekick.

3) I had to call Express scripts today. I hit zero 5677887664432456 times and kept screaming CUSTOMER SERVICE PERSON into my phone. After, ten minutes of this “Sybil” (the movie) worthy performance, I talked to a real person. Why is it so hard to talk to real people? 

4)  When I have not received a text in over an hour I’m convinced my phone is broken. I miss the neon phones with cords so long, you could wrap your entire body with it, which I did a lot as a teenager, out of sheer “lets see how much I can stretch the cord”. I miss not feeling like my phone is an appendage. 

5) Browsing on the internet can completely ruin your day. For example, a tiny sliver of an example, I have self diagnosed myself and my children, with the most awful cases and rare diseases through Web Md that my pediatrician reminds me regularly, not to use WebMd.

6) Our wireless computer setup, sure has a lot of wires everwhere that collect a lot of dust.

7) There is NEVER an easy solution if you get the blue screen of death on computer with the blinking hypen at the top and few words of code gibberish. We have been through a few burned out hard drives,(terminology may be off here)  to know that there is no coming back from this death window. 

8) The Geek Squad almost salivate when you bring in Blue Screen of Death problems.. Similar to Surgeons in the ER with medical marvels and complex surgical procedures & treatment. OR they know you have to buy a new one.

8) Technology has a short shelf life. My neon phone would still be kicking it,  if I hadn’t ruined the cord by playing “Cord Mummy” when I should have been doing my computer science homework.

9) Why didn’t I LISTEN and study in computer class!!! 

10) I know why! BECAUSE my brain shuts down when it comes to mathematical situations. Computers are long ass word problems and I can’t even solve my son’s 3rd grade word problems without literally having to squint, grunt, re~-write & say “Go ask your Dad”.

BONUS I have two books on wWordPress. I am on page 12, of each. Its my ambien.

First of all I’m blogging this in the blinding Florida sun, on my phone and do not have immediate access to computer so there will definitely be typos and grammatical tragedies. I know its not an excuse.

We are Florida junkies. Our kids are at the “I MUST be entertained at all costs” stage so we come to Orlando a lot.  Disney. Sea World. Universal.
Lego Land. Apparently I didn’t get the manual for anything, so I decided to pay it forward with a list of rules for Amusement Park frivolity:

1) Bring drinks. Smuggle them in like Heisinburg if you have too.
2) DON’T GO JUNE THROUGH SEPTEMBER. Unless you like being soaked in humidity and scorched by a blinding, hot white heat thats so intense you will wonder if Orlando = Purgatory
3) Don’t eat a stack of protein bars prior to going in attempts to mitigate prolonged hunger because I can’t function hungry. Or “Hangry” as the hipsters coined.
3a) I ate too many protein bars and my stomach was so distended I almost bought a pregnancy test.
4) Don’t cry when your children are crying because of long lines, Purgatory humidity and alien baby stomach. It makes you look weak and it will piss off your spouse. Or family, if you thought it would be fun to go as a giant group.( Im not going to comment on “giant groups at Disney” . Ill let you think that through as to whether this invokes fun or “lets go here no lets go here no lets go here no I’m hot no I want to see Cinderella no lets eat lets pee lets cry lets sleep”)
5) Don’t put on self tanner before the big trip. No matter what you do, it will literally streak off in the hellish humidity
6) Don’t look cute. As in, dont flat iron your hair, wear heels or think “oh I just have to wear this ‘adorbs’ ensemble from the Premier Outlets. It will all be ruined within the first hour, and as dumb as I am when it comes to comfortable foot wear, I know enough to wear sneakers to an amusement park. (I did wear pointy heels to walk around NYC, so if you were insulted by #6, less I remind you, I make dumbass shoe decisions all the time)
7) Don’t show intense anxiety for death~defying, no wait death~invoking roller coasters
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Due to my intense fear and “hell no MY kids are NEVER GOING TO BE TALL OR BIG ENOUGH for that shit” (pictured above..), they are now terrified of all rides. Even the little ones. Yes, my husband blames my ‘outward rolller coaster hatred’ for the kids’ intense anxiety at the tea cup Antarctica ride at Sea world. There was a 10 month year old on the ride, and my 9 year old wanted me to hold him in the ride. My husband could not stop shooting intense looks of disdain my way, wondering too, “Did my wife really NOT get the manual when the kids were born?” No. And I rarely babysat either.
8)Don’t argue. Arguing in the humidity is like trying to blow dry your hair in the rain.
9) Plan out bathroom trips or DON’T drink any water and completely dehydrate your family. Being dehydrated seemed easier than schleping through 780085 mini theme parks (within the one giant park) to pee or know an accident is on its way…which..brings me to #
10) Pack a change of clothes for every age. Even yourself. Even if its a bathing suit. You will be either soaked in humidity, someone will pee on themselves, throw up or something tragic will happen to the CUTE OUTFIT I TOLD YOU NOT TO WEAR
11) Be ready to people watch. I counted 150 daisy duke wearing ladies and lets just say my two piece has More coverage. I ain’t mad at cha, if you got it flaunt it and I think it appeased my husband’s irritation at my incessant belligerence towards my protein~alien~baby~ Sigourney Weaver ~stomach problems.
12) Dont think the kids will want to go out for thai food and sushi after 15 hours at an amusement park. SCRATCH that. Dont think anyone will want sushi and thai food, except for this alien babied stomach protein bar eating fool.

Okay, again, I can’t proofread this for a few days because word press HATES my phone and vice versa. So don’t hate the playah, hate the game.

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Disclaimer:

Please do not read this blog for etiquette tips or how to properly host a Southern Living type soiree or have tea and mint julips with Southern ladies on the back porch. I mean, I assume you kind of guessed that by the picture that starts of the blog, but just in case there is ANY confusion, this blog does not provide any Southern Hospitality /Southern Living magazine type of guidance, oh and neither does the song.

Its Spring here in Georgia and when its spring I listen to Southern Hospitality, Ludacris (stop highlighting his name in red spellcheck person, that’s how he spells it!!) Style on my playlist. Essentially I am not “Overall Georgia”  because I was raised in New England, so I have no earthly idea why I turn into a rapper when I’m jogging\walking while I got my jammed up beats just MURDERING my ear drums.  Hip Hop/Rap music or whatever you want to call it, moves me, to move.  If I need to exercise, I play it. If I need to clean the house, I play. If I need to go to the grocery store, especially in the spring and my windows are rolled down, Oh YEAH I crank it loud. So loud in fact,  I tweeted on the subject matter:  I luv that my bass is so loud it draws looks of concern. (hasthag! Bass, beezintthetrap, momswagger, momhumor smiley face emoticon)

Technically I am not DTP by jogging through my neighborhood with my dre beats glued into my innner ear canals. (disturbing the peace, term coined non other by the illustrious man pictured above, and am I supposed to capitalize Dre Beats?); yet sometimes, I wish I was DTP.  Not in a war~like manner, more in a less~anxiety~ridden~housewife~in~the~suburbs~omg~why~dont~my~kids~listen~to~me~ever….type manner.    As in, I need to freaking relax a little. I’m wound up pretty damn tight when it comes to all the “hously” chores and keeping my kids in~line. I need to lay off a little bit and essentially just join in the DTP mode with my gremlins whose motis operandi is to DTP at all costs.

Again, herein lies the oxymoron, polarizing  personality within my soul.n I love extremely boisterous, or as the hipsters and youth pinpoint as “ratchet” music. However, I try to mediate every morning, and I cannot concentrate on any task if my kids are being “RATCHETLY” loud.  It makes zero sense to me either as  I tweeted yesterday “the rebirth of the BASS EXPLOSION in the springtime, is as intoxicating as the spring birdies”. I guess that truly sums up my personality, if one were have to tweet a 140 character summation of character.

Currently, the song I listened to on repeat today is “GET BACK” by Ludacris.  In a nutshell, the moral of this song is “GET BACK GET BACK YOU DON’T KNOW ME LIKE THAT”  , well take a listen. If you dislike profanity, maybe listen to the edited version.  It’s a fabulous song if you are feeling boxed in and need some space.

I’m drawn to this song right now because I feel like everyone all up in my grill, lately. My woman’s group I attend to glean spiritual placidity  (without sanctimonious religious overtones infused with hellfire & brimstone) would frown upon my “back the eff off” disposition; however writing is my salvation and maybe loud bass thumping music, “DTPing” in my ears, is MY salvation for peacefulness right at this very moment. I know right, I simply could not be more polarizing if I tried.

Well, as the “Stay Thirsty my Friends”, dude and Ludacris says, in so many words..May you forever keep disturbing the peace in a manner that brings YOU PEACE. Peace Out Bitches.

 

 

picture to be uploaded later..child snack out the door crisis….
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I always over shop before we have to go out of town and man I get teary eyed thinking about wasting a whole thing of hummus. My sister babysits our lizard (whole other blog on that so ..) I literally leave notes everywhere about what she needs to be eating daily so it does not get tossed in the garbage. I get displeased with myself when I waste food.

Now that I am eating the hummus, I think already went bad. EwWWWW as Jimmy Fallon would say, just ewww. I have moved on to banana and peanut butter, because yes my bananas are going bad too. I wish my kids like more fresh food, but because I went against the chagrin and incessant berating of the La LECHE League, by bottle feeding my children, they are drawn towards preservative filled foods. GASP. Turn me in to the SuperMom food police.
Short blog because well I wasn’t breast fed either and my mom smoked camels with the windows rolled up so I have  untimely management skills and have not been able to blog much or for very long. The whole ‘not being breast fed, camel smoking Mom thing’ really is best left for another blog. Maybe a haiku by Eminem?

The moral of the story, do not chain smoke with the windows rolled up, maybe roll the windows down,  eff the breast milk police because well, yeah that too would be another another blog  on how I was shamed by  NurseMaids a Milking Peeps (NMMP?) at the hospital and beyond on how I failed my children by bottle feeding.

Finally –  do  not ever stock up on perishables, especially hummus because, one or two things could happen:

1) You were not breast fed and have poorly planned food waste management skills; thus will have to toss food or leave sticky notes for your lizard sitter to eat rotting food.

2) You could be forced to evacuate your home for a Zombie Apocalypse; leaving rotting food for the people heading to Terminus in The Walking Dead,  but they will never find it because there is always a “people be crazy up in here” crisis than ensues during a food run. Also, Zombies do not like White Bean Hummus.

3) You are reading this and now you are angry because you thought it was an article about breast feeding. Sorry. At least it was short. Hopefully you got some good Zombie /Hummus pointers.

 

…………And also if you do not understand the Terminus reference, I highly highly highly suggest you catch up on all seasons of  The Walking Dead.  You think it’s just about Zombies? oh SON  you JUST DON’T KNOW !!!.  I could also blog about The Walking Dead till the cows come home, understandably there are probably a large number of brilliant Walking Dead Bloggers in the blogosphere right now, so I will stick to what I know.  Hummus. Rotting Hummus. And Humor. and Not chain smoking with the windows rolled up.

That is all I got today.

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serenity

I wish I had a slew of funny things to write but lately I haven’t felt ha ha funny but I have sure the hell felt “holy shit what’s happening to me?” funny. I am back at Doctors office because of anxiety caused by medicine changes. Literally every side affect I am NOT supposed to have, I am having pretty much regularly. I do NOT want to be here going through another medicine change, my only silver lining is there have been periods of laughter, so I shall bullet point them to help me out of whatever the hell “this ,” is:

  •   Conversation with my sister:”I  am having/ all the “call your doctor immediately ” side effects EXCEPT for the homicidal and suicidal ones, you think I should make a Doctors appointment?”
  •   Changing the bathroom scale battery because I was convinced it was weighing me heavy, ended up crumpled in tears because I gained two lbs in two seconds after a freaking battery change.
  • Harassing the Vitamin Shoppe woman for a reason as to why I feel like I have PMS all  the time and what pill will make me fill like a twenty year old again. Let me phrase this., help me feel like I did when I felt like a normal twenty year old, so maybe about 1/4 of the time when I was twenty, what pills do you have that will bring that 25% of the normalcy back to my life 100% of the time? ….Then telling her how much I love Quest bars. Then telling her I just want to not be bloated all the time.. Then buying a case of Quest bars….
  • The frantic calls to my husband repeating all my craziness and him saying , “ok honey, just relax, um, are the kids ok?” , knowing he must tread lightly on my hormonally bloated mind.
  • Scouring the Kohls website for hours trying to find an athletic bathing suit that will make me not feel like I’m feeling because in the dark recesses of my mind, as if a freaking awesome athletic looking two piece, will drastically change my life and even up my hormones.
  • My take away on freaking bathing suits.  Either they are made out of dental floss (and not even the thicker weaved kind you buy if you have gaps between your teeth like I do) or they are designed for a 99 year old woman going on a cruise. There literally is not much to chose from for us 40 year old people who are struggling with the incessant gravitational pull upon our , well, entire body, “Oh hello there boobies, Nice to see you there ON THE FLOOR?”

I am almost certain, you are thinking “holy shit this chick is vain”. No, I have been through this before and “this” unequivocally has NOTHING TO do with what I look like or number on the scale. This has everything to do with control.  Yes, I might be somewhat of a controlling person. I’m not Type A because I am disorganized, but I do wipe the toilet bowls down with Clorox wipes daily, but on the other hand my house is never Better Homes picture ready, there is a lot of stuff everywhere, BUT the toilets are CLEAN, so I suppose I am a type C personality? No, I do not know what that is either, I just made it up.

I am a controlling person when it it comes to my feelings. I do not like feeling like my emotions are on a roller coaster. In a way, it’s good for me because it helps me process the  “emotion” rather than stuffing or drinking or not eating or whatever other “ism” I partook in the past  when I had a feeling rather than, huh, actually feel a feeling. Good God this sounds like a self help blog, but it truly is not a self help blog, unless it helps you feel better then by all means, my pay pal account number is……………………….

My take away from today is that I am human. My hormones are most likely out of whack. My Doctor said “Um, your changing medicines so yes my child you are going to be bloated” and gave me that motherly look of  “Cot Jam when is this freaking woman going to grow up !!!”.    I am going through a bit of a rough patch. I am not shallow. Yes I do care about my weight because I want to “feel” good about myself but most importantly I want to be healthy in a normal non obsessive way and there are periods of time where I feel like this is impossible. The solution for me today is as follows:

  • No more “fitness or cleanse” fix/detox/restart or whatever their called- browsing.  None. I like my exercise regime , I eat as healthy as I possibly can based on my resources/time etc, and I do not give a shit if my body “has adjusted to it” and I’m not ripped like Jillian.
  • Love my mother loving love handles.  They are a part of me.
  • Wake up and be thankful for all the amazing people in my life
  •  Put first things first, inhale serenity like I’m 20 and it’s my last Marlboro ultra light on earth
  • PUT THE DAMN SCALE IN THE BAYLINER-BOAT IN THE GARAGE

So when my husband comes home and says , “Why is the Scale in the boat?” I can whip out my feelings chart and tell him exactly why the scale is in the boat, on and “Yes, honey the kids are alright.”
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Pictured. Scale in boat next to anchor.

 

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Ill be a passionate, limited filter, motha-jogger, loud~mouthed, edgy, overprotective, fierce warrior, scrappy survivor till I collapse.
And btw that song is my new fave jogging song , . I say jog because I don’t “run” anymore..so maybe I’m not that much of a bad ass.. ‘mae’ juzalil’ (maybe just a little…)

I’m up with the “doers” & over achievers because we gave our kids TOO MUCH FRESH air yesterday and those fools talking about “mommy? MOMMY I’M UP MOMMMY”.  My daughter literally woke me up to tell me ” I HAVE TO GO TO THE BATHROOM”  I shot up in wide eyed “HOLY SHIT GRAB THE PUKE BUCKET SPOCK” panic mode, but thank you lord of the Mondays, she just had to tinkle like a princess.

So yeah, I’m fired up like all these insane motivational speakers hash-tagging the shit out of “doer”, and all those “successories” that make me want to put a hot fork in my eye hole like those bad asses on the Walking Dead.  I loathe the term “doer”, I have actually convinced a friend we need to make t-shirts that say “Be a doer”,  on the front and “not a donter” on the back, because well, I love irony and sarcasm. And sadly, I will probably motivate people to be even more successful , Oh CRAP, Now I am a motivational writer, with my fancy slogans, (that I stole) and tshirts…. please use pay pal account below to pay 2gs for this seminar.*

I’m fired up to write my ass off this week. Not in here, per-say, so do not expect any more of my fabulous, insightful, motivational, “wide-eyed” “doer” filled blogs. I need to get more accomplished on my book because I think I might be losing brain cells with every time I’m woken up to attend to bathroom duty, find my little pony duty, I had a nightmare because you let me watch the Piranha movie duty or I can’t sleep because you let me drink 6540 Dr peppers duty (albeit anything is better than HOLY SHIT SPOCK BEAM UP THE VOMIT RECEPTACLES duty)… Yes, I’m not even trying for Mom of the Year , so suck it Supermoms.  I just want my kids to grow up and be peaceful human beings.  Hence, my decision to let my son watch some of the Piranha movie, I thought, “How could this harm his psyche?:”, oh shit. He may never go in a lake again. I may  never go in a lake again, Have you seen that freaking movie?? I’m having nightmares now!

Till I Collapse bitches.

“Cause sometimes you just feel tired,
Feel weak, and when you feel weak, you feel like you wanna just give up.
But you gotta search within you, you gotta find that inner strength
And just pull that shit out of you and get that motivation to not give up
And not be a quitter, no matter how bad you wanna just fall flat on your face and collapse.”

EMINEM

*I stole the term “donter” from.the movie Pain & Gain”. “DOER” I gleaned from “doing” multi-level marketing, not once BUT TWICE! Yeah, 2xs a charm right?

*Eminem

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Do not fret young padawans, I shant quote the lyrics from the riveting One Direction ballad. This is the story of my life and our life because ‘we country’. Seriously, you can take the people out of the country but you cannot force them to relinquish their country ways.   We, ok ok, I (just me) have been known to wipe counter tops with my “Nike Just Do It” tshirt (as instructed by the shirt btw) in a hurry to unveil the actual countertop.  We keep the dern boxes my sons legos come in because and I quote from my husband and my son “those will pay for college”, Good because I was hoping to use the 529 accounts to buy an Island and be highlighted on HGTV “Island Hunters” (obsessed with that show btw. Please if you get a chance watch Island Hunters, you will find yourself wondering, “What exactly do this people “do” for a living such that they are buying up islands now? )

Pictured here is my husband’s attempt at drying out his tennis shoes. In his defense he did use the drying bracket thingy that came with the dryer but it  almost broke dryer. The irony of this can best be summed up by telling you my husband is the “Serv Safe Chief.’ He works in the food industry and I have lost count if how many looks of disdain have been cast my way for my abhorrent kitchen behaviors. Yes, the Nike t-shirt cleaning tactic would in his top two, the other is when I set the coffee creamer spoon on the counter versus a paper towel. *

If you have read other blogs you might be confused because I may have confessed to obsessive behaviors , some of which include and addiction to  Clorox wipes. I do not get it either. I will wipe the bathrooms down , 5665788 times a day with proper wiping gadgets, but Nike t-shirt rags (that are still being worn) and shoes on the candle on the kitchen table do not bother me one bit.

The story of our lives is one of organized chaos. Polarizing children that love me so much one minute they are still wrapping their tiny little hands around me. Ten seconds later “I am never speaking to you again” and slammed doors are echoing through or Nike~candled~counter~washed house (I don’t think shoes in pictures are Nikes, I doth apologize profusely- whatever brand I have thus shunned). We are a house of “perfect imperfections” (Johnny Leg, you hit the nail on the head with that one) , subtle nuances integrated with rebellious bedlam.  A rowdy circus juxtaposed against fabulous rainy Sunday afternoon naps.

Thank God I have the pictured paragons of excellence to keep our house in order!

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Please take note of toilet paper roll.. How is this part of this warrior brigade!? And I do not know why there are beach towels hanging on banisters. We do not own a pool and we do not live on the beach and it is not warm enough to go to the pool. Also , I’m pretty sure it’s been a couple since either one of my children have had a shower or bath…

* The alternative to setting my spoon on the paper towel is letting in jingle around in my cup all day which is by far much more annoying to him, I can most assuredly inform you I have received feedback on my spoon stealing coffee up antics as well…..

I grew up in the non profit  world, my pops was a Consultant in non profit management, so it is only appropriate I am drawn towards obscure professions, hobbies, livelihoods, pets etc.  Maybe obscure is not the best term, but listed below are the following jobs I have  had throughout my life since the time I was 13:

Blueberry raker
Babysitter ( I did not fair well)
Office organizer
Hay Baler
Stall Mucker
Dump helper
Waitress (@ at least two dozen places)
Buffet organizer at the Inn at      Harvard. (That’s as close as I got to IL)
Receptionist at college infirmary
Two internships at Museum of Fine Arts (unpaid , but unbelievably awesome)
Almost a manager at Schlotzkies (spelling?)
Customer Service (credit card co)
Collections (same co , yes I sucked)
Recruiting & People Relations (HR) (at said same company)
Mommy to new babies
Dance Fighter Instructor
Bubble Dog owner
Non Vegetable eating Lizard owner
……

And NOW???

Maybe??? Comedic Mommy Blogger /lizard owner/ laundry dissident/ chronic overthinker & maybe kind of a wee bit of a writer because I am a quarter of way through book, ok depending how long , maybe one tenth, ok ok maybe one sixteenth.  I over explain things so it just depends on if I locate?* a good editor and all that stuff I really need to research but I do not feel like it because I keep going back to what the Ghost of Hemingway told me which was “FOR THE LOVE OF KELLY RIPPA JUST WRITE !” Seriously, ASK Zak Baguns from Ghost Adventures, me and Ernest go way back and his Ghost really did say that to me **
(Asterisks = see footnotes cuz momma got some s’plainin’ to do)

Apparently my longer blogs get skimmed over by my groom because, well I agree, I can ramble. That is the beauty of being a newer blogger, I do not have any “haters”, so this is an open canvas, (seriously, im not ready nor do I want “haters”, thats for the rap game. Im not trying to do all that.) I also do not have a lot of “lovers” so most of my feedback is from husband and close friends and it can be surmised as “I love your stuff LJ, but sometimes you lose me” oh CRAP.  I JUST did it again.

Here lies the condundrum, I got 13.45 minutes till kids get out of their extra curricular activity. Do I post this (from my phone which means it will be formatted like I typed it from my 1980s brother ~ Word Processor) OR do I finish and post a blog tommorow..

Eff it. I’m hitting publish without editing. I typed this on a comically large phone but a mini tablet for babies so you have been warned…

*  editor stuff ~ I have zero clue. I have a book, no wait, three books on how to write a book, all if which I have only read half of each. Oh man, I am so submitting that to my son’s math teacher as a word problem!!

** no. Zak Baguns can not verify this statement. Plus I think I spelled his name wrong.

** if you are as gullible as me, No!! Zak Baguns will not verify my Hemingway ghost story.

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….BECAUSE I FORGOT HOW TO SPELL THE MAN”S NAME, WOMAN?.. ARE YOU INSANE..???

Today was Book Reading Project Day. The Crafty Mom’s dream, the Mommy Issue’s Mom – nightmare and crafts, projects and hair conundrums are my nemesis. I really try and the adage “our last mistake , is our biggest lesson” never comes to fruition for crafty craftsmanship, in fact it progressively gets worse and there is neighborhood concern that I may one day super glue my hands to my daughter’s ‘french braid’.

I post this undoubtedly adorable picture of my children on social media and directly beneath it, from a neighborhood mom (or Dad, I’m very PC)  is Cindy Lou Hoo HERSELF.. (Do not ask me what my son is, something from Harry Potter, a squawking phoenix? His screeching squawk can break the sound barrier, so have fun today Teach!) .

You could run a roller coaster through the loops, hoops, dips and hops on my neighborhood’s daughter’s hair. It is truly magnificent. I am not in any way disrespecting her craftsmanship with this blog, I’m blown away by its aesthetic artistry.

I am just curious though,  what happened to me when they were handing out the gene that they give to Mommies ( and Daddies!! Again PC) that makes them so prolific at crafts and hair? Was I in the bathroom? Was I break-dancing? Did I pass out? Are my hands not shaped in craftsman “craftymanship” crafty form?

I am sure there are a few of you out there too that were break-dancing with me when the “craftonator” descends upon earth and hands out crafty craftsmanship genes to all the new Mommies (or daddies, I’m extremely PC you see, as I have repeatedly mentioned to thee) . I’m here to tell you, do not sweat it bro, just go with the to and fro, YO!  We all have or loops and hoops dips and drops AND POPS AND LOCKS because we know how to break dance!!! Remember???

In my defense, if there was any pretense in my husband’s mind that I posessed the crafty, hair , pottery~ barn decorator gene, he simply missed the pre~marital signs because he was smitten with my transcendent beauty. Signs such as:

  •   Burping
  •   Wiping the counters with bottom of  my t-shirt
  •   Brushing my hair with a plastic fork
  •   Heating up food in oven, IN STYROFOAM
  •   Identifying, WAY TOO MUCH, with the crazy, younger mom in Divine Secrets of the Ya Yas (you fell asleep honey, The signs were ALL THERE)
  •   And so on so forth- henceforth.

I’m not lamenting the fact that I missed the “Craftonator’s” calling. I’m not complaining. I’m not sad. Or mad. Or blue with a shoe. I’m actually moving more money into Cindy Lou Hoos bank account so she has enough for her therapy sessions, and break-dancing.

ADDENDUM :
End of the day conversation with my Cindy Lou Hoo:
Daughter: “Mommy, um, people kept asking me who I was..And Mommy, so & so’s Mom put a cup on her head and then the hair to look like Cindy Lou Hoo and Mommy so and so (aforementioned in.blog) REALLY looked like CINDY LOU HOO”
Me: “I’m sorry baby, Mommy has bad hair skills, but do not fret child , Mommy & Daddy have tucked away a rainy day fund for therapy and break-dancing”
Daughter Shrugs: “okay”

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My slamming poetry. Pictures seem to do well on word press. Most of my blogs have zero pictures and are so damn long.  I think im trying to hard on too many venues of technology and social media. I need to own one of those blog cabins where someone waits on you hand and foot while you just write your heart out, you know like in the movie “The Shining”.

My phone battery is
critically low and its beeping, wait is that steam ? Oh craptastic, it just informed me it can not upload my blog because “its power source is unavailable” I mean?? The time it took  the phone to tell me that factoid, the phone could have found a power source and you would all be reading an hysterical, brief blog before you retire at night.

I really need a blog cabin assistant.

“Oh God and image of me trying to get this published just went through my ADHD head and  crap there is so many productive things I should be doing like laundry, laundry and laundry and cleaning the kids room even though they really should be cleaning that shit up themselves but if I could just SET THE EXAMPLE of how it should look, don’t you think they would follow my lead??

My plan is to clean it up with them when they come home from school so they LEARN from what we are doing but then I just get pissed off and tell them to go do something else so I can have complete control over the situation,  and round and round we go with my issues BUT as noted earlier I do not blame ANYONE in my family for the way my brain works… like a 50 year old blender with too much ice and freezer burned fruit.

I had to google the word “placation” because I was not 100 percent sure if it was the “tion” form of the word placate.  Let me just tell you I love the word “placate” because it sounds so  Joan-Crawford-Mommie-Dearest,  “DON’T PLACATE ME WITH YOUR WIRE HANGERS”  I know she doesn’t say that, but good grapes you know that is what she suggested she say to the script writer dude.   On the other hand, I desperately can not stand to be placated or outwardly insulted with some form of phrase like “oh, yeah that’s totally a no brainier, you should do it” and I say this with the utmost inflection being on “brainer” & “you should do it” (To get the full effect on how I’m saying this out loud to myself, google Californians on Saturday Night live.  Ok ,I’ll wait.  Yeah, that’s how I am saying it.  When any sales person utters the word “no brainer”, I stare at them like scary kids with no eyes in those paranormal movies , turn around and walk out.   Or I suggest they sell to actual Zombies who  have lost most of their brain power.

I coined this term because I feel like “nice” people who are not necessarily door mats, but truly try to see the good in other people fall victim to episodes of “Passive Aggressive Placation”.  I’m going to do my darnedest to give examples without being a total bitch, because I do consider my self a “nice” person but I also own a bit of snark, or scrappiness if you will. Truth needs to be told about people who are “serial-killer-nasty” ; one moment  a charming savant of manners and compliments while altruistically robed in a ‘Snugee’ of “ratchetness”, cheap polyester and barbed wire accolades.   Passive Aggressive Placation is my kryptonite.  It turns my face red , I will flip my head around so fast, start snapping and hip-walking with the “let me tell you something” phrase frothing  out of my mouth like the foamy desirableness of a Carmel Machiatto. (ok spell check keeps telling me that Machiatto should really be the word Machination)

Passive Aggressive Placation is really the tool of annoying and sometimes even extremely successful Sales People.  It’s the inauthentic dumfounded shock and awe on the sales person’s face when they have spent their incredibly precious time desperately providing “high Key” covertly disguised as a “low-key” sales pitch and you politely decline. To which they respond: “Oh, I”m flabbergasted that such an extremely well-educated  gorgeous, brilliant, young lady would pass up on such an incredible deal”.  Saying “no” to hot-shot sales people, is like saying “no” to a smart-mouthed over-privileged teenager who is learning how to manipulate their parents.  They know if they go bat-**** crazy , there is no dice, but if they play it “cool” and back-hand compliment the hell out the situation, there is a chance that “no” will turn into a “yes”.

My favorite do or die sales pitch is the: “There are only 50 items/spots left and time is running out, your life is a mess, you need this, tap into that savings account NOW! what are you WAITING FOR?”!

“UM, for my common sense to kick in to realize that what you are charging is asinine  Or

“Um, for my common sense to kick in to realize that you have only had this promotion running for 1 day”

No, No, that’s not even the passive aggressive placating part.  It’s the part where they close the actual deal down and say “NO MORE LEFT”  and then magically 24 hours later, 400 items etc are suddenly available.  I get it, supply and demand; hence, welcome to the rave party of underhanded sales. “If you do not act now, your life will be sucked into a deep, black hole of despair, desolation, and depression. The three Ds or darkness will cascade upon you forever UNLESS you sign up for this one~-time, short lived offer of glow stick freedom enmeshed in the giant “mosh” pit of enternal financial bliss, do you have your pay pal account available?”

Unfortunately, sleep deprived or insomniacs are plagued with the “Do you desperately hate your life that you are sitting there in your jogging pants, covered in Cheetos, hating yourself for eating Cheetos and wearing ugly jogging pants, well! sign up now with a start up fee of ____ and I guarantee you will love your life again”      It’s also used in the billion dollar diet industry  coupled with the “I guarantee you will lose weight if you try this fabulous innovative new product”. *   I could write a BOOK on incessant onslaught of fitness crazes, fads, pills, shakes etc that reign down upon us like skittles in those psychedelic skittles commercial. It’s absurd!!! And I’m not immune,  I like to exercise, I have bought some of the stuff to stay MODERATELY fit; however, if I scroll through certain health magazines or websites, Moderate is NOT GOOD ENOUGH WOMAN!.    According to the fitness revolution, if I can’t wash my undies on my washboard abs,  apparently I need more products and I certainly need to eat more twigs and less cheetos.   No wonder people do not want to start an exercise program!   I see this fitness phrase a lot “What’s your excuse?”   I think some one needs to respond “YOU ARE SCARING ME”.   If I see one more female lift up their shirt to show their abs and the bottom of their boobs in a effort to “sell” fitness, I am going to try and wash my undies on my 2.5 pack and tell them “I want my money back, it didn’t work”. **

I know we can all think of how this type of behavior affected us or affected us.  The creepy boss who said things like “I’m your biggest fan but…”  No, you are not my biggest fan. That’s creepy and why start a sentence like that and use the word “but”, just give me the feedback and do not be a douche-bag. (according to my grammar check, douche-bag should be hyphenated).   Or the obnoxious supermom who says things like “Bless your heart, you look really stressed & tired, have you read Baby Wise or do you eat too much gluten and saturated fat? I did all that and look at me! I’m a size zero and baby girl is sleeping through the night!”   Really sweetheart,  how about, “Let me give you a hug because I understand what you are going through and I’d rather be nice to you versus a condescending , lip-glossed, twig-eating ______”

When I had my first child, HIS THIRD MONTH of LIFE, I hadn’t gone back to work and  a mom (I don’t know if she worked or not, well maybe at being obnoxious) asked me “WHAT DO YOU DO ALL DAY”    Um, well now I’m going to cut up creepy pictures of you and poke black holes in the eye slots and say voo doo doo doo prayers  in them while I eat my giant stash of Dove Chocolate bars (and cheetos bc I love cheetos; thus, why I have mentioned them several times and guess what? they have an “all natural brand”  which means I can lose weight WHILE I’m eating them because they are negative calories…), because apparently I’m not productive enough for you to ask me rational, polite questions.  Yeah I said voo doo doo doo prayers.  People who are passively aggressively placating invoke voo doo doo doo doo behavior.

How bout you, what’s your example of passive aggressive placation?

Footnotes for asterisks*

* The entire health industry does not fall into this category, therefore no disrespect to the health industry as an industry per-say..(grammatically that sentence was crappy but I’m trying to a make a point on sleazy sales gimmicks , not “out” any hard working fitness and health professionals who really do care about the public good)

** again, attraction marketing, I get it. Of course you should show of those abs! But do it in a way that’s not so obnoxious.  Wear a cute FULL COVERAGE ATHLETIC bra top, there really is no need for you to lift up your shirt. None.  This isn’t Spring Break in Cancun.  Google “cute athletic bras” and I guarantee you will find something G rated that I do not have to hide from my children if I’m scrolling Instagram with my kids sitting next to me.

“whats your excuse”

There are  SEVENTY ONE ROADS IN ATLANTA WITH THE WORD PEACH-TREE IN THE NAME.   Look, I do not have a very good sense of direction, in fact, I have gotten lost  a multitude of times; however I have lived in Georgia for a cumulative total of eight years and I have NEVER gotten lost as much as I have in this state.

I indicated one major conundrum above. Imagine Siri or the google chick’s confusion when there are that many road/streets with labeled “peach-tree'”.   I have also been cited a few times for illegal u-turn, all in Georgia (amazingly I have never received a ticket.. I guess I”m pretty darn charming).  Listed below is the common dialogue betwixt Siri or the google dame and myself (I use both depending upon which catches GPS signal first)   -

Siri” “make a u-turn when possible”

Me: “for real?”

Siri “No really , make a flipping u -turn now..what is wrong with you anyway”

Me: “Stay calm. Say the Serenity prayer. Let’s not fight today Siri”

Siri: “ok, ok wait. no like totally. no wait, let’s stop and re-route.”

Me: “OHH EMM GEEE are you flipping kidding me?, like whatever gurhhhl. “

Siri: “No, ok I got this. I GOT DIS, hold up. Re-do that last u-turn, and make a reverse u-turn”.

Me:  “*&*&&*&#*&&$*#&!&@%”

Siri  “Oh eff it, turn around when possible and go buy a map”

Although I am grateful that I live in an area that is rapidly changing, it can prove to be quite a kerfuffle to get from point A to point B at random times during the day. Let me explain, firstly, in my area,  it seems as though a gaggle of builders all go to the same watering hole and say “HEY LET”S BUILD 7500 subdivisions along a country two-lane road AND THEN widen the road once the congestion becomes completely unbearable.”   I am not a city planner , but sometimes the logic and timing of when the department of transportation decides to widen a road, escapes logic.

Secondly, I mentioned random times during the day and I really meant that phrase. One would think, that these two-lane-country-road-DOT-projects, would only get congested during rush hour.  That’s simply not the case.  Yes, it does become grid-locked during rush-hour; however, there are many times, when I am traveling along said-above road at 10:30 or 2:00 in the afternoon, and it is completely jammed with traffic.   Besides my important self, where are all these other people going in the middle of the day?

I say all of this out of good clean fun. I find it ironic that with my complete lack of any kind of directional sense , I live in an area that has lacked originality naming it’s roads and albeit we are the peach state, I think 35 roads with the name “peach” in it would have clued any city planner to pick another fruit or state celebrity.  Additionally, the names of the roads are undoubtedly, the longest, I have ever seen in my life.

Peach tree Industrial Boulevard

Lawrence ville-Suwanee Road

Nelson Brogdon Blvd/Georgia State Road 20/Buford Drive/Highway 20 – I’m not flipping kidding you – Siri will spit this ALL out when telling you to travel on this road

Buford Highway/Georgia State Road 13

 

Let’s stop here. The above road (Nelson Brogdon)  or /Buford Drive/Highway 20 is NOT to be confused with the road Buford Highway/Georgia State Road 13 are two totally different roads AND I live near both of them, so when I try to give directions to my house I literally have to think about how to phrase this to any newcomer.  Better yet, there is a Nelson Brogden ROAD which is not the same as the mouthful of roads (which is just ONE ROAD) listed above. I know right, just reading that makes your head what to explode. KABOOM.

The other day I was traveling to a neighboring town for a trail run (near Lake Lanier, which is a massive lake) thinking, “oh, i’ll figure it out” and lacked the forethought to map out the big picture.   With hopeful glee, I knew Siri would pull through and guide my directionally challenged mind.  Needless to say, I ended up on Peachtree Industrial Blvd, when I should have been on Nelson Brogdon Blvd/Georgia State Road 20/Buford Drive/Highway 20  fervently yelling at my phone, “Please why are you doing this” and speak-texting into my Facebook inbox that I was going to be late, because heaven forbid I use a map or call anyone directly anymore.  That would make too much sense.

“40 is the new 30″  I think I read or saw that somewhere.  Maybe Jennifer Anniston said it on the cover of Fabulously Forty. In that case, 40 through 70 is the new 30 if you LIVE IN HOLLYWOOD.  No disrespect to any celebrity that works hard to maintain a youthful glow – I totally get the yearning to have clearer, softer younger skin and not having to actually search for my lip line when applying the latest shintastic glam-slam-dunkalicous goo to my lips.

Just the other day I was rattled out of a semi 1/2 conscious afternoon moment when some dazzling looking 50 year old was screaming, I mean singing “YOU LIGHT UP MY LIFE”.   I was like, “what in the Oz great road of bricks is this all about”.   It was a commercial for life lift, a semi-surgicial procedure in which you get a face lift, but you don’t look like you got a face-lift. You know, very similar to going to get your hair highlighted or low lighted or blown out with chemicals but not so much actually  looking like you spent 6500 hours in the salon chair till your ‘tookus’ went numb all so you can get that naturally “30” looking look.  Beyond that, I’m not 100% sure what the point of screaming this song at the top of her lungs was all about and now I mute or change the channel, because quite frankly the commercial just depresses the heck out of me.

I apologize for my lack of inclusion to the twenty year old population and male gender.  Let’s face it, in your twenties, you aint’ worried about nothing and if you are a man, getting older just means looking more distinguished and they actually sell “salt and pepper” HAIR COLORING???  to get the “mature” look. I warned the twenty year olds already and I do not have a lot of sympathy for the aging male considering their metabolism doesn’t do a kamikaze  dive bomb and they cut out “cheese-itz and beer” and lose 15 lbs in a week.  I have no sympathy for their plight :)

Let’s be clear on what really happens as we venture in to this twilight era of our life.  The half-quarter-way-new-kinda-sorta-mid life crisis, depending upon whatever life expectancy is these days .  Things do not just start to fade, lose gravity, become sallow, less bendier, more crackly – they sprint.   Here’s my all time favorite, you start growing more hair on areas like your chin, your feet  and the hair you currently have on your head or legs becomes coarser and more brittle.  Really?  Is God so much of a comedian that he thinks this is funny?    I remember near my thirtieth birthday it had already started because I was driving my car and my dearest friend grabbed at my chin and said GOT IT.  I was like ” What in the rabbit’s hole of Alice’s wonderland are you doing?” She said “You had a long, dark, curly, straggly, crackly hair coming out of your chin.”   So whatever hormone that pulses through our womanly veins had started to pillage into mine at this young age.

Do you really want to know why I am writing this article, blog, vlog, or clog of words or whatever hipster terminology is out therefor randomly sharing my thoughts with the world via the internet. (OMG OH EM GEE, I sound like a forty year old).   Do you know how or why I got the idea to write about this?  I had just finished inhaling my lunch (another phenomenon that happens with age, my table manners have got down that rabbit hole with alice)…Anyways,   I often go into the parlor after lunch to read. Ok no, I don’t really do that.  I went into the “parlor” or the front room, which I utilize because it has amazing light, no not to read, I would rather squint in the dark to do that activity.  – I go into this room, to pluck my eyebrows.  Yes I use this God-given  natural light to ensure I get every last one of those hairs to create the Victoria’s Secret model arch on my brow.

Okay, again, I stretch the truth.  I  occasionally get my brows waxed, and I KNOW these ladies are smirking and talking about me in hushed tones in the back corridor. They come back with their long strip of wax dripping in their gloved hands as I squirm and reel back a little knowing the pain about to be inflicted on my amazing arch and tell me directly  that I really, truly need to stop  plucking my own eyebrows.

I cannot tell a lie, the other reason I use that room is to pluck the dark hairs that appear on my feet the morning of my fortieth birthday.  I’m not getting my feet waxed. Yes, Ill share the fact that I have man-feet with the world, but I will not allow wax to be applied to my varicose “veiny” , bony feet.  Oh yes, that’s another fantastic phenomenon that comes with age.   A more translucent , Robert Pattin son-eque skin tone, that allows the bubbly , inflamed vein of our yesteryear to debut it’s vampire-ish elegance.

And I shall end with the notion that every time you told yourself as a teen or a twenty year old “Hey it’s okay if I lie out today without any sunscreen” or “hey , it’s after 2:00, baby oil should be a safe barrier from the sun”.     You will be happily welcome what I call “oh great I have freckles now, and they aren’t cute like the girl in the Gap commercial”. They don’t cascade around your nose into cheeks and give you that  Emma Stone  adorableness. (seriously could she be any more adorable..) They are a misshapen-pea to Lima-bean shaped in size and they are the color of what you can imagine to be called “drab-khaki” in a paint store. Oh and what’s really great, if they become raised or “crusty”, you have to get them laser-ed or aqua-net freeze-dried off and biopsied at the dermatologist office for cancer! Yipee!! So fun! I have had that done a few times and it’s like a manicure ON YOUR FACE.   It’s different for everyone, depending upon their skin tone, but whatever skin-tone or color you don’t want, that’s the color of the sunspot you will have for every. time. you. “forgot” sunscreen.

If you were twenty, and you read this. I warned you.