Note to Self:

Things you will NEVER hear me say

noreply@blogger.com (NTS) — Fri, 01 Feb 2013 20:17:00 +0000

"I can't wait to get to Susie's scrapbooking party! I am SO looking forward to making a new page about our Saturday afternoon spent cleaning out closets!"

"I just don't think I can finish this glass of wine."

"No, I'm sorry, my kid can't come to your house for a sleepover."

"You didn't make coffee this morning? Okay, no problem, I'll just skip it for today."

"Yes, I just picked this bag up from the monogramming shop."

"Man! I really wish somebody would have an afternoon, girls only party at their house this weekend. I am fresh out of jewelry, purses, wickless candles, wrapping paper and skin care products!"

"I can't wait until it gets colder outside!"

"My besties and I are headed to the bead show."

"Sorry, no, I can't go to happy hour with you...I've got to run a marathon."

"I'm so bummed that it's Friday...I really would like to come to work tomorrow."

T. (insert appropriate being here) I. F.

I know. TMI. Like I've never heard that before...

noreply@blogger.com (NTS) — Wed, 30 Jan 2013 18:58:00 +0000

I will readily admit that I have a bad habit of being an over-sharer.

I really just don't embarrass all that easily and I am usually genuinely seeking input on whatever topic we are talking about...even if it's super-personal and embarrassing for everyone within earshot (i. e., Ronnie).

Regardless, I'm SO about to go there.

The background: I determined that this year, I was going to do more things for myself. Women, especially mothers, tend to do for others more often than they do for themselves. So, I'm trying to reconcile my feelings of selfishness with my need for sanity by doing more things for ME. Case in point: I began CrossFit. I have no idea if there is some sort of copyright issue with me talking about CrossFit (the first rule of CrossFit? You don't talk about CrossFit.), but I'll give you a bit of information.

Number 1. It's a killer work out. Like, boot-camp killer. Everything is scaled so ANYONE can do these workouts. However, there is no fancy climate-controlled gym, no elipitical/stairmaster/treadclimber/etc equipment, no TV and no excuses...you show up, you bust your ass and you see results within a very short amount of time.

Number 2. It's highly addictive and cult-ish. There's a whole "CrossFit lingo" you have to learn and it's like, all I ever want to frickin' talk about.

So, here we are...new year, new leaf, new focus on me, working out, etc.

The problem: I don't know what underwear to wear.

I'm dead serious.

I'm having major workout wardrobe issues.

Sports bras? No problem...I don't have much up top anyway. Tank tops/t-shirts? Extensive collection. Bottoms? Pants, capris and shorts, CHECK. I even have one of those cool compression jackets with the thumb holes so your hands are kinda covered...yeah, I feel very emo when I wear it.

But the underwear situation has me flummoxed.

Boy shorts? Too low cut.

Granny panties? Too high cut.

Thong? Too jiggly.

Bikinis? See Boy Shorts.

None? Too....just....gross.

I realize this is a stupid problem to have. Why can't the choice be simple, like boxers, briefs or boxer-briefs?

Being a girl is lame sometimes.

My next attempt at solving this problem is going to be to buy the workout/running shorts with the underwear built into them. The first time my kid put these on, I'm pretty sure her comment went something like this, "Ohmigod! MOM! These shorts have *whispers* panties in them!". Me: "I know honey, you don't have to wear panties with them, you can just wear the shorts." Her: *ridiculously high-pitched girl giggling* "MOM! You HAVE to wear panties!"

Okay, so I kinda feel like she has a point. I'm not sure I can do the commando thing, even with built-in underwear, but I'm going to have to give it a shot, because it's getting ridiculous.

I think I'm over-thinking it. In fact, I know I am.

I could just wear those Olympic track shorts and basically workout in my underwear.

I'm feeling like there'd be a distinct lack of appreciation from others in my class.

Remember me?

noreply@blogger.com (NTS) — Fri, 11 Jan 2013 19:31:00 +0000

First post in 7 months. Almost to the day.

In my defense, I thought the world was going to end December 21st and I needed to live it up the last 6 months of my life.

My student loan company received a similar explanation as to why my payment was "late".

Fucking Mayans.

So. Here we all are. Still.

Good Lord, I don't even know where to start. How about here: the main reason I even remembered I have a blog, much less that I used to actually write stuff for it, is mother-effing Pinterest. I know, I know! I STILL have issues with Pinterest, but for the last two weeks I've been getting emails of "Hey You! is now following one of your boards on Pinterest! Happy Pinning!". Okay, first of all Pinterest, "Happy Pinning" is idiotic. Don't ever say it again. Secondly, are you not aware that I haven't even pinned anything to that board in, like, 487 years?!!? I'm honestly not sure I even remember how to pin, but I can assure you, Pinterest, that I will not do it "happily".

Stupid Pinterest.

BUT. I will say, that I have now been ~~guilted into~~ ....er....motivated to write again for the first time in months. Perhaps the 8 of you reading this owe Pinterest a bit of gratitude.

So yeah, that's pretty much why I am back to banging away on the ol' keyboard in the hopes of avoiding therapy. Or being committed. Or medicated.

In other news: I quit smoking. And started working out.

I'm pretty sure I'm having some sort of breakdown. (Upon reflection, perhaps I *should* consider medication....)

The smoking thing has not been nearly as hard as I thought it would be. 'Course, I wasn't like a pack-a-day smoker or anything...I was more of a "social smoker, plus some". But it was time to quit. And not because I'm suddenly concerned about what I'm putting into my body or the environment or any other such lofty notions as those. No, the main reason I quit is because cigarettes are frickin' EXPENSIVE! (And yes, I will readily admit that the hacking cough keeping me awake at night gets a little old. But mainly? The money). I'm a cheap-ass. Anyway, it's only been a week. And so far, it's going well. At least I haven't killed anyone yet.

Man....all this self-improvement is exhausting. Is it time for happy hour yet?

Making your own e cards...where all good bloggers go to die.

noreply@blogger.com (NTS) — Wed, 13 Jun 2012 17:02:00 +0000

And make crap.

With funny pictures and witty sayings.

For days at a time.

All while not writing blog posts.

Fifty Shades of WTF?

noreply@blogger.com (NTS) — Thu, 17 May 2012 20:07:00 +0000

IF YOU HAVE NOT READ FIFTY SHADES OF GREY AND REALLY REALLY WANT TO WITHOUT KNOWING ANYTHING ABOUT IT? STOP READING. (Also, if you are embarrassed about talking about sex, stop reading...OH, and mom? I know you probably won't stop reading because you're secretly my biggest fan, but you may want to sit this one out. No hard feelings.)

I generally jump onto whatever “book o’ the month” bandwagon comes along. I read all the Harry Potter books, the Twilight books, Shutter Island, The Help…you get the picture. So of course, when I heard about Fifty Shades of Grey, I just had to read it, too.

I heard all the hype…it’s “mommy porn”, it’s “erotic romance” blah blah blah. Okay, sure…I’m down with that. What the heck? This book was THE topic of conversation at the ball field a few weeks ago. Okay, sure, if these chicks can get into it, so can I. So I got it. From the public library. (Which, incidentally, and a little shocking for my tiny Texas town, hasn’t banned it). And I read it.

O. M. Jesus.

Fifty Shades of WTF?

Seriously?? People are into this?? Ohmigod! These are some seriously whacked “mommy porn” readers!!! I am re-evaluating every mom that I know at this point! Not to mention, every mom that participated in that conversation!

If you haven’t read it yet, SPOILER ALERT! Stop reading now! Really. Stop. This is not a review....this is just a random collection of thoughts I've had about the books since I've read them. And some of it is really specific. And you'll get pissed off. And I don't want to hear it, trust me.

My thoughts on these books (in no semblance of order):

-The writing is terrible. I can’t even deal with it. The grammar, the conversation, the description of genitalia…all of it. BAD.

-Why in the name of all that is holy did no one tell me that the whole thing is about BDSM??? (And for those of you that don’t know, ‘BDSM’ means ‘bondage and S&M’….and if you don’t know what that means…ummmm…go ask your mom). I’m all on board with the steamy sex scenes BUT…just when it’s getting good, he hauls off and SPANKS her?!?! Like, repeatedly. And hard. Ummm, no thank you. Don’t get me wrong….what you do in your bedroom is totally your business. It’s just not really my thing. AND now everyone that I know that has read it? I picture getting spanked. And then I just get grossed out….because I don’t want to think about it. But I can’t NOT think about it. Oh good lord.

-And a second “Dammit, I wish I would’ve known before getting sucked into the poorly-written lives of these seriously crazy characters” item: she’s a VIRGIN. Really? You are really trying to sell me on the fact that a young woman saved herself for 22 years to be tied up and spanked by a ridiculously hot and seriously eff’d up billionaire?? Really?? I would think if you had NEVER had sex in all your 22 years and some dude hauled off and smacked you, you’d be scared shitless. And wondering what all the hype was about. But, maybe that’s just me.

-If I had a nickel for every time Anastasia Steele (the main girl character’s name) says and/or thinks “Holy shit”, I’d have crapload of nickels.

-Sexy books should never refer to female genitalia as “womanhood”. Ever. Nor should your sexual preferences be referred to as “kinky fuckery”. Both of these terms make me laugh. And I’m pretty sure that was not the author’s intention.

-While I commend the writer on promoting the idea of safe sex and planned parenthood, I also lose my focus when, during the hottest parts, Christian Grey (the main guy’s name) has to “pull out a foil packet” and put on a condom. Really?? You are a billionaire with kinky sexual preferences and had a seriously messed up childhood….get a vasectomy.

-The seriously messed up childhood. Talk about a buzz kill. Okay, he’s hot, he’s rich and he likes it rough. Cool. Do we need to delve into the whys and wherefores? No. Just when I’m thinking, “Okay, this is getting good”…we have to have an entire chapter devoted to his ‘scars’, his cracked out mom, her pimp, etc. etc. etc. Terrible. Sad. NOT what I want to read about in what’s being touted as “mommy porn”.

-My husband wants a refund (but since I got them at the library, they were free)…mainly because he was expecting me to be hot and waiting for him after reading them. Annddd…what with the spanking and the ‘kinky fuckery’ and whatnot….that hasn’t really been the case. He’s disappointed.

To be fair: I’m halfway through the second book…I have not read the entire trilogy, so perhaps some of these issues are resolved later on in the story. I mean, maybe Christian gets a vasectomy and Anastasia stops saying ‘holy shit’. For some reason, I think not.

Sidebar: I had NO CLUE these books were supposed to be the author's take on Edward and Bella if they were human and adults. I totally missed that. Soooo...yeah....I guess that whole point of view was wasted on me. And I *read* the frickin' Twilight books....

MOM: Methods O' Madness

noreply@blogger.com (NTS) — Fri, 11 May 2012 20:32:00 +0000

Mother’s Day Weekend is this weekend. And although I am FIRMLY of the belief that I’m not a “Mommy Blogger” (and if I am, I’m sure all of you think my kid is royally screwed up at this point), I am a Mom. And I do have a blog. So…yeaaahh…I guess that could add up.

I refuse to admit it.

Anyway: Mother’s Day Weekend. Awesome. Hand-made school craft from the kid, grilled steak from the man…good times.

And absolutely, positively, with no exceptions (okay, maybe diamond-type exceptions) NO Mother’s-Day-themed crap like the “Charmed Memories” bracelet from Kay Jewelers or the “Fields of Europe” bouquet from 1800flowers for this Mom. This Mom would much prefer sunshine, river time and Miller Lite, I promise. The whole kitschy "Oh mom, you're so wonderful I bought you this pre-designed, over one million made like it in the world, all-the-thinking-done-for-me *fill in the blank*!", is just not my thing.

Don't get me wrong, I like Mother’s Day. I really do. It's just all the pressure to "make sure Mom has the best day ever!" or "Make this Mother's Day the most memorable." Really? Just make it an enjoyable day....where maybe I don't have to play "mom" as much as I normally do. Tell me thanks for all the crap I do, do some of that crap for me and just generally give me a little extra attention. Honestly, my husband is pretty good at it…it really is all about me, what I want to eat, what I want to do, etc.

The problem is: I find it really hard to ‘turn off’. Meaning, if there is crap on the floor, I’m picking it up. If there are dirty clothes in the bathroom hamper, I’m sorting them. If the kid wants a sandwich, I will fix it. And all the while, he’s all, “Honey, it’s Mother’s Day…you don’t have to do that!” or “Will you stop cleaning and just relax??”. Yeah, I’d love to. But I can’t. (I know...Type A much?) Please don't get me wrong...I don't enjoy cleaning, I'm not Suzy Homemaker and I'd much rather the kid learn to make her owning frickin' sandwich (for the love of all that is holy...two pieces of bread, some mayo and some turkey! What is so hard?!!?). BUT, it's what I do.

So basically, you're telling me, "Hey, it's your day and we want you to do none of the stuff you normally do in a day, so fill your day with things that you NEVER do."

NEVER do? Well, I guess "never-since-having-kids-NEVER". Hmmm...okay, here goes...this Mother's Day, I will:
-Sit and read and refuse to answer "Mom! Mom! Momma! Mooooommmmmm! MOOOOOMMMMM!" all day long.
-Drink coffee until my bladder can hold no more rather than scarfing down one cup to make my eyelids open.
-Pee without A. having a conversation through the door, B. being watched or C. screaming at someone as to the location of the paper towels.
-Leave wine in the bottle.
-Not know what time it is. Like, all day.
-Ignore all silent yet reproachful looks from the dog. (I know she's thinking something terrible about me, but I just haven't figured it out yet.)
-Wear a sparkly, "going out" shirt, for no reason whatsoever.
-Not watch Disney channel.
-Not sweep, mop, vaccuum, scrub, pick-up, straighten, etc. (but you're probably going to have to help me with this one, Ronnie).

Whew...this Mother's Day thing is gonna be tough.

It is all explained...

noreply@blogger.com (NTS) — Wed, 09 May 2012 21:06:00 +0000

So, my proclivity to yeast infections could explain my need to....ahem...trim the jungle more often than I should?

Who knew?

Monistat for Hair Growth
http://suicidesevemonistat.blogspot.com/

This is pretty much the only etiquette I know...sorry Mom...

noreply@blogger.com (NTS) — Thu, 03 May 2012 20:50:00 +0000

So, you got invited to a crawfish boil, huh? Not sure what to wear, what to bring, how to act? Well, dear readers, I’m here to help you out. Being a transplanted Louisianaian, I have actually had to deal with answering these questions at our annual crawfish boil where most of the invitees happen to be from Texas or even states north of the Mason Dixon. Would you believe I have a friend from Minnesota who came last year and she and her family had so much fun, her kids have been pestering her to come again?! Weird, right? Me….friends with a mid-westerner! They’re just so dang polite! It cracks me up…seriously. Anyway, I digress…so, not sure how the whole thing goes down? Well, here ya go.

Crawfish Boil Etiquette:

1. Bring camp chairs. For the life of me, I cannot figure out what redneck drunkards sat on at backyard get-togethers before the invention of the camp chair. God bless you, Mr. Camp Chair Inventor Guy….they should write you a Bud Light: Real Men of Genius song.

2. Don’t wear white. Like anywhere on your body. You are going to eat bugs…MUDbugs…white is not a good call, trust me.

3. Don’t ask if they’re spicy. They are. Duh.

4. I will not peel crawfish for you unless A. you are under the age of 10, B. you are over the age of 80 or C. a wounded veteran. Sorry…it ain’t happenin’.

5. It’s really best for everyone if we avoid the “crawfish anatomy” lesson while standing at the table peeling and eating crawfish. I choose not to investigate too closely the gunk that comes out of the crawfish, the juice that shoots across the table when I peel a crawfish or the inside of the head I just pulled off the crawfish. We get it; they’re kinda gross….but they taste REALLY good.

6. Along those lines, let’s not look down on those who choose not to suck heads. It doesn’t make me any less of a Louisiana girl and I won’t give in to your peer pressure.

7. Clean up after yourself. Yeah, I know, a whole discussion on how gross they are, and then I’m telling you to be clean. You will be dirty (which is why #2 is important) and you will smell like dead fish. BUT, please make sure your empty cans, corn cobs, crawfish heads, etc. make it to the trash can. Bending over to pick up fly-encrusted crawfish body parts or half-empty hot beer or half-eaten grilled meats at 10:00 am the next morning while nursing a hangover = NOT my idea of a good time.

8. Bring your beer/drinks iced down already. I have a beer fridge…and it *will* be full of my beer. Hell, we can fill up the beer fridge for a Saturday night get-together with the neighbors, so 100+ people? Yeah, sorry man, no room for your beer.

9. Tying in with #8: should you choose to stop and get beer at the store on the way and it is hot, PLEASE do not stick a few in the freezer to get cold while you get your party on. You will forget them. They will freeze. They will explode. Worse than having to pick up crustacean body parts that smell like dead fish in the heat with a hangover? Opening your freezer to find Miller Lite-cicle crusting the interior.

10. I love parties. I love people. I love all people….I really don’t like people who don’t like other people. In short: don’t harsh my buzz, dude. If you have a problem with minorities/gays/cops/southerners/yankees/cowboys/motorcycle owners/hunters/fisherman/public educators/doctors/lawyers/men/women/men who dress like women/etc, keep it to yourself. Nobody cares and we’re all here to drink beer and eat crawfish. Chances are good that one or more of those groups of people are represented at any given party at my house, so be nice. And eat crawfish.

11. HAVE A CRAPLOAD OF FUN! Now is the time to bust out your best fishing stories, your funniest kid stories and your most ridiculous high-school sports stories. We’re all here for a GOOD TIME!

LAISSEZ LES BON TEMPS ROULEZ!

Lost in Translation

noreply@blogger.com (NTS) — Tue, 17 Apr 2012 20:35:00 +0000

So I have a friend who adopted a 12 year old boy from Colombia last year. I won’t regale you with the details, but let’s just say it was a long journey with a FANTASTIC outcome. Let me also tell you that this friend attended a Christian (Baptist) school until 8th grade, went to Baptist church EVERY Sunday and Wednesday, went to a Baptist university and had never had sex until her wedding night.

Yes, I know. We have had many conversations about how it is we’re friends.

She also doesn’t cuss.

Or drink.

Seriously, how does she even like me?

Who knows?? But I feel like it’s helping me out with God that she’s my friend. When I’m standing up there awaiting judgment and he’s ticking off on his fingers all the ways I screwed up, I’m pretty sure I’ll just drop her name like she’s the Kardashian of heaven and BOOM! I’m in.

She is, however, one of the funniest people I know. Without cussing. Or drinking. How does she do it??

So the other day, she told me this story about how she got a new car…a Volvo. Since she had never had children, she had a cute, sporty little 2-door Audi. When she realized she was not only going to have to cart around a 12 year old, but also all his buddies, soccer gear and stink, she decided it was time for something more practical. So, she gets a Volvo—a family car. The four-door job with plenty of luxury (leather, power, etc), but chock-full of practicality. She is also one of those people who names her cars. On the way home from the dealership, the family (including their son who is still learning English, remember?) was discussing what to name the new car.

Son: “Mom, this car is a girl, right?”

Mom: “Yes, all cars are girls…she needs a girl’s name.”

Son: “And what kind of car is it?”

Mom: “A Volvo.”

Son: “What about ‘Volva’?”

Mom: “SNORT….um, no son, we cannot name her the female version of ‘Volvo.’”

Son: “Why not? What’s so funny?”

Mom: “Well son, a ‘vulva’ is part of a woman’s vagina.”

Son: “Ohmigod!!!! MOOOOOOMMMMM!!! Gross!”

Oh, wait….now I see how we’re friends.

*Printed with her permission. And red-pen editing assistance. Yet another reason we are friends…

Updated and Short-Changed

noreply@blogger.com (NTS) — Wed, 04 Apr 2012 19:14:00 +0000

Was I inspired by Pinterest? Was it some great new thing on HGTV that got me thinking, "You know, I really need to update my look?"? Or maybe it was Cosmo's list of '20 Swim Suits to Flatter Any Body Type' (except if you're tall, short, thin, fat, blonde, brunette or red-headed)??

No, no and um, haven't you figured out that no one believes your vicious swim suit lies, Cosmo??

No, dear friends, I decided to update my blog design simply because the lime green was entirely too reminescent of the H&R Block online income tax filing site. Lime green is one of my favorite colors...it's the color of Save the Hoohas, for crying out loud! But no, frickin' H&R Block had to go and ruin it for everyone...including those of us trying to protect our girly wallets from abusive practices like sugaring, waxing and vajazzling.

The government screws everything up.

Moving on....I will not dwell any more on taxes...they're not filed yet and I've got plenty more time to stress out about that crap between now and April 15 (a whole 11 days....I'm good).

Anyway, I was also motivated by a new blog that I recently discovered (and have yet to post on my blogroll....hang on a minute....aaannnd...DONE). And you totally need to go read it. Her blog is called "People I Want to Punch in the Throat". Yeah, you can already see why I like it, right? So check it out. She's funny. And sarcastic. And witty. And will punch you in the throat.

Oh, and if you don't like the changes round these here parts, then I'll punch you in ~~the throat~~...wait...probably can't say that because it's probably all copyrighted and shit. Soooo....let's say, right eye. Yeah, so okay, here goes....if you don't like it, then I'll punch you in your right eye! Oooo....burn!

She recently published a list of ways to "make it" as a blogger. Most of which I'm doing, but I just need that one little post to go viral. Anyway, one of her ideas was to post your blog to pinterest.

Pinterest.

Seriously??

Holy. Effing. A.

I guess I cannot avoid getting sucked into the black hole that is Pinterest. I am, above all, committed to my art. (Or just really just want more people to give me attention via the internet....)

So, I got on the site and requested an invite.

First of all, it took like 30 mintues to come to my inbox. (Sidebar: anyone else feel dirty saying 'inbox'?? *snicker*) 30 minutes!?!! Really?!! What's up with THAT, Pinterest?? If I request my password from the H&R Block website, it's like .25 seconds! You gotta work that shit out, man.

THEN.

THEN....I get an email from them. Which says THIS:

Hi!

Thanks for joining the Pinterest waiting list. We'll be sure to send you an invite soon.

In the meantime, you can follow us on Twitter. You can also explore a few pins.

We're excited to get you pinning soon!

- Ben and the Pinterest Team

Well, "Ben and the Pinterest Team", let me tell you one damn thing: You can take your waiting list and shove it! What the hell is that about??? I got wait-listed for frickin' Pinterest??? You get wait-listed for college, for the best table at a fancy restaurant or for the summer camp your kid is dying to get into. You do NOT get wait listed for bullshit time-filler websites full of crap that I will never have A. the time, B. the money, nor C. the motivation to do!

Oh, it is ON Ben and the Pinterest Team. O-N. ON.

I will punch you in your right eye.

Friends

noreply@blogger.com (NTS) — Wed, 28 Mar 2012 15:18:00 +0000

I talk about my "friends" quite a bit. I was blessed (if I may brag a bit) with the gift of making friends easily. I love people, I love to talk, I love to laugh, I love to have fun and generally, people want to be around people like that. So it works out. As I mentioned in my Facebook rant, I have over 400 friends on Facebook...and know all of them.

I do, however, understand the difference between a "friend" and a "FRIEND", you know what I mean? I'm very close to lots of people I've met since moving to Texas...some of them I pretty much consider family.  Most all of the close friends I've made here are totally the kinds of friends you call when you run out of gas on the side of the highway because you have ignored your gas light for 3 days in a row. Or to get advice on the best place to buy a new car, find a dentist or put your kid in daycare. Or when you had the crappiest day imaginable and need a margarita. Hey, those are good friends...don't misunderstand me.

You all know by now, I'm a Louisiana girl...I was born and raised there. I lived in the same house my entire life and went to the same Catholic school for 13 years. I have friends that I have known since BIRTH. That is no exaggeration....one of my closest friends' mom has a "bump picture" of her and my mom when they were pregnant. She and I were born 6 days apart! We have, literally, known each other since the womb. I also have a friend I've known since kindergarten...and her mom and my mom happen to be close friends as well. My other super-close friend from Louisiana moved to my hometown in 7th grade, so we've known each other since junior high. The four of us were not always close...in fact, there are times I look back to junior high and high school and remember us in totally separate crowds. The two cheerleaders, the drill team girl and the mouthy speech/rodeo kid destined to end up best friends?? No way! (Sidebar: Betcha can't guess which one was me?)

They're not so much friends as sisters. After 30+ years of knowing someone, there are pretty much no secrets you can keep...even if you wanted to. We are one part Steel Magnolias, one part Friends and a dash of The Breakfast Club. We have survived junior high, high school, college, sororities, parent's divorce, cancer, boyfriends, renting apartments, break-ups, graduate school, single-life, marriage, buying houses, pregnancy, fertility issues, drug problems, money problems, a husband sent to war, career issues, deaths of loved ones and adoption. We don't talk everyday, but we all know what's going on with each other and check in regularly. We are so different in our likes/dislikes and our personality traits, yet very much the same in our values and beliefs.  We are so much like family that we can disagree with one another and the idea of breaking off the friendship NEVER crosses our minds because, quite simply, family stays.

All those "Hollywood stereotypes" of Southern women may be a bit cheesy (Um, hello, bad accent, poufy hair and mint juleps? Yeah, we'll keep our normal accents, ponytails and Miller Lite, thanks).  BUT there are definitely grains of truth in them. The strength, the depth of emotions and the ability to put a good face on top of all of it...all of these are character traits of these women I call my friends. It actually makes me laugh to think we are old enough or responsible enough to even be called "women"...when we get together and start talking and laughing, we sound much more like "girls". In fact, a couple of summers ago when one of us had moved to California, we all went out to visit. We ended up in our pajamas drinking wine, playing board games and talking until 3:00 am....still having slumber parties at 30.

So this weekend, I'm heading back to Louisiana....to be surrounded by these women who have known me longer than I've known myself. We will laugh, we will celebrate, we will talk...and ultimately, our souls will be fuller for it.

Facebook Rant (don't take it personally Facebook...I will always love you...)

noreply@blogger.com (NTS) — Mon, 19 Mar 2012 19:26:00 +0000

I am a HUGE fan of the Facebook (and apparently I'm too stupid to Twitter). I find it's a great diversion when waiting around for someone, sitting at ball practice or riding in the car. I will "Like" your pictures, your status and pretty much anything else on your page. I comment on and read status updates regularly. I have 400+ friends (and yes, I know all of them....perhaps the meeting is a little fuzzy and I friended them while talking to them at the bar, but STILL...I know them.)

All that is to say, my rant here is not against Facebook, but the people ON Facebook who do not follow the rules. Yes, I know, there are no rules to Facebook, but for God's sake, there should be.

Rule 1: PLEASE use the "Share" button sparingly. If every single one of my friends "shared" the latest and greatest Some E Card, my whole wall would be covered with the same damn card over and over and over. Also, can we agree to stop posting the sentimental/motivational/depressing quotes over fuzzy pictures of rainbows or lily pads on a pond? I like a good quote just as much as the next girl, but for the love of Pete, type it as your status!

Rule 2: DO NOT tag me in your status update unless I'm ACTUALLY with you. I see this all the time and it drives me batty! Joe Blow: At Hooter's--love these wings! Remember when we came here and got wasted Joe Schmo?!!? -with Joe Schmo But you're not WITH Joe Schmo, are you?? Because otherwise, why would you need to ask him if he remembered getting wasted with you at Hooter's?? You should be actively talking about it across the table at said Hooter's at this very moment! So, what the hell?!?

Rule 3: You do not have to share every damn thing you look at on Pinterest. For the love of all that is holy. I am OVER the Pinterest. No, I don't have an account. No, I don't want you to send me a link inviting me to create an account. YES, I do want you to stop sharing every dream kitchen, funny poster and cool hairstyle you have looked at in the last 5.7 minutes!

Rule 4: Along those lines, I do not want to know every song you're jamming out to or video you're watching on YouTube. Seriously, you're home alone, drinking beer and playing around on the internet....I get it. If you want to have a party, invite me over, don't post your music and stupid commentary on Facebook. I'd be happy to come over, have a beer and make fun of you to your face. No problem! I'll even bring my own beer!

Rule 5: I do not play games on Facebook. Bottom line. Grow your own fucking farm, build a city, go on a treasure hunt, open a restaurant and join the damn Mafia...I could not give less of a shit. Just stop posting the stupid updates.

Rule 6: Take Facebook for what it is...a social media site. I do not read every single Facebook post before updating my status and, while I agree it looks shitty of me to post something like, "Beer + Lake = LOVE", which just happens to appear after your heartwrenching post about your dog getting run over, it's gonna happen. And it's not because I'm a heartless bitch...I love dogs and my family members just as much as the next person. It's actually because I didn't read all status updates before I posted mine. And it's MY page, so I'm posting about what I'M doing. If I was helping you bury your dog or was bringing a casserole to your house because of a death in the family, my status would reflect that. If I'm not, it won't. And, generally when I have words of condolence to offer, I write a private message to your inbox, comment on your status update, email, call or text you. I definitely make a point to let people know I'm thinking about them, praying for them and there for them as a friend should be. Unfortunately, being what it is, Facebook doesn't always organize my thoughts that way.

Rule 7: Another "use sparingly" request: the Check-In. I'll admit, I'm totally guilty of "checking-in" places...once I figured out how to do it from my stupid phone, that is. I DO, however, use the check-in only in cases where I'm checking somewhere that A. is cool or B. will make people comment. I'm kinda a Facebook attention whore that way. For example, I recently went back home for a visit to my hometown in Louisiana and I made sure to check-in at a local restaurant just because I knew some of my FB friends would comment that it was cool or that they were jealous or whatever. I DO NOT check in everytime I get to my house. It's my house, I'm there alot....does it warrant FB mention?? I don't generally think so.

Rule 8: Don't post pictures you can't see. You know the ones I'm talking about...the crappy cell phone pictures that you take in a bar or during a concert or show or whatever and you can't make out a damn thing in them. Yeah, those. Keep them on your phone, show them to me when you see me....but don't put them on Facebook because no one knows what the hell they're looking at.

In summary: perhaps it's time to clean up the ol' Friends list.

Fake Holidays

noreply@blogger.com (NTS) — Fri, 16 Mar 2012 16:15:00 +0000

Leap Day: This is not an actual holiday. It is a calendar fluke which happens every 4 years. Yes, it’s fun to do the math on how old you would actually be had you been born on Feb 29 (fun facts …if you are 84 then you would really only be 21…and the age of people born on Leap Day must be a multiple of 4...). BUT STILL--not a holiday.

Daylight Savings: This is also NOT a holiday. It's something that some random guy who didn't want his golf game interrupted invented so that he could have more sunlight during the day. That's it. No major celebration, no traditions observed on this day, no cultural significance to any particular group, etc.

SO WHY, I ask you, is my inbox flooded with "Leap Day Savings events" or "Daylight Savings specials" from every retailer from Target to Amazon to the American Kennel Club??!!??!?! REALLY!?!?

This all adds up to the fact that the US can commercialize anything, even fake holidays. The jury is still out on the random Monday holidays where all the banks and post offices are closed (Columbus Day, Presidents Day, Labor Day, etc.). I mean, I get it...at least these days are dedicated to the celebration of some sort of historical achievement and/or particular group of US citizenry, but let's face it, we all just sleep in and enjoy our three-day weekend. And, of course, I'm sure I'll get plenty of sale notifications in my inbox...."Don't delay! Take advantage of *Insert Monday Holiday Here* Savings TODAY!"

Commercialism: FAIL.

Irksome

noreply@blogger.com (NTS) — Fri, 03 Feb 2012 20:38:00 +0000

1. This:

Do I really want to think about who is in the car in front of me at the red light? No, I don't. I want the frickin' like to change so that I can be on my way. I do not want to see your family of stick people with your 2.5 children and your dog. Do you know what I always wonder? What if the dog dies? Do you take his sticker off? Do you buy a new dog and just tell him he has to use the same sticker?? Isn't that like getting divorced and giving your new wife the same wedding set?

2. Telemarketers calling my CELL PHONE! WTF?? How did they get this number?? There are people I'm related to who don't have my cell phone number.

3. Crocs. Do I really need to explain how bad they are? You've seen them, right? TERRIBLE.

4. Those obnoxious sports decal stickers with your kids' names on them. I was behind a Suburban the other day that had FOURTEEN of them, I swear! And they were for two kids! Seriously?? You have two kids and they are into SEVEN sports each???? No wonder you drive a frickin' Suburban...you must have to sleep in that thing to get them to all the practices and games they have.

5. Knee-length shorts. Can we all just agree to commit either way? Either commit to jeans or commit to shorts. None of this namby-pamby "I can't make a decision so I'm going with 'jorts'" nonsense. I'm afraid the jury is still out on capri pants...I can't help but feel like a huge dork when I wear them (which is not often), but then other people can totally pull them off in that "I'm going yachting after we finish the back 9 at the country club" way.

6. Book series. Yes, I know...how hard is it to be irked by books when you love to read as much as I do??? But seriously...the series....it's killin' me. I am anxiously awaiting the arrival of not one, not two, but THREE different series to publish the next book! THREE! Believe me, I know writing is not a quick process (sometimes I write the same blog post for three days...and that's just a few paragraphs), BUT STILL. My thought: don't publish it until the whole damn thing is finished. I don't care if book one starts in 1982 and everyone drives Trans Ams and wears parachute pants, publish it at the same time as book four, which takes place in 2012 and the 7-year-old sister is now 34 and having kids! I'm over the waiting BS.

7. Bottled water. Because I'm pretty sure Nestle Pure Life has totally made me its bitch. And I hate that. I'll admit...the, like, ONE green thing I do is reuse a water bottle and fill it up out of the water fountain. But, it sucks. It's tap water. It tastes like crap. But I feel like such a craphead buying bottled water and drinking 8 bottles of it a day. Nestle: You own me no more!

8. The way my husband never seems to lose a damn thing. Text message, "Hey, where are my truck keys?", Me: "In my jeans from yesterday", Him: "WTF? Why didn't you put them on the bar?". I'm sorry....what? Whose truck keys are they, douchebag?? How is that I managed to lose YOUR truck keys?? In fact, so far this week, I've lost the truck keys, the pliers and two pairs of socks....that weren't mine to lose to begin with.

9. People who call, I send them to voicemail and they immediately call back. Then, when I answer and I'm like, whispering, "Hey...is everything okay? I'm in a meeting..." they're like "Oh yeah, I was just on my home from work in traffic and thought we could chat!". Really? If I don't answer, take that as a hint that I: 1. can't find my phone or 2. can't talk right now. Either way? I'll call you back....promise.

10. The bar. And no, not the bar where they sell beer and shots and occasionally you stumble onto a kick-ass live band or karaoke. The bar that is in my house and serves as a nifty little divider between my living room and kitchen. And also serves as a place for every last thing under the sun. Currently on my bar at this very moment: library books, the spare change jar, 48 baseball caps, 75 pairs of sunglasses, 3 legal pads, 14 pens, a belt, the charger for the emergency flashlight, the charger for my husband's new drill, chapstick....and the list goes on and on. O. M. G. I'm OVER the bar.

Bloody Mary visits for dinner

noreply@blogger.com (NTS) — Fri, 13 Jan 2012 17:30:00 +0000

Dinner conversation at my house:

Kid: Did you know if you say “Bloody Mary” three times, you’ll be cursed? And not like the drink, because you can say that and not get cursed.

Me: *choking on my water* Oh, really? Where did you hear that?

Kid: From Allie, at school.

Me: Well, how does she know?

Kid: She said “Bloody Mary” three times. And she got cursed.

Me: Cursed, huh? Interesting. So did you tell her about the drink part?

Kid: No, I just know that.

Me: Awesome, of course you know that a Bloody Mary is a drink (sorry, Mom). So, she got cursed?? What happened to her?

Kid: Her bicycle disappeared.

Me: Oh yeah? So is that what it means to be cursed? Like, how would I know I’m cursed?

Kid: Well, you would like, go to your office in the morning and your laptop would be gone.

Me: I’m not sure I’d consider that a curse…

Kid: No, Mom, like gone forever! And you would never get it back.

Me: So have you tried it?

Kid: No. And I can’t say it again. I’ve already said it twice.

Me: *snort* I’m pretty sure it’s three times in a row, honey.

Dad: Yeah, like “Bloody Mary, Bloody Mary, Bloody Mary”.

Kid: *GASP* DAD!!! Now you’re cursed!!

Dad: Uh oh! What do you think that means??

Kid: The red truck is gone!

Me: Really? You think Dad got cursed so the red truck disappeared?? (again, not much of a curse since the stupid thing isn't running all that great right now...)

Kid: Yes!

(She bolts up from the dinner table, runs to the front door and throws it open)

Kid: Whew! It’s still there!

Me: Well, do you think the Tahoe will disappear if I say it?

Kid: Probably.

Me: Okay, let’s try it. “Bloody Mary, Bloody Mary, Bloody Mary”. Well???

Kid: It’s still there. It didn’t work.

(Comes back to the dinner table)

Kid: Allie must be lying.

Me: Yeah, probably so. Does Allie have a big sister or brother?

Kid: Yeah, a sister. *pause* Maybe I need to tell Allie that Bloody Mary is a drink and not a curse.

Me: Um, no, probably not. I’m sure her big sister will take care of that soon enough, sweetheart.

And this is why you should sit down with your family and have dinner together during the week.

Twitter Reject

noreply@blogger.com (NTS) — Wed, 04 Jan 2012 17:47:00 +0000

I'll admit it...I *tried* to be cool. And I failed.

I tried to do the Twitter.

Problem is?
I can't.

WTF??

Why is it so damn confusing?? Sure, I can tweet, but what how in the hell do you retweet someone else's tweet?? You can do that right? And can you respond to someone's tweet or comment on it like you do on facebook??

Seriously, I need a tutorial.

The radio morning show I listen to plays a game called "Who's Tweet is it Anyway?" and they basically pick three celebrities, read their tweets out loud and the two deejays and a caller have to guess who's tweet it was. Whoever gets the most right wins tickets to a show or whatever.

Okay...sounds simple enough. But holy hell! I don't get it. These people are just posting these random funny tweets about whatever they're doing that day or whatever's going on in the world of politics and then, without fail, they have some super-witty hashtag to add to it.

What the hell is a hashtag? Do you have to put one? If you do, does it have to be super-witty? Because, let me assure you people, I have tried! TRIED! And I'd like to think I'm a fairly witty person (um, hello?? You're reading this crap, aren't you?), but apparently I lack the amount of wit and sarcasm needed to create a Twitter hashtag that's worth a damn.

"Heading to the grocery store to grab stuff for dinner! #ilovechicken"
"Taking the kids to see The Smurfs! Love Neil Patrick Harris! #wtfwashethinking"
"What is up with Michele Bachmann being such a hater? #drinkmorewine"
"Lindsay Lohan has successfully completed her morgue community service...think they still have formaldehyde left? #wellpreserved"
"Anybody else notice that 'caucus' sounds alot like 'carcass'? #governmentisdead"

See? I just can't do it. (Okay, actually, I kinda like the last one...but I feel like people reading it will think I'm a. an anti-patriot or b. a moron). I suck at Twitter.

Coolness: FAIL.

Confessions of a Bad Mother: The Christmas Edition

noreply@blogger.com (NTS) — Fri, 16 Dec 2011 16:53:00 +0000

1. My kid's "Teacher Gift" this year was a re-gift. I'm a serial re-gifter.

2. I have not made any Christmas cookies, treats, snacks, or other forms of baked goods AT ALL this year and I do not intend to. I actually took a crab dip to a Christmas party last night, saw there was a shitload of food and stuck it in the fridge to save for the Christmas party I'm going to today. Yes, mom, I know that was tacky, but the hostess assured me it was no problem...and I wanted to believe her, so I did.

3. I do not have an Elf on a Shelf. I will never have an Elf on a Shelf. For two reasons: 1. They're creepy as hell and 2. I'm too fucking lazy to move the stupid thing every night. My kids will never know the joy that comes from knowing that Santa, in all his "naughty/nice" glory, sent a minion to watch over you and make sure you don't screw it up in the weeks before Christmas. How Big Brother are we, Santa?? And where the hell is the elf the rest of the year?? Where was that fucker on the day the kid took a black magic marker to the new carpet and the dog?? I didn't see his creepy ass lurking around THEN, did I?? So, that's a big NEGATIVE on the Elf on a Shelf.

4. I put ribbon on all of my packages because I am obsessive about wrapping gifts and they all have to be pretty. Yes, I know kids can't get the ribbon off and dad has to pull out his pocket knife to cut it, thereby endangering the kid because dad now has a knife out, but they have to be PRETTY, dammit! The "Bag o' Bows" doesn't cut it at our house.

5. I found a Target bag with an Easter book and a brown stuffed rabbit in it in the closet with the gift wrapping stuff. Guess who's getting an Easter book and a stuffed rabbit in one of her presents?? Double the Jesus holiday!

6. I have no outside lights and no inflatable yard decorations. I'm certain I'm on some sort of list because of this and I can only hope it's not the naughty one. People on my street probably think we're Jewish....or Jehovah's Witnesses (aren't they the ones that don't celebrate holidays? I'm pretty sure they are.)

7. I started my Christmas shopping on December 11th. STARTED. I'm so screwed.

8. The other day, I was driving home and the crossing arm thingy was down at the railroad crossing by my house and there was a train stopped on the tracks a ways back from it. So the arm goes up and the dude in front of me starts across before it was all the way up. THEN, it started coming back down on his car! It literally almost chopped down on his car...he had to, like, gun it to get through before it hacked the top of his Jeep! And, I laughed. Because it would have been hilarious if it had just whacked the shit out of his car!

And I know, that makes me a bad person.

And that story has nothing to do with Christmas, but I hate lists with odd numbers.

You might be breaking up with me after reading this post.

noreply@blogger.com (NTS) — Mon, 14 Nov 2011 21:53:00 +0000

(Disclaimer: Some of you may never read my blog again. You may, in fact, "unfriend" me from facebook, quit following me on twitter and possibly never speak to me again. It's okay...I understand. Oh, and yes, you read that correctly, I've sold out and I do the Twitter. I know. I'm lame.)

You know what I don't get?

The whole "married couple sharing one facebook page" thing.

Really? I took your last name, I birthed your child and I give you sex regularly enough to keep you interested. Now you want my flippin' social network???

Um, no.

To me, that feels a little too much like "Hey, now that we're married, it's just easier for us to have one cell phone contract, one checking account and oh yeah, one identity." Hmm...I'll keep my checking account and my identity, thanks....although you're totally right about the cell phone contract, so let's do that one for sure.

Would you believe I survived an entire 25 years before I even knew my husband??? (A fact of which I have to remind him often when he tries to be too bossy, but which I can totally forget should there be some sort of rodent in the house.)

Yeah, so I'm pretty sure I can handle my own social networking without him, thanks. I have my own friends, my own hobbies and interests, things I "like" that he may not....and last I checked, I'm pretty okay with that. Keeps conversation interesting at the dinner table, ya know? It's not like:
"Hey did you know so-and-so got engaged?"
"Yeah"
"Oh, well did you see that the new blah-di-blah album is out?"
"Yeah, on facebook"
"Oh.....umm....well...how was your day?"
"Didn't you see our status? It sucked."
"Well, I had a great day...so why would OUR status say it sucked??"
"Because it's OUR status...duh"

I would guess that most people in favor of the shared facebook page believe it helps eliminate questions as to fidelity in your marriage. I really don't know...I guess people think it just helps keep it all "above board" between you and your spouse. So there are no questionable friendships or relationships of which your spouse is unaware??

Here's the deal: Ring + Vows = Fidelity. Period.

I happen to be friends with quite a few people I've dated in the past. Is that a problem? No, because the word is datED, as in past tense, no longer and over with. It satisfies my inner stalker and assures me that they ended up marrying someone *almost* as cool as I am (well, except for this one guy who ended up marrying a doctor...dude, you did waaay better with that chick, I promise!). And so if my husband and I occasionally like to poke fun of this guy I dated for a bit in college and is now super fat and lives with his mom, well, that's just all the more fun for us, huh?
If that is the argument used by proponents of the "single facebook page lifestyle", I'm sorry, but in my opinion, it's flawed. Seriously, if I were going to cheat, I certainly wouldn't be dumb enough to do it from my OWN facebook page! Um, helloooo?? I'd create a fake one that only me and my affair buddy would know about....duh. Which would mean that even if Ronnie and I were "co-facebookers", he still wouldn't know I was having an affair and the whole point of having a single page would be moot. (Sidebar: LOVE LOVE LOVE using the word "moot"!)

So now all the "same-page couples" that read this can go unfriend me on facebook...it's fine, I totally understand. Although to be fair, I'm going to have to ask you to unfriend my husband, too, right?

Right.

Mom

noreply@blogger.com (NTS) — Thu, 10 Nov 2011 21:13:00 +0000

This is for you, Mama! Happy birthday and I love you.

My mom is:

fearless yet terrified of losing someone she loves; a GREAT cook; funny; the most courageous person I’ve ever known; an antique watch collector; my best friend; still able to put my head on her shoulder and let me cry even though I’ve got five inches on her; a thoughtful person; a jewelry fiend; fiercely loyal, often to her own detriment; a voracious reader; a hottie; really good at driving really fast…unless she’s talking; the best wine-tasting partner EVER; great in a crisis; Southern; never one to say “I told you so”; bad at remembering and retelling jokes; someone who prays daily; highly entertained by my sense of humor; constantly working to better herself; accepting of others; someone who often over-analyzes things; independent; a lover of cowboy boots and blue jeans; a shopaholic; a doting yet firm grandmother; a virtuous woman; a cowgirl through and through; a gadget-lover; well-traveled, well-spoken and well-educated; always up for an adventure; a sports-car fanatic; a dreamer and yet a realist; a giver; supportive of decisions I make even if she feels they’re not good ones; open-minded; family oriented; the coolest Mom EVER.

Self-Help 101 (I'm pretty sure I should write a book...)

noreply@blogger.com (NTS) — Thu, 03 Nov 2011 16:53:00 +0000

Things I'm good at:
-thinking through other people's problems and offering multiple solutions that involve analysis of even the most discreet of details. (Seriously, I am the mother of all problem solvers....)

Things I'm not good at:
-solving my own problems.

WTF?

How does that even add up??

How is it possible for me to objectively consider all angles of other people's lives, issues, circumstances, etc. and offer multiple reasonable solutions and when it's my own shit, which I should know backwards and forwards?? I freeze up and become a bundle of anxiety. Then my husband has to talk me down from the ledge and intravaneously feed me vodka.

Makes no sense. I need to grow some balls or something. Seriously. I just want to tell myself exactly what I would me if I were my friend who was as good at problem solving as I am to my friends (yeah, just go with it)..."Man up, grow some balls and face the issue." Damn, I give good advice when I'm pretending to be my friend who is really as good at this stuff as I am.

If you happen to overhear me talking to myself, no worries...it's my new "pretend to be my friend who is good at listening to my problems and offering solutions that don't involve ledge-jumping or vodka" self-help strategy.

In fact, here's a list of the self-help strategies I employ when stressed out:
-Cry
-Hyperventilate
-Drink
-Lose sleep
-Drink
-Bitch at my husband
-Cuss
-Drink
-Gripe about everything
-Cry
-Lose more sleep
-Drink more

How are these "helpful"? They're not, really....but I generally feel better after I finish this list. Or perhaps I just have a buzz? Either way....

A cry for help

noreply@blogger.com (NTS) — Fri, 21 Oct 2011 20:08:00 +0000

OMG

I need a hobby.

My husband and I are having entirely too much "togetherness" lately. And then he goes off to play softball, hunt or fish and I'm left at home with the kid (which is generally pretty painless, but still...I'm home....with her...and she's home...with me. Get the picture?).

And since when does he have so many frickin' hobbies??

I need some girl time. Some *adult* girl time.

I am, in fact, SO desperate for adult girl time that I *actually* attended a buy-crap party last weekend.

Yes.

Me.

Buy-crap party.

Yes.

Me.

Wickless candles and purses.

This is desperation, people!

And you know the best part? I went to the party with absolutely NO intention of buying a damn thing and EVERY intention of drinking their wine and eating their party food. DUDE. I flippin' LOVE party food. Cheese and crackers, vegetables and dip, hummus and pita chips?? Heeaaveen!

So that's exactly what I did.

I was also the last person to leave.

And as I recall it went something like, "Please don't make me go back!!! Please!!".

Okay, that may have been slightly dramatic, but it was sort of totally not at all like that.

I did stay for a long damn time....and I did not purchase a single thing. Oh, and I may or may not have emptied the bottle of white wine the hostess opened for me....I mean, the party.

So yeah, I need a hobby.

I'm actually thinking of taking up jogging.

Holy hell, who have I become?!!? Wickless candles, purses and jogging?!?!?!

HELP!

Not only is it all together, but it all matches and is tied with a bow.

noreply@blogger.com (NTS) — Fri, 14 Oct 2011 16:54:00 +0000

So this week is "feel-good" week at work. It's a week where we basically go an extra step or two towards telling our fellow co-workers how much we appreciate them and whatnot. We do fun little things like leave treats in people's mailboxes and write nice note cards to people, etc.

Before you ask, yes, I participated and yes, I was nice....to about 5 people. But hey, I did *something*.

Honestly, one of the coolest parts of the whole week is the "Nice Note Card" activity. Everyone's name gets put on top of a note card in the break room and then everyone has the week to go in and write (anonymously) nice things about the person. I love it! Mostly because I am always shocked by what people think about me...this year being no exception.

My note card says, and I quote, "I don't know anyone else who has it more together than you."

Really?? You think I have "it" together??? Do you even know me??

I am so NOT together that I:

-can't balance a checkbook.
-regularly lose my keys, cell phone and other slightly important items.
-also regularly forget to make arrangements for someone to pick up my kid and scramble at the last minute.
-never know the balance of my bank account.
-have run out of gas on the way to work because I didn't even notice my fuel light was on. More than once...
-regularly leave the house with wet hair and no make-up on, yet still arrive late.
-have to go to the grocery store at least 87 times a month because I never get *everything* the first time, even when I make a list.
-am generally 10-15 minutes late wherever I go.
-am almost always out of milk or eggs and borrow them from my neighbor.
-color-code my planner to stay on top of it all, forget to write shit down in it and still miss important meetings.
-forget my grocery list at work or at home when going to the grocery store.
-pay my water bill late EVERY MONTH (no exaggeration) because I have to mail it and I *never* have stamps.
-have killed several cell phones via various methods of torture such as dropping them in the river, running over them with my truck and drowning them in a vodka tonic (don't ask).

I am, however, immensely flattered that you think I "have it all together"...because seriously? I'm pretty sure I'm constantly trying to pick up the pieces and just keep them in a somewhat organized pile.

I'm a fan of the "somewhat organized pile".

Are you in good hands?

noreply@blogger.com (NTS) — Fri, 07 Oct 2011 19:25:00 +0000

Am I the only person on the planet who doesn't understand insurance?

We just recently got something from work about updating our disability insurance coverage.

Yeah...I'm pretty sure I didn't even know I *had* disability insurance coverage, much less how much it is and even less than much less, when/if/why/by how much I should update it.

I swear to you that the words "deductible" and "copay" send me into a catatonic trance.

_______________________________

See? I just totally blanked out there.

You know what else I don't understand? Medical billing and health insurance. I mean, I have it...that's about the extent of my knowledge. The other day a friend of mine was going on and on about how her insurance was trying to screw her because they were saying she hadn't met her deductible (___________...sorry) and the doctor's office sent her a bill and it was a shitload of money. So she pretty much spent a whole day on the phone with the doctor and the insurance company getting it straight and faxing them paperwork and blah, blah, blah, blah, blah (I understood about half of what she said).

Really??? You spent your time doing that??

Because if I get a doctor bill and I have insurance, I don't pay it.

What?

That's what insurance is FOR, am I right? I pay for insurance so I don't have to pay for doctors and check-ups and shit. Basically, I pay the insurance company to write checks to the doctor. Like they're my own private little accountant who's in charge of handling all that business.

And then when I get a second or third bill (or perhaps a collections notice) from the doctor's office, I generally pay it....because obviously my insurance accountant chick is out on vacation! And really? The insurance company should be paying ME in those cases for doing HER job.

Just kidding...I have a vague understanding of insurance. It borders somewhere between my knowledge of Tao Te Ching and the geography of the former Soviet Bloc....but hey, it's something.

Okay, okay, I *do* sort of understand insurance. It, unfortunately, happens to be one of those "adulty" things you have to learn when you get kicked off your parent's insurance after college. But it's totally a pain in the ass, am I right??

Maybe I should just re-read the Tao Te Ching and I'll feel more zen about insurance. Probably not.

The best thing about writing this post was spell checking it.

noreply@blogger.com (NTS) — Thu, 06 Oct 2011 00:16:00 +0000

So this is us, pretending like it hasn't been two months since I blogged.

Just go with it.

TWO MONTHS?!!?

WTF!?!?

And you know, not one single comment asking as to whether or not I'm alive, have been sucked into a black hole or just don't like any of you anymore. Not. A. One.

Lame asses.

So, what have you guys been up to? (I'm asking, but I don't really care and it's not like I'll hear your responses anyway, but hey! I asked! You guys didn't! So, by default, I'm now nicer than you are. I rule.)

In summary, it has been a hellacious couple of months. (Sidebar: Ohmigod! Spell check just tried to turn "hellacious" into "fallatious"!!! Um, that's fucking awesome. Oh, and let me assure you, it has NOT been a fallatious couple of months because we have pretty much been falling into bed already asleep. Aaaand now you know.)

And that's about all I have to say about that....nothing major, just hectic with work, school, extracurricular activities, yadda, yadda, yadda. The same shit that all of you do, so why in the world would you want to read about it here?

Short answer: Ya don't.

Moving on....

Things I'm thinking about/loving/googling/dealing with:

1. Mike & Molly--ohmigod! The is, quite possibly, the BEST show on TV since Friends! And because I'm a teenager/young adult of the 90s and early 00s, Friends is like, the shit! If you haven't seen this show, WATCH IT! (Sidebar: I do not watch this show because it's about people who are overweight...the media has kind of made that the whole point, but I think, that is asinine (which, by the way, is one of my absolutely favorite words). Basically, making it about the actors' weight is demeaning to their talent as comedians. And now, I will gladly get off my soapbox and continue my witty banter.)

2. Can you use Proactiv if you're pregnant? No, I'm not pregnant...(but if I was, holy shit balls! You guys would have totally heard about it because I would have absolutely freaked out!!!!)...but I have a very good friend who recently got pregnant through IVF, and this was a conversation we had today via IM. Were we busy at work? I'm certain of it.

3. How many activities are too many activities for a kid? I never want to make the mistake of being the "Over-Scheduling Parent", but seriously....she has GOT to have something to do besides be up my ass. We're about to wrap up fall softball and now we're trying to figure out what's next...basketball, dance, karate, underwater basket weaving???? Not sure, but I've decided it's gotta be somethin'....

4. How cheap am I willing to go on whiskey?? Yep, that's right.....I'm dieting again....(read all about my first diet fail with Crown and water here). But honestly, it's going much better this time around! The hubs and I are carb dieting and I could almost swear to you I've got loose pants in the closet! I know!!! Me! Not having to lay on the bed to zip my shit every morning!!! Who knew!!?! Anyway, so now the dilemma is: Crown Royal is frickin' expensive. Canadian Club....cheap, but hmmm....not so much the same.

5. Check engine light: OH. MY. GOD. My car is a total fucking bitch. The check engine light?!!?! REALLY!?!?! It's like the drama queen's fake cry for help or some shit!! I know there's nothing wrong with you....I have your oil changed regularly and keep you all cleaned out and whatnot and YOU HAVE THE NERVE TO LIGHT UP YOUR LITTLE NAMBY PAMBY CHECK ENGINE LIGHT!?!??! I hate her.

6. Auto Zone: Did you know....if you take your car with the check engine light on to the Auto Zone, they will plug it up to this nifty little machine thingy that will tell you exactly what's wrong with it?? Fancy, huh?? They will NOT, however, be able to clear it so that the mother effing light goes off, NOR will they be able to sell you the shit that will fix it and make the mother effing light go off. What in the hell is the point of "getting in the zone" then, Auto Zone??? To waste my flippin' time??? Well, then, mission accomplished....yay, you.

7. The Saints are doing pretty damn good so far and Thank. God. They beat the Texans. I'm starting to go a little overboard with the Saints gear though....got the shirts, got the cups, got the beads, got the stickers, got the "When the Saints go Marching In" bottle opener (how FUN! Open the bottle and it plays the song!!!)....it's getting to be a bit much. Along those same lines, I'm turning in to quite the obnoxious football fan for certain college teams, too. Who is this person and where did she come from?? I don't know, but it's a damn good excuse to spend Saturday and Sunday in front of the TV or at a sports bar drinking ~~beer~~....dammit....~~Crown and~~.....nope....whiskey and water! Oh wait, never mind....NOW I know where this person came from.

8. Recent discovery: there is a vineyard and winery FIVE MINUTES from my house. Not kidding. FIVE FRICKIN' MINUTES!!!!! Man, my life just got better. And my Sunday was pretty awesome, too...the mom and I hit the vineyard and winery. Made for a tough Monday though.

So yeah....

That's what's going on with me...sort of....or maybe not. Maybe I just made up this whole flippin' blog post.

You be the judge.

It's like those people who wear socks with sandals....they're cool with it, so why do I care?

noreply@blogger.com (NTS) — Wed, 03 Aug 2011 16:28:00 +0000

Over the summer, the kid and I had multiple opportunities to go places with water, like the swimming pool, water park, lake or beach. When you live in Texas and it's 118 degrees, you do what you can to stay cool. (And no, this is NOT the part of the blog post where I rant on and on about how fucking HOT it is outside...you already know and it's pointless to bore you with repetition). SO, the water park...or the pool...or wherever we were, generally there were people in swimwear. Makes sense, right? Right.

O. M. Jesus.

Apparently some people don't own mirrors.

And honestly, some of them were so bad that I started wondering....you know, maybe it's just me?

Maybe I'm the one with the insane body-image issues and these people have one over on me, you know? Hey, they're cool being who they are (even if who they are is a 350 pound woman in a string, rebel flag bikini (yes, I saw that....and I'm here to tell you, there are some things you can't "unsee")). So, who's the one with the problem here? Them? Or me?

I'm thinking it's me...and I'm pretty sure that my whole world is shifting because of it. Do you know that in these moments of clarity I've actually considered wearing a bikini?? ME! In a TWO PIECE!! It's never happened before....but I'm thinking about breaking it out. (After, of course, a few hours laying out in the backyard in it so that my stomach can get a *little* sun. My momma's friend used to always say, "Tan fat is better than white fat!" Words to live by, my friend.)

Here's the thing: these women are comfortable with their bodies and comfortable in a two piece swimsuit...so why shouldn't I be? I'm athletic, fairly toned and a nice average double-digit size. I don't have to shop in plus sizes or anything. No, my stomach's not flat (damn you, Miller Lite!) and yes, my thighs jiggle a little when I walk, but hey, maybe I should embrace this body I live in--cellulite, stretch marks and all. I'll never be as thin as a model and I'll never have six-pack abs, but why should that put me in the "mom swimsuit closet"?? I'm starting to think it shouldn't!

I feel like I'm having an epiphany.

But then I actually think about being out in public in a two piece swimsuit and I start hyperventilating a little. So I'll just start with baby steps...like laying out in the backyard. Or maybe just wearing it when I shower. Or in my bedroom with the lights down while no one else is home.

*sigh*

Men don't have to deal with shit like this...they can be fat and shirtless at the pool and no one says a thing.