Thursday, February 25, 2010

Must have been some superpowers in my coffee creamer...


Or that was some good Boone's Farm last night...but this morning I woke up and hit the ground running like a hot buff Flash Gordon, straight into my flaming red and yellow supersuit with the super cut yellow high top sneakers ready to face the evil lurking in my house of fortitude. Before I knew it I had organized my entire 12 hour day in the first 45 minutes of the morning. I dressed and styled the natives, packed lunches, pulled a tooth, refereed some potential arguments before they hit UFC status, gave a lesson on cheating and how trading homework and doing your friends assignment is wrong (although you did equal work, it doesn't matter it is still cheating), and even thought about dinner by taking out some meat to thaw on the kitchen counter. Dropped off the kids at school and decided to take a extra lap in the parking lot while hanging out of my sunroof, singing Christina Aquilera, "I'm your super girl / Out to save the world and it keeps gettin' better ..."

Now I do realize that just by typing this and sending to the world I am inviting a whole lot of misfortune to come up on this house and reek major Mxyzptlk havoc on me. And the only way I will be able to get rid of the little rascal will be by saying his name backwards. But that's OK I can take it, I have Wonder Woman's invisible jet parked in the driveway with one way directions to Maui plugged in its invisible navigation system and the Wonder Twins as a back up plan sitting shot gun in pre-morph status debating on whether they should morph to an eagle and a bucket of water or ice rocket engine and an ant and fly me the hell out of here.

Thursday, February 18, 2010

Bitchy Friday...


I am two days late and two shopping trips short for Wordless Wednesday. So today I will call this post, Bitchy Friday, because, and say it with me..."Seriously, Why Can't I?"

I dedicate my post to the BBBs (best band of bitches).

HOW TO BE A GRACIOUS BITCH

Jennifer's wedding day was fast approaching. Nothing could dampen her excitement - not even her parent's nasty divorce.

Her mother had found the PERFECT dress to wear, and would be the best-dressed mother-of-the-bride ever!

A week later, Jennifer was horrified to learn that her father's new, young wife had bought the exact same dress as her mother!

Jennifer asked her father's new young wife to exchange it, but she refused. ''Absolutely not! I look like a million bucks in this dress, and I'm wearing it,'' she replied.

Jennifer told her mother who graciously said, ''Never mind sweetheart. I'll get another dress. After all, it's your special day.''

A few days later, they went shopping, and did find another gorgeous dress for her mother.

When they stopped for lunch, Jennifer asked her mother, ''Aren't you going to return the other dress? You really don't have another occasion where you could wear it."

Her mother just smiled and replied, ''Of course I do, dear.....I'm wearing it to the rehearsal dinner the night before the wedding.''

Tuesday, February 16, 2010

Help I have fallen off the wagon and I can't find my way back on...

Is it good thing to "fall off the wagon", I never know, because being on the wagon seems pretty smart, I mean it is the fastest way right? I also have trouble when someone says something fell through. Is that good or bad. If your plans fell through does that mean that they are happening or not. I guess it is bad, like if your dog fell through the ice that would pretty much suck. So maybe it is bad that plans fell through. Oh, never mind.

Life has been pretty busy, which is a good thing. My vanilla life is starting to get some colored sprinkles, not enough for a "mix-in" but enough for a child's sundae. But with the sprinkles, I start to neglect the ole' blogo. Which is why I fell off the wagon, or on the wagon, see it all comes full circle. So today I have a segment called having fun with flappers.

Some background...my girlfriends and I had a conversation once about what era would be suit our body type. My friend has a tiny waste so we always said she would be a good "fit" for the fifties, in her cinched waste and poodle skirt glory. Me, on the other hand, I seem to carry my weight in the middle but I have thin legs...so the seventies would be my era, complete with babydoll short dresses, think Goldie Hawn on Laugh In. However, I totally forgot about the 20s and while the 70s would be groovy, I think being a flapper would be the Cat's Meow. The flapper was an icon, challenging notions about gender roles and demanding the same social freedoms as men. Drinking, smoking, bootlegging they always looked like they were having a ball. Not to mention the too cute fringe short dresses, nothing masks a belly than some black fringe. Of course, this would have only been cool until 1928, I then would have to get the hell out of dodge because after that things pretty much went into the crapper.

So today I share some photos (found on the Internet) these are not my photos. But check out how much fun these ladies were having. And since we don't know what they are saying I have captioned each picture with some of my recent email conversations with my girls, sorry bitches some things are too funny not to share.

"They are like a size 2 or 4 and have fake ta-ta's, so they look amazing, I wish I had the balls for fake ones. Damn all my plastic phobias!"

Those bitches (oops I mean ladies) better not give me shit. I am not happy on this low carb shit and I may tell them all to go suck it. No more whining, they either step up or I will tell how it is. I swear, who gives that much crap about Bunco, for the love of Pete, get a life.

"Is there such a thing as "too tacky" at a chili cook-off? I guess I could just black out a tooth, but I think the tequila shots would just wash it off."

"And you know what I could do with that extra $20.53 I'd rake in! Woo-hoo, Dollar General baby, here I come...they sell Boones Farm right?"

"So now they are shitting their pants because they don't know what to do with all the hookers. And they weren't young hot hookers, they were older worn out hookers."

"I think passing it off as a fart is your best bet and avoid the incline sit-ups in the future! If it makes you feel any better I sharted on Saturday while driving the fam around...I'm not joking at all...actual had to throw the panties away shart...It was pretty humiliating, but after eating healthy, that is what BK onion rings did to me."

"OK girls, Plan B, we may want to get a jump on developing those Leopard Printed Depends...it looks like we all may need them earlier than later."

Wednesday, February 10, 2010

Wordless Wednesday

Cheese is watching the Disney Channel and Ella is watching ...not.



Tuesday, February 9, 2010

Do not...


Following on the heels of my last post, listing things I think it is OK to do. I have a new list to share. I admit, today I awoke just a little bit surly for my taste, a little grumpy if you will. Well actually a whole lot of grumpy, kinda like that feeling you get when you have a gift card to your favorite store and you can't find one stupid thing you like. Not sure, it could be because my coffee wasn't sweet enough this morning or because Cheese is 3 for 3 in throwing fits before and after school this week or maybe because the only muscles that don't actually hurt right now are my fingers from my demon spawn trainer. All I know is the only thing that is keeping me from a cheeseburger and a malted milkshake from Culver's is the fact that I have to put on a bathing suit in about a month, and as I round third base and slide into the big 4-0, I need to have at least one more year rocking the belly button run while sunning under the "she looks OK" cabana before letting it all go.

So here is my list of things that it is not OK to do...

1. Do not send me an email, one sentence and use capitalization like you are yelling at me. And then make it worse by leaning out a closing...Sincerely, Best,Thanks or even In Your Face, would suffice.

2. Do not show any trailers to CSI before 9pm, as there is nothing like watching Wheel of the Fortune with the kids, cut to a commercial to see a guy with his head bashed in laying dead on a baseball field. Please wait to put these commercials on after my kids are in bed.

3. And while I am at it, can you stop running the same preview of Princess Diaries and Princess Diaries Two, that says "Shut Up"... I would rather my kids say "Oh Shit",than "Shut Up".

4. Do not call me on the phone and then start playing a recording.

5. Fed Ex, do not tease leave me a note that you stopped by to deliver something and then make me wait for days before you return again. Thus creating a stalker of me as I hunt you and my package down.

6. Do not walk onto the elevator until everyone else has walked out. Come on, even my kids know this (OK they really don't, and because they don't I am "that" Mom giving "that" lecture on EVERY elevator ride.)

7. Do not tell me about how your doggie agility class is going unless I ask. And that goes for your doctor visit, your 3 hour car repair appointment or your unsatisfying grocery trip. Unless I ask.

8. Do not leave me a cryptic message on my answering machine. You have like two minutes. Hell I can leave a novella in two minutes, surely you have enough time to TELL me why you are calling.

9. Do not use my towel. If you find a towel hanging up and you didn't hang it there, then it is mine, not yours. And if you are under 12 and living in this house, do not leave your towel on the BATHROOM FLOOR.

and lastly, 10. Do not start the laundry unless you plan on... FINISHING it.

Monday, February 8, 2010

It's OK to...


At the gym today I was reading a June 2008 Glamour Magazine. I am not sure what that reflects more poorly on, the fact that my gym that still has 2008 magazines or the fact that I chose a 2008 Glamour instead of the most recent National Geographic Mag. Admittingly, after forgetting my Ipod, I would have read a copy of New England Journal of Medicine if that was all there was, ANYTHING to take my mind off both the monotony and the pain of walking "uphill" on that damn treadmill.

So in this issue, they had a page dedicated to things it's OK to do without feeling guilty. So to keep my mind off the task at hand (or as I like to call it, project ass shrink) I came up with a list of my own.

Like I think it's OK to...

...when someone compliments your shirt, tell them the price and that it came from Target.

...order both a beer and a carafe of Saki at dinner, I know two drinks at once, pretty empowering, but those Saki bombs aren't going to make themselves.

...wear blue eyeliner or blue mascara or both.

...tell someone your dress is "vintage" even if its not and you purchased it from TJ Maxx last week.

...say "shit" in front of your kids. You wouldn't say it unless you meant it.

...leave the last sip of beer in your glass, we're not in college anymore, no need to chug.

...weep while watching Extreme Home Makeover or that damn commercial with Sarah McLaughlin and the ASPCA.

...tip 15% instead of 20%.

...change you hair color.

...use the word "shart" in a sentence. Like, I shart while in yoga class.

...avoid the airplane rows that have babies in them. Been there done that.

...go to the beach and NOT get into the ocean.

...think that Zac Efron is hot, even though he could be your son.

...sing out loud with air guitar.

...order the house wine.

...defriend people on FaceBook and in real life.

...spend more money on a pair of sunglasses than on your kids clothes.

...carry a purse that's bigger than your head. (That one is for hubby.) In your face.

...take pictures of everything and everyone.

and lastly...it's OK to...order fries with everything.

Thursday, February 4, 2010

Did they really say that?


I carry a Palm Pre, not that it matters what kind of phone I have, because although I have a Pre, like my brain I only use about 30% of it's capabilities. One of my favorite functions is the notes tab. I have to imagine there is a simple way to record these notes, but for now you can find me in an instant dropping everything to type into my stupid phone whenever my kids have something funny to say. This could be in a supermarket, on the Vegas strip or on the side of the highway in the minivan (because of course I would NOT be typing while driving, wink). And I can't tell you how many times Hubby has rolled his eyes at the dinner table because I have to get up to type something into my phone or reached into my purse while knee deep in ravoli at a restaurant to get something down verbatim. I blame it on a-a-a-a- alcohol, the a-a-a-alcohol. I have a very short term memory, what can I say? But if someone knows of a voice recorder on the Pre, let me know how to find it.

That being said, originally I started this blog to record our everyday lives with the goal of one day placing this information into a book to give to the girls. I now realize my plan may have some flaws, because instead of presenting the girls with adorable scrapbooks of their lives from Birth to High School, they will instead each be given: a scrapbook til about age 5 for Mac and 3 for Cheese, a stack of CDs with random photos from ages 4 to 17 with sharpe labels and a copy of the entries of this blog, single spaced, coffee stained and stapled.

So to make sure there are a couple of pages dedicated my wonderful smart children...here is another installment of out of the mouths of babes.

Mac- A boy in my class said that Haiti would probably get more donations if it was called Lovey. After emptying out her piggy bank to donate her $6.43.

While walking down the Vegas strip, for what seemed like forever, Hubby was on the hunt for a Mojito. He kept saying, they have to have a Mojito stand somewhere, this is Vegas for goodness sake. Cheese looks up and says "is Mojito French for a taxi, because I could use a taxi about now."

And again standing on the strip waiting to cross the street, Cheese looking down at all the girlie cards and looks up very confused to say, "why are those two girls touching tongues?" I never wished more that I had 10 feet, one to place over every smutty pictures there in the street.

In the car, Mac says, "OK Cheese pick a city."
Cheese, "United States of America"
Mac, "No smaller, a city"
Cheese, "OK, U.S."

Monday, February 1, 2010

Bird poop and fish pedicures...what?


Email, I love, love getting email, FROM MY FRIENDS. However, Lara Davis you are not my friend, if you are reading this, NO I don't want to get 2500 direct TV channels and Amy Johnson you also are not my friend and I will most probably not be calling you "before midnight" to claim my really joint prize offered my Microsoft and Yahoo. So stop spamming me.

I try to live by the motto, react or reject. When I receive a email in my inbox, my goal is to either delete or reply. Again that is a goal, I also have a goal to run a half marathon this year and have to say my execution of both plans has started off a little slow, but hey I still have eleven months to get cracking. I say this as I look at the 355 emails sitting in Yahoo purgatory and my running shoes in the corner of my bedroom growing cobwebs. Sure I realize I need to step it up. But how am I supposed to find the time to read and delete 355 emails. And when I find that time, I suppose I will also have to find the time to make the beds take the Christmas decorations down to the basement from the garage, while fitting in my afternoon run.

But since January came and went in a Jack Frost blink of an eye, and February is a new month, today with a renewed outlook, I did start to go through some of these emails and if you really take a minute to look into your inbox and read before you delete you can find some really fascinating stuff. Like this article from Excelle Lifestyle Digest about "5 Disgusting Things We Do for Beauty." About now, my little nail salon down the street sounds like a good as place as anywhere for a pedicure so I think for now I'll stick to the basics. I could barely get past the snakes anyway.

1. Placenta Facial Anyone?

What are we dousing our faces in? Human placenta (used as a hydrating treatment, and costing an average of $500). Snail secretion (the goop apparently blocks out environmental pollution, and also has rejuvenating qualities) and bird poop (nightingale excretion, actually; it’s said to be rich in the amino acid guanine, which brightens and cleanses skin).
This is great and all but can you tell me what I can do with pigeon shit?

2. How bout a Snake Massages?

In Israel, spa proprietress Ada Barak came up with the idea for snake massages. Basically, she placed a mass of entwined snakes onto her customers’ backs, letting the feeling of the snakes’ movement against the skin calm them. And by “them,” we mean her apparently-out-of-their-minds-brave customers. We’d be anything but calm.
Absolutely, positively, no way in hell, not for a million dollars and a beach house.

3. Or a Fish Pedicure?

People across the nation were immediately disgusted when Sherri Shepherd got a fish pedicure on a July 2008 episode of The View. What’s a fish pedicure? It’s an unconventional beauty treatment in which a group of small garra rufa fish, a type of carp, help exfoliate the feet by feeding on the dead, flaking skin (we just puked in our mouths a little). Since news of the treatment first swept across a variety of media channels, several states and animal rights groups have sought to ban them.
This doesn't sound so bad, I mean hey, if the fish like to eat feet, let them eat feet. Plus they don't have souls anyway... for my PETA friends:)

4. Or how bout a Booty Surgery?

We’ve already written about beauty queen Solange Magnano’s unfortunate demise resulting from, of all things, a butt lift. Apparently, the liquid injected into Miss Magnano’s behind traveled to her lungs and brain, causing respiratory failure. As if we didn’t already need a reason to stick with the butt that God gave us, this sad, sordid tale clinches things for us.
RIP, Hey M you may be onto something.

5. Labiaplasty. What????

Do you know what’s uncomfortably close to our labia? The clitoris, the most sensitive of women’s erogenous zones. And if that gets nicked, we’re screwed.
(no pun intended right) Otherwise I got nothing.