Questions to Ask Yourself if You are Thinking of Having Children

So, you're thinking of having a child - well, you should ask yourself a few questions. Even though some of these questions may seem humorous to you now, I assure you that I am very serious.

• Can you love this child no matter what? Like, even if they paint your bathroom counter with nail polish and don't tell you but instead try and clean it up with super glue...because for some reason they think that it made total sense at the time.
• Are you willing to catch vomit in your hands?
• Are you willing to pick their nose? Or wipe dripping snot from their face. (You may or may not have something to then clean your hand with. Keep that in mind.)
• You will lick your hand and wipe their face. Don't sit there in your fancy clean chair and try and tell me that you won't. You will, and when you do you will think back to this moment and say, "She told me."
• Are you willing to take a hamster to the vet and pay a bill that costs far, far, far, far more than the purchase price of a new healthy hamster that looks exactly like the hamster they already have? Are you?
• Can you laugh about farts? This is basically a deal breaker - you must be willing to laugh about farts.
• And burps.
• And butts.
• Can you look at this child right in their face and answer all of their questions about vaginas, penises, and how their reproductive system works while retaining a straight face?
• You must be willing to dance spontaneously and do all of the voices when reading at bedtime - if you don't, your child will become an asshole. Don't get mad at me, it's science.
• Will you do anything to make this child laugh when they are sad/mad/in a funk? May include any or all of these, in private and/or in public:
• shake your butt
• pick your own nose
• make a monkey face
• make fart noises with your mouth and/or armpit
• make real fart noises with your butt
• pretend like you're going to eat their face and/or belly
• put their feet in your mouth
• Can you watch them make terrible decisions, and let them so that they can learn? Things like putting ketchup on a hot dog, or saying no to cheese when they order a pretzel.

This is just the tip of the iceburg...just a few questions to get those old wheels turning. Of course if you want to have a child, then these questions are meaningless to you because of course you can handle all of these things.

I'm serious about the fart thing.

http://mylifeandkids.com/fart-sounds/

Bookmark that page.

I Hate A Lot of Stuff - here are a few.

Yes - we all hate the terrible things that happen in the world, we don't need to hash over them all. It makes me depressed and then I start shopping for islands and researching the best ways to clean water for drinking.

What we can talk about are what society has deemed "First World Problems". These are the problems that in all honesty you would be embarrassed if someone heard you talking about them...like, "My change jar spilled and now there's money everywhere! UGH."

This will become a recurring segment over here at ye old blog - here are a couple to get us going.

• Websites that have those ghost advertisements that you can't find, therefore you have to sit and listen to a Folgers commercial for 2 minutes while trying to enjoy an article about Brad Pitt and Angelina Jolie and how hard their life is.
• Sticking with a website theme - sites that have the pop up asking if you'd like to take their satisfaction survey (no, I don't, ever, thank you) and as you position your cursor to click that teeny-tiny "x" the pop up jumps so that you click on the "Yes! Please let me take your survey, I don't have a life!" button.

Just click that little "x"...no big deal, we don't mind - JUST KIDDING IDIOT!

No Thank You Vistaprint

I love Vistaprint. They have great stuff, great prices, and frequent cool deals.

Free business cards? Yes please.

I can never have too many of these.

 

 

Have you ever purchased anything from Vistaprint? I won't wait for your response - I'll just go right into my rant, if you don't mind. Of course you don't. You're so polite.

 

When you purchase something from Vistaprint they are super happy about it and they really want you to buy more stuff! YAY THINGS! I'll walk you briskly through this scenario...if I spend too much time on it my nose will start to bleed again.

 

Oh look, business cards. Click. Design. Add to cart. Checkout.

 

What's this? Business card holders? No thanks. (Or yes, if you are into throwing away your money.)

 

NEXT.

 

This isn't the checkout screen...what...oh, business card sized calendars...hmm.

 

NEXT

 

My credit card is ready...wait...no, I do not want to register a domain name..what fresh hell?

 

NEXT

 

FINALLY take all of my information already!

 

Finish...oh cool, I can review my order one more time before it's fina....NO I DON'T WANT ANY GODDAMN ADDRESS LABELS FOR THE SWEET LOVE OF GOD. Finalize without address labels.

 

And that my friends, is what it is like buying something from Vistaprint.

 

*bow*

 

Basically what I'm saying is, Vistaprint is great and also at the same time irritating.

 

Here's the website: Vistaprint get some stuff that you need, and also some stuff that you don't need.

 

They have no idea I wrote this - and they probably wouldn't even approve of it if I did. I pay full price for all of my business card needs. (Unless they are having a free business card special - which is often.)

 

Worth every penny.

Oh You Can Do Better?

As per usual I'm a little late to the party, suck it - I'm busy.

iOS7 was released last week much to the anticipation and also chagrin of everyone in the world. I handled it much as I expected everyone else to - I saw the little red notification dealy (totally tech term you guys) and then I pressed all of the correct buttons and bam - done.

It looked different, my phone still worked, and I went on with my life. Apparently this is not the way of the world.

Things I saw while perusing the interwebs and the Facebook:

• iOS7 is the worst thing to happen to the iPhone yet.
• I'm done, I'm switching to Android.
• I could've designed a better operation system.

Oh you could? Awww - how sweet. Is that why you are currently working part time emptying the trashcans at the local elementary school? It's because you're TOO smart, right? Poor soul.

You're going to switch to Android? Fantastic. Will you also move to Australia if you don't like the next elected President? Let me show you the door.

Frankly - besides me just writing this little tiny bit about your grumpiness over things that don't actually effect you - no one really cares. We know that you are pissed about the color of the icons in iOS7 today but we can rely on the fact that tomorrow you are going to be pissed that Facebook moved the notifications toolbar to a different area. THE HUMANITY!!!

 At least the update distracted from talking about twerking.

The Key to Being a Rabbi

Aaaand we're back with a special segment of "Conversations with Momma"...

(she's out of town on vacation...somewhere warm and wonderful...ugh, jealousy)

Momma: We went to an awesome street fair today and there was this Rabbi sitting on a chair with a sign above him that read "Ask the Rabbi"....

Me: Like, ask him a question?

Momma: Yes! And people were walking up to him asking him things...but I didn't know what to ask. I asked Caren what I should ask him but she didn't know either.

Me: Well, did you ask him something?

Momma: No. But now I really feel like I should have.

Me: I would've asked him what kind of questions do people ask here...questions about life, or just, like - where's the nearest Trader Joe's?

Momma: What is a Rabbi?

Me: Like, a jewish priest... (guys - I don't know the terminology, don't get mad at me)

Momma: Can I be a Rabbi? How do I become a Rabbi...?

Me: You can't be a Rabbi - you're not Jewish.

Momma: Well, yeah. But the main reason is because I can't grow one of those cool beards.

Seriously though - don't be mad.

I don't even know if a beard is a requirement of being a Rabbi...

No Thanks

Coop had a terrible stomach bug this past winter - it seemed to last forever. He would only get sick at night, he would wake up puking and then sleep the rest of the night on the bathroom floor.

I have to get my couch professionally cleaned because one night we both fell asleep on the couch - I thought ahead and placed towels on the floor and a trash can in the center of the towels, there was no way I was going to have to scrub puke for the 5th night in a row. Sure enough he woke up heaving and I flung him the direction of the trash can and as I turned around to grab a handtowel from the ottoman, he turned around too - to face the couch, you know, instead of the trashcan. BLAMMO puke everywhere that there wasn't a towel.

Long story short - puke.

After he was better and I was done cleaning up puke and shit from every surface of my house I decided I could go back to the gym and put him in the childcare there. My workout partner Erin is hardcore bad ass and she apparently has a super secret hate on me because she killed me. A couple of times. There's photographic proof.

After she was done using my corpse as a sweat towel I set my sights on the door because on the other side of that door was cold air that was going to revive me and also keep me from puking. I picked up Coop and headed home. As I pulled into the driveway I took a moment to evaluate myself and really think about my options - puke here in the driveway so it can freeze and I can basically walk on puke for the next month or try and make it to the bathroom indoors. I tell you - it was a tough one but I decided on heading inside.

I carried Cooper in and I said to him - "Coop, I'm going to puke on you."

To which he responded, "No thanks."

He then pushed my face away from his direction and said, "Look over there."

Literally - he pushed my face away from his general direction so that I wouldn't get puke on him...smart kid.

UPDATE: I took this child to a pediatric gastroenteroligist...what? I'm told he has "CVS, cyclic vomiting syndrome". WOW, that sounds serious doc, what is that? She says to me...with a straight face..."oh, random vomiting". I said, "No thanks."

A Feral Angelo - a made up story.

My favorite (only) brother Morgan and his boyfriend, Angelo, came to visit recently. It was only the best time of my life because they are my favorites.

One of Morgan and my favorite past times is to make up stories about people - we can go on for hours about the group of people sitting at the restaurant all wearing the same type of shirt. They are clearly a cult. Clearly.

While they were here we did a lot of stuff and mainly drove my car everywhere. At one point Angelo attempted to get into someone else's car assuming it was mine. Well...

Me: What if Angelo had gotten into that car and stayed there...not knowing it wasn't my car?

Morgan: Yes. He fell asleep in the back because he was so tired from all of our activities.

Me: Yep. He falls asleep waiting for us and wakes up in a dark garage.

Morgan: Because the car owners didn't see him back there - sleeping away.

Me: Of course. He's all snuggled up. He wakes up and it's dark and he's all 'Whaaaa? Where am I?"

Morgan: He doesn't have his phone because he left it here, in your actual car - so he can't call for help.

Me: Of course not. He gets out of the car and goes to knock on the door into the house and the people answer...and they're naked. They're nudists.

Morgan: God, yes, of course they are. Nudists. Just naked. They invite him in and are super friendly.

Me: They won't let him use the phone - they don't have electricity...they have, like, burn barrels IN the house.

Morgan: And no wifi. Uuuuuughh. They want him to join their nudist colony in this weird house.

Me: They walk on all fours...not even like, hands and knees.

Morgan: Feet and hands.

Me: Finally he gives in...what's that called...?

Morgan: Stockholm syndrome. He gets naked and he's living in their world. Burn barrels...

Me: No wifi...no electricity...

Morgan: Monsters.

Me: He can't escape even if he wanted to - their are bars on the INSIDE of the windows and doors.

Morgan: We find him and we knock on the door...and he's all 'Guys, I live here.'

Me: And we're all, "It's been 45 minutes...."

Morgan: Right?!

Angelo: What are you guys talking about...?

Here we are making up a story about you right now...

It's basically the funniest thing you've ever heard.

Cinema - Spoilers contained within. You've been notified.

It's been awhile since I've shared my thoughts on movies that I've watched. Let's do that today!

Playing For Keeps

This movie is about a soccer player (Gerard Butler) who...I don't know....doesn't play soccer anymore? Moves to be closer to his son, begins coaching his sons soccer team because the current coach has a condition that requires his phone to be attached to his ear constantly also he's fat and sucks at being a kids soccer team coach. Then stuff happens...and it was annoying.

From the moment the movie starts you know exactly what's going to happen - which I hate. Within 15 minutes I was able to spout off each direction the movie was going to go and who was going to sleep with Gerard Butler's character...who could blame them though - amiright?!

The only reason to watch this movie is to see the star of the show - Gerard Butler's hair. It's glorious and amazing and luscious and beautiful. If you don't care about his hair, then don't watch this movie. It's lame. The End.

 

Olympus Has Fallen

 

This one is basically a combination of Air Force One...but on the ground and Die Hard all wrapped up in a neat, bloody package and I loved it. It was pretty easy to guess who the bad guys were going to be but I didn't mind that too much - it wasn't a secret for long. Gerard Butler (are you noticing a theme here...?) plays a Secret Service Agent and then an Ex-Secret Service Agent who super, really bad wants to be Secret Service Agent again. Blah, blah, blah - people storm The White House, hilarity ensues, blood, knives, guns...lots of guns, tunnels, Navy Seals, Morgan Freeman.

There was a scene that I swear they took directly from Die Hard. I even said it out loud in the theater. "This is Die Hard."

I'm not going into much detail here - I'll just say it was a good movie, I'd watch it again. It really makes you want to save the world, y'know? Afterwards you sit back and think - I could totally do that. Then you look down at the popcorn that has fallen at your feet and the nacho cheese that you accidentally wiped on your pants and you think again. Boy, do you think again.

Get it? Because they're falling.

 

 

 

Nothing.

Know what I like to do?

Nothing.

Absolutely nothing is the correct answer. It's my favorite thing to do actually...nothing. It doesn't require a shower. It doesn't require pants that aren't stretchy or mascara.

Nothing, of course, can mean a vast many things. "Nothing" is definitely subjective. My nothing and your nothing could be completely different - in fact, my nothing varies day by day. Today my nothing could be watching tv all day long, tomorrow my nothing could be playing Mass Effect...yesterday it was drinking wine and reading literature gossip magazines.

I feel like I crammed a lot of "stuff" into my late teens/early twenties. I snowmachined, flyfished, camped, hiked small mountains, etc. And now...I just don't wanna. I still like those things, I just don't want to do them. I want to do other stuff - like, nothing. Is that so bad? Is it weird? I guess I don't really care.

This blog post is lame - and it's probably because it's the end of March and I'm freezing and tired of the cold weather. So, there.

Someone call the waaaah-mbulance.

Go ahead, I'm not going to do it myself - I'm busy doing nothing.

Tunes Tuesday...

I have to make a bit of a drive every day to and from town, I enjoy it because I get to be alone and listen to music. Two of my very favorite things.

I sometimes even have to giggle at the absurdity of my daily playlist - Lana Del Rey, Lonely Island, Trey Songz, Blake Shelton...the list only gets more ridiculous.

Here are two more songs that are in my rotation.

 

Huge glow stick? Want.

 

 

 

"I just want to feel some sunshine."

This is my winter anthem.

 

 

Speaking of winter...please go away - I'm cold. Even though it's in the upper 30s...ugh, I'm still freezing. My body turned in its notice, it said, "I'm not keeping you warm anymore, I'm tired. Figure smoething out on your own."

 

So courteous.



Tunes Tuesday

I think everyone is fully aware of my eclectic musical tastes. I listen to damn near anything. I discovered this song a few weeks ago through my Starbucks app - it was a free download. If you don't have the Starbucks app - get it, there's a new free song download every week. It's not always something I'm in love with but it gets new music in my earholes, and I always appreciate that.

Back to this song - it's lovely. The message is nice, I like the arrangement, I like it all. It's one of those songs that takes a stance on a popular subject but even if you're not into that kind of thing I think you could still appreciate the music. The video is also grand - I love a good story and this one plays out nicely.

So, enjoy. Or don't...it's up to you.

 

 

 

AND for a little something different...here's another song that I love - the video is not my favorite but I like the song. It's Wagon Wheel by Old Crow Medicine Show. They play banjos and I love it.

 

Guys will like it because there's dancing women and some of them have big bewbs. Girls will like it, because I don't know...maybe because of this guys fancy dance move?

(video below that tank top hot mess)

 

 Well...it's not letting load the picture of the guy in the tank top doing a dance...so just keep an eye out for it - you can't miss it...but in case you are worried about missing it, it's at 3:14 and it only lasts a few seconds but it will be the best few seconds of your day.

 

 

Thought Processes of an Amber

Everyone has different ways of living their lives. Different reasons for doing things, different methods...different thought processes. I never really think about it but I realized that maybe mine are kind of...different? Or maybe they're the same as yours.

For instance - I have a pretty standard uniform everyday - jeans, black shirt or sweater...or jeans, sweatshirt, or cigarette pants and a top...or whatever the hell. This is my thought as I get dressed:

"When I get home tonight can I also sleep in this shirt?"

The answer is typically and almost always yes - if not the outer shirt, at the very least I can sleep in the shirt that's underneath it. BAM - convenience.

SOMETIMES the shirt you see me in is the same shirt I slept in. MOST DAYS the pants you see me in are the same pants I wore yesterday. EVERYDAY you see me, I'm adorable - so does it really matter?

My thoughts on showering -

AM Showering:

"Do I have time to dry and fix my hair? No - then no shower. I'll put it in a bun."

PM Showering:

"Do I need to dry and fix my hair tonight so that tomorrow is looks presentable? Yes - then no shower. I'll put it in a bun tomorrow."

All girls think like that right there - and if they deny it, they're liars. And their hair is dirty.

My thoughts on waking up early in the morning -

"If I set two alarms I'll have one alarm I can snooze and one that is set for my real needed wake up time and I'll get up to that one - having satisfied my need to hit 'snooze' while still waking up on time."

That's my "thought process". My "actual process"? -

/snooze /snooze - one hour later - "Fffffuuuuuuuu - I'm late."

So...am I so weird? Am I the only one that is planning on wearing the same shirt I'm wearing right now to bed tonight?

Maybe I am, and that's fine by me.



Baby Brother

I have a baby brother - well, he's not really a baby anymore. It's his birthday tomorrow and I thought maybe it would be nice of me to brag on him here for a little bit. I am the thoughtful one after all.

Morgan and I are 5 years apart in age...for a few months, and then we are 6 years apart. Growing up I was very protective of him, even if I was a bully to him - that was my job and no one else's. Most sisters will complain about all the times their brothers were mean to them and all of the terrible and irritating things they would do.

Sure, I remember that stuff. I remember the phase he went through where he was scared of the wind and anytime we were going somewhere and it was windy he would freak out and make life as difficult as possible. I remember the time he pulled my pants down in front of a gas station...ugh.

What I really remember are the times when I was mean to him, I still hate to think about it. One time I slapped him in the face - he pretty much deserved it, but that doesn't matter. I would leave him out, I would lock him out, I would tease him - all of these things are normal big sister/little brother things and are what made us who we are today but I just want to say, "Sorry Morgie Porgie, sorry for being a jerk to you when you where little."

Don't get me wrong - we had fantastic times together also! You know, stuff. We washed a cat once, that was fun. We ran over a tricycle with a golf cart one time.

I'm not sure when it happened...but we became friends. We can hold an entire conversation using television/movie quotes, or just using grunts and yawns. And we do this sometimes 5 times per day. I am so blessed to have a friend/brother in my life with as much determination, drive, positivity, and just overall greatness as he has. He is my biggest inspiration and the bravest person that I know. I love him with my entire heart.

Ugh - that was so mushy gushy. Back to being regular.

Our favorite thing to do, of course, is make momma crazy. The easiest and most fun way to do that is when taking pictures. When we were kids and getting our pictures taken she would be constantly telling him to smile, and I - being concerned that he wasn't smiling - would look at him to make sure he was smiling and then she would yell at me to look at the camera. We do this to this day. We literally did this just a couple of days ago. It drivers her absolutely bonkers and we just have the best time with it.

Here's us...she had just yelled at him to smile and then immediately yelled at me to look at the camera - as you can see, we just can't seem to get our lives together.

Here we are as kids - though we still feel like kids now - you can bet money that not 10 seconds before this picture was taken I had my face over his shoulder to make sure he was smiling.

And here we are now...we look spooky here, but I like the picture. Deal with it.

Happy Birthday Morgie Porgie!

Shannon Post

My friend Shannon is hilarious - well, I think she is. We have more fun texting than anyone should legally have. I know I've posted here before one of our texting conversations - here it is.

I think I may end up making a page just for my conversations with Shannon...here's the one we had last night.

Pivoting is overrated.

Good morning...never.

If you know me personally you know how much I loathe the morning time...well, not the actual "morning", but the act and necessity of having to remove myself from the comforts of the bed. It's just the absolute worst.

I've never in my life been a morning person - with the one exception being Christmas morning, because Christmas is my favorite and I still go to sleep with butterflies in my stomach and wake up with a dumb grin on my face. Because I'm a human with a heart and soul.

Momma is the definition of morning person. She wakes up singing songs and twirling around sprinkling fairy dust on everything or whatever it is you morning people do. Momma had several ways of waking Morgan and I up in the mornings of our childhood, I will outline them here for you to cringe at.

• Open bedroom door - yank open curtains - sing some ridiculous song about morning time and smiles.
• All of the above PLUS tearing the blanket off of our sleeping warm bodies.
• All of the above PLUS sitting on our bed, bouncing up and down and tickling us because she's the devil.

THEN. THEN, she gave up on all of that because Morgan and I are terrible, horrible people and would yell at her and make mean faces and kick her off of our beds. That's when she deployed the most terrible and awful way to be woken up. She would literally annoy us awake. (I know, the things above are pretty annoying - but just you fucking wait.)

Here it is. Here is what she would do. From the second floor - she would yell up to the third floor where our bedrooms resided. She would yell:

Amber. Amber. Amber. Morgan. Morgan. Amber. Morgan. Morgan. Morgan. Amber. Amber. Morgan. Morgan. Amber. Morgan. AmberMorganMorganAmberAmberMorganAmberMorgan. AmberMorgan.

Repeat.

Repeat.

Repeat forever in the most monotone voice you can think of.

During all of this we are yelling - STOP IT. PLEASE. GOD. STOP. OKAY. OKAY. STOP. WE'RE UP!

We weren't up. We lied. Sometimes we would drag our sleepy bodies to the top of the stairs and yell down FOR THE LOVE OF EVERYTHING IN THE WHOLE EFFING WORLD WOULD YOU PLEASE STOP MAKING NOISES WITH YOUR FACE?! WE LOVE YOU. DON'T GROUND US. ALSO, TOASTER STRUDEL. TWO PACKETS OF ICING BECAUSE ONE PACKET ISN'T ENOUGH.

So, why? Why can't I just BE a morning person? I want to be. I wish I could be cheerful and happy in the morning, I don't want to be hateful and terrible - I just am. Morning are just so hard. They're usually cold. My face is all sleepy. My limbs are sleepy and don't want to work. My brain is all, "No. That dream was good - let's go back to that!". If I wake up to my alarm clock - which I will snooze for approximately an hour - I'm not horrible to anyone. BUT if a person wakes me up, UGH, just, don't.

I've tried several "tricks and tips" to becoming a morning person and they just make me more grumpy and tired. I've given up - I will just remain...whatever the opposite of morning person is. Fantastic? Yes, that must be it.

An ideal world...

Scary Movies

Up until about 8 years ago it was a weekly tradition for me to watch scary movies with my family. But, I have an overactive imagination and I was recently single so I was at home alone with a baby, at night, when it's dark, during prime murder/possession/torture/haunting time.

One night someone shook my door knob and I called everyone I knew until I found someone to come over and identify my body. When the person arrived they discovered a little door tag hanging menu on my door - so clearly, some psychopath was using the door knob hanging menu thing as a trick to check for unlocked doors.

Clearly.

That's when I decided I should take a break from scaring the absolute shit out of myself. I said, "No more scary movies for me." Now, it's many years later and I'm alone all the time and I still think there's someone in my house at least once per night so I figured, might as well watch the movies anyway - I'm already batshit. My showers take twice as long as normal people because I spend half of the time peering out of the curtain to check for...I don't even know. Up until a while ago I only used one of those clear shower curtain liners as my shower curtain because it saved me so much time. Obviously I'm ready to watch scary movies again.

I kicked off my movie watching with Cabin in the Woods.

Look at that shit.

It's about a group of college friends (duh) that go to spend the weekend in a cabin in the woods (see what they did there?). Because when I was in college that's exactly what I wanted to do - spend my weekend in a moldy cabin in the middle of nowhere. Also, let's drive an old RV to the cabin - because that makes sense.

These two people are in it, bonus for the girls. I don't remember if there are boobs for the guys - they usually throw boobs in for the guys...so I'm assuming they were there and I just didn't notice. Bewbs.

 

I will watch anything that has this face.

I don't even know his name - I call him "eyeballs".

Personally, I liked the movie. It wasn't terribly scary - but I was scared at the potential of being scared so I spent most of the movie curled up into a ball in anticipation. Most people I know don't even think scary movies are scary - they are though. That's why they are called scary movies, jerks.

It was weird. That's probably the main reason I liked it. It was funny, I like that too. It poked fun a little bit at typical scary movie situations - I like that. 

I understand that my "review" isn't helpful to anyone in any way whatsoever - but reviewing movies isn't my real job so you can't be mad.

If you are looking for a movie that will scare you - this isn't it. If you're looking for a movie that will leave you thinking, "Whaaaa...okay.", this is your cup of tea or scary demon blood, if that's what you're in to.

Next on my list: Silent House & House at the End of the Street, and then I'll find something that probably doesn't have the word 'house' in it and I'll watch it in my car because I'll be too scared to go into my house.

School Supplies

My favorite time of year - back to school. Only my favorite because I'm an adult and I don't have to go to school - school is awesome kids, stay in it. It's actually my favorite because I love to shop for school supplies and I know that even if I didn't have a school-aged child I would still be wandering the aisles smelling pencils and buying colors. Yes - I call them colors, not crayons. Deal with it.

 

I was reminded recently that some people just don't get the importance of school supplies - the importance of getting just the right folder, the perfect notebook, the correct pencils with that really pink eraser and above all else the correct brand of colors.

 

Crayola.

 

I was at the store, wandering, and I saw a mom walk out of the school supply aisle with an armful of colors. The brand: RoseArt.

 

WTF? Seriously? Did you miss that huge bin of Crayola? Did you not see that the Crayola - otherwise known as "correct" - colors are only 24 cents? Do you hate your children? You must. Lady, you're are going to go home with that bag full of RoseArt colors and your kids are going to burn your house down - and rightfully so. If I want to have a terrible day I start it off by thinking about RoseArt brand colors and I finish it with thinking about that one gray RoseArt colored pencil that squeaks when you write with it.

 

When I was a kid my favorite part of school supplies was writing my name all over my shit - mine, mine, mine, mine and mine. Everything had my name perfectly written on it - there was no mistaking my Elmer's glue for your whatever the hell that is. Well, don't bother doing that these days. Classrooms have "community supplies". What's that? Oh, it's where the teacher dumps all of the supplies into bins and then when it's time to use them she puts the bin in the center of your table that you share with 4 other people and that's when you find out who your friends are. There you are staring at this pile of colors, desperately trying to dig out the good ones and not accidentally scrape the bad ones with your fingernails and get that waxy RoseArt shit under them. The worst. Doesn't matter though, because RoseArt colors weep wax residue, it's how they cry about not being loved, so when you pull your hand out it's still all waxy and smells like sadness.

 

If I were a kid in a class of "community supplies" I would sneak in my own colors and use them instead of the community ones - that's how serious I am about my coloring. Serious. Please don't be "that" parent - if you love your children, buy Crayola. If you are going to tell me that "RoseArt colors are fine!", please don't waste your breath or energy - you're wrong. You're wrong so just sit there in your wrongess and be wrong.

 

I was explaining to Morgan "community supplies" and before I could finish my sentence he interrupts:

 

"NO. No. No no no no no no no. No."

 

"No."

 

"Free" would be paying too much for these.

 

You must get so much texting done at the gym...

Do you? Do you get a lot of texting done while you stand there next to your boyfriend while he "lifts weight". I put "lifts weight" in those sarcastic quotation marks because he's lifting just enough weight so he looks like he's working hard but he's only working hard because he's doing it wrong.

I bet that weight bench is super comfortable to sit in - here let me angle the TV so you can see it better from your location. I never thought of using a bench for texting, I'll have to give that a try sometime - is it comfortable? It's not super comfortable when I use it for tricep dips, I don't expect it to be...but that's just me. To each their own I guess.

Does your boyfriend love it when you stand right in front of him while he curls those dumbbells? I would imagine you are blocking the mirror from his view of checking his form but what you are really doing is blocking his view of just checking himself out. "Look at these guns...why does my elbow hurt so much...whatever, I'm going to look hot. Owwwwww."

I really love that you picked up that 5lb dumbbell and are now curling it with one limp wrist while you text with the other hand. You are just super cute, what kind of lip gloss is that you're putting on? I bet it's fantastic. Here, could you hold my 25lb dumbbell while I readjust the bench from your TV watching adjustment? It doesn't really work well for what I need to use it for...sorry.

I see that you like to lean against that piece of equipment there, it's called a Horizontal Leg Press in case you were wondering and I need to use it. Oh, you must be confused - You. Are. At. The. Gym. I'm sure you arrived here by just following your boyfriends feet - since that's probably all you can see while you're head is down staring at your phone while texting or Facebooking or whatever it is you're doing that's so important.

Whoah, where are you going? The locker room? What do you need to go there for, wipe the sweat from your brow? Doubtful. Oh, reapply your makeup - proceed. Let me just get out of your way...sorry.

Kids Say A Lot Of Things...

Kids talk. A lot. Like, so very much. Sometimes I just stare at their little mouthes moving and wonder, "What the hell are you talking about?". I often think that they won't ever stop making noises, that's when I demand QUIET NO MAKING NOISE TIME OR MOMMA MIGHT DRIVE INTO A LIGHT POLE.

It is important to listen to them - always. They are telling you things that they think are super important and serious. If you don't listen to them now, they won't talk to you when they are older about things that you think are important. Plus, they say some pretty hilarious shit.

Here are a couple of my favorites from this week:

• Coop: "Hit me in the face." (he wanted me to throw a nerf ball...at his face - I didn't, in case you were wondering)
• Madison: "You can be honest with me - are you really just holding the quarter the whole time?" (in regards to pulling a quarter from her ear)

I have something important to tell you...puppy.

Medicated Traveling

I'm not a good flyer. I have to medicate - Xanax is my preferred method. Morgan is the same way. We had to fly quite a bit when our parents divorced and momma decided Alaska was a great transition...from Louisiana. Morgan and I would fly back and forth during the summer to visit Daddy, family and friends.

We did great on our flight to Alaska - Morgan had a fresh set of stitches on his forehead in the shape of a lightning bolt from a gash he received while playing baseball with a pipe. Of course this happened right around the beginning popularity of Harry Potter movies. Oh yeah, and he wore glasses. It was perfect. Two kids traveling alone across the country being stopped by strangers constantly. Piece of cake. We weren't traumatized at all.

Right before (the night before) we would be flying home for the summer that year Momma decided to take us to the cinema. "Oh, a film! Fantastic, what did you see?" Final Destination.

*blink*

We saw Final Destination. Why? Hell if I know! I felt fine after seeing it - it's just a movie for goodness sake.
Just. A. Movie. Yeah, it was "just a movie" until Morgan and I were headed to board the plane and I blacked out. Of course, I thought I blacked out. Actually I misplaced all of my shit and pushed everyone out of the way as I drug my poor brother through the crowd back to momma while screaming "We're all going to die probably!" Needless to say, no amount of coaxing could get me on that flight. I would like to take this moment to apologize to my step-dad Jack who at this point hadn't really seen anything like this and really acted honorably by sitting out of the way and pretending like he didn't know us. So, sorry.

We were put on the next flight - momma gave us some anti-anxiety medication. We woke up mid-flight and had the best meatloaf sandwich we had ever tasted. We still talk about it. So very good.

And that's why when we fly now we take a bit of anti-anxiety medication, we're adults so sometimes it is accompanied by whiskey. Don't judge, it's rude. (Note: this medication is prescribed to us - we do not advocate drug abuse or taking medication that does not belong to you or isn't prescribed. Drugs are bad. Also, drinking while taking medication is probably also bad. Consult your physician.)

Morgan is traveling right now for some fancy meeting for his job. He called me at 8:30 am. Here is a basic transcript of our conversations.

8:30am
A: Bueno (don't ask)
M: What time do the bars open at the airport?
A: I don't know...now?
M: Hmm...I'm going to check. They open at 10.
A: Wow. I feel like they should be open all the time.

9:00am
M: Okay, so I took half a xanax about an hour ago...when do I take the next half?
A: When do you board?
M: In like, 30 minutes.
A: Well, I usually just take a whole one an hour before then I sit at the gate, then when we board I stand up and can't feel my legs. That's how I know I'm okay.
M: Yeah, I like that but I need the half before I get to the airport.
A: I understand. You need to take the other half now.
M: Moment of truth - half or whole?
A: Half
M: Too late.

Then he boards - he calls me when he gets to his layover a few hours later.

A: How's that xanax treating you?
M: Well. I sat next to two old people on the flight - the wife wouldn't let me go pee because her husband was asleep.
A: Seriously? It was 10 am, did he not sleep at nighttime like he was supposed to?
M: Also, I thought I saw Stanley Tucci in the bathroom...but it wasn't him. Upon further inspection the only similarities between this guy and Tucci was the bald head.

15 minutes later...

M: I've just learned, Adbbhell Jameson is really tall
A: Who?
M: A double Jameson. It's tall. And big.

Tall and big.