Oh My Gawd Really

So, as I was talking about Britney’s vajayjay…

2009-07-03T14:05:39Z

Yes, you read that correctly. Yes, I mean Britney Spears. Yes, I mean her vagina. Let me explain. God, please, let me explain.

So, my son Matt and I are on messenger yesterday morning, and our already stimulating conversation turns to us ‘talking’ with a twangy Britney Spears accent (because, duh, you can hear it just by looking at the typed words) and making fun of the concert incident, in which Spears told her audience inadvertently (she thought her mic was turned off) that her ‘pussa was hangin’ out,’ and that sounds like something I made up, but it’s not. That is Spears’ gold, I tell ya. Oh, and the other incident where she had a very visible string hanging from her nether regions, which honestly, doesn’t surprise me all that much coming from Britney, but doesn’t she have people to check for that sort of thing? She does have people, right? Right.

Anyway, as we are both mocking what Britney said, and of course adding a few extra words in just for fun, Matt stops talking to me. I’m like where did he go? Then my convo box reveals that Matt is typing but holy hell, he’s writing a novel because nothing is popping up on his end of the conversation except I still see Matt is typing. What is he writing about? Then it became quite apparent. He had not been typing, he had been drawing. Yes, on MSN messenger you have a little pencil icon and it lets you freehand with the mouse. Um, well, after we were mocking Brit Brit’s “Oh ma gawd, ma pussa’s hangin’ out y’all,” he comes up with this:

I, of course, was appropriately ~~laughing my ass off~~ grossed out, shocked ~~so proud of~~ at my son’s ability to be ~~artsy~~ disgusting and as you can see, I let him know by typing ‘um, ewww!!!!,’ that ~~secretly I was dying inside of laughter~~ he went over the line.

So, as you can see, Matt and I have very intellectual conversations on messenger.

Happy Friday, y’all!

Jon and Kate are renewing their vows!!!!!!!!!!

2009-06-22T03:36:44Z

Jon and Kate Gosselin are divorcing! Jon and Kate aren’t divorcing! Jon and Kate are going to couple’s therapy! No, wait, Jon and Kate are renewing their wedding vows!

I don’t know what the big announcement will be on Monday’s Jon & Kate Plus 8, (OMG Y’all, I’m soooo excited!) but there are a few things that perhaps we’ve overlooked since we are all convinced it must be D.I.V.O.R.C.E.

Here are the top ten other possibilities:

1. Toys R Us will be stocking their shelves with the new Kate Gosselin “Barbie” doll. She will come with hand sanitizer, perfectly manicured nails, have a tan, a clipboard full of ‘to do’ lists, a slight scowl, and of course have Kate’s signature coiffure.

2. Jon found his balls and wants to C.E….L.E…B.R.A.T.E. good times, come on!

3. Mady and Cara are fed up with the sextuplets getting all of the attention and have decided to strike.

4. Kate is pregnant but Jon isn’t the baby daddy. And no, it’s not Kate’s bodyguard either. They’ll spend at least 12 episodes trying to figure out who the father is (hint: could be Emeril Lagasse).

5. Jon found his balls (see # 2) but Kate stomped on them but good and they’ll permanently hang on the hook beside the door. FOREVER. Don’t even think about taking those off the hook, buddy. She’ll cut you.

6. Jon begs “American Chopper” dudes to adopt him and he’ll clean their shop for free, every.single.day. if they never tell Kate where he is. They hide Jon in Mikey’s facial hair. He’s never seen again.

7. Kate agrees to let Jon continue to see 23-year-old women, but he has to make sure it doesn’t conflict with her tanning and nail sessions, because one of them must be home with the children while the other is out.

8. Jon and Kate have decided to invite the Duggars over for a barbecue.

9. Kate is going to give Octomom her hairstylist’s name and number.

10. Kate has written a book titled “How To Ruin Your Marriage In 15 Easy Episodes Of Reality TV.” Jon also wrote a book called “How To Lose Your Balls In 8 Easy Episodes & Pick Up Hot Twenty-Three Year Olds In 12.”

Seriously, I do want a happy ending. Ha, who am I kidding? No, really, I do. Honestly. Stop making me laugh, dammit. I do, I really, really do.

Tag team vomiting! Squeeeee….!!!

2009-06-18T02:12:22Z

Yes, you have seen that photo before. You are seeing it again because I’ve had the pleasure of cleaning up vomit since both my youngest son and daughter, were violently ill.

They woke early Monday morning, as in 4:00 a.m., spewing things no person should ever have to see, smell, clean up, try to forget about. I’m quite certain there are worse things in this life to have to deal with, however, when one is in the midst of a vomit storm, one does not care what others may or may not be dealing with.

I was able to go back to sleep for about an hour or so because my husband got up and dealt with the bulk (bad choice of word) of the situation but once he left for work, my day consisted of trying to sit on my ass to work but having very little success.

My children proceeded to tag team vomit ALL. DAY. LONG. and I know I’m probably sharing too much with you, but hey, that’s what friends do. SHARE.

They are both much better now, thank you. I’m hoping beyond hope that I do not get what they had, because let me tell you (ya, I just did), it was not pretty. And not for the faint of heart.

Top 5 Ways To Give Your Family A Heart Attack.

2009-06-12T14:13:51Z

I love Top 5 Lists. Hell, I love Top 10 Lists, too, but I’m sticking to five. I’m lazy.

Here are the top five ways to give your family a heart attack. Be sure to have cpr training, just in case.

5. Sit them down and tell them you are pregnant. Not to heart attack inducing, right? Your husband had a vasectomy 10 years ago (sure, but sometimes they don’t completely take care of things… but…) and you had your uterus removed 15 years ago. And your tubes. And your ovaries. Oh, ya, now it’s an omigosh, I’m going to have a stroke kind of situation.

4. Tell them you met someone “online” and their nickname is ‘Bubba’ and he makes his living recycling beer bottles. So, right? You happen to be a nun. Nurse, get me the paddles, stat!

3. Tell your family you have sold your home and are making a “big move.” Big, freakin’ deal! Oh, but you’ve sold your current house for $1.89 (and threw in the furniture for good measure… including all of the antiques Aunt Bertha gave you, which you’re pretty sure were worth thousands, but it’s nice if someone outside of the family can enjoy them. You’re a giver, what can you say?). And you’re not moving into a new home, instead, you’re going to make a room at the Y your new living quarters, and to celebrate, you are going to host Thanksgiving dinner this year. Bring me the smelling salts, y’all.

2. Tell them you have sold your shares in the family business to Bubba (see # 4) and he paid you in empties, and are sinking all your remaining money in BETA video tapes, because you’re pretty sure they are going to be the next “big” thing. Dearly departed, we gather here today…

1. Move 3000 miles away from home, across the country, and six years goes by before you know it. Plan a trip back, but don’t tell anyone and just show up at their doors and surprise the shit out of them, thus inducing heart attacks and/or strokes, or at the very least, some fainting. OMG, is that really you? Get out! No way! OMG, look who’s here!

That’s exactly what I did last week – surprised my family members after six years of being away, but luckily, there was not a single heart attack or stroke! There was definite shock and the looks on their faces, priceless. It was so fun, but tiring. I functioned on about 2 or 3 hours sleep each night and with the time difference, it’s a wonder I didn’t have a stroke. Ha.

Would you dig in a smelly bag of trash for a silver ring?

2009-04-07T00:05:53Z

Would you dig in a disgusting, smelly bag of garbage for a silver ring? And yes, there really is a ring in there – not a trick question – so would you?

I’m asking for a particular reason – see, I have to do just that. I have this really pretty heart-shaped silver ring with a tiny diamond in the center of the heart and I took it off the other day and was going to put it in the adorable jewelry box my best friend gave me, but no, I was lazy and just set it inside the cabinet over the island in the kitchen, which wouldn’t be a big deal. That cabinet doesn’t get opened often, so really, it could have sat there for days – weeks even – without incident. However, my husband wanted me to make a call for him today, and I needed a piece of paper and a pen to write some numbers down, and where is the paper and pens? Yep, in that cabinet, which I opened the door, and when I reached for the notepad, I set off a paper avalanche, and that in turn knocked the ring off the shelf in the cabinet, and it bounced onto the island and plop, into the open garbage bag that doesn’t normally sit on the floor by the island but I was cleaning out my fridge and pantry and disposing of items no longer safe for human consumption, that really, could probably pass for science experiments.

That sure was a long, rambling sentence, for which I do apologize but I didn’t want to lose my momentum. Plus, I’m stalling. The garbage bag full of gross garbage (not that there is garbage that isn’t gross) is smelling up my house and my ring is sitting in there somewhere – I’m guessing at the very bottom of the bag – and I know if I want my pretty ring back, I must dig through that bag, but I’m nauseous just thinking about it. One plus though – I do have a wicked-ass cold, so my sense of smell is not quite a hundred percent, which will work in my favor. However, my cold has not affected my eyesight, so I’ll see the grossness, which in turn will probably make me puke.

Wish me luck – I’m goin’ in.

*Edit* I found it – less than five minutes of garbage picking. *Insert gagging noise here*

Two weeks of vomit & 8,000 loads of laundry.

2009-03-18T21:26:53Z

My washer and dryer have been my best friends for the last two weeks. My youngest son was sick and missed a lot of school. He, however, didn’t miss the bathroom floor, the walls, the carpet and his bed. When he’s sick, it’s worse than usual because of his sensory and tactile issues.

When he was an infant and toddler, he would vomit 25 times a day or more – a lot of things would set him off. The way something felt on his skin, if he got a hair on his hand, touching his bare feet on the grass, a certain noise – you name it, he’s probably puked because of it. Even now, as a kid of almost 13, he can still have episodes of vomiting without much provocation, although it’s way less frequent now. So, when he’s sick and puking from a stomach virus, he gets grossed out that he’s thrown up, thus making him throw up some more. See where I’m going with this? Ya, welcome to my world for nearly 14 days.

He finally went back to school on Tuesday but still wasn’t 100%. He was pale and although his fever had gone, he said he still felt “funny.” He sometimes has a hard time articulating what exactly is wrong with him, so I have to play 20 questions with him to get a sense of what he’s feeling. That’s not always fun either. I get a lot of ‘I don’t knows’ lemme tell you. But, it’s been a little over 24 hours since he barfed, which makes me happy for him and happy for me and I’m sure my washer and dryer thank me, too. His appetite isn’t back to normal, but then his eating habits aren’t normal either, so it’s just another version of what are we going to feed the kid today? That’s another whole post, for which I’ll regale you with at a later time.

My kids will be done school tomorrow and then be home for the next ten days – spring break is here. Can’t wait, yay, horror… I mean hooray, I can’t wait to hear my daughter tell me how bored she is 350 times a day. So excited! Luckily, my son is very good at keeping busy and I don’t think I’ve ever heard him say he’s bored, so that’s a plus. And I can sort of sleep in, which will be nice. So, I guess spring break isn’t all bad. Mostly torture for parents, but it has some good points – well, two. Sleeping in and not rushing around at the ass crack of dawn.

Let’s hope the break is barf free. Thx.

JLo makes my chest glitter.

2009-03-14T00:10:43Z

So, ya, can’t believe I’m going to admit this to the ~~five people~~ thousands who adore me, but here goes.

A few weeks ago, I was shopping and wanted to buy some new perfume. I like having different options – sort of like my obsession with handbags, you know, you want different looks for different days of the week and so forth. Same goes for scent – some days you may want to smell flowery, others, you may want to smell like onions. You get my drift.

I see all sorts of fragrance bottles – Paris Hilton even has her own stink (that’s for you Karl) and as I’m browsing, looking at all of the choices before me, something catches my eye. It’s in a black box with a sparkling silver cover. It’s JLo’s “Glow” and surprisingly, it smelled nice. In the box, besides the perfume, there was a purse-sized roll-on “JLo Glow After Dark” and scented cream. It was reasonably priced, so I bought it.

Later that evening, we were going out for supper and after I showered, I decided I’d wear my new perfume and try out the cream. I am a freak about moisturizing and hope to have subtle skin well into my 80s. Sure, I’m probably delusional, but that’s another story. I rub the cream all over my neck, chest, arms and legs (and maybe other areas, but this is not that kind of post) and spray some of the perfume. I decided to wear a semi-low cut blouse (not trashy, because I don’t do slutty and my kids, particularly my grown sons, would be terribly grossed out. Pam Anderson’s fashion sense I do not have), put on my pants, jewelry, and I’m ready. Of course I’m making it sound like it was a time frame of about five minutes, but technically, it was more like 2 hours. What can I say? I’m a girlie wench.

We arrived at the restaurant, and while we’re waiting to be seated, I take off my coat. I’m sitting there, minding my own damn business, when one of my adult sons, clears his throat and says:

I don’t mean to be creepy and I wasn’t looking, but it’s kind of hard not to notice – why is your cleavage glittering?

My cleavage is glittering?

Yeah.

Um, seriously?

Yeah.

My family starts laughing. Not sure how I didn’t notice my chest glittering before we left, but somehow I missed it. I looked down and yup, I was covered in glitter. All over my arms, hands, neck, chest and boobage area. Luckily, I was wearing pants and shoes, so at least my legs and feet were saved from the embarrassment.

When we got home, I checked the cream container and sure enough, it reads ‘night glow body lotion’ which apparently means CONTAINS A SHITLOAD OF GLITTER. The ‘night glow’ must mean, when you’re in a low-lit area such as the restaurant we were in, the glitter really pops out. Needless to say, I was slightly horrified.

Did I throw it out? Hell no, I’m wearing it again tonight. That’s the way I roll folks, that’s the way I roll.

Thank you, Jennifer Lopez, for making my chest glitter.

Octomom Top Ten Porn Movie Titles

2009-03-04T05:56:19Z

I’m bored and decided I should probably write another post about Octomom Nadya Suleman – because you know, I don’t write enough about her at work, so why not stick a post in here as well?

Suleman was offered, by porn distributors Vivid Entertainment, to do some on-camera action and for a cool million clams (ew, pun not intended but hey, sorta fits). Nadya turned them down. I doubt there are many wanting to see her naked but there are freaks out there, so it’s possible.

I’ve decided to write my own top ten porn titles – you know, in the event she changes her mind and Vivid needs some snappy titles. These may or may not make sense – if you know the story of Octomommy, then you’ll get it, if you don’t, you’re lucky.

# 10 – I’ll Take Eight, But Fourteen Is Better

# 9 – OctoNude: My Lips Are Real

# 8 – Road Trip: To My Vajayjay

# 7 – I’ll Show You My X-tra Skin If You Show Me Yours

# 6 – Naked Nadya – I Keep Coming Back For More

# 5 – It’s Been 8 Years, I Need 8 Inches (But I’ll Settle For Less)

# 4 – Eye Candy: C-Section Scars Are In

# 3 – MILF On Welfare: Food Stamp Lovin’

# 2 – Afternoon Quickie (Hurry Up Dude, I have 14 Kids)

# 1 – The Womb Raider (I’m An Angelina Wannabe)

I’m sure Vivid will be calling me.

My 15 minutes of fame: I was on Dateline!

2009-02-12T05:38:09Z

So, last night as I’m surfing the web, I get a comment (comes in my email) on one of my work-related stories – read, “Holy cow, Sassy! The masthead for this site, plus this headline and your byline made the interview with Ann Curry on Dateline tonight.” I’m thinking, huh? I had no clue what this person was talking about – but I soon would.

My husband and I had started watching the Dateline special with Ann Curry and her interview with crazy octuplet mom Nadya Suleman, but he switched the channel after about five minutes. I didn’t care much since I’d written 98 stories about her for work (okay, not 98, but seems like that) so, if I didn’t read, see or hear another word about the woman for 2 minutes, then that was fine. But still, curiosity got the better of me – what exactly did that commenter mean? Within a few minutes, my boss had emailed everyone and said we were on Dateline – what? It was going to come on again at 11 p.m. so I waited patiently for two hours for it to air again.

For 120 minutes, I twiddled my thumbs and ate clementines. Oh and a banana. And I think I drank a bottle of water. I forget. Anyway, that’s boring – on to the exciting shiznat. Finally, eleven o’clock rolls around and we settle down to watch Dateline – and at about 45 minutes past the hour, there it was – Famecrawler’s header and MY POST about Octo-mom being a possible Angelina Jolie wannabe on the TV. On Dateline. On the TV on Dateline. What-the-freak-ever. You get the picture – as in TV picture screen – the pun fun doesn’t end around here. I aim to please. Screen shots:

The video is below, if it’s not embedding properly, click HERE to see it – you know, if you care or have a couple of minutes to waste while at work, or you’re just bored or you’re hungry but you have no snack food, and all that you can do to keep your mind off of your chocolate craving is to watch some chick who blogs about her 15 minutes of fame, which technically is about 2.2 seconds of fame and not exactly fame since no one really knows who the hell she is, but you know what I’m saying. If you’re not sure what I’m saying, let me clarify – I need a bowl of ice cream.

Whatevs. It’s at about the 1:26 mark. For God’s sake, don’t blink. Yes, that’s how long my 15 minutes lasted – a blink. Enjoy.

Visit msnbc.com for Breaking News, World News, and News about the Economy

My 3rd grader – the smut reader.

2009-02-05T04:51:21Z

Okay, so smut isn’t a word I normally use and I’m certainly no prude, however, when it comes to what my 8-year-old child should be reading, well there’s a limit.

My daughter is very smart, sometimes wise beyond her years. She’s recently become intrigued by real-life ghost stories, and loves reading books on the subject.

I’m sure many of you are familiar with the author R.L. Stine and his children’s horror books – Goosebumps and Fear Street. My grown sons used to read them (Goosebumps) and watch the shows on TV. Well, for Christmas a family member bought my daughter a “ghost story” book, knowing how much she loves reading them. I saw the book at a glance, saw that it was by R.L. Stine, and my daughter opened the front page which had a nice note to her from the family member, telling her to enjoy the “ghost stories.” She’s been reading it for the past few days – she’s a strong reader and seemed to be enjoying it.

Fast forward to tonight. My son Matt comes over for a visit and he sits down at the dining room table, where I’m seated, as well as my daughter. He picks up the book and asks whose book it is. I tell him and said, “remember, she got it for Christmas?” He doesn’t really, but he’s 21 – he’s not going to remember what his little sister got for presents. Anyway, he asks if she’s enjoying the book – she said, yes. He opens the book and starts to read. Within seconds, he starts coughing, choking almost and asks me if I’ve seen the book?

Well, sort of. Read the note to Maddy. Why?

Uh, ya, but have you read the book?

No, why? It’s a ghost stories book, not really my thing.

Um, I don’t think it’s a ghost stories book.

Why do you say that?

He reads part of page one, the prologue, to me:

“The guy beside her stirs. She hears him muffle a burp.

His after-dinner burp, Charlotte thinks bitterly. I was dinner.

The blinds rattle as a gust of air sweeps over the bed. Fresh and cool. Charlotte sighs. The apartment smells so sour. Fried onions. Stale smoke.

Do you smoke? she asks, staring up at the shadowy bars, the cool air tingling her damp skin.

No. That was steam coming out of my ears. He makes a joke. Then he adds, You were great.

You weren’t, she thinks.

You were heavy. I thought you were going to crush me. And what were the ridiculous walrus cries at the end?”

OH.MY.GAWD. My daughter’s been reading an ADULT novel! It’s not a ghost stories book at all, oh no, not at all. But, it gets worse.

As my eyes are bugging out of my head and Matt and I are looking at each other, he flips ahead a few pages, starts reading page four. I thought his eyes would pop out of their damn sockets. He hands me the book and says, “read from where it says Charlotte.” I do. I thought I was going to have a stroke.

Here’s what it read:

“Charlotte?

She turns. He’s propped all the pillows behind him. Rests his head back against his hands, elbows out. Smiles.

Nice smile, she thinks. But a saleman’s smile.

Well… he sold me.

Uh… Charlotte? Before you leave? … uh…

She lowers her tights. Yeah?

Before you leave… How about a blow job, maybe?

I don’t think so, John. I’ve got chapped lips.”

This is the part where I did have a stroke.

The next few pages talk about Charlotte and, then, she’s murdered by some serial killer. Super.

I’m sure it’s a great book – seriously, I might even read it, but uh, it’s really not third-grade reading material. Just sayin’. My daughter won’t be reading any more of the book – at least not for another 10 years. And I’m just waiting for the questions that I KNOW are coming my way.