Blog Entries

  One night at a party, a group of ladies were talking about a new drug that they were taking for anxiety. One of the ladies said that it made her lose weight and to her surprise, extremely horny. OMG, what is this magical drug and how do I get my hands on it? Therefore, I made an appointment the following week with my doctor and told him that I was feeling depressed and hoped to get this particular drug. He told me that I did not seem depressed but wrote me a prescription anyway. I took this drug for less than two weeks. It made me gain weight and I certainly did not get horny at all, in fact, the opposite. It also zapped out every bit of creativity from my brain and took colors away. Those ladies were crazy. Yes, I admit that.

  When my sisters and I would misbehave in church, my mother would pinch us. We knew better than to scream out so we had to sit there in pain and suffer until church was over. Her pinching was ridiculously painful but we immediately stopped giggling or whatever we were doing that made her give that killer stare and pinching pain of which we understood. I suppose we model ourselves after that of which we learn. Therefore, when I took my son to church and he misbehaved, I apparently resorted back to my childhood of which seemed to work on me. Pain. Nevertheless, I was a good thumper so instead of pinching, I thumped my four-year-old in the head. That was a terrible miscalculation and mistake on my part. He screamed out in bloody murder. It was the most embarrassing moment and all the church ladies turned around and stared at me in disbelief for abusing my child. He would not stop yelling and loudly screamed out over and over, “I want my daddy. You hurt me. Why did you hurt me?” In any case, we left church early on that day and did not return for a long time. I did not thump him in the head again or at least until he got older. Yes, I admit that.

 

  As I said, I was a really good thumper and taught my children how to thump. The older son Adam really caught on to thumping and would mercifully thump his little brother Colton. Once when Colton got sick I took him to the pediatrician. The pediatrician noticed bruises on Colton’s body of which I was unaware. The pediatrician asked Colton how he got all those bruises while she looked at me in disdain. I was gobsmacked and speechless and did not know how to answer. Thankfully, Colton explained that his brother thumped him all the time. Luckily, I had brought Adam along and he confirmed his terrible torchering behavior of his little brother. We both got reprimanded by the doctor and Adam got in trouble once we got home. Yes, I admit that.

   I bribed my 23-year-old son, Colton to go with me to see the play, The Phantom of the Opera. When he was very young, I had taken him to see the play, Titanic and knew that he would love this play. Phantom of the Opera is a suspenseful musical by Andrew Lloyd Webber that is overwhelmingly full of dramatic effects, beautiful music, stage design and production all engulfed within a tragic romance. Therefore, after explaining the highlights and if that did not entice him to go, I told him that I would buy him a delicious dinner including all the drinks that he could muster. His bribery was gladly excepted. We enjoyed a delightful meal, with many glasses of red wine while he indulged in tequila. As usual, the play was phenomenal as we engaged in many smiles and claps throughout the first half. During the intermission, Colton returned from the restroom and asked me how many more intermissions? At first, I did not understand his question but soon realized that he was unaware that we were half way through the play. Therefore, with a straight face, I could not resist answering his question by saying, “Oh son, there are only about 3 or 4 more intermissions to go and then it is over.” He politely and kindly nodded his head as the lights lowered and the second half of the play began. I could not believe how well I performed my acting abilities. I could have won an academy award! I turned my head into the dark and held back the largest laugh! When the play was over, I asked him if he was ready to go and he smiled and knew that I had teased him. He said, “OMG mom, I wanted to scream out “NOOOO” when you told me that. You got me good, I totally believed you!” Yes, he admits that.   

   Have you ever looked at someone who completely took your breath away by how stunningly perfect they were and the total awesomeness of their beauty? You are unable to stop staring at their perfectness because they may be a highly exceptional human being. They possess such qualities as being fabulously pretty, tall, severely intelligent, skinny, thin, perfect skin, perfect hair, perfect lips, pretty eyes, talented, athletic, gorgeous, beautiful, perfect teeth, cute butt, big tits, high cheek bones, perfect eyebrows, perfect voice, perfect laugh, perfectly flat stomach and abs, strong and fit and on and on. They are the people we want to hate and are totally jealous of their gene pool which apparently is phenomenal. You can only imagine the stock that they come from which makes you ponder and wonder about your very own lineage. Don’t get me wrong, I am grateful for many of the passed down genes and qualities that I possess but question many of the others that are not so fabulous. Nonetheless, my three sisters and I have many wonderful gene qualities; however, we also have some perfectly shitty ones as well. For example, one gene quality that is hard to admit is that my youngest sister Judy is the tallest of all four of us. Judy racks in at a whopping 5’4”, so no, height is not one of our better gene possessions. Most of the sisters have flat feet that we unwillingly inherited from our grandfather who was not allowed because of his flat feet, to be in the army or war. My husband Clay kids me by saying that I am the only person that he can recall that while walking on the beach, he can see my entire footprint. To add to the fun, we also have serious bladder control problems that unfortunately our lovely grandmother and beautiful mother passed along to us. Childbirth does not help this matter either but only exasperates the situation. Yet, of the sisters that do have a bladder control problem let me tell you that it totally sucks. The constant fear of peeing and wetting your pants is certainly no walk in the park. I can literally go to the toilet, pee, stand up, sneeze and pee will instantly gush all down my legs! Besides sneezing, I also easily pee if I cough, laugh hard, run or jump. Therefore, I do not run or jump and learned early to avoid this activity at all cost. In fact, if you ever see me running then you should run also because something really bad is chasing me.

  With that said, I will tell about an extremely fun filled sister evening of laughter, drinking and peeing that all occurred at a Billy Joel concert. Before the concert, the sisters, Vicki, Jayne, Judy and I sat in the car, laughing, drinking, talking and carrying-on as sisters do. As it was getting late, we decided that we may have partied and tailgated too long in the car and needed to hurry to our concert seats. Upon getting out of the car, Jayne experienced a terrible coughing spell of which we were all concerned. She stood up and said that she was fine but wanted to know if we could see where she peed her pants. We all turned around and even though it was dark in the parking lot, automatically saw that she had peed so badly that there was a huge perfectly triangular wet design placed right smack in the middle of her lady parts. Being typical sisters, we could not stop laughing and pointing at her pants. A distressed look crept upon her face so we temporarily stopped laughing and lied by telling her that it wasn’t that bad and we were sure that no one would possibly notice. She did not believe us because we continued laughing and making fun of her. Therefore, Jayne decided to take action into her own hands and poured her bottle of beer all over the front of her pants. With our mouths wide open, we first looked at each other and then gazed at her in astonishment. We all had to be thinking the same thing by questioning her motive as to why she would wet herself more and making her problem worse. She was completely wet from her waist to her knees. Jayne must have thought it helped and made it less noticeable because she curtly wrapped her jacket around her waist, threw her shoulders back and said that she was ready to go see the fabulous Billy Joel. So off we eagerly and happily went to the concert, wet pants and all and yes, she admits that.

 

  Being a parent is no walk in the park. Believe me, it is exhaustingly hard and excruciatingly difficult. Every day you question your ability and are in constant doubt. Are you raising a good, kind and loving kid? Are you giving them enough love, confidence and discipline without causing unnecessary damage to their psyche? Of all the cazillion parenting books, there are no easy reference or ‘go to books’ to help you figure out any of the continual fifty catastrophes that occur throughout the day or night. Yet, on the other hand, being a mom has its perks because those little nuggets can bring extreme heartwarming joy into your life and fill a void of love in your heart that you didn’t even know was missing or needed filling. You find it is a tough balance of being a parent vs. being a friend, because it is much more fun being a friend to your kid, but eventually you figure it out. Each night upon putting your precious treasures to bed, reading a story for the 100^th time and while kissing their little foreheads sweet dreams, you realize that you can only do your best and hope that you both will live to survive yet another day. So, this brings me to a parenting day of which I am not very proud but yes, I will admit it.

  On this particular sunny day, I babysat my nine-year-old nephew Burton, along with my seven-year-old son Adam and three-year-old son Colton. Burton brought along his brand-new BB gun of which I did not question since his mother must have thought it was ok. Not that it excuses anything but, I grew up with sisters so guns were not in my vocabulary or knowledge. I asked Burton if he knew how to use the BB gun and he informed me that his parents had taught him how to properly and safely use it. Again, I listened to my nine-year-old nephew as if he were an expert, and sent them all outside to play. I handed each of the boys a can of spray foam. As they were heading out the door, I firmly instructed Burton to not point or shoot the BB gun directly at his cousins whereas, he eagerly agreed. I felt as if I had covered all the safety points and went about cleaning the house as three little boys played outside, unsupervised and with a BB gun. After approximately ten or fifteen minutes I went out to check on the boys. OMG, there they three stood with smiles on their faces along with looks of shock and surprise. Burton or perhaps Adam, had shot at the foam can which in turn, exploded and shot out a million dots of foam evenly spaced onto the front side all three boys. Burton, Adam and Colton were covered from the tip of their toes to the top of their heads with white dots. Thank God they were safe and unharmed by the can, foam or BB’s. I can not believe that I let those little boys play with a gun and without supervision! I must have temporarily lost my mind. In any case, I soon realized the error of my ways and took the gun away. This was certainly not one of my stellar parenting days and yes, I admit that.

 

  One afternoon, my son Colton decided to take a short break from his 6^th grade math homework. He walked into the den and watched Pokémon, which was one of his favorite television shows. A commercial interrupted and featured a famous football player who explained how he was managing a disease called, Crohn’s disease. Colton, being the inquisitive kid, asked his older brother Adam who had recently walked into the room to explain exactly what was Crohn’s disease. Adam, being the typical older brother gave his innocent and willingly trusting younger brother, Colton, an explicit and extremely detailed description of the disease. Weeks later and in Colton’s health class, the teacher, Mr. Keller, explained various diseases and asked if anyone knew what was Crohn’s disease? Excitedly, Colton raised and waved his arm around in the air in order to catch the teachers attention. Colton was happy because he actually knew the answer and wanted to please Mr. Keller. Therefore, with no other hands raised, the teacher asked, “Colton, can you please explain to the class what is Crohn’s disease?” Colton, remembering what his brother had taught him eagerly replied to the classroom, “Well, yes Mr. Keller, Crohn’s disease is when your testicles are twice the size of your penis.” The classroom erupted into a huge roar of laughter and Mr. Keller said, “Colton, are you trying to be funny?” Colton replied, “No, Mr. Keller, my brother Adam taught me that.” Mr. Keller said, “Colton, no, that is not what Crohn’s disease is and your brother told you wrong.” Mr. Keller proceeded to explain to the classroom what was the real definition of Crohn’s disease. Yes, he admits that.

 

  For many years, my friends the Pedley’s, have hosted the absolute best Halloween parties. Everyone always arrived dressed in their craziest and most zaniest costumes. The Pedley’s fun and outrageous parties never disappointed and every year would top the last. There was always plenty of food, incredible costumes, alcohol, great people and usually, live music. Personally, for Halloween, I like to dress up slutty. Perhaps, it is because I feel less inhibited and eagerly let lose my inner ho. At this particular party, I was dressed as a trashy, slutty trailerhood pirate. While enjoying all the festivities and later in the evening, my hook began to annoy me. Therefore, not wanting to keep up with it any longer, I decided to put in the car. My car was parked far from the party and it was a long dark walk to find it. On the way, I heard distant sounds that could easily be construed as sex sounds. Is that what I was really hearing, were those sexual sounds of passion and pleasure echoing into the night? Curiosity could have killed this cat but yet, I didn’t want to be a pervert. However, the sounds definitely intrigued me, therefore, I investigated further. Slowly, I followed the sex tunes singing into the night and began peeking into the back seats of cars. The sound of moaning and groaning became louder therefore, I figured that I must be getting close to the people who were obviously enjoying themselves. All of a sudden, I tripped and fell over something large within the leaves. Ouch! I had fallen on top of something soft and hard. It was dark and difficult to see, but with a small glimmer of light shining through the trees and once I got my bearings, I could make out some distinct possibilities of what had just occurred. I realized that I had fallen on top of a vampire. Can you imagine our scene? There we laid, on the ground, in the leaves and face to face were a slutty trailerhood pirate on top of a horny vampire. She had black hair, smeared make-up and a set of fangs tangled up within her mangled hair. The vampire also had a terribly disgusting smell and was covered in a gooey and sticky substance. The gooey stinky and sticky substance that I quickly discovered, was vomit and now her vomit was all over me. Apparently, the horny vampire girl had walked away from the party, passed out in the wooded parking lot, thrown up and hurled a million times and was just lying there in the leaves, sensually moaning and groaning. I being the slutty pirate, had the unfortunate happenstance of discovering her. I desperately tried to help her up but she was too drunk and out of it. Therefore, I told her to hang on and quickly ran back to the party for help. I wanted to hurry so as that no one would accidentally back over her with their car. Several people came to the vampire’s rescue and carried her back to the party. The Pedley’s took her to the rest room, washed and cleaned her off, checked her phone and discovered that her date had left her drunk and all alone at the party. They finally found someone who knew her and could take her home. I had to go home as well because I smelled like pukey vomit as it had ruin my costume and gotten in my hair. Her vampire make-up had also smeared all over my face, breast and chest. To add insult to injury, I had also lost my hook somewhere in the dark and apparently, someone smashed it with their car tire. Happy fucking Halloween vampire! Yes, I admit that.

  Have you ever, and if so, are you willing to admit it?

1.)       Have you ever baked a turkey or chicken for hours without first removing the plastic bag of livers, gizzards and gravy packet? Yes, I admit that.

2.)       Have you ever boiled an egg on the cooktop so long that it busted the pot? It also terribly smells up your house. Yes, I admit that.

3.)       Have you ever gone to the gym in a new workout outfit and felt sexy and hot? Have you also ever killed that feeling within minutes after leaning back on the weight bench and slam the back of your head onto the lift bar? Yes, I admit that.

4.)       Have you ever tangled up your feet on the treadmill and fallen off onto the floor, sprawled out everywhere? Yes, I admit that.

5.)       Have you ever thought you were going to poot a little poot in yoga class but farted really loud instead? Yes, I admit that.

6.)       Have you ever been texting while walking and slam into a sidewalk pole? Yes, I admit that.

7.)       Have you ever checked your phone while riding a bicycle and fallen off bike or crashed into a trashcan or pedestrian? Yes, I admit that.

8.)       Have you ever witnessed someone using a kettle ball at the gym and in slow motion it slips out of their hands and loudly crashes into the mirror? Seven years of bad luck for you! Yes, she admits that.

9.)       Have you ever been asked when is your baby due but you are not pregnant and your youngest child is six years old? Yes, I admit that.

10.)   Prior to a doctor’s appointment, have you ever sprayed down your entire body with body spray and when you undress, you realize that you sprayed body glitter instead? Yes, I admit that.

11.)   Have you ever worn the same outfit to a party that someone who is way fatter than you is also wearing? Yes, I admit that.

12.)       Have you ever shown off your mad fishing skills by casting out your fishing pole only to accidentally throw it and lose it in the ocean? Yes, I admit that.

 

   I was madly in love with Clay. He was everything that I wanted in a man as he was handsome, sweet, brilliant, kind and made me laugh until my sides ached. His personality was so charming that it made him even cuter. I was ready to get married and he was in my sight. Convincing him that he too was ready for marriage became my mission. We had been dating for two years and as much as I tried talking and bringing up the conversation of marriage, he simply showed no interest. Clay was a master at sidestepping the discussion. He easily squashed the issue before it ever developed. I knew that I had to pull some tricks out of my hat. No, I did not use my uterus and get pregnant in order to trap him, but instead used what my momma gave me which was my brain and womanly wiles.

  The first thing I did was to make him jealous. Jealousy is a mean bitch. However, she does come in handy when used correctly. Therefore, I started talking to an old boyfriend and had my girlfriends help me in the maneuvering of my plan by getting word to him of these unintentional lunch meetings. Yes, my ploy was childish, but sometimes a woman has to do what a woman has to do. I knew the old boyfriend trick was working because he started being more attentive and affectionate. All the while, I was giving obvious hints of which he was oblivious and still no talk of marriage! I only had one more trick up my sleeve and it seemed to be the fatal blow. His disinterest in marriage made me have to step up my game and go all out. I concocted a devious plan of sending to myself an expensive bouquet of beautiful flowers. However, in order for my plan to succeed the timing had to be precise. In any case, I calculated the arrival of the flowers to coincide with his answering of the door. With an overabundance of enthusiasm, I blatantly kissed and thanked him for the lovely arrangement. Oh girl, I could have won an academy award with my acting! I went on and on at how gorgeous they were and how sweet of him to send them. He could only stand there in silence. “What?” I say, “They are not from you, well who in the world could have sent them?” I intentionally did not open the card in front of him. I wanted to cast suspicion upon an imaginary secret admirer or perhaps an old boyfriend who wanted to get back together. After seeing his flustered face, I knew that my plan had worked brilliantly and it had made the $75.00 expense worth every penny and the effort. He proposed within the month. Yes, I admit that.

  Approximately 33 years ago, I met the coolest lady named Rose Brown. She was best friends with my husband’s Aunt Norma. We hit it off immediately and became fast friends. I always hoped to age as gracefully as she had and loved everything about her. She was graceful, funny, wise, classy, smart, cussed like a sailor and was my kind of woman. For 33 years, I eagerly and happily sent her a Happy Hanukah card. Last year at Aunt Norma’s 80^th birthday party, Rose leaned over and asked me, “Dear, I need to ask you a question. Why in Gods hell, for all of these years, have you been sending me Hanukah cards instead of Christmas cards?” I was severely taken back by her question as I thought for all those years that she was Jewish. I asked her why did she not tell me sooner as I have sent her one for 33 years? She laughed and said it was funny and she enjoyed getting them. Last year, she received a Christmas card but also for shits and giggles, a Happy Passover card. Yes, I admit that.