Yesterday, my bestie texted to alert me that I should stop by because there was a hot guy in her yard. Like he was some majestic animal that had just wandered in, and I should see the glory of nature. I imagined him grazing … and flexing (there was lots of flexing).
What is it about being married over a decade that makes seeing a hot guy something worth notifying others about?
Susan:… Continue reading
While writing a piece on translating “Momisms” into what we really mean, I realized there are some commonalities among moms of each sex that bond us together. Every child is different … I know they’re not all girly girls — which is why you should check out “You Know You’re the Mom of A Boy IF…” and see how many ring true, as well.
You Know You’re the Mom of a Girlie Girl IF…
1. You do more pretend cooking in a miniature kitchen than you do actual cooking in the full sized one (and frankly, you’re not sure which tastes better).
2. You secretly wish there was some mommy competition involving your child’s trendy crafts because you’re a freakin’ whiz on the Rainbow Loom, you make a mean potholder, and you’re not so bad with a spool of gimp ahem, lanyard.
3. You find yourself searching “How to Do a Fishtail Braid” on YouTube.
4. You wonder how young is too young to start plucking her eyebrows? Continue reading
While writing a piece on translating “Momisms” into what we really mean, I realized there are some commonalities among moms of each sex that bond us together. Of course every child is different, but if you’re the mom of a boy, I’m guessing some of these will sound (and smell) all too familiar.
You know you’re the mom of a boy if …
OK, I was hired to make a sample video for a contest for SHMOOZEES. Yes, I rarely do this stuff, but my daughter kinda loves them … as she does any as seen on TV item. See: the Big Top Cupcake, Pillow Pets, Pajama Jeans … Seriously, for about a year of my life, I had to explain to her that we would NOT be able to wear matching Pajama Jeans to her class party and that neither the Buxton Over-The-Shoulder-Organizer nor the Aluma Wallet were my kinda THANG.
Though she frequently reminded me that the Buxton is “genuWINE” leather and the comfortable strap can be adjusted for maximum mobility. Plus, she’s pointed out that the Aluma wallet is virtually indestructible, “you could even run over it with a car, mom!” Which I guess is a good point? I mean if I had a dollar for every time I inadvertently ran my wallet over with my car, well, let’s just say I wouldn’t be taking jobs to make sample videos, duh.
So, all that said, here is the video. I was not paid to put it up on my site I’m just doing it because, I actually enjoyed making it and I think it turned out somewhere between cringe-worthy and giggle- worthy, which is my favorite point in the humor spectrum. ENJOY May the SHMOOZEE Be With You.
If you want to know more about the contest and prizes click here.
RELATED POST: 6 RIDICULOUS AS SEEN ON TV PRODUCTS I KINDA LOVE
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After writing a recent post on 15 things I’d never know if I weren’t a Gen Xer, I came to realize that as a child of the 80s, I’m some kind of Generation X genius. I mean, I could be the “Rain Man” of the Gen X set. Seriously, throw some quotes on the floor, I’ll tell you who said them. OK, that test may not work as well as it does with toothpicks in the movie.
But I now see that I’m somewhat stuck in the ’80s, and I kinda like it there. So I thought I’d share some of the most random stuff I remember as a Gen X poster child.
1. Being fairly certain you would one day marry: Scott Baio, Shawn Cassidy, Leif Garrett, River Phoenix, one of the Coreys, Rob Lowe, Andrew McCarthy, Jason Bateman, Kirk Cameron, Matt Dillon, Ricky Schroder, or Tom Cruise.
2. Jumping on the eyes of the alligator with Pit Fall Harry.
3. Thinking Flash Gordon had the best special effects ever.
4. That coffee-flavored sucking candy all elderly people had (before anything coffee flavored was cool).
5. The random Super Friends like the Apache Chief, Gleek, and Samurai.
6. Screaming, “Oh my God, the girl in Sleepaway Camp has a penis!” Continue reading
Yesterday, as I dropped the carpool off at Susan’s house, she ran to the car in a flurry (and trust me, Susan doesn’t usually flurry).
Me: What’s up, did I run over your dog?
Susan all air traffic control arms swinging.
Susan: You have to look at something.
Now the last time she said that all arm swingy it was to watch ducks having non-consensual sex (and I’m not kidding about that, it’s one of my favorite pieces).
Me: No duck sex!
Susan: What? No, it’s not even mating season, duh! You have to look at my eyes, holy shit they don’t match! Stare at them and tell me what is different.
So I stared at them like I was looking at a Highlights magazine and found the differences between the two. Continue reading
So sad she had to be shamed in public that way, but they moved the sofa and this is what they found. She’s one sick puppy! (From MyDumbDogs.wordpress.com)
Yesterday, I saw an ad in the sidebar of facebook for a page called “I Love My Children.” It simply read: “Push LIKE if you love your children.” What’s crazier is that 5 of my friends had already “LIKED” said page (you know how it shows you that too?).
Wow, ladies you LOVE your children? No way! I can’t even wrap my head around it because you totally seemed like the types to down right hate your children, but then you went and pushed that button and now I’m all, “Maybe I misjudged you.” “Maybe you’re the best moms, like ever!” “Maybe you could watch mine sometime.” Then of course it dawned on me how very many of you so called friends of mine clearly DO NOT love your children which you made abundantly clear by NOT pushing “like”!
PS – To my mom and dad (who are on FB): I knew it! Don’t expect calls on your birthdays either … a-holes.
Is it just me or has the social networking world has gone bat shit crazy! Continue reading
After seeing this pic of the night, I’m thinkin’ she’s a wise wise 8 year old!
I was getting ready to go out for my birthday, a night I think we can all agree warrants a little more bling than the other 364 days of the year, when my 8-year-old daughter walked into my closet.
“Mommy, you look snazzy!”
“Snazzy, huh? That’s a good word. I feel snazzy.”
G-d, that kid is cute, I thought to myself, as I slipped on my snazzy stilettos.
“Yeah, Mom, you look like a hooker!”
Here’s where you should insert the sound effect of a record being scratched to a halt, in the middle of a beautiful ballad.
“I’m sorry, what?” Continue reading
We Floridians are somewhat the butt of a running joke that the random, dangerous, and ass backwards things seem to happen here. Unfortunately, we tend to live up to this stereotype by constantly proving it true. People wonder why I’m such a neurotic mother and I’m beginning to wonder if my locale doesn’t have a smidgen to do with it.
For instance, it’s tough to deny that we live among some crazy prehistoric animals. From those massive dragon flies to the gators I’ve spotted around my lake doing their best George Hamilton impressions (did that reference age me?), to the panthers, to the poisonous frogs (Florida imported to kill our insect problem, which ended up killing peoples pets -great idea, Florida). I’ve seen mosquitos the size of a house cat and ominous turkey buzzards that make me shake in fear. Continue reading
“Well, Jenny cough again but harder this time,” said Dr. Pollen from her cushy position directly underneath me and looking up into my nether regions. How did the doctor get such a view, you ask? I was on a special type of birthing chair (one that was probably used in the 1600s as they inquired as to whether you were a witch). Not only was there barely any seat to hold me up, I was hoisted about 6ft in the air, so that the doctor’s assistants (or people with weird fetishes who pay to be called doctor’s assistants, as I like to call them) were looking my vajajay dead in the eye, ahem, the labia. The doctor then sat on her stool and literally rolled underneath me as if she was checking out my chassis. Which makes sense because she did mention the need for a tune up.
Why would one sit on such a chair without being dared or paid? Because apparently I have all kinds of prolapse (that’s stuff caving in and falling down, to you and me) and I’ve been totes ignoring my pelvic floor, which is weird because I’m pretty good about taking care of my floors … waxing the wood ones, cleaning the grout on the stone… Actually I do have a cleaning person, so it would’ve been weird to ask her to attend to my pelvic floor after say, vacuuming. Apparently, I’m not the only one who’s let their pelvic floor slip through the cracks. Google says 40% of women are found to have stage II or greater prolapse upon pelvic exam. I read it on the internet people, so it must be true.
And yet, no one seems to discuss it. So, I am because A. “Vagina” is my favorite word to work into random conversation B. Doctors like to treat this issue with hysterectomies, which may not be necessary. C. If I pee on the floor while we’re having a conversation, you’ll already know why and we can just gloss over it and move on to the next topic. Continue reading
I recently flew an airline with “open seating.” Which basically means you get an assigned boarding number (like at a deli counter), and you must fend for yourself and your family from there.
As I walked the aisle, I quickly assessed my potential row-mates. Had they recently showered? Would they take initiative in an emergency? Are they so young that they’re in diapers? Are they so old that I may need to resuscitate them during the flight? These are important observations, and because there’s not enough time for a formal interview, they need to be assessed on the fly (pun intended).
When I finally picked my seat, the look on my new neighbor’s face was one of total disdain. What I wanted to say was, “Look at me lady, it could be worse — the woman behind me has a colicky infant and the guy behind her has something that sounds like the plague!” You did OK here.
As a nervous flyer, I’m easily annoyed about things that happen on planes (clearly). So I thought I’d “air” some of my grievances about flying.
Said in a rest stop bathroom in front of one of those machines that has all things useful from Tylenol to wine openers…
8yo Daugher: “Mom, why do they sell candy in the bathroom?”
Me: “That’s not candy, it’s a tampon”
8yo: “What’s a tampon?”
Me: (I always said, if my kids asked a question I would do my best to answer honestly.) “It’s when insert uncomfortable conversation here how blood flows from your body … once a month etc. ”
8yo: (After cringing and informing me that she may rethink being a girl because girls “get all the sucky stuff like boobies and blood that comes out when you don’t even have a cut,” she noticed a row of rainbow colored condoms in clear packaging,) “what’s that purple balloon thing?”
Me: “Candy, now let’s go.”
(To hell with honesty!) Continue reading