Sunday, July 31, 2011

A bug is a bug.

I woke up at 4am. I have no idea why. Maybe it was those 5 beers I drank, maybe my body hates me. Maybe I forgot what a sunset looks like. At any rate, here I am.

It is now 5am and I have decided to blog. Because what else are you going to do at 5am but talk about yourself to yourself?

When I was little, I liked to play with rolly pollies. What kid doesn't? BUT- when I was young, we called them potato bugs. Anybody else? I thought that when people called them rolly pollies it was some new-agey conspiracy. It's a potato bug, People! A pox on them! I would stand my ground, and call them Potato Bugs.

This is an actual potato bug.
Also known as the Jerusalem Cricket.

These are some sort of beetle.
Also called a potato bug.

Tasty huh?

I pulled this info from wikipedia:
Jerusalem crickets, also called "potato bugs" are a group of large, flightless insects of the genus Stenopelmatus. They are native to the western United States and parts of Mexico.
Despite their names, Jerusalem crickets are a distinct lineage within the Orthoptera, separate from crickets (eg Gryillidae), are not native to Jerusalem, and they do not prefer potatoes for food. Active usually at night, the insects use their strong mandibles to feed primarily on dead organic material but can also eat other insects.[2]Their highly adapted feet are used for burrowing beneath moist soil to feed on decaying root plants and tubers.

THEY DON'T EVEN EAT POTATOES!!! They don't hang out with potatoes, they don't look like potatoes...
Also, we all know wikipedia can lie so I'm not hanging my hat on that answer.

THIS is what I remember a potato bug being. 

And that lying son-of-a-bitch wikipedia agrees!    But how can you have 2 VERY different bugs, with the same name?  Well, probably the same way people share the same names. A name is a name.  "A rose by any other name would smell as sweet" ~ Bill Shakespeare  (look, when you know the guy as well as I do, you call him Bill)
Only in this case it's not a rose, it's a bug. and it does't smell sweet, it scares the living crap out of you if you see it on the ground. (the former, not the latter)

Circus Bugs!

So there you have it. 2 VERY different bugs. One common name. 
Will I see the error of my ways and stop calling it a potato bug? Meh, probably not. It still is, after all- technically, called a Potato bug. 
My daughter calls them "polly pollies"  so if anything.... I'll end up calling it that. (because awesome parenting means enforcing poor speech habits because it sounds just so darn cute)
Potato, pah-tah-to. Whatever. The point is... it's 5:30am and I'm awake, dammit. 

This blog has been brought to you by the number 5  and the letter B.

For more funny shenanigens, check out this potato bug site. 
here is an excerpt :
Q: Why are potato bugs so ugly and frightening? Why do they look part human? Where did they come from?
A: The most widely held belief is that God didn’t create potato bugs. It was Satan’s work. And amongst evolutionists and non-religious types, the consensus is that potato bugs came from outer space.

Thursday, July 28, 2011

Ambien, Not for dessert

I took an Ambien last night before bed. It sort of reminded me of this one time I tried mushrooms in the fact that you sit there waiting for it to kick in. Once I started giggling at the things I was thinking Big Daddy says "you're wasted, it kicked in. Now stop laughing and go to bed".
So yes, I slept great. Unfortunately when I woke up there was no coffee. Apparently, Big Daddy thought he would leave me a super, awesome, passive aggressive hint that we were out of coffee. Like leaving the coffee maker out with the empty, open coffee canister sitting right next to it.

1) I hate passive aggressive ANYTHING
2) I ignore passive aggressive hints 100% of the time

Anyway, that wasn't even a hint. The only hint I got was that he needs to pick up after himself a little better. Slob. (that's funny because he is anal about cleanliness) ((I love using the word anal and referring to him in the same sentence. it just makes me giggle. Also, I can not say he is OCD because he was never diagnosed by a doctor. [that's a passive aggressive hint to those people]))

So it's noon, and I'm still in bed. I'm going to pick up a coffee on the way to the pool.
I love having self sufficient kids who can feed and entertain themselves. =)  Makes my job so much easier.

I'm Popular

You know.... people read my blog. If you're reading this, than that includes you. I thought it was mostly moms that read my blog. This is not so. Companies read my blog. Companies with PRODUCTS. Oh yes. Believe it. Now, most of the products I don't find to be a great fit for my reader, here's how I figure it out.  I think of it like this.... "Would I use this product?" and I go from there. Now I'm not saying that ALLLL the companies have bad products. I'm sure most of them are quite nice.  But listen, send me something about food and/or cocktails and you've peaked my interest.  So somebody heard my mental plea.

I received a cookbook.

Shocking. I know. If you guys follow me on facebook you know how much I love food porn. Well expect MORE now.

So now, dear readers.... I shall send glorious praise to the Author.   His name is Chef Jeff, and the book is called "DinneRevolution, healthy and modern recipes made simply with 10 items or less, in under 30 minutes"    

Go check him out and get YOUR, very own, FREE COPY 

 "His recipes are mouth watering." ~ Home C.E.O.  (ok, ok, you won't see that on the cookbook... but you will see it on my blog!)

There's poultry, seafood, beef, vegetarian, and sides. Something for everyone.

Quinoa stuffing, Moroccan carrots, baked pork chops with caramelized onions etc, etc, not to mention chicken cheddar sticks. Look it up. I DARE your kid not to eat THAT.

So, the recipes call for things we already have on hand, using techniques we already know, and introducing us to a new veggie, a new spice... here and there. The food IS healthy and plenty fresh. That being said... it's easy to see how you'll find them so delicious.

You can come back and thank me later....

Thursday, July 21, 2011

True Story

Normally I don't really like writing stories about my kids. I especially don't like reading stories about OTHER people's kids. Am I wrong? I'm sure there are some of you out there who feel the same. Nobody thinks our kids are as funny/cute/smart as we do. That being said, I'm going to tell you a story about my kids.

Yesterday was their yearly doctor's check up. I told them the doctor was just going to look at them, listen to their heart, and make sure they're eating healthy. As we pulled into the parking lot, my daughter screams "IT'S THE SHOT DOCTOR!!!!!"

I had to reassure her that they would not be getting shots today. It was just a healthy check up. I gave them my word. (can you see where this is going?)

Their shots were not up to date. The doctor asked me if I was sure I wanted to do it today, we could always make another appointment. YEAH RIGHT. "We're here now, let's do it."
Once he left I sat my children down and got very serious with them. I explained the situation. As expected, my daughter screamed bloody murder while my son sat stone still.

fast forward through all the crying and screaming....
My son went first... SCREAMING.  I tried to calm him down. Of course that DIDN'T work. So I said, "do you want to watch?"
For some miraculous reason this worked. He calmed down, and held very still. He watched all 4 shots. Didn't cry..... Until it was all over. Then he FLIPPED out. He said he didn't want to watch his sister do it, and that he wanted to go wait in the waiting room and he was very upset.

So his sister was up next, and she was freaking out. She said "I only want one shot! ONE!"
So I said "ok, we'll do one shot and you can tell me what you thought of it"
One shot later, she said "that didn't hurt!" So the nurse took that as a green light and went ahead and did the following three. My daughter didn't even flinch. When she was all done her face lit up and she said "I did it! I didn't even know I was brave! Can we do more??"
I had no idea they were putting crack in vaccines these days.

On the drive home she said to me "Mom, thanks for getting me shots so I can be healthy"
She was thanking me. For shots. My son of course was looking at me like I was a lying bitch and pretty much held a grudge against me for the rest of the day.

So my pansy-ass child ended up being a warrior, and my silent hero ended up falling to pieces.

Who knew?

FYI- There is no magic word, no bribe, no promise of treats or swimming that will lessen the freak out of a child who knows a shot is only minutes/seconds away.  It's sort of like cliff jumping: despite the crying and screaming, you just have to do it.

P.S. My son was already diagnosed with autism before he ever had any vaccines. Suck on THAT Jenny McCarthy, you Bitch.

Friday, July 15, 2011

Blogger Fodder

Note to self: when you have nothing to blog about do one of two things.

  1. Go to a HIGHLY public place, with MANY people
  2. Read the celebrity smut sites

I did the first, I took my niece and my kids to the Boardwalk yesterday. (In my town it has rides, carnival games, over priced food, blah blah blah)  WOW. The people watching is fantastic. I mean, Fantastic. That's right, with a capital F. It's like, you should make up an I Spy list before you go. "I Spy.... a neck tattoo!! I Spy.... a camel toe!! I Spy....a nip slip! People are just CA-RAZEE.  Then there was also lots of awkward teens and many different ethnicities, which I love, but only if it's multiple ethnicities. It's looses it's feel of "diversity" when it's just one other race.

So here is a tidbit from yesterday. (There would have been more but the long day just totally fried my brain and memory)

I took my son to the rock climbing wall. Yay! He was tall enough. I started looking around my wallet for the $5 and they said "OK, does he weigh at least 50lbs?"
Hmmmmm, that's an excellent question. So I said "do you have a scale?"
They said "no, but if he doesn't weigh 50lbs he won't be heavy enough to come down."
They don't have a scale? Seriously? All the other rides have a stick that says they have to be that tall. They can't have a scale and a sign that says "you must weigh this much to ride this ride"? Are they using a trial and error method here? Honor system? Are we supposed to know in advance of something we didn't know we needed to know? Should I have brought a doctors note? What if I lied? What if I thought he was 50lbs but really, he was only 48lbs. Would I be the one who would have to climb up there and retrieve him? Would it cost ME $5 to do it? What if I enjoyed it, then would they charge me? How could they be sure I weighed enough to get him? They didn't have a scale!

I left feeling stupider for having such an idiotic exchange with these kids. 

Monday, July 11, 2011

Cranberry Cocktail

Soooooooooo good. So, so, so good. Try it. You'll LOVE IT.

Jewels by stella and dot.

youtube version here

Sunday, July 10, 2011

Does anybody have a tampon?

I normally don't like to write about the menses of women. It's personal and it's gross and nobody wants to hear about it.  That being said, I have story to tell you.
*you have been warned*

I had the good fortune of starting my cycle on Friday morning. I had to attend a 3 day conference starting that day. So that was, you know, AWESOME. All my tampons were in the glove box in the car, (no pun intended) so I figured I would grab them while I was driving to the conference. Well, Big Daddy ended up driving me and we took a different car. No tampons. I had plenty of pads, just no tampons. OK, no big deal. I can just pick up a box while I'm at the conference.

From the moment I stepped into the hotel it was a WHIRLWIND. Presentations, speakers, meetings, workshops, lunches.... it was madness. Every minute of the day was planned out for you.

No tampons.

Finally we got a break for lunch. I mad dashed to the bathroom. I will save you the details of what could have been mistaken as a crime scene. BONUS- I left my stash of pads at my seat at my table. Fortunately, at this conference there were 2,000 women present. The odds were pretty good that somebody would have something. Seeing how there was a line for the bathroom, I thought I would take that bet.   I opened my bathroom stall door and peeked my head out to the line. I blurted out "does anyone have a tampon? or a pad?"


Nobody. Had. Anything.

(This is why I don't gamble)


Not ONE pad or tampon.

What. The. Fuck. I thought we were all supposed to menstruate at the same time. Luckily for me I practice kegels everyday. I flexed, and ran to my table. Then ran to the back of the line at the bathroom. I was safe, and no damage was done.

At this particular  hotel they have feminine product dispensers in the bathroom. FOR FREE! Except, they were all empty.

The Period Gods hate me.

Wednesday, July 6, 2011

Don't encourage her

I know when my kid is crying. I can hear it. Even with the windows locked and doors bolted... I can still hear them crying when they're playing outside. I also know when they are fake crying, real crying, and emergency crying. I'm a mom like that.

So today while my two kids were outside playing,  my daughter started crying. I was inside mopping and knew the cry was just a ploy for help. I am not a sucker. I continued mopping.

THEN- I hear the neighbor guy asking "are you ok?" Great. Just Great. Why don't you go give a recovering alcoholic a shot of patron. Now my kid is screaming bloody murder because someone gave her the time of day. Lest I look like a bad parent I had to walk out there.

The guy sees me and considers it a 'tag in', so he leaves. I approach my wailing daughter and see that she has NO scratches on her body. Not a single mark. I silently curse the well-meaning neighbor. She's all "waaaaaa, my yeg.... it hurts....." I look at her leg, no marks there. I scan her body. she does have minimal chain damage on the opposite leg of which she is bemoaning. She doesn't even realize it's there. Thanks neighbor guy, thanks for enabling her. My 5 year old daughter who is addicted to attention, just got a hit from the neighbor.  Now whenever she bumps her elbow, scuffs a knee or bites a cheek she's going to scream at the highest decibel level she can reach because now, NOW, she knows it works.

"Neighborhood watch" my ass.

Saturday, July 2, 2011

A Vagina is like a Car

A Vagina is like a Car......

You need to keep it well lubed.

It's not safe to give rides to strangers.

You're careful not to get rear-ended.

You like the inside to smell nice.

You don't loan it to your friends.

You take it for regular maintenance.

If it has too many miles the value goes down, and nobody wants it.

You maintain the cleanliness of the undercarriage.

Regular waxing.

Your insurance doesn't cover other drivers.

You have the option of stick or manual in it.

Two words: glove box.

Oil changes are a bitch.

It's nice to air it out.

Unfortunately though, vaginas don't come with a manual.

Hot Days, Wet Pants

I went to the gym yesterday. No, that's not a joke. I actually went. It was a crappy morning and the only way to get rid of a crappy morning is to work out. So I did, and it was good.
I was immensely sweaty though and I still had errands to run. I was wearing black pants and knew that my crack was wet. I debated going home to change, but decided that would be too much work. I ended up turning on the seat heater thinking that would dry my pants.

Let me tell you here and now that seat heaters are not the same as blow dryers. Not even close. In fact, I think it made my butt so warm that it actually triggered MORE sweating. It's like the difference of a Louisiana swamp and warm coastal breezes. Apparently I was too high on endorphins to think clearly. The temperature outside was in the mid 70's and climbing.

So there I was, sitting in Trader Joe's parking lot with wet, and now, very warm workout pants on. My shirt was no where near being long enough to cover The Nile of Sweat on my ass.

Ordinarily I wouldn't care. People work out, they sweat, good for them. I happen to live in  a tourist trap and this weekend got off to an early start. Lots of people. Everyone. People I'll never see again. People I don't even know looking at my Nile of Sweat. I just couldn't bare the thought. I glanced around my car which I just cleaned out the day before. Nothing. But what's this? YES! A pair of jeans! Hallelujah.

If you follow me on Facebook you'll know that I am currently fighting a dilemma. Work out or buy new clothes. Which obviously means my clothes are shrinking. Even my once relaxed, boyfriend fit jeans. Now, take a pair of jeans that are shrinking, and squeeze a hot, sweaty body into them. Keep trying. You're going to be there a while. It was like, taking a sausage out of it's casing, and then trying to put it back in. Just with less spice, and equal amounts of fat.

It was not a pretty sight. Not to mention the fact that I was in the back of my van (Yes! Saved by the huge vastness of the van backseat)  It was a STRUGGLE. It could have been an olympic event. I eventually got them on though. But then once they were on, zipped AND button, I then had the added bonus of trying to stick the pockets back in. Oh, and don't forget, I still had to WALK in them. My gym sweat, was now mixing with hot day sweat.... in tight jeans.....

Now, the worst, WORST part of this story? I forgot I had baby powder in the car. I could have saved myself so much of a struggle.

I'm going to the gym today, and everyday until my "relaxed" jeans are actually "relaxed" and not fitting me like I've put them in a hostage situation.