I Did It Again...And I Loved It.

4.27.2013


Seriously I love this shit. 

I did this once before, and it was one of the best days of my life.

First I did my sister Boobie.


1. Who is Brandi?
2. Thanks for automatically assuming I was being serious.

After Boobie, I did my other sister.


1. You obviously are not "in the loop" (so not a good deal)
2. Thanks for automatically assuming I was being serious.

Finally, I tried my blog friend turned real life good friend Shasta.


See, I texted her around 10 at night, and when she hadn't yet responded when I woke up in the morning, I thought well shit, she probably assumed I was being serious (what's new) and no longer wanted to be my friend. So I sent her the article link and her response was golden. 

At least I know I have one friend I can count on!

************************

So the main point of the comedians experiment was to text the message to your parents. Which I did. However, neither worked out well. This is how it went...

DAD

Me: text "got 2 grams for $40" message to dad
Dad: text right back "are the kids ok" while simultaneously calling me at the same time.
I then have to explain. Which makes it not so funny.

MOM

Me: text "got 2 grams for $40" message to mom
She never replies.
I'm thinking, "well hell, she's probably contacting A&E's Intervention right now."
I wake up around 4 am to go pee and see she still hasn't responded.
Now I'm really scared. So I text her the link to the article with a "just kidding...lol!"
Still no response.
So I call her the next morning.
Me: So did you get my text last night?
Mom: Yes.
Me: Why didn't you respond?
Mom: Because it was late and I was just too tired to deal with it.
Me: So...um...like did you believe me?
Mom: I thought...50/50.
And then I had to explain it to her. Which makes it not so funny.

***************************

Please, please, whatever you do, if you attempt this shenanigan, please leave link for me, as I would love to see your responses.

Also, see here for some hilarious student/parent text message screenshots.
Seriously, I busted up LAUGHING.

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I Am My Husband's Girlfriend

4.24.2013

picture from a weekend in vegas

Men are simple.

As this post is going to be.

I am my husband's girlfriend. Not just his old hag wife of 9+ years. And I have concluded that in almost twelve years of being together, there are three key ingredients to a successful relationship.

1. Feed him.
Make him a damn sandwich, and don't make him ask twice.

2. Have sex with him.
Often and don't use it as a tool.

3. Don't bitch.
Ever.

So what did we learn today?

Feed him, f*#k him and shut up.

You're welcome.

*post originally published on Sabrina's blog

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All About Me...According To My husband

4.19.2013


So, one of my all time blog favorites Becky held a link-up a few days ago and I knew right away I had to participate. Basically, the assignment was to ask a loved one to write a little post of 10-20 "facts about you."

Naturally I asked the person who knows me the best, the good ol' husband.

So I sat the computer down on his lap, gave him his assignment and let him be. I had no idea he thought so...well...that way about me.

Below are his "facts about me" in his own words, completely unedited. And of course I had to throw in my two cents, written in pink.

***************

1. Raven suffers from Princess Syndrome. According to Dr. Phil. Ok, first of all, princess syndrome? How incredibly rude and condescending. On the other hand, it's totally true. It is. I am a princess. Dr. Phil knows what's up.

2. Raven puts herself first, then the boys, then her mom, dad, sisters, aunts, uncles, bloggers, friends, etc. etc. etc., random people at the pub, etc. etc. etc. and then good ol' Rob. Random people at the pub? Really? I think you're being a little extreme. Only if random people implies those who can get me a free drink, which in that case, is a bonus to me and you. And by you, I mean your wallet.

3. Raven hates laundry, cooking, cleaning, dishwashing and all other SAHM responsibilities. Ok. Who doesn't hate laundry and doing the dishes?

4. Raven loves playing on her iPhone, computer and iPad all at the same time while watching something on TV that she knows I can't stand. In my defense, I try and spice things up while watching tv, throw in a little variety, which is why I give Rob the option of watching The Real Housewives of: Orange County, Beverly Hills, Atlanta, New Jersey, Miami or New York. How many more choices does he need?! Picky bastard...

5. Raven absolutely loves taking pictures (of herself) more then any person I've ever met, especially the boys, and of course herself in the mirror. I have nothing here.

6. She loves to play pictionary, it would be nice if someday she were on the winning team. We pray. HA! Ha. ha. Rob once drew the word "chin." His partner couldn't guess it. How bad do you have to be to not get your pictionary partner to guess chin?!

7. She also loves to gossip, but I've been told that it's just a girl thing so quit worrying about it, ROB. I take offense to the capitalization of "ROB" assuming I say your name in a way that makes me sound like a ditzy teenage valley girl. ROB.

8. Raven doesn't mind being unorganized, guess that works...for her. Guess so.

9. Raven has an appetite, guess that works...for me. Ok, when I first read this statement, I suddenly and violently attacked Rob with "what are you saying?! That I like to eat food? That I am such a glutton who salivates over cheesy fries and chocolate cake? Are you calling me fat? Are you? ARE YOU?!?!?" And then Rob looked at me and calmly said, "no Raven, I was talking about an appetite for sex."

oh.

10. Raven has very strong opinions, guess that works...for her. Not so much for US sometimes. Like the old saying goes...I would agree with you, but then we would both be wrong.

11. Raven is a good mother to our two boys, she would do damn near anything for them. Except some of the things listed above. Yes, because my boys never have any clean clothes, food to eat, non-moldy beds to sleep in and basically they look like they live in a swamp.

12. And last but not least, she loves her duckfarts. Don't EVER interfere with her and her straight shots. TRUTH.

Most of you probably already knew most of these things, but if not, there you go.

***************

And...there you go.


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How Would Your History Book Read?

4.17.2013


I won't lie, there are times I really want to be famous. So famous that everyone knows who I am. On the other hand, I would be terrified if I suddenly became a household name, because I know dirt would be dug up on me, really muddy dirt that I would be mortified if the whole world knew.

I know there are pictures out there of me from my past that would disqualify me from any future Thanksgiving dinners. I've done things and been a part of things that I never want my parents to know about. I've broken many a rule, gone places I never should have gone and done things I never should have done.

But let's be honest, who hasn't?

Right now, at this very moment, I'm pretty happy with who I am. I think I'm a pretty good mom, a semi decent wife and a helluva good cocktail mixer. I'm content with my conscience, and I know I'm an all around good person.

Still. If someone were to write my history book and publish it for all to read? My first reaction is that I would be mortified. I mean, I've done some pretty sketchy stuff, some stuff that may be considered illegal in 49 states. So yeah, for that to get out might be a little embarrassing.

On the other hand, I did it, I'll own it, and I can admit when a mistake I did make. Everything I've done in the past, good or bad, has made me into who I am today. And if we're being honest and humble, I'm pretty f*cking cool. Only if we're being humble and honest...

I guess what I'm trying to say is I've never really done anything that would devastate me if the truth came out. I've never slept with my sisters boyfriends, I've never voted Democrat and I've never slathered crisco butter all over my body to accelerate my tan in a tanning bed. (It works. It may eventually kill you, but hell it works.)

Now all I gotta do is decide on a name for my book...

I think "Shoulda Woulda Coulda: It's All Gooda" sounds....gooda...

What would your history book be called?


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When You Ask Your Mom To Guest Post

4.07.2013

So. 

When I wrote a little blurb in this post about my mom almost leaving me in San Diego, stranded and alone, with no way home, all because of one big misunderstanding with a rented jet-ski, an overwhelming amount of you wondered about my moms account, and begged me to have her guest post. Ok, so maybe only one person asked (thanks Kelsey!) however, I did, and she came through!

Quick backstory: a few years ago (like 15) my mom and I went on a vacation to San Diego, just her and I, over the 4th of July. One warm sunny day we decided to rent jet-skis and take them out on the ocean. Mine was busted. That's my story and I'm sticking to it. 

However my mom has another "version" of exactly what transpired that almost caused her to leave me deserted thousands of miles away from home. 

Below, in my momma's own words... (with a few tidbits from me peppered in, written in blue)


Let's just start where Raven left off. I was justified in leaving Raven alone stranded in San Diego for this reason alone:

The man that rented us the jet skis told us in no uncertain terms that if we took the jet skis "over by that island" that we would get stuck in sea moss and DIE. Plus we would still be responsible for paying for the jet ski. I love how she says we would still be responsible to pay for the jet skis if we were dead.

Needless to say, little Miss "don't quote the Raven" headed right over in that direction. Lies! She will tell you that she "accidentally" drifted over that way by mistake, but no, her jet ski pipe got clogged with that clumpy sea moss and it almost burned out the engine. Black smoke was spewing out of that jet ski like you wouldn't believe! Now she was really adrift, couldn't get it started again, and I am deciding how to pay for this $5,000 machine!

After all, this vacation was being done on a shoestring budget, or so I thought. Imagine my surprise when we checked out of the hotel and I got our room bill...and realized that Raven was already a day drinker! Did I tell you this trip occurred when she was 16? 16 and a half. AND A HALF!

Anyway, back to the jet skis. Foxy little miss met foxy little mister stranded out by...you guessed it...THAT island. Mister got off his jet ski, swam over to her amidst all that gunk (yes readers, Raven really is "that " hot oh my gosh I'm embarrassed -- even at 16 -- and BB*), stuck his arm down that pipe, pulled out all the moss, pushed her while swimming in it, until her jet ski was clear of it all, it started up again, and she headed back to shore. 

We turned the jet skis back in and waited to see if we would get our deposit back, and what kind of damage Raven had done. Seriously? I got a lemon!

Can you say C-O-M-P-L-E-T-E OVERHAUL? Can you say "Raven, find your own way home?" I don't know, can you say child abuse?

A few other things you may not know:

Raven is my first born. And her favorite. She always promised her two innocent younger sisters a trip to Disneyland if they would do what she said. They believed her and they did it! For years! I think she owes them that trip -- all expenses paid. Ha! No.

I wear glasses and Raven would always tap on them while I had them on until I threatened her that if she did it one more time, I would take her out! So, she started coming toward me with her fingers curled, fractions on inches away from my glasses and says "what if I do, mom, what if I do?" Well, she did, and I took her out! Her dad came home just in time to save her, with a "what the *$&% are you two doing now?!" This one is true. Now that I have two boys that drive me insane sometimes, I feel really, really bad. I'm sowwy momma.

But...every cloud has a silver lining.

Raven is the only person who will go to a scary movie with me.
Raven drinks duckfarts with me.
Raven goes wine tasting with me.
Raven never comes to my house empty handed...she always has her rum and diet coke. Good one mom.

Raven is an awesome daughter. I am proud of her (yes, a round peg that will never fit in a square hole), she is an amazing mommy and her boys simply adore her! She will always be their best friend (oh my...just thinking of Raven's two daughter-in-laws! Please God don't let them marry a Democrat), she does discipline them, but they are hard and fast buds! They are her life and she has fun with them. They are so lucky! *blushing*

Actually with Raven, her cloud has a gold lining...in the shape of a heart. 
She really can be a blast to travel with...we laugh a lot! And I would go back to San Diego again any day with her. Me too mom, as long as you are paying!

I love her. AND YOU CAN QUOTE THAT!



* before boobs

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Choose Well

4.04.2013

*for the life of me I can't find the main source for this quote. if you know, please tell me*

I've seen the above quote circulating on social media lately, and right away it hit me like a ton of bricks. I've always believed that kids are a blank canvas, that we as parents write on the walls of their brain. They are born innocent, completely pure. And I also believe, to an extent, a BIG extent, that children are a reflection of their parents. 

My sister was over the other day (you know, the one with three girls under two), and as we were discussing life, and as I was trying to engage her in gossip, she cut me off like she always does and said something new, something I'd never heard her say before. "I want my kids to grow up and say they never heard me say a bad thing about anyone." 

"Well that's a stupid goal," I replied.

I mean, shouldn't your children hear you talk about how bad and evil child molesters are? Shouldn't they hear you discuss how horrible murderers are? Bad drivers? Gingers? And lastly, don't you think your kids need to know the dangers of growing up to be a raging liberal who thinks the world owes them something?

And like she always does, my sister responded with something well-versed and wise:

"It basically boils down to keeping your heart and head as toxic free as possible. And seething over bad people doesn't add to your life. Learning the negative lessons help you be a better person and then you can move on because you don't continue hating people."

I hate when others put a damper on my shallow gossiping fun.

But then later that evening, as I watched my two little boys play in the front yard, I felt such a sense of pride. Pride in knowing that my boys have no sense of superiority. Pride in the fact that when I showed Gunner a picture of two little boys, of which were different races, and said how they were brothers just like him and Colt, he didn't bat an eye or ask why they looked different, the only thing he said to me was "mommy, we need to write them a letter and tell them we want to play with them." Because to Gunner, all he saw was two little boys just like him. That he desperately wanted to play with. 

You hear a lot where people say a child's heart and soul are innocent. That children are blindly accepting. Comparing them to adults who are critical and judgmental, as if growing older naturally does that to people. I can only speak for myself, but my parents raised me to believe that everyone is equal, regardless of race, background or social status. And I have an 87 year old grandpa who I have never, not once, heard utter a bad word about someone. Whose acceptance has trickled down to his five kids, and every one of his ten grandchildren and twelve great-grandchildren. (I would also like to give huge credit to my Nonie, my angel in heaven, the matriarch of our family and the most accepting, kind person I've ever known.)

It starts at birth. It starts at home. It starts with me and it starts with you. 

No matter how hard we try to preach what is right, if our actions don't line up with our words, our kids will see right through it, and what they will take away is what they see us do. How they see us live our lives when we think they aren't looking. I can tell my kids not to curse fifty times a day, but when they hear me say "oh sh*t" on a constant basis they will think it's ok for them also. I can tell my kids to not give in to peer pressure, that they don't need to drink to have a good time, but if they see mommy and daddy throwing some back every time there is a get-together, sooner or later they will get the impression that drinking does equal a good time. Regardless of what we tell them. 

I want my kids to see me be kind. To see me hold the door open for whoever is behind me, to see me respect the elderly and to see me never differentiate between people who may not look exactly the same. I want them to witness me being accepting of everyone, no matter their race, appearance or sexual orientation. I want them to see me respond to negativity with class.

Because I don't think innocence and tolerance fades with age. 

I know it doesn't. 

Let me refer back to my 87 year old grandpa.


It starts with us.


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Reasons Why My Husband Is A Good Dad

4.03.2013

( bottom two photos - waiting for dad to get home )

and sometimes a good husband...

- he lets the kids eat whatever they want when i am out of town. so much so that the night i get back, like clockwork, one of them almost always throws up in the middle of the night from eating too much crap. and i'm always the one who has to clean it up.

- he wrestles with the boys every night, and charmingly tells them to "steer clear of the peanuts."

- he still acts interested when gunner insists they watch the same movie for the seventieth time. 

- he doesn't give me too much grief when i overspend on the credit card.

- he gets on the trampoline, waterslide, and electric rv with them even though he is way over the weight limit. and then runs out to buy a new one when he breaks it. which is always.

- he reads their stories at night with much more animation than i do.

- he puts me first. in his words, "my wife comes first. my kids come second."

- however I secretly think he really puts the kids first. which is fine by me.

- he taught the boys how to "pop ass." most people think it's charming. their sunday school teacher does not.

- after ten plus years together, he still pops my ass at least twenty times a day.

- among other things.

- he would drop anything, anytime, for his kids. and his wife. and probably his dogs.

and

- he doesn't need any of that cheap ass mexican viagra, thankyouverymuch. (don't ask)


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