As you must know by now I love to scare people. I'm also very very very terrible at it. So terrible in fact that...well, just really bad. 1 of 2 things always happens: 1. By the time the victim is near enough for me to scare them I am laughing so hard that they can't possibly be scared of anything except for my sanity. 2. By the time the victim is near enough for me to scare them I am laughing so hard that they can't possibly be scared of anything except for my sanity.

Okay. Those were both the same things, because that's what happens every time.

Well. Yesterday that was going to change. I was at work, minding my own business when Erin walks up and says hi to me while standing at the door. I say hi back and that's when I knew! I could jump at her at the window that she'll pass as she walks down the hall! YES! I have her! She leaves the doorway and I give it about 2 seconds and then I jump into my standard scare stance. Picture it: feet spread apart, knees bent, hands up in attack position, face held in "GAH!" position. Basically, I look like a moron.

I stand there for about 2 seconds...and then think, "What the he..." That's when I hear it, her laughter. Her laughter at me standing there like a moron. She says that it was so fun being able to see me think that I was going to scare her and how my face was all excited...then confused when she never walked by. Instead of walking down the hall, she decided to wait a second and go back to the door. You know, because I'm so effing predictable.

30 minutes later we were talking, and in mid conversation she yells "GAH!". I'll be honest, I jumped.

I'm the worst.


Last week, containing the day in which Momma was born.

I did not post this last week, mostly because I'm insane and must've lost my damn mind.

Last week contained Momma's birthday, and if you didn't wish her a happy birthday then by God you oughta be ashamed of yourself.

I would like to take this moment to address some things about my momma.

1. She is the best.
2. That is all.

I have friends who talk to their mom's every once in a while and whose mom's don't even really know who they are or what they do or that today they are wearing the same jeans as the past 5 day's because she's scared that if she washes them that they won't fit.

That's too bad. I talk to momma every day (so does Morgan) and if I haven't called her until well into the afternoon then I get a phone call from her saying, "Why you no calla?" I always talk to her before I go to bed, and sometimes she calls me first thing in the morning...much to my chagrin. (I've always wanted to say that...did I sound like a pompous ass? Thought so.)

I can tell her anything and everything, and I do. Of course as a teenager we weren't this close, you know because I was an asshole (her words), but I think deep down we always were. All of the things she taught me about right and wrong and how doing any drug will immediately kill me or render me a vegetable so that I will serve as an example to everyone else, have stuck with me. Hell, just last week I had a migraine and she gave me a percocet and I was so scared of just that, so I only took half. Then she laughed and I let her know that it was all her fault.

I call her when I need advice on anything and she's always happy to help. She saves my life everyday. She taught Madison about fairies and creatures. She taught me...everything. Common sense and manners. Two things that seem to not get taught these days. I say "Yes ma'am and No ma'am" to this day as does Madison and as will Cooper. If I forget to use manners, then she responds with, "You're never too old for me whoop your ass." To which I respond, "Yes ma'am." While covering my rear, out of habit.

We communicate on a whole separate level, this level is sometimes referred to as "crazy". She can say, "Go get me that thing, over there on the deal." And I will retrieve it. At one point in my life she started calling me "cock"...she started that little trend while we where in the grocery store...and she yelled it. And I responded. She once sang Happy Birthday to a stranger in Wal-Mart. I learned to just give up on being embarassed by anything, ever.

I feel like this post isn't even doing her justice, I'm just letting you know all of these great things about her but you'll never really know how amazing she is.

The sound of her voice can make me cry and I couldn't get by without her. Thank you momma for being...you.

She will kill me and then whoop me if I put a picture of her on here...so here is one of her offspring.
Which includes me.
There I am.
And there is Morgan.
And we are cute.


Why Momma Is Never Allowed To Go On Vacation Again

Momma works hard. Like, works harder than anyone ever in the history of working on things. Typically, even when she goes on a trip she still has her work phone and her computer. These two things act as huge ankle weights on the enjoyment of day to day living while trying to be drunk but yet remain upright.

This all changed when she and Jack planned a trip to Hawaii. It would the first REAL vacation. One where there would be no laptop or work phone weighing down the enjoyment of day to day living while trying to be drunk but yet remain upright. In fact, who needs to remain upright? I've never been to a beach to stand.

They had a week of vacation in Oahu. There was no itinerary, no big plans. Just relax, eat, drink, relax, repeat. They arrived in the evening, had a few drinks, ate some food and then retired to the bungalow or whatever it's called so they could start their first full day in the sun refreshed. Please remember, they were going to Hawaii from Alaska. The sun and being in it is really the most important aspect. That and Mai-Tai's. (Speaking of, until recently I always confused mai-tai and molotov cocktail...don't drink with me, it could be deadly.)

The next day they were getting ready to start the day when, she put some lotion on, including on her feet. And then she walked into the bathroom.


In her words, "It felt like my leg was being torn from my body."

After riding in the car, on her knees in the front seat, facing backwards, to the ER. Spending 9 hours in the ER. She is told she has torn a tendon or tendons in her leg. Not just "tear", but "MOTHERFUCKINGTEAR!"

She couldn't sit down. Could barely walk. Breathing was beside the point.

I was brave enough to ask, "Why did you put lotion on your feet? And then walk on bathroom tile?" She didn't grace me with an answer, but I think that if the percocet hadn't chose to kick in at that precise moment, the answer would've been a colorful one.

The one week vacation turned into a two week...something. Which is still a vacation, because I mean, she was in Hawaii...she just couldn't be "in" Hawaii. She sent me tons of great pictures from her balcony.

One night I was sitting at home thinking, "Wow, pretty much nothing else could possibly happen now right?" and my phone rang. It was the protagonist herself. "There's been a terrible earthquake in Japan and we have a tsunami warning here."

"Ha. You're so funny."

"No. I'm serious."

(You may be wondering why I didn't believe her. Well, it's because I had the local news on right when she called and they hadn't bothered to mention the earthquake in Japan...you know, because the Northern Lights are going to be out tonight and that's a big fucking deal so let's just talk the shit out of it.)

That's when she started doing that mom thing where she uses her "everything is fine" voice...but in fact she's really nervous and does that thing where we watch cartoons or the live edition of Charlie Sheen's twitter feed so we can pretend like everything is fine and there isn't a potential wall of water heading right towards us and that right now the people in Japan aren't under water and their buildings aren't being washed away and in some places there aren't even people anymore and that we're not worried that one day when we have grandkids and great-grandkids we'll be saying things like, "Remember Japan?".

Luckily, there was no major tsunami where she was and everything in Hawaii was fine.

She is now home and doing wonderfully with no permanent damage and Morgan and I have grounded her from going anywhere. She said that she wanted to take us there one day...we politely declined while chaining her to her bed.

Room with a view.


Oh. Hi There.

Miss me? Didn't notice I was gone? Either way. Hi.

My house smells like puke...with a hint of fruit cocktail. It all started last weekend. I was trying to get the smallest human into bed so that I could have an evening of wine and girl's night. He was standing at my feet and he made a sound like he had a tickle in his throat. I picked him up so I could get a look (thinking it was a dog hair...that is commonplace in this house), holding him a little higher than my face as I looked up and into his throat.

I'll leave you with that for a second...

Next, I am in the shower fully clothed so I can spray my sweatshirt and neck off. I wanted to be able to get my sweatshirt off without getting puke in my hair. I have standards.

This being the very first time that Coop has puked, it was traumatizing. The next 27 times being the first 27 times that he puked were traumatizing as well.

Fast forward to Monday night. He's finally in bed for the first time since he got sick. I had just opened my laptop go give you fine folks a holler and to send a few emails to notify the world that I am still alive and maybe I don't smell so nice, when it hit me like something hits someone and it's covered in sweat and lots of little pokies and tells you that it hates you and maybe you should throw your computer on the floor so you can run to the bathroom but hey, watch out for Bocephus he's right behind you.

Fast forward to Wednesday night. I'm finally asleep for the first time since I got sick, when I open my eyes to my girl's face, eyes as big as golf balls. "Well. I'm sick. I just threw up." She seemed more irritated than sick. I spent the rest of the night next to her as she expelled fluids. It was a grand old time.

Fast forward, but watch out for that puddle of vom right there...no, over there..okay, you missed it. Now it's Friday. Joe is sick. But it's fine, because he doesn't know how to be sick for real. He vacuum's.

Now we are all better. Just in time for Spring Break to be over and for momma to return from her 2 week supposed to be 1 week vacation in Hawaii. She's also bringing her leg which is bleeding internally.

More on that later.

No. That's vomit.