March 3, 2014

Once you become a parent it seems like 99% of your day is spent saying “no” and yelling at your kid’s to stop doing something stupid.

It’s never-ending.

And the reason that you have to say it so much, is because kids are idiots.

And before you get all pissy with me and unleash the BOLD CAPSLOCK FURY all over my blog, let me elaborate:  We are ALL born idiots and our parents are here to keep us alive and well until we learn to NOT be idiots.  We can’t help but do idiotic things because we don’t know any better. Everything is a new curiosity to us and we think we’re invincible. Little by little we grow and learn to stop trying to lick floors and stick random things up our noses. And sometimes, well…sometimes we don’t grow out of it. Just sit down and watch a few episodes of Tosh.O if you want proof of that.

I recently posted a Facebook status where I said that I had to tell The Boy to stop trying to shove The Cat down his pants.

The Boy is 12.

A few months ago he asked me if he and his friend could video tape themselves jumping off of the roof.

So the growing out of it? It’ takes awhile.

Ever since he could crawl I’ve been calling him out on his idiotic behavior. The amount of things he’s tried to do that could have injured or killed him is staggering. And the amount of things that he’s done that have made me want to vomit, are even more so. “Stop eating that dog poop!” was just one of sooooo many.

Anyways, after I posted that status about The Cat in the pants (that sounds like the name of a kick ass kid’s book), I asked my readers to tell me some of the things that they’ve had to yell at their kids recently.

I was not disappointed with the results.

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THINGS MY READERS HAVE YELLED AT THEIR KIDS

-Stop eating the stick of butter. 





-Do not microwave the cats.

-Don’t sniff your brother’s butt.

-Stop licking the stove.

-Please don’t lick the dog.

-Did you just eat bird poop?

-Stop trying to hump your brother.

-That hole is NOT for fingers.

-Don’t bite the couch!

-Stop biting the dog!

-Get your finger away from the dog’s butt.

-Quit doing Gangham style naked.

-Stop trying to pull your brother’s penis off!

-Please don’t pee on your sister.

-Take garbage out of your mouth.

-Don’t bite the cat.

-Get your finger off the cat’s butt pucker.

-Cat Chow is NOT an afternoon snack.

-Get your hand out of your pants.

-Don’t try and pull the dog’s tail off.

-Don’t you shit on my carpet!

-Stop licking the television screen.

-Stop licking the side of the house.

-Why are you naked and trying to shove a cupcake in my mouth?

-Don’t make balloon animals with your balls at the dinner table!

-Stop licking your brother’s butt!

-No, your poop isn’t going to be chocolate flavored no matter how much chocolate milk  you drink so please don’t try it.

-DO NOT pee on the dog!

-Don’t rub your french fry on the floor.

-Stop putting your sandwich in your shoe.

-No, you may not take the peanut butter into the tub with you.

-What’s in your nose? Is that poop?

-You can only be naked and touch yourself if you go in your room.

-Don’t let your brother eat your toes!

-Quit painting with your poop right this minute!

-Don’t eat your shoe.

-Don’t wipe your nose on the dog/cat/me/fork/any other usual household object.

-Stop rubbing your forehead on the carpet.

-Please stop playing with the dog’s vagina.

-No, the cat doesn’t want to be blue.

-Quit singing songs about titties, farts, buttholes, and privates!

-Stop trying to put your buttholes on each other!

-Don’t put that up your nose!

-Stop trying to put the cat’s head in your mouth.

-Where is my cat? What do you mean she’s in the dryer? How long has she been in there?

-Get your finger out of there. (“There” could be ANYWHERE.)

-Who licked the butter?

-Why did a spoon just come out of the icemaker?

-Why is there bologna and cheese in this pillowcase?

-That’s not bacon, that’s CAT HAIR! Keep it OUT of your mouth! (My two year old pulls hair off the cat and says “Mmm bacon!” and eats it.)

-Don’t beat your brother in the head with Mr. Potato head. You’re gonna wake him up.

-Don’t rub grilled cheese on your head.

-Can we please not freeze mud and sticks in mommy’s coffee cups?

-Why is your blankie in the freezer?

-No, you cannot ride the skateboard down the staircase railing.

-Stop licking your armpit!

-Please do not touch the puppy’s “lipstick.”

-How many times have I told you not to use your moose as a weapon?

-Stop licking people.

-Stop hitting the cat in the balls!

-Don’t sit on your sister’s head.

-Don’t pour your orange juice on the dog.

-Stop peeing on the dog!

-Don’t swear at nana.

-Don’t put the pencil in the cat’s butt.

-Don’t pee in the heat vent.

-Do not sniff the dog’s butt to say “hi.”

-No, you can not go out the doggie door and pee with them again.

-We don’t hang off of the fan blades!

-Stop trying to flush the cat down the toilet!

-What do you mean the cat fell out the window?

-Take the cat out of the microwave.

-The dog will poop out your tooth and we will find it and wash it off so that the tooth fairy can bring you a dollar.

-Get your toothbrush out of the oven.

-Stop licking the van.

-Please don’t swing the poo.

-If you hit your sister make sure you have a reason.

-Stop! There’s poop on the umbrella!

-Stop eating snow off the bottom of your boots!

-Stop putting things in your butt. It’s not a pocket!

-Stop twerking in the dog’s face.

-Sleeping with tacks on your pillow might not be the best idea.

-Don’t eat your sister’s boogers.

-Get your butt off your sister.

-We don’t touch other people’s heinies. No. I don’t care that they are squishy and make you laugh. Just no.

-Take all those bandages off the cat.

-Get that sword out of your nose!

-Stop putting your hand in your butt crack.

-Underwear does not go on the Christmas tree.

-Don’t put your sister in a suitcase.

-Stop biting the recliner!

-Stop sniffing the dog’s butt.

-Stop licking the dog’s teeth.

-Please get your finger out of your butt.

-Quit playing peek-a-boo with your penis.

-Don’t lick the cat.

-Get your tongue out of your nostril.

-Don’t color your sister’s vagina.

-Don’t put your light saber in the toilet.

-Don’t eat food out of your sister’s shoes.

-Don’t sniff your cousin’s genitals!

-Get the hamster out of your pants.

-Stop rubbing your wiener on the door frame.

-Let your sister out of the dog cage.

-Why is there poop on the wall?

-Mommy doesn’t want Graham crackers down her pants right now.

-Don’t put chap stick on the dog.

-Don’t pry open the dogs mouth and reach your hand down his throat to get your gum back.

-We do not put rubber bands on our penis.

-No, I will NOT sniff your finger!

-Please don’t poke your finger up my nose.

-Your hair is NOT a napkin.

-Do not drink out of the toilet!

-Get the cat out of the dishwasher!

AND…

-Keep your penis away from my computer!

HUGE thanks to all of my hilarious and amazing readers for sharing with me. xoxo

    

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January 22, 2014

This morning I went to Pilates as usual, and when I came home I noticed that The Cat was outside. I was like “WTF are you doing out here?” because I never let her out when I’m not I’m not gonna be home. But she didn’t answer me because duh, she’s a cat, and also a secretive asshole. So I was like “What’s up with you? Cat got your tongue? Do you got your own tongue or does some other cat got your tongue? And what the hell does that saying mean anyways? I’m gonna have to get in a google spiral over that one later.”

Although it was weird that my feline was outside, I kinda shrugged it off because I had a lot of shit to do today and no time to worry about The Cat and whether or not she had magical traveling powers or anything, so I went inside.  When I opened the door I  heard Tejano music coming from The Hub’s boom box. The only time Tejano music is playing in my house is when Gabriella, the Queen of Cleaning, is here. But Gabriella wasn’t here, so I was like “Well, maybe when she was here yesterday she accidentally set some kind of stereo timer or something. And that’s totally possible because she’s never used that particular boom box before and when I showed it to her and told her she could use it she thought I was giving it to her and it took 5 minutes to clear that miscommunication up and I almost DID give it to her just because I was so exhausted.”

So I went into the dining room to turn off the music and noticed that my kitchen table and chairs were totally set up in my entry way. Never mind that I came into the house through the kitchen door and walked RIGHT PAST the empty area where my table and chairs usually are and didn’t even notice that they were missing.

But after I DID notice them I thought “THE PORN NEIGHBOR RETALIATES!” So I went next door to ring their bell and accuse them of lame retaliation, but my neighbor had no idea what I was talking about, and I could tell she was serious. So we came back to my house and went in and I showed her what was going on.

That’s when we noticed that there was one coffee cup on the table and one on the floor. There was also water spilled all over the floor in 2 puddles and one had napkins on it like someone had tried to mop it up. And there were two open magazines on the table, so we started reading the pages for clues.

No, I didn’t notice that my table was missing from my kitchen when I first came home, but yes, after that I suddenly got all CSI about napkins, magazines, and water. My brain works in mysterious ways and doesn’t work in even more mysterious ones.

The literary clues told us that Tori Spelling recently left her husband because he cheated on her and Sean Penn is doing Charlize Theron and Halle Berry buys toilet paper “Just Like Us,” but what does that have to do with Tejano music, moving tables, and Patti MURDER?

I also started thinking about the Tejano music. If only I spoke Spanish I could have deciphered the message behind whatever was playing when I walked in! DAMN me and my inability to learn Foreign languages! It was probably a very important clue to finding my future murderer!

My neighbor was all “Don’t touch anything! Don’t move anything! We have to call the police!” And I was all “One of my internet stalkers has finally found me, learned my daily routine, and decided that my furniture need to be moved to odd and undesirable locations in my home! I KNEW THIS DAY WOULD COME! There’s probably a murderer in here right now who wants my supple skin for an ottoman! And they let me go to Pilates before the murder because they wanted to be all stabbing me or whatever while I yelled ‘I worked out for nothing! You could have at least killed me before I wasted time working on my abs! A nice murderer would have spared me the unnecessary exercise because dead people don’t need firm butts. YOU’RE A FREAKING MONSTER!'”

Then my neighbor was like, “Would anyone else have done this?” And I was like “No. You and Stephanie are the only ones with keys and she doesn’t have a car today. There’s no way she would hitch a ride over here just to move my table, read some trashy magazines, and dance to La Bamba. She’s weird but not that weird. Plus, if she woulda come in here to play a joke she woulda done something with Flat Reedus. Not just moved my table and looked at Us Magazine.”

So I text The Hub and I know he’s thinking Oh shit! This is what she gets for telling the world about her poop habits and every other private thing in her life. I knew her attention whorey ways would finally end her life in disaster. Then he says “STAY AT THE NEIGHBORS HOUSE. I WILL CALL YOU!”

So I’m about to call the popo even though it means they will search my house and probably find all the porn that I never wanted my neighbors to know I have because then I will no longer be able to hold their mis-delivered porn over their heads and make fun of them for being degenerates.

But my life depended on it, so I figured that losing the upper hand with the neighbors was worth it.

Then I say, “Before we call the fuzz let me call Stephanie to make absolute sure she didn’t somehow get over here and do this.”

So I do.

And she did.

I was like “WTF? Why are you trying to give me a heart attack?” And she was like “I assumed you’d know it was me and Renee.” And I was all “No…I didn’t think it was you because you don’t have a car.” And she was all “We were on our bikes and we stopped by for a drink and you weren’t there so we went in and rearranged your furniture.” And I was all “WHY?” I figured it had been moved to make a murder room like on Dexter, or perhaps Gabriella is dead and her ghost wants to clean my house once more before it crosses over into Heaven. Or maybe cleaning my house IS her Heaven because it smells like me, AKA bubblegum and happiness, and even my dirt is amazing. BUT THE POINT IS, I ALMOST HAD A HEART ATTACK!

So we started talking about what they’d done and I said “Why did you drop a mug of water on my floor and let it lay there? And then start cleaning up one of the puddles with napkins but leave them on the floor?” And she was all “We didn’t! I would never do that. Maybe Renee did and I didn’t see her?” Then Renee called and said “I would NEVER do that! I swear. I’m so sorry. We didn’t spill stuff on your floors! But now I’M THE ONE WHO’S SCARED! That’s freaking me out! And we didn’t let your cat out either. I KNOW we didn’t! I think you DO have a house ghost!”

Here’s what I think:

I think a psycho internet stalker killer broke in and was waiting for me to get home from Pilates so he could get all murdery up in here, and when he heard Stephanie and Renee coming in, he went to hide because he didn’t wanna waste any or his murdering energies on anyone but me because then they woulda gotten all good and fancy murdered and I would get all lazy sloppy murdered and my murderer wants me to get his best murderiness. Then when they were done doing whatever weird things they were doing with water and magazines, he came out of hiding and threw their mugs around the room because he was angry that they interrupted his murder prep time, and made a mess. Then Ghostly Gabriella started cleaning it up because she knows that pooling water on wood floors is nothing but trouble. Then the murderer saw the Ghostly Gabriella and he freaked out and ran away, because just because you’re a murderer doesn’t mean you can’t be scared of shit just like everyone else. Murderers can be scared of anything they want to be scared of, except for murdering people. Then I came home while Ghostly Gabriella was in the midst of cleaning up the spill, and she didn’t want me to ask her to clean The Boy’s toilet again, so she went POOF and disappeared.

At least that’s how I am choosing to decipher all of this. Because if my friend’s broke into my house and missed the opportunity to do something strange with Flat Reedus, or Bieber’s head, or my Lord of the Rings PEZ dispenser collection, or my open laptop (which was open to my Facebook), or any other of the various oddities that I have lying around my house, and instead chose to move a table and read US Magazine, then I gotta spice it all up somehow. That’s how much I love my friends.

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January 13, 2014

Our mailman is notorious for giving everyone the wrong mail. ALL THE TIME. I don’t know what the deal is with her, but she just can’t get it right. Maybe she’s bitchy about being in a job with word “man” in the title. I know she’s a woman but mailwoman just doesn’t roll off the tongue quite right, so most of us still call her our mailman.

I kinda get it.

After I got married I decided to get rid of all my hair and get a sassy little pixie cut, which I loved, until some dude called me sir, and if I hadn’t been so shocked and depressed after that I woulda done a lot more than put his mail in the wrong box. One of those things woulda been showing him my boobs, and another woulda been kicking him in the underballs.

So yes, I totally get why the mailman lady might be kinda ticked from time to time.

But maybe the woman thing isn’t the issue at  all. Maybe she just hates us and thinks out catalogs and magazines are stupid, so she’s playing puppeteer and manipulating us into finding out each other’s business and creating drama for her own amusement. Maybe she has cameras hidden in our homes so she and all the other mailmen can watch their own little Truman Show type thing.

I DON’T KNOW.

All I DO know is that I get other people’s mail and other people get my mail, and it puts us all in some perpetual state of forced nosiness.

For example, I know that someone on the next cul-de-sac over gets letters from prison, and they know that I get lots of stupid entertainment magazines. Magazines which I suspect they read while pooping, then give back to me (because that’s totally what I would do in that situation). And whether they actually took my magazines into the crapper or not, I’m never gonna be able to stop thinking that they did. And it kinda ruins the entire magazine reading experience for me when I’m trying to enjoy a story about some douchey thing Kanye did and all I can picture is my neighbor reading the same story while going poop.

But last Friday I found out about something better than prison love or hair club for men: I found out which of my neighbors orders porn.

And it’s awesome.

Now most people -if accidentally given some of their neighbor’s porn mail- would probably either throw it away or casually slip it into the correct mailbox so that their neighbor would never know that they know that they’re a freaky porn addict.

But I am not that neighbor.

This is what  the porn catalog looked like when I returned it to them:

(Front)

(Front)

tag2

(Back)

Man, my neighbors are all so lucky to have me.

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December 19, 2013

Last year on my birthday my friends gave me what would quickly become one of my favorite things ever…my Flat Bieber. If you’re new to this weird neck of the woods, then you can read about that HERE. Go ahead. We’ll wait. Oh and don’t worry! We TOTALLY won’t talk about you while you’re gone. Go on! GO!

Psst! Can you guys even believe that those wank-holes haven’t read about Flat Bieber? I mean COME ON! Half the crap I’ve talked about for the past 12 months is built upon the Flat Bieber Foundation. It’s like they’re not even trying to get me! I mean, seriously. Put in a little effort and do your homework, amiright? Sheesh.

Oh you’re back? Cool! You’re super awesome! We were so bored while you were gone. All we did was talk about knitting and periods. But now you’re back and all caught up and we can continue. Yay!

So I’ve had Flat Bieber for a year and we’ve had lots of amazing times together. Then this year my friend Becky gave me Flat Reedus, and you guys all know how much I LOVE me some Reedus (and if you don’t there’s just seriously no hope for you). I was immediately in love and SUPER excited to bring him home and introduce him to my family.

But it didn’t go exactly as planned…

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Now excuse me while I go do my Drummer Boy dance.

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