Wednesday, May 14, 2008

Birdie Has A Boyfriend

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I've been trying to decide whether to post this blog or not because it makes me feel like a totally hypocrital mother. Mostly because I chastise Birdie when she blurts out in public that "mom had a wedgie this morning and had to dig in her pants to pick it out." That's when I grin politely, robot like, and explain that she has tourettes and isn't it sad? And as we are rushing back to the car I daydream about who will play me (Jessica Alba) in the mini-series about my life entitled, "The Woman Who Sold Her Children On Craigslist." I'm always telling her that certain personal information should be "kept in the family." But you guys realize that I'm the same person who writes blogs about my flaming vagina and my husband's first white pubic hair. I guess I don't mind being humiliated so long as I don't have to look you in the eye when you judge me!

So if any of you see Birdie, please don't tell her that I told you so, but....

Birdie has a boyfriend, Birdie has a boyfriend, Neener Neener, NEEEENNNNEEEERRRR!!

The other day she bounced off the school bus and as she gave me a hug she says in a tone reminiscent of old news, "you see that boy behind Debbie? He's my boyfriend."

"Um...Er....Huh?" I say.
"He's my boyfriend. His name is Tyler and we sit together on the bus."
"So he's your friend that's a boy?"
"NO Mom, I SAAAAIIIID, BOYFRIEND."
"okaaaaaaaaaaaay. I hear you. So how did he become your 'boyfriend' "?
"He said he wanted to be part of my Tinkerbell club and when I said he could he told me the only reason he wanted to join was so he could be my boyfriend and I was all 'Whaaat' and he says 'oh yeah, I like you' and I was like 'whaaat'?"
"Uh. HUH."

I pushed for details about how much money he makes and what kind of a bike he drives and what are his intentions. She rolled her eyes. I teasingly said, "Well, I guess that's okay but NO KISSING!" It was a test, you see. I expected her to be all, "ewww, yuck, kissing is gross!" And I could go back to not worrying about her. But instead she got a sneaky little grin on her face and says, "why?". I was not prepared for this so I told her that all boys have cooties and if she kisses them the cooties will infest her mouth and inhibit her ability to eat ice cream. Her eyes opened wide and she said, "Whoa. It's just not worth it!"

Okay, so I have ruined her for life and when she's 30 and sitting across from her psychiatrist crying about how she has intimacy issues her shrink will cross his legs slowly while looking at her over the rim of his glasses and say, "It's all your mother's fault!"

Attempted Suicide

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Apparently Spencer has finally had it with us crazy people. He said enough with seeing us walk around naked (I'm sure the view is not pretty), enough of never getting any leftover chicken bones, enough of watching endless marathons of Spongebob Squarepants. Life is simply not worth living if we do not feed him from the table and let him spoon with us in bed. So he wrote out his will along with a lengthy suicide note and then tried to off himself which explains the bandaged wrists.

Of course that didn't happen. I did notice that he was not himself lately. He was lethargic and grouchy and seemed to be having pain. I've been worried about him having hip pain since he is up there in years so I took him to the vet and it turns out the poor dog has lyme disease which I'm sure he contracted from the 10 foot high grass in our front yard. I have since mowed it down, lessening the chances of this happening again. This did not please Howie because I de-virginized his mower for the first mow of the season and he considers mowing to be "a man's job." And he must be right because the satisfaction of seeing that freshly mowed grass was so intense that I felt a strong urge to drink a few beers and ask for a hand job.

Spencer is fine now. He spent the day in the hospital while they did tests and shaved and bandaged his legs which is very familiar since every time I shave my legs I have to bandage my legs from knee to ankle. They prescribed him an antibiotic and anti-inflamatory and he should be cleared up very soon. In the meantime I'm doing what every mommy does for her baby when he's sick; I'm feeding him comfort foods, namely hot dogs stuffed with his medicine, cookies and apples. It's only been a day and he already starts to salivate at the sight of his medicine bottles!

It turns out there was a reason for his grumpiness and depression and it wasn't because the kids tried to ride him bareback or braid his hair. I'm surprised he hasn't tried to hang himself from his leash by now! Really, I wouldn't blame him if he did. We really are a difficult bunch of loonies to live with!

An Intimate Conversation

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As Howie walks through the room naked...

"Oh my GAWD Howie, you have a white pube."
"Nuh uh."
"Yes you do, right there." *pointing and smiling*
*examining himself* "Well, we're stressed at work."
"WE, as in you AND your penis?"
*nods*

My imagination gets the best of me and I imagine his penis dressed in business casual slacks hurridly drinking a cup of coffee as he rushes into work. He types furiously on the computer while similtaneously answering phone calls and rushing to hours and hours of meetings. He scarfs down his lunch, meets deadlines and puts out fires while tugging at his tie.

Cause you know, Howie's just along for the ride and really, the penis is always the one who ends up taking care of business.

Worth Of A Stream Of Obscenities

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I was digging through mom's jewelery box and found some earrings that reminded me of a family story. So, I would like to share a touching and hilarious story about a mother's day that I will never forget.

I was seven years old but I remember so clearly. Mother's day was approaching and since my dad had always been famous for forgetting birthdays, anniversaries and the like, my mom was sure to remind him that Sunday was a special day and he needed to get her a card and maybe even a gift. He rolled his eyes at her and was all, "I know, I know". To which my mom replies, "and don't get me another night gown." For some reason the only gifts my dad EVER bought my mom was a night gown and/or slippers. After she died I cleared out about 20 nightgowns and countless numbers of slippers from her closet! "I'm not getting you anything like that, I have a special surprise for you this year."
"Uh huh", she said suspiciously.

She kept reminding him all week and each time he would roll his eyes and look at me pointing at her with his thumb as if to say, "can you believe her?" On Saturday night he crept into my room holding a little black box which he held carefully in the palm of his hands. He stretched his arm out and offered it to me for inspection. I was shocked when I opened it up because there sat a gorgeous pair of gold hoop earrings that I knew she would LOVE! For a second I was jealous that he got her such an awesome gift and all I had to give her was a flower made from construction paper. "You like?", he asks. I approved and inquired if he had purchased a card or flowers. "Both", he says excitedly.

The next day he was bursting at the seams to give her the gifts. We ate breakfast and then he proudly hands her his card. She opened it and got a blank stare across her face and let out a huge breath. "What?", he says. "It's a BIRTHDAY card, not a mother's day card." Now, to explain, my dad didn't speak or read English so he really was doing the very best he could. Not only was it a birthday card, it was a birthday card for a daughter. She shook her head, let out another huge sigh and said, "well thanks anyway." He says, "well...I have something that will make you feel all better. I bought you the most gorgeous flowers and you are going to love them, come outside." He ran to the car and we stood on the porch looking at each other confused. He comes around the back of the car with....

I swear.....


No shit kidding....


THIS....





My mom's eyes got two sizes too big and she screamed a stream of Spanish obscenities that made my ears bleed. He looked totally confused because he had NO idea what just happened. "Don't you know those are the kind of flowers you buy someone when they die. To put on their grave. What? Do you wish I was dead? What is your problem you ********. I can't **** believe you *****, God *****, What the *******. *********". "No they are NOT, they are flowers for the yard. See?", and he put pushed the metal steaks into the ground. "They will last a long time too!" My mom fumed and called him a jackass. "Why the hell would you buy these, of all the flowers you could get why THESE!" "They were pretty", he said simply. She started crying and muttering things nobody could understand. He finally understood his mistake but was more pissed off that she didn't appreciate his gift so he picked up the dead man's wreath, threw it to the ground and started kicking it and yelling his own tirade of dirty words.

I couldn't help but giggle. Just the absurdity of it all. It was mother's day and we were standing on our porch with jelly mustaches on our faces watching my dad present my mom with a funeral wreath and them throwing gigantic tantrums on our front yard. It was funny until I realized the neighbors were probably watching so I fled the scene and hid in my room. My mom charged in after me, ran into her room and slammed the door behind her. My dad left for a few hours and returned with a bouquet of flowers and the gold hoop earrings. My mom was still hurt but appeased and terrifically excited about the earrings although I had to vouch for dad that he had bought them BEFORE the death wreath/birthday card incident and he wasn't just trying to kiss up.

We laughed about that mother's day for years! And I think of it every time I open up her jewlery box and see those sparkely little earrings.

A Wonderful Weekend

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I hope you all had a terrific weekend. Mine was completely uneventful so in other words it was heaven. Don't you just love those times when you have nothing to do, nowhere to be and you can wake up late and stay in your pajamas all day and eat crap and watch ridiculous amounts of television? I do! We cleaned the house a little bit, Birdie went to dance class, I went to the supermarket and then pretty much laid around...ALL WEEKEND. Never mind that there were piles of laundry to be done, the yard needed mowed and we can barely walk through the garage because of piles of junk stacked everywhere. We did accomplish something great, we discovered a new Doritos chip. It's the Collision Hot Wing & Blue Cheese chips.

We ate the whole bag and didn't even feel guilty about it. We were fighting over who was going to rip the empty bag open and lick the crumbs from the crevices! We also ordered mexican take-out and gorged ourselves on nachos and a burrito while we watched a movie. After the kids went to bed we stayed up and gave each other hickeys.

The next day we made the sofa sleeper out into a bed and everyone piled into it to watch TV...pretty much all day. Bubba never got out of his pajamas and when Howie took them all outside to play the neighbor was all, "is he still in his pajamas"? To which Howie replied, "yeah, so what of it". Cause we're proud to be lazy parents and have the dirty, stinky kids to prove it! We were going to send him out in a 3 piece suit with wing tipped shoes, cuff links and a fedora but ultimately decided to keep that oufit for when he plays in the sandbox.

I stayed inside and read my book club book. A gigantous book called " The Time Traveler's Wife ". It's an easy read although I'm confused half the time. I think it's being made into a movie this year which is awesome. I would definitely recommend it! I'm hoping I can finish it this week so that I can move on to something in the romance department because I love to read filth love stories. I'm definitely in the market for a good dirty book romance novel so if any of you can recommend something I would be greatly appreciative.

I did manage to shave Howie and Bubba's heads. They both look so clean. And bald. But all in all I didn't do much of anything and it was pure bliss. I do have some catching up to do today, mainly in the bill paying and laundry departments but it was all worth it! Most of our weekends in the next couple of months are full of birthday parties, recitals, 5K races, lawn care, window washing, gardening, garage sales and more. So having a weekend like this is just what the doctor ordered!

How was your weekend? Did you do anything exciting?

Sunday, May 4, 2008

My Problems With Underwear

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I either have really, really bad luck with underwear or they just don't make reasonable underthings these days.

My frustration is mainly focused on bras but I've had some bad experience with panties as well. There is a special place in hell for whomever invented the underwire. They should be soaked in a tub of chum overnight and dangled in shark infested waters! First, they are about as comfortable as wrapping barbed wire around your delicate parts and getting run over by a steamroller. And that's if they fit right. Then, the instant that they are washed or worn more than once, the wire starts to nudge it's way through the fabric until it pops through a hole and starts to jab me in either my cleavage or my boob fat under my arm. I keep pushing the wire back in but it keeps popping out and stabbing me. And I imagine that one day I will lean over without thinking and the wire will shoot straight into my heart. They will have no choice but to list my death as "death by ill-fitting bra". And then Dateline will run a special about the dangers of underwire bras. And they will expose the real secret Victoria is keeping; that she's a masochistic bitch. What if I had fake boobs and that wire got lodged inside an implant and I sprung a leak? I'd be walking around trying to keep the salt water from spraying in my eyes as my boob slowly deflated like a water balloon.

And if you are lucky enough to escape the death by underwire, you could be humiliated to death when one of your bras squeaks non-stop. This is even worse than the squeaky shoe. We've all had one; a squeaky shoe. You wear it thinking that nobody will ever notice because it's always noisy where you go but instead you end up walking down a quiet hallway with someone behind you listening as you step, squeak, step, squeak. And you're so paranoid you start walking funny in your shoes as to avoid stepping in the place where it squeaks the most but this just makes you walk funny cause you're now walking on the outside of your shoe like some kind of a gimp and that just makes you look even more ridiculous. Bras are worse. I keep forgetting which bras squeak and I put them on oblivious to the fact that later that day I will be a walking squeak toy. Every step I take, every turn I make...more squeaking. You know how some women are known for their flawless skin or their incredible style or great perfume? I am known for my squeaky bras. "Here comes Licha, I can't see her yet but I can hear a faint squeak in the distance which means she's about to round the corner any second, pulling at her underwire and walking on the outside of one shoe."

If I'm lucky enough to get a bra that doesn't squeak or that doesn't poke me to death, I get excited. But it never lasts long because as soon as that puppy comes out of the wash cycle I notice that the metal hooks on the back are so twisted and contorted that I have to fix them with a pair of pliers and even then one clamp always digs into my back and draws blood as soon as I sit back against anything. *rolls eyes*

The panties are a whole different issue but not much better. How is it that we can make a stretchable substance (i.e. bungee cord) that can withstand the weight of an adult but they can't find anything to put in the waistband of underwear that won't unravel! I had a string the other day that dangled on the side of my leg. It was tickling me so I pulled it and it just kept ripping and pulling until I could feel it pinch my inner thigh and wrap around the front. I kept going until finally, 10 hours later, I gave up and cut it with a pair of nail clippers. But then that whole side of my panties was all flimsy and it kept flapping around and ending up in my butt crack. ARGH! Why can't I just find some damned underwear that fits right and doesn't fall apart? You would think that in these technologically advanced times we would be able to find alternative undergarment protection! I mean come on....we can build suits that allow us to travel in space or dive hundreds of feet underwater but we can't make a pair of underpants that won't ride up the ass? Am I asking too much?

Maybe it's time I started going commando! Be warned; however, if I am standing next to you and I turn too quickly, I am not responsible for slapping you across the face with my boobs.

Wishing I Had Testicles

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When we leased our Honda the saleman threw in XM radio because Howie threatened to committ hara-kiri right there in the middle of the dealership if he was not appeased. We got a 3 month subscription and let me tell you, it is nothing short of divine pleasure! My favorite groups are the decades and urban channels. The urban mixes perk me up in the morning when I'm headed to the gym and the 80's music takes me back to a time when my boobies rested under my chin rather than between my ankles.

I listen to it as I sit in the McDonald's drive-thru or as I wait at the bus stop. I try to imagine that it's 1988 and my sideways pony tail is blowing in the breeze and falling between my neck and the upturned collar of my Ocean Pacific shirt. I don't even care that people look at me funny when I swing my head side to side and move my hands back and forth to "Walk Like An Egyptian". I have no shame or sense of public humility.

Unfortunately, our 3 months are almost up and I'm already dreading that it's coming to an end. We could sign up to continue service but it's like $10.00 a month and while that's not a ton of money it seems like a lot to pay for something like radio. My plan is to over dose on copius amounts of 80's music until I'm all strung out and don't know what year it is. I've got an hour in today. I jammed to Michael Jackson's "Billy Jean" while I was waiting for Mamaw to get her shit together. I was singing falsetto and biting my lip and grabbing my crotch. There's something about MJ's music that makes me wish I had testicles to grab. *Woo Hoo*