I know the perfect way to thank a Veteran for their service. But I don’t suggest you take my lead. It’s only perfect for me. Anyone who knows me knows it’s very fitting.
If you have one of those cars with the backup “beep beep” that goes off when there is something behind you, there is a reason for that. Because there is something behind you. And when it goes “beep beep” really really fast to the point where it’s a long continuous beeeeeeeepppp, then that means whatever is behind you is going down. In this case it was a flagpole. Believe me. I had fair warning. But who pays attention to that back up beeping thingy anyway?
It wasn’t funny. It really wasn’t. But when you have two 15 year old girls in the car laughing their asses off, it is. So, when I rang the doorbell to the house of the owner of this broken in half pole, with the flag sacrilegiously touching the ground, she opened the door to a laughing me. Hysterically laughing me. Like, cross my legs, I’m gonna pee, laughing me. But I didn’t really find it funny. Not really. At all.
Luckily, I know this woman. She’s really nice. But I don’t think she was too happy with me today. Can you blame her? I knocked down her beautiful flagpole. I friggin’ KNOCKED DOWN her flagpole. With my car. DH wasn’t too happy with me either. But he also wasn’t surprised. I can’t imagine why.
And Happy Memorial Day to everyone. Thank you to all the men and women who put their life on the line for our country.
And the next time my car beeps at me? I’ll stop and look. Maybe. Because last year I knocked down a mailbox in the same manner. I think I’ll just keep my car in the forward motion. I’m much better off. And so are all inanimate objects.
We took a very last minute, spur of the moment, spring break vacation last week. We went down south to visit my parents and spent a few days in Myrtle Beach, SC. Just the kid and I. Poor DH was stuck working. Poor, poor working stiff.
Here are some things I learned/discovered on our little get-away that I thought were important enough to share with all of you:
If it only fits 7 but they squeeze in 9, it’s not technically a “Limo.” Being a big-man sandwich is not my idea of a good time.
Just because a meal of 2 salads and 2 drinks at the airport costs $58, doesn’t mean it’s good. It just means I’m a sucker. Period.
It’s so much fun to play with the iPads in the airport terminal. Especially knowing that every germ from boogers, spit and who-knows-what-else from the 5,000 people per day who touch them is right at your fingertips.
LaGuardia bathrooms supply us with 1 ply toilet paper. But don’t worry. If you are going to Raleigh-Durham, you will get 2 ply. My butt thanks you, North Carolina. So does my hand.
No one else in the country seems to have spring break the same week as us. Which translates to having Zaxby’s all to ourselves. Totally and completely awesomeness.
Eating nail polish chips will not kill you.
My dad’s favorite attire consists of bathing shorts and crocks. Even if he is not going swimming. Dad, please keep that crap at home when you visit at Christmastime. Thank you very much.
Clarifying lotion does not remove eye makeup. But it will cause burning and tearing so don’t try this at home.
If you want to look at the ocean from a vantage point that puts you about 50 yards out over it, it will cost you a buck. And you can fish for your lunch. All for a buck. I’d say that beats my $58 salad. Wouldn’t you?
You can leave the state park anytime during the day to get yourself a bucket of fried chicken. I know this because they said so.
A low flying fighter jet is not a tsunami.
If everyone, and I mean EVERYONE, wears a bikini, why can’t I?
I don’t want to look at anyone’s thonged booty. I don’t care how young or cute it is.
2 year old sunscreen doesn’t work very well. Especially in the places where you don’t put it.
Contrary to what my mother believes, her english-dutch skin will not tan the first time it is exposed to the seasonal sun without protection. I know you were going for the Kardashian look, mom. Sorry it didn’t quite work out for you.
If you need a candy fix, wait until you can get to Walmart. Like the airport salad, just because a half pound of candy costs $7 doesn’t mean it’s good.
Myrtle Beach is indeed family friendly. There is a “Girls, Girls, Girls” establishment right next to putt-putt golf.
The next time an airline tells you that the flight is overbooked and ask that you give up your seat, don’t believe them. They are just using you.
You probably shouldn’t buy a gift that has a pointy end and then try to bring it on a plane. Security could quite possibly think you will use it to gauge someone’s eyes out.
I believe I may need therapy to get over my $58 salad.
Aside from my salad, our trip was very nice. But if you see me in a bikini this summer with a bucket of fried chicken, blame the southerners. They said I could.
There is a house around the corner from us. It’s a really cute one level ranch. I’ve always liked it. The problem is, it goes on the market every year or two. In the 11 years we’ve lived here, it’s changed hands half a dozen times. Rumor has it that it’s haunted. And I believe it.
I love haunted houses. I think that they are totally cool. Not in the Amityville kind of way. That’s disturbing. But if Casper haunted my house, I’d totally be down with it. Which leads me to my story.
I have an aunt who passed away a few years ago. The kid and I drove up for her funeral. It was in upstate New York. In Osh-kosh-b’gosh land. There was this really cute old village in the middle of town where I booked a hotel. I believe it was the only hotel around. It was so old, you literally used a real key to open the door to your room. If you lost that key, you were pretty much screwed. There was no swiping of a card and getting a new one.
We checked in at around 3:00 in the afternoon, then went to the funeral home for the wake. We had dinner with some family then had to get back to the hotel by 10pm before the lobby closed.
It was about 9:45 when we pulled into a spot directly in front of the hotel. I pulled out the key and the kid asked if she could hold it. I said, “sure, but please be careful and don’t lose it.” She was a very responsible child. And anyway, what could happen?
She lost it. Literally 20 seconds after I handed it to her, it was gone. I completely freaked out on her. It was late, I was tired, it was an emotional day. So, I lost my patience. She started crying. And I was pissed.
Even though it was dark and late, I ripped everything that wasn’t bolted down out of the car. I looked between the seats, under the seats, behind the seats. I got out the flashlight from the glove compartment and got on my hands and knees. I literally crawled under and around the car looking for that ever-loving key.
At this point it’s just about 10 o’clock. We called it quits and went inside in hopes there was another key available. We would continue our search in the morning, in the daylight. After apologizing profusely, the clerk handed me another one. He had a sly look on his face. I thought it was weird because he didn’t even comment, he just looked at me strangely. The guy kind of creeped me out.
The next morning, we went out to start our search again. We even got some family members who were staying there in on the act. Again, we ripped everything out, searched high and low, in and out. We couldn’t find it. I was completely perplexed. That damn key was no where.
When I went to check out, I told the clerk (who is a woman this time) how sorry I was that we lost the key and that I would pay to have a new one made. She just looked at me and laughed. She said not to worry because “they” like to play games with the patrons who stay there. Specifically with the keys.
Legend has it that a woman jumped to her death from a top floor balcony in the 1800’s and her spirit haunts the hotel. Along with some others. There is also a little boy. And he likes to mess with the guests. My aunt, who was staying in the room next door, said she had an encounter as well. Apparently they also like to play with people’s showers.
We had that car for a couple more years after that incident. Before we sold it, we had it detailed. Thoroughly detailed. The key never showed up. Ever.
Look you nay-sayers, I can see you rolling your eyes. But how is it possible that a key get that lost in a matter of seconds? And stay lost. Forever. It’s just too weird. And I like my little ghost story. It’s the only one I have. So I’m keeping it.
I live in the NorthEast. Last week we had 50 degree weather. It was awesome. I took my walks with no coat, ate lunch on the sidewalk of New York City and drove with my windows open.
I am currently looking out my window. They said there would be snow. Mixed with ice. And sleet. And I’m thinking this is all a cruel joke. It’s as if winter is mocking us.
I know I’m being a total ingrate. Last winter it barely snowed at all. Well, if you don’t count October. But technically that isn’t winter. If we didn’t have October, the kids would have gotten out of school on the original last-day-of-school date. Or pretty damn close to it. Stupid October.
If I sound bitter, that’s because I am. I’m tired of the teases. It’s worse than the proverbial dangling carrot. I’m on a diet. So I will compare it to someone putting a plate full of nachos with oozy cheese and greasy beef piled high with sour cream and a pitcher of margaritas with a salt shaker in front of me knowing I can’t touch it (ok, shouldn’t touch it — we all know I probably would). It’s cruel and unusual.
Didn’t the groundhog say spring was coming early? I think Phil needs to die with Old Man Winter. Sorry animal lovers. I do mean it in a joking way. So don’t get all PETA on me. Thanks and don’t remove your snow tires yet. You’ll be needing them.
I was bored during the storm today. I figured I probably should try to actually do something before I developed hemorrhoids from sitting on the couch for too long. So, I decided to google what to do during a blizzard. Here were the top 10 suggestions and why they just weren’t going to work out for me:
1) Shovel – that’s what I have a husband for.
2) Build a snowman – that’s what I have a kid for.
3) Sit by the fire – Since the kindling is buried in half a foot of snow, that doesn’t appear to be happening.
4) Go sledding – I like my head in one piece, thank you very much. Besides, I’ll probably just pee my pants. Watch out for the yellow snow! Sorry. I couldn’t resist.
5) Watch TV – No shit Sherlock. That’s why I’m googling what to do during a blizzard.
6) Go exploring – Do they think my name is Lewis? Or Clark? I don’t know. Do you see a resemblance?
What I saw at the grocery store on the day before the prediction of a major snow storm:
A parking lot that looks like the parking lot of the Staples Center before a Justin Bieber concert.
Half of America.
A truck spraying “de-icer” out of the back of it that smells like dog shit. No really. Dog Shit. I had to look at the bottom of my shoes before I realized where the smell was coming from.
An old Cadillac with the rearview mirror dangling, the windows wide open, and a large wagon attached to it that said “Red Flyer” on the side. I didn’t think they made them that big. He was parked on the curb. He must be one of those survivalist people. Dude, you’ll be able to get out of your house by Saturday, I’m sure of it.
A woman proclaiming in the loudest voice she could to her daughter how sick she was. “Cough, cough. I really don’t feel good. Hack, hack. I don’t feel like being here. Phlegm and sniff. ” All over the cucumbers. And cucumbers were on my list.
Something that sounded like a freight train in the isle next to the peanut butter. I was afraid to look.
Every single register was opened and the lines were snaking around into the isles. What was weird is that people were actually jolly. Hmm. Good for them. Keep your jolliness to yourself. I don’t want to see it.
A woman buying a 50 pound bag of dog food. In case she gets stuck in her house for 3 months. At least her dog will live. Unless her pup is willing to share.
Last but not least, me. I saw ME at the store. What the hell am I thinking? Going to the grocery store the day before the storm from hell is supposed to hit? I hate grocery shopping on a good day. I make fun of the people who go to the grocery store the day before a major storm. Well, I guess if I looked at the news more than once a year, I would have known and gone yesterday.
But It’s going to blow over. Want to know why? Because I was at the store buying enough shit to last my family and me a week. With half of America. That’s why. You can thank me later.
Eat more fruits and veggies – If you count wine as a fruit, then resolution partially achieved. If not, then….no.
Eat less – Actually I’ve stopped grazing like a damn cow all day. Ok, maybe I haven’t stopped exactly. Let’s just say I’ve decreased the grazing a bit. That is less, right?
Exercise more – I should rephrase that to say “exercise.” I went for a walk on January 30th. Unless I continue to do so, that would be a big fat N-O.
Lose weight – Since I basically failed at 3, 4 and 5, I guess it’s obvious what the answer is to #6.
About 3 years ago, I stopped making new year’s resolutions. Because this is what inevitably happens. I barely make it past day #1. I guess because my list looks about the same every year and let’s face it, this girl likes her food. And more than 1/2 of my resolutions pretty much involve food or the act of reducing food.
But this year was going to be different. I was so sick of walking by those damn store mirrors and catching a glimpse of myself and being startled because that woman looks like me but couldn’t possibly be. What I really should have as a resolution is to stop looking at myself in store mirrors. Stupid store mirrors. Those suckers ought to make us look like we lost 10 pounds, not gained 10 pounds.
So, instead of tossing the entire list out the window, I am going to start again today. I’ll let you know how I’m doing in a month. Do Bloody Mary’s count as a veggie?
As part of my Christmas present this year, my dad transferred all of our family video from when the kid was born to present onto DVD. What a great gift. I couldn’t wait to start watching them.
So, on Christmas morning after we opened our gifts and had our traditional Christmas breakfast, DH, the kid, my parents, my mother-in-law and I sat down to watch a couple of them before the day got too crazy. It was a very relaxing morning and I was relishing every moment. Until we got about 12 minutes into Video #3.
Let me set the stage: It’s Christmas 2000. The kid is 2 1/2 years old. She is coming down the stairs and my husband is capturing her reaction to all the presents Santa left for her under the tree. Priceless.
Allow me to fast forward…
ME: Ok, let’s open the last one over here (crackling of ripping paper). Do you know what it is?
ME: It’s your very own vanity table so that when mommy is putting on her makeup you can put on yours! See, it’s got a curling iron, a blow job, make up, a mirror that lights up….
Wait a minute, back up the truck. Did I say…”Blow JOB???” Yup, leave it to me to turn our G-Rated family video into an X-Rated one. All I wanted to do was run into the middle of the road and pray for an 18 wheeler to put me out of my misery.
The funny part is, DH even laughed in the video and told me what I said. I completely denied it. His response was that he had it on video. Quite unfortunate for me, I never checked.
What did I learn from this? Don’t allow extended family to watch old video without pre-screening them first. I found out the hard way…
Have you ever done something even when your gut told you not to? Yeah, well, that is my life. But yesterday was one of those days when I really should have listened to my gut, mostly because it was my “gut” that was going to suffer.
New Year’s Eve. An evening that is shared with very good friends. An evening that has been a tradition for years. As I was running around in the afternoon picking up dessert and champagne for our traditional evening with our friends, I decided to stop into a McDonald’s drive through for a wee little cheeseburger and small soda (stop judging me, it was just a SMALL). You know, something to hold me over because Lord knows the 20 tons of appetizers that I was to be ingesting in less than 4 hours just wasn’t enough.
The traffic was a bear. I was having a hard time making a left into the parking lot. I was behind schedule on my errands. I’m supposed to be eating better. There goes that voice again, “No Mo, Not A Good Idea.” Oh screw the voice. I’m hungry dammit and besides I’m not starting my diet until tomorrow.
One hour and one toilet later, me and my gut were still running, but not in the way you are thinking. I will refrain from describing what was coming out of me. Let’s just say it definitely wasn’t rainbows and unicorns. So, was it the burger or the ice? I don’t know but the regret monster was working double time. My bad decision ran through me (pardon the pun) like a freight train on crack and in a short 3 hours I was ready to party.
Guess what was the first thing I did to ring in the new year? Perhaps it was the vodka. Was there ice in it?