A girl named “Aspen” just called to talk to Ethan.
Aspen has a friend over and they called to tell Ethan that they want to kiss him and they want him to choose which girl he’s going to kiss first.
Ethan is 9 years old. So are the girls.
My son responded with these exact words (said with a BRIGHT RED FACE) “I don’t know, I’ll make the decision when I’m older and more mature.”
For a brief moment, my heart swelled with pride for the dignified manner in which my son handled the situation.
Then he screamed like a little sissy girl and told them to SHUTUP..
I don’t blame him, the kid is only 9, I’ve not yet taught him how to properly deal with Little Hussies.
Monthly Archives: June 2006
Respect…. My Strum
After enduring an hour of mocking and verbal abuse whilst playing Guitar Hero, I thought “Hey! Why not subject yourself to some more abuse and humilation and let the boys write a story about you?” (Thanks to Theresa for the idea.)
They were MORE THAN HAPPY to honor my request. (Little snots.) Prepare yourself, for my children do not hold back. Oh no they do not .
My mom looks like an idiot when she plays guitar hero, but she thinks she looks cool. She doesn’t even know how to play.
A lot of times, she thinks the game is broken, but the problem is that she isn’t strumming the guitar, which makes her kind of dumb when it comes to the game.
If it gets accidently paused, she asks the person to restart it because she’s a drama queen about it and acts like a baby when she plays it.
My mom’s a pretty nice person when it comes to anything else, but when it comes to guitar hero, she’s a game hog and she has no manners.
WhatEVAH. Obviously, they’re just jealous and can’t deal with the fact that I have killer Aerobic Dance Moves to accompany my sucky guitar playing.
Do NOT read this entry if you are easily offended by The Sex and or giant pink dongs
On Saturday, I co-hosted a Party for Vaginas. I was so excited about it because Ben Wah Balls and also Nubby G.
This was the 3rd Passion Party I had attended, but the first one that I hosted. I can tell you without any hesitation that they NEVER get boring. Infact, this one was by far the craziest one I’ve ever been to.
First of all, there were drunk men at this one. Only one of them actually had the balls (ha! ha!) to join in on the party fun and by “join in” I mean “stand in the back of the room and say things like ‘that’s hot’ and ‘I like your technique’ when we were playing ‘pass the Pink Peeny.'”
(What? You want pictures of The Pass The Peeny game? Well, of COURSE!!)
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The game was just like musical chairs, only instead of walking around waiting for the music to stop so you could grab a seat, you would pass a giant pink rubber penis around with your knees and the person left with the pink rubber penis in between their legs (ha! ha!) when the music stopped was OUT. I almost bought that rubby penis just so I could play that game at every party I ever attend! Things get boring at a birthday party? “Hey! I know a game!” I start feeling insecure and uncomfortable at Blogher? “Hey, wimmins! Let’s play musical dick!”
That would be so awesome.
But seriously, folks. You’ve not lived until you’ve played musical (rubber) dick.
The second greatest moment of the night had to be when The Hostess whipped out the Numbit.
The NumbWHAT? You ask. The butthole. That’s what.
At least that’s what The Consultant said with a totally serious face, all matter of fact like as she held the bottle of Numbit up in the air. Unfortunetly, I didn’t take a picture of her actually HOLDING the bottle of Numbit, but lucky all of YOU! I did take a picture of myself holding the bottle of Numbit.
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In case you’re thinking that you would NEVER buy a cream that is specifically made to numb your butt, I should inform you that it is multifunctional for The Numbit can also be used to soothe the gums of teething babies. You heard that right. “Numbit, not just for numbing buttholes.”
I was so happy that Joelle made the very long drive to be there with me. Not just because she had the pleasure of experiencing the stuff you “put down there” that sets your croch on fire. But in a good way. I wish I had video of her jumping up and down in the kitchen after having applied it to her hahaha you know hahaha in the bathroom. I’ve never felt closer to her. As she was leaving, I shouted “Thanks for coming.” And oh, how I laughed and laughed because GET IT?
HardyHar.
I walked away from The Vagina Party with new found sexual knowledge (Did you know that when you have sex, the inside of your nose swells up? Neither did I!), a new love for certain products that require batteries and most importantly, a new nickname.
That’s right, after 34 years on this earth, I finally have a nickname and it is…
Nubby G.
If you’ve never attended a Passion Party, I suggest you find a consultant near you and BOOK THEE A PARTY.
(omg! She’s writing about not being able to write!)
I’m currently suffering from Severe WannaBe Writers Block.
I sat down at least 5 times yesterday to write about such things as “my husband taking the coaching of city basketball WAY too seriously.”
“The planning of The Passion Party and how my friend suggested we should serve “Weenies and beans” and how she was completely serious and not even aware of how HILARIOUS it was that she suggested “WEENIES” for a party about and for weenies.”
“me getting served at the gym last night when a little old lady put me to shame by lifting 10 pound weights with ease while I struggled with my 5 pounders and how I kinda wanted to kick her where babies come out for making me feel bad about myself even though she was just doin’ her thang.”
“Connie Chung. (Ok, and also Maury Povich.”)
“when I told a certain comedian friend of mine who shall remain nameless that I put a little weight back on, his response was “Lose the weight. No excuses. Not fucking one. Lose the weight” and how I wigged the HELL out and went all “typical woman” on him and started to cry because how dare he not comfort me and offer me a virtual (*(*(*(*HUG*)*)*)*)”
And I sat here for hours, unable to put any of those things into a coherent post. And then I lost my shit, said a lot of “F” words and called my computer a bitch. I felt so bad because, seriously, is it the computers fault? IS IT? Of course it isn’t, so I apologized and we both cried a little because it’s not anyone’s fault.
WannaBe Writers Block happens, man. It just happens.
Fun Flickr Fact

Today was Ethan’s 9th birthday, so I find it highly amusing that a photo that I took of him yesterday made the front page of Explore and to #1 on interestingness.
Titles are for people who are not pissed off.
A few weeks ago, I had blood tests done and also had x-rays taken of my lower back.
(Oh my God. I’m writing about blood tests. How lame! And boring!)
I hadn’t heard anything from my doctor, so I called last week and left several messages for him. He never did call me back, but on Saturday, there was an envelope in the mail from my doctor that contained the results of my blood work.
Sibling Love
Excuse me for bragging, but my youngest son kicked ass at the End of the Year School Awards ceremony.
My GOD. I’m so proud to be his mother.
He recieved a “Citizenship” award, a “Recognition with HONORS” award, a “Service” award for outstanding service as a student council Representive (one of only TWO for the entire 3rd grade class, thank you very much) and (this one is my most favorite for obvious reasons) “The School District Writing Celebration, Young Authors” ribbon for excellence in writing. His was one of only THREE stories chosen to be displayed at the district office as being one of the “best written stories” of 2006.
Hello, Future Blogger of America! (I know, poor kid, I should lower my expectations.)
As he stood up there, with all of his awards in hand and a huge smile across his face, my heart was bursting with pride and I had to hold back from standing on my chair and screaming out “LOOK AT THE KID! HE’S AWESOME! AND I’M HIS MOTHER!”
I am pretty sure that the fact that my son kicks so much acedemic ass makes me a “good breeder.”
He’s such an awesome kid and seriously? One of the funniest human beings I’ve ever known. He’s also fiercly loyal, protective and affectionate.
Oh, and? He loves The Ladies.
He once deemed himself “The Protector of Girls.” And man, he takes his self given title seriously.
Like the one time some boy was picking on a girl at a party, my son got right in the kids face and said “DOES THIS LOOK LIKE A HAPPY FACE, DUDE?”
What makes that so funny is that the kid was about 10 years old and Ethan was 6. He didn’t care, he was just “doing his job.”
One of the greatest joys of my life has been watching him with my daughter. He’s incredibly loving with her, sensitive to her feelings, and extremely protective of her.
((OMG! The Cheese&trade, it has returned!)
Every once in a while, he’ll stand in her bedroom and stare at her baby pictures. He’ll start to cry and say things like “This picture just makes me cry mom, because she’s growing up so fast, I can’t believe that’s the little baby I held in my arms at the hospital.”
The other day, I asked him what it felt like when he held her for the first time.
“Mom, it was like, the greatest moment of my life. I couldn’t believe how beautiful she was. I loved her right away.”
He loves her deeply and she loves him right back. Her face lights up when she sees him in the morning and when he leaves for school, she hugs him, kisses him and says “Bye Boo.”
The most exciting part of her day is when she hears his bus come roaring down the street. She literally freaks the hell out. She jumps up and down, squeels, laughs. I try to make sure we’re outside everyday so that she can be there to see him when he gets off the bus because what happens when he steps off of the bus is honestly one of the most precious things that I have ever witnessed as a mother.
She watches intently as the kids start filing out of the bus, waiting for the moment that her Brubber appears. The minute she sees him step out, she takes off running towards him. And then he runs towards her. And they run and run until the finally meet and he sweeps her off of her tiny little feet, and they hug and giggle.
And I cry. Every single time. Corny? Yes! But maybe if you saw it yourself, you’d understand how it could make a mother cry.

Giving the people what they want
Today, there was great potential for me to feel depressed and cry a lot. The last day of school for my boys, friends not speaking to me because I am a Horrible Person and also, fat, blahblahblahwahwahwah. But then, the greatest thing EVER happened! I recieved an email from The Bride To Be which contained totally embarrassing and yet totally awesome pictures of a certain someone doing a certain type of dance and Ha! Depression averted!
(Ok. Not really, but can we pretend? Please? Thank you!)
I can’t decide on what to title the following picture, so let me give you a few of the choices.
“Proof that I am sometimes a jackass”
“Proof that I am a happy drunk”
“Proof that I need to get out more”
Or (and I think I’ll go with this one)
“Proof that I did the worm on the floor of the bowling alley bar.”
I take my reality television seriously, people.
Is anyone else watching Last Comic Standing? And if so, is anyone else experiencing RAGE at the comics that were chosen to move on last night?
Stella made it, but Doug Benson didn’t? (Hello, lame ass judges, the “Segue” bit? Brilliant.)
Dude. DUDES. Hate.Rage.Anger.
But seriously, folks, STELLA?
You know how sometimes I delete entries because I think they’re dumb? Yeah.
On Saturday night, Tony and I went to a couples bridal shower.
At the bowling alley.
Sounds crazy, right? A Bridal Shower, at the bowling alley. WHAT?
But I’m here to tell you, it is so NOT crazy. Well, unless by “crazy”, you mean “The Greatest Idea in the History of Bridal Showers.”
The best part about the shower was that it was a surprise to the bride and groom to be. I’m a SUCKAH for surprises. They make me uncontrollably happy. As we were standing there in the bowling alley waiting for the bride to show up, I kept asking people “Do you think she knows? Do you think she knows? Do you think she’ll freak out when she sees us? What about when she sees the guys? Do you think she’ll cry? OMG. DO you think she knows?” As I was asking the questions, repeatedly, my mouth was watering (from the excitment) and I kept jumping up and down whilst clapping and squeeling because EEEEEEEEE! SURPRISE!
I seriously geek the hell out.
The groom arrived first and found a room full of family, friends and one crazed out psycho surprise lover in the bar. Everyone was all “SURPRISE!” and Oh my God, I think I made sweet pee pee in my pants because SURPRISE ACHIEVED!
As soon as he arrived, he was given a pair of pink boxers that he had to wear. (Do I need to tell you how crazy that made me inside, it was like THIS IS THE GREATEST SURPRISE BRIDAL SHOWER IN HISTORY AND IT HASN’T EVEN STARTED YET!)
After everyone explained to the groom what was going on, the girls went and waited for the bride. Once she walked through the doors, we totally tricked her. We were like “This is your shower, girl, let’s bowl!” Little did she know that her fiance, her brothers, uncles and male friends were waiting for her outside. (With roses in hand! But that was supposed to be a surprise! Sorry! I can’t help it, I’m so excited to tell you about this!)
As we started to put on our socks and bowling shoes, her fiance snuck in the door and surprised her with a pink ring, a rose and a pink veil. She started laughing hysterically, which made me so happy because it worked! We surprised her! Sweet pee pee! After they had their moment, the guys walked in one at a time, each giving her a rose and a kiss on the cheek and a little joy to a certain little dork sitting on chair feeling so lucky to be a part of such an awesome moment in history.
Since I hardly ever get a night out with my husband and since I am no longer a nursing mother, I decided I was going to have me a few drinks of some hard liquor.
Ha! Ha! I said “A few.”
After my 3rd double rum and diet coke, my friends were like “Hey, how many of those have you had? Are you ok?”
And I was all “I’m GREAT! You just better hope that they don’t turn on any music!” Because, people? When I’m drinking, it’s all fun and games until the DJ busts out The Hip Hop and R&B.
Well, um, after we were done bowling, everyone decided to go hang out in the pool room/BAR. And HOLY CRAP, there was music. Sweet hip hop music. I started out calm, with just a little bobbing of the head and gentle thrusts of the hips. But then, some dude, (Sorry, Michelle, I can’t remember his name!) challenged me to some sort of dance off. Obviously, he had NO CLUE who he was dealing with. At one point, he uttered the words “You’ll have to do better than that.”
Big mistake, dude. Big. Freaking. Mistake.
The next words out of his mouth? “OHHHHH, SHE DROPPED IT LIKE IT’S HOT.” I’ll let you “imagine” the move I busted out. But just remember “drop” and “hot.”
What happened next marked the moment that my husband decided it was probably time to go home. We were all standing around the bar and the same dude who had challenged me before was still talking smack about my dancing, so I was like “DUDE, do NOT make me bust out The Worm, because I will.”
Two seconds later, I fell to the floor, forgetting that I was wearing a skirt. And granny panties. Because WHOOPS, I was on The Rag.
Funny how liquor makes you forget little things like that.
Let me show you a little post that I wrote when I got home before I continue.
Because I love you all so much, I am going to give you some awesomeadvice.
If you’ve had um, a great deal to drink and you are wearing a skirt and also your granny panties because haha who’s goign to see your chonies? FOR THE LOVE OF GOD DO NOT BUST OUT WITH THE WORM IN THE MIDDL EOF THE BAR OF THE BOWLING ALLEY.
seriously. Do not. No one needs to see all of that white chunky goodness that are your thighs and also your lower ass. NO ONE.
And when peopel call you “stripper” it’s not a compliment. It’s more like a HAHAHAAAA we’ve got you on film doing “the worm “in yourskirt you drunken dumbass.
I am goign to kick people’s asses tomorrow for encourgaing me to do such things.
(But honestly? You’ve not liveduntil you’ve seen me do the worm, people. Jus tmake sure I’m notwearing a skirt when youa sk me to do it.)
So, yeah, I wasn’t thinking about the skirt flying up on my first attempt of The Worm. But, I quickly fixed the problem by tucking my skirt between my legs and proceeded to show them all that when you issue me any type of challenge that involves “Dancing”? YOU LOSE.
(P.S. Attention Wimmins attending Blogher. FEAR NOT! I will not be packing any skirts! Unlike the unlucky few at the bowling alley on Saturday night, your eyes will be spared the White Chunky Goodness that are my thighs and lower buttocks!)
On the way home, Tony made me cry. He said he was mortified when the skirt flew up because (and these are his exact words) “No one needs to see your pad, woman.”
First of all, no one saw The Pad. It’s not like I lifted up my skirt, spread my legs and bent over. My skirt lifted up a little. BIG FREAKING DEAL. He only said that to be An Ass and to make me feel like an ass. And I did for about 2 minutes, but you know what? The same way that “No one puts Baby in a corner?”
“No one makes me feel about about doing The Worm.”
(Well, except if you send me in email the day AFTER I do the worm and say “Everyone talked about the worm at the game, but no worries, it’s all good!” Because that will make me all paranoid and shit and wish I had kept my worm to myself and done The Monkey instead.)

