Happy Father's Day!!

I could have done this last year, but I’m too lazy to read through my posts and find out. Every year around this time, I become exceptionally thankful for my dad.

I can’t really talk about all my dad does for me without tearing up. Not too many things make me weepy, but thinking about all that my dad has sacrificed for my boys and me, makes me bawl like my Gramps used to during Hallmark commercials.

When I was born, my parents had no idea if I was a girl or a boy. My dad wanted a little girl so bad, that he wore a baby pink polo shirt to the hospital the day my mom was having me, and promised me a Porsche when I turned 16 if came out a girl… 16 years later, I got a Mercury Topaz! Close enough.

I was never “daddy’s little princess” we did things differently around our house, and prissiness, was not an option. I did make a damn good bat girl though! After having two boys myself, I’m extremely grateful for being raised at a baseball park and knowing what to expect after they showed an interest in the sport. I wouldn’t have known what to do with girls….

Shortly after Carter was born, we took a family vacation to San Francisco. It was before the magnificent 7 had all arrived, and the only two grandchildren at the time for my parents were Jed’s oldest Madi, and Carter, so traveling as a family was still fun…. (It’s not anymore; kids at that capacity are just loud and obnoxious). Carter had a little cold when we left for San Fran, but nothing too bad. A day or two after we’d been there, Carters cold turned into pneumonia. He wasmiserable!! The only person he wanted to be with was my dad for the rest of the trip. They experienced their first baseball game together that trip at the Giants stadium, which I believe began their love affair with the sport. By the end of the trip, the two were inseparable. It was a bond I don’t think any of us were expecting, but 11 years later, their bond is even stronger. My dad is a dedicated fan, supporter, and most of all coach, to Carter and his team of friends. He has put in countless hours working with both of my boys, on and off the field or court. He’s given up vacations, date nights, dinners and spent endless amounts of money on my boy’s well- being, never complaining once about it.

I wasn’t exactly planning my pregnancy with Gunner, and with the situation I was in, it wasn’t really an exciting pregnancy announcement.  Yes, I said Gunner… neither of my pregnancies was planned. (Don’t worry; I know what prevents that now ;) When Gunner was born, his heart stopped beating. They quickly took him from me to revive him. I was lying there helpless on the hospital bed as nurses performed CPR and called the crash cart. After a couple of minutes (which seemed like hours) my little Gunner Brett started to cry. My dad was one of the first in the room after Gunner had been cleaned up and cleared for visitors. He was so happy to see Gunner, and I will never forget the look of relief on his face as he walked in and saw Gunner- healthy as can be, after the little scare he gave us. His bond with Gunner was instant. They have a different relationship than he and Carter, but I know that because of my dad’s love and care for both boys, they will be better men in the long run.

I couldn’t have a post about my dad without mentioning the great example that raised him. My dad is the man he is because of his father. Gramps was the perfect example of love, service, loyalty, respect, and honesty. These are just a few of the traits he portrayed on a daily basis. Each of these traits have been passed down to my dad, who then attempted to pass them down to me, but due to my stubbornness, I’m my own mold ;) I’m hoping my children are more susceptible to a positive influence….  

Happy Father's Day, Dad!! Thank you for all you do, and for willingly being a "parent" a second go around for my boys. We couldn't make it without you! 

I am not a single mom!

Just because I sleep alone at night, does not qualify me as being a single mom. For the past 4 years, I’ve been claiming to be a single mom. After this week, I’m fully admitting, that I, am not a single mom.

My parents have been in Hawaii for the past week. I’ve always recognized how much my parents do for me, but this past week has made me realize the extent of what they do to help me out. Monday night, both boys had a baseball game. Gunners was at 5:30. Seeing how I work, and usually till 5:00, my mom or dad will get my kids to their games for their early warm up, 45 minutes before game time. Luckily, I was able to arrange other help to get Gunner there early this week. I left work a few minutes premature Monday, to try and get to Gunners game on time. Traffic was horrible and I still had to pick Carter up to get him ready for his game. By 5:32 I’d made it to Carter, he quickly changed; we grabbed his gear, and headed to G’s game. I was only 15 or so minutes late to Gunners game, but because of the frantic stress of “running late” and having a few things to do before I could get to the fields, relax, and watch the games; I was feeling exceptionally sorry for myself that I had to be a working mom that day, which is pathetic, I know.

At least 3 days a week, my mom picks my boys up from school, helps them with their homework, and entertains them or shuffles them to their activities that begin before I get home at 5:30.. She does it without hesitation, and her only complaint(s) is that I (more often than not) remember the boys have something, 15 minutes before they need to be there, and call frantically asking if she can get my boys somewhere that takes 5 minutes to get to, in 3. But even then, instead of saying “tough luck!” she gets them where they need to be.

My poor parents have dealt with my lack of planning for 29 years. I am what you call, “gloriously unorganized.” I rarely make plans, but eventually, I end up being where I need to be. I believe God designed me to be a celebrity that requires an assistant following them around and giving them a play by play of their schedule for the day. Unfortunately, my career in sports, modeling, and acting, never took off, so my salary doesn’t really have the means for an assistant at that level. So I’ve got my mom instead, who basically pays to be my assistant… (talk about the shi* end of the stick!)  

My mom is one of the kindest, funniest people I have ever met. She is always willing to serve others, including strangers. I can only pray I end up being half the woman she is when I "grow up". She is, without a doubt, my best friend. 

With any hope, my two boys are going to be great men because of the so called village it is taking to raise them. I realize this is a sappier post than normal, but having to actually be a “single mom” this week, has made me exceptionally grateful for the support I have all around me. I was blessed with parents much greater than I deserve most days, and I would hate to let life go by without expressing my appreciation for them enough.  (Plus, I really like the blog to get hits, so if I make a post sappy and about my parents, maybe it will get more…)

Thank you for all you do for me, Mom and Dad! Maybe in 29 more years, I can repay you and change your diapers ;) (Who am I kidding, I’ll just pick which nursing home to put you in.)

p.s. Mom, can this count as a Mother’s Day gift? If so… Happy Mother’s Day! 

Peer Pressure- Cheers to all you Parents!

I feel like I’m giving into peer pressure by writing this blog post. After a slight nudge from a good friend **cough, Brittany, cough** I’ve been guilt tripped in to writing a post, so what better topic than peer pressure?

Peer pressure is something I’ve always struggled with. If my friends were doing it, there was a 99.9% chance I was going to do it too. Hence the reason for the following: Drinking Barbie beers and thinking I was wasted beyond all wasted after 1 (little did I know that there was more alcohol in my Grandma’s Nyquil), smoking (one time offense), teenage sex, which lead to a teenage pregnancy, (note: most of my friends were smart enough to avoid the pregnancy part) teenage marriage, a tattoo, piercings, seeing Twilight at midnight, and my obsession with Arrested Development ….not complaining about this one even a little bit. “There’s always money in the Banana Stand”.

The crappy thing is, that I knew better. I just thought I was invinsible- that I wouldn't get caught, that nothing bad would happen to me if I always had a good cover up. My parents didn’t raise me to run out and get a tattoo the second I had an ounce of freedom, and I can promise you this much, my dad would be more mad about me seeing a Twilight movie, than a strange piercing. In no way did my parents expect perfection out of me. Hell, they were just happy I wasn’t a theater geek like my cousin Brady. But they did expect me to be a little smarter than I was.

I turned 29 this year and it kind of forced me to look back on all of my dumb choices in life. Why couldn’t I have been one of those kids who KNEW who they were? They didn’t need to try smoking to look cool; they didn’t need to go see a stupid movie about a Blair Witch, just because “everyone” was doing it! They just made smart choices, and they were happy. It didn’t matter that they were missing out on R rated movies, or parties with booze, they were perfectly content with their Kool-Aid and spin the bottle parties.

The good news is, I’ve somewhat learned from my mistakes. I rarely give into peer pressure like I use to, and if I do, it’s usually for a good reason, like writing this blog post, or running to the store on a Sunday because I’m the only one who will do that in my family (#dogooders) I wouldn’t be who I am today had I not been a stupid teenager with raging hormones my Jr. year of high school, because I wouldn’t have my incredibly talented and witty 11 year old son Carter.

My only hope as a parent is that I can teach my kids to make better choices than I did, and to teach them that it’s ok to be who they are, even if it means they’re the only one not smoking, or going to a crappy movie. I want my kids to have the experiences I missed out on; I want them to be planning their college life, not a wedding, their senior years. I’ve highly considered making them live in a bubble until they’re 22 or so, then setting them free to the world, but after I thought about it, I decided I really don’t want them living at home with me when they’re 22. I want them to know what is right and what is wrong, and know that they have their whole life to be adults and do adult things. You only get to be a kid once; I’d give my left boob to have the easy life of an 11 year old again!

I should have been a Paparazzi....

We all have things we’d love to change about ourselves. I hate my nose, my thighs, my incredibly bad vision, thinning hair, and the fact my spine curves the opposite direction, making it impossible to come remotely close to touching my toes. All of these things I nitpick day in and day out, wishing for inconsequential changes to increase my looks and appearance.  

On rough days, when I’m feeling really down about my self-esteem, I people watch at a local Wal-Mart or downtown gas station, and pick out the people who have it worse than me. Like the 350 lb. woman who chooses to wear skin colored spandex, so tight her fat rolls could be mistaken for Seamore the walrus at Sea World. Or the man who just can’t give up the mullet he’s so desperately hanging onto, despite the male pattern baldness and mousy/greasy- party in the back. What about the 79 year old lady who still thinks she’s a 16 year old high school student, and spends more time in a tanning bed than the nursing home, all while rocking her True Religions and halter top? And how about the mom in mis-matched sweat pants and no bra, who hasn’t put on makeup or washed her hair all weekend, yet attempts to stroll into Target and act like she owns the place! Oh wait, that’s me.

In all honesty, (not that you didn’t know this already…) I’m kind of a jerk. Making fun of poor innocent people, when realistically, I’m just as white trash; I just weigh less, tan less, dress more grungy, and have more hair (for now at least… seeing how hair loss 2013 is still in full force….) It got me thinking, I know how many secret pictures I’ve taken (because I'm DAMN good at it) of overweight, crappy dressed, 80’s hair styled people, so who’s taking pictures of me?? And WHERE are they going??

I searched POWM.com high and low, and as of yet, I’ve not made it to that site. I’m sure it’s only a matter of time before karma will come and bite me in the you know what, as punishment for pointing and laughing and pretending to text while really I’m snapping a picture of the weirdies out there. So please, be on the lookout for me at my worst on the intrawebs!

I could turn this post into a Full House teaching moment, and get all sentimental about how we shouldn’t judge and we shouldn’t mock those who are inferior to us, because we ALL have our flaws.... but that’s just not my style. But I will say one thing, if you are the 350 lb. woman in skin colored spandex, I would KILL for your self confidence!!

Please send money, and maybe some Victoria secrets gift cards to help with the bra sitch….

xoxo-Meg

Drinking water.....

I get reprimanded for not blogging enough. I’m sorry; I promise I write blog posts in my head daily. But seeing how I’m trying really hard NOT to text and drive (or blog and drive) those posts in my head don’t always make it to paper. Paper? What’s paper? No one writes on that crap anymore! But, guess what Kim???(President, and only member of my fan Club) here I am, writing a blog post!

I want to talk about something I hate. (Weird for me to do that, I usually have nothing but good things to say….. womp woommpp)I hate water! It’s supposed to do all these magical things for you, i.e. clear up your acne, lose weight, tighten your belly, and make your skin glow like a glow worm! BLAH! All it does is make me gag! It’s so gross! I’ve tried Smart Water, People Water, Fancy Water, Sparkling Water, triple filtered-imported-Antarctica purest of all pure glacier water, tap water, well water, toilet water, etc. etc. Consensus says? They all taste the same!  

I went to a restaurant today, and got the glass of water on the left. THIS is not ok. It’s also one of the 132.5 reasons, I don’t drink water. As all of you know, I am a Diet Coke drinker. And although I’ve had my fair share of bad Diet Cokes, it is ALWAYS consistently brown enough to cover up any flaws like this. (Unless it’s at the Mav and they just need to change the syrup, then I just yell to Tony – the guy who works there- and tell him to get in back and fix it. Or I go back there and do it myself; they should consider putting me on their payroll.)

I know what you’re thinking “add crystal light, add the fancy drops, add lemon!” My answer, no, no and no. I’ve tried, It’s still gross. I realize my insides are “eating away the rust off a penny” as we speak, but like Jake Gyllenhal said to Heath Ledger (RIP) in Brokeback Mountain…. Diet Coke…. “I can’t quit you!"

In my qwest for a healthier lifestyle, I have been forcing water down my throat now for a week. If I don't look like Beyonce here shortly, I'mma have to give up!

Peace, love, and send money. Xoxo Meg

Male Pattern Baldness

My blog is slacking. I have nothing funny or demeaning to write about. Want to know why? Because I'm going bald. That's right, bald. Like, Britney Spears gone crazy and shaves her head bald, bald. (That could possibly be a little dramatic.)

I have no idea why, but about three weeks ago, I noticed the part on my head looked like the gap between Madonna’s two front teeth, and of course, my ever so loving mom, had to point it out and laugh. Mom: "Holy crap Meg! When did your part become so wide?" Me: "I dunno mom, probably about the same time my a** did!" Thanks for always pointing out my flaws so lovingly, mom. One day I’ll tell the story of the time I got Bell’s Palsy and my mom just laughed at me while half my face was paralyzed.

If you ever learn anything from me, (which you probably won't) at least remember this; when something is wrong with you, DO NOT GOOGLE YOUR SYMPTOMS!!! At this point, I'm convinced I have a problem with my thyroid, I’m in stage two kidney failure, pregnant, stressed, in shock, just had a baby, recovering from a major surgery, and have syphilis.

I got about 5 vials of blood drawn today. I know that's nothing, but when you're a wimp like me, it's a big deal. There are a few symptoms I can cross off my list. Pregnancy (no explanation needed) I'm pretty sure I didn't have a baby any time in the past 7 years, no surgery since the back in 2010, and STD free for 28 years. I can’t really rule out kidney failure, we all know I consume more diet coke in a day than the cast of Jersey Shore does vodka. So I'm assuming it’s my thyroid, or stress. I've decided to send my Dr. a bill for this one since I did all the research!

Dear Women, please read.

I’d like to thank women everywhere for getting rid of the feathers in the hair trend so quickly. I was worried it would stay and I’d have to keep complaining about it. For those who haven’t gotten the memo they’re out… well God Bless You. Now, would it kill you guys to STOP with the close up self-taken portraits? Maybe limit them to 2 a year? (I have to throw the 2 a year out there because every once in a while I need a new profile pic to keep everyone up to date on my hair color and  I don’t  want people calling me a hypocrite.) I don’t think it’s too much to ask. I don’t need to see your EVERY outfit or a pic of you every time you go to the gym, the pool, or the grocery store, the bathroom etc.  When we were growing up, I did just find only seeing your face in our yearbook once a year. This is still ok, 10 years later.  

Maybe I’m jealous of some of your petite little bodies and fake boobs. I’d like to say I’m pretty average, I’m no Calista Flockhart, but I sure as hell am no Oprah- pre Dr. Oz.  In reality, just about ANYONE can look like a size 2 with the right angle and mirror to cut out the fat. You’re kind of not fooling anyone.  

I’m a girl. (In case some of you didn’t know.) So I get it. There are times I’ve gotten ready and looked in the mirror and thought, “damn girl! You look good!” Granted, these are times that happen few and far in between. But, they’ve happened. However, you know what I didn’t have to do? Take a picture of myself with my phone in the mirror and post it on Facebook, Twitter and Instagram to get the validation from the 41 Likes and 23 retweets to know that I pulled off the perfect hair and eye shadow combo for the day.

And for some people, I can’t help but sing a little Carly Simon every time you make a post. You’re so Vain that you probably think this blog is about you!  Sure I could delete some of these people, but then really…. What would I have as entertainment?

Please send money…. (This has to work at some point right?)

Meg

Brady Von Pooplestein

I follow my cousin’s blog. It’s alright I guess. If you have nothing better to do, you can check it out….. http://thesongsstuckinmyhead.blogspot.com/  I noticed his profile was a little short. I had the opportunity (if you can call it that) to work with him for about a year, during this time, I learned more about Brady than I ever wanted to know. I think it’s only fitting I release the first edition of his profile for his blog. As of now, his profile says the following; “I love Hi-Chew candy. I have a scar on the side of my head. My mom thinks I'm cool. I once played Nintendo for 27 hours straight. I'm an Aires. I'm a little bit "meh" about long walks on the beach.”

This was what he’d originally written, I love watching reruns of Silver Spoons and Who’s the Boss at 1:00 in the morning. My favorite color is poop yellow-brown. My favorite Golden Girl was Blanche, because she’s dead sexy. When I’m not blogging I’m searching for jobs as a Domino’s Pizza Delivery man. I’m in the middle of starting my own reality show called “What to do after your Theater Degree fails to get you anywhere in life.”  The first episode will show me walking into the homeless shelter and introducing myself as Chuck Norris and the people believing it because they don’t know any better due to living on the street. Many homeless people have experienced happiness because they believe they have met a real celebrity and gotten a body part autographed by him. I secretly stalk Ben Folds and send him love letters sprayed with Lemon Pledge then folded into the shape of a heart. I am currently going through a 12 step program for my addiction to glow worms. Step 1 is my favorite; “I admit I am powerless over my addiction to glow worms, I recognize my life has become unmanageable because of this.” My all-time favorite girl band is Wilson Phillips, their song “Release Me” changed my life and I will forever hold on for one more day because of them. My mom suffered 37 hours of labor with me because my head is so big; this caused my right thumb to be slightly shorter than my left. We call this thumb Deb and I inject it with growth hormones once a day hoping it will grow to the size of a normal thumb. It is my goal in life to help my favorite cousin Meghann get on the Ellen Show or meet Justin Bieber.

There are a couple things I had to edit out because Brady went a little R-Rated on us, and my blog is a family blog. I’m happy I’ve gotten this off my chest because the world needs to know of his real aspirations as well as his struggles in life.  

Thanks for reading, please send money.

Meg

Making your way in the world today, takes everything you've got!

I was called a hypocrite this morning for not being on top of my panhandling… I guess it’s time to post something meaningless again and end with a plea for money or a spot on the Ellen show as usual.  One day this will work out for me, right? Probably not.

I was trying to think of something that had been driving me crazy lately because that’s usually what my posts are about. But legally, I can’t talk about the “thing” bothering me most because of what is stated in my divorce decree about not “degrading” my ex spouse in public. So I’ll talk about the second thing bothering me these days.

90% of the time, I stop by Maverick in the morning on my way to work or wherever I’m going for the day.  It’s a rare occasion I miss that stop because it’s imperative I drink 44 ounces of Diet Coke before doing anything productive for the day. (I know it’s probably a stretch to say that anything I ever do is productive.)  

The same people work there every morning, the old crew use to be like family to me. It was like walking in to Cheers. I was the Norm to the Riverton/Herriman Maverick. Every other visit, my drinks would be free because they just liked me. I was a regular and they figured I’d earned my way to V.I.P. status in the convenient store world.

About 6 months ago, Maverick made a staff change. I’m not sure if it was because word got out to the managers that they were giving things away, or if it was a different reason. But this new crew sucks. I have had to pay for my drinks every day for 6 months! Not once have I been greeted with a “heeeeyyy!!!” as I walk through the doors in the morning. And EVERY DAY the SAME girl asks me if I want a receipt. EVERY DAY I say no. The last people knew I didn’t want a receipt, knew it was debit, and KNEW if their Diet Coke was out, to run to the back and fix it before I even got close to the fountain. I’d just like to know where K.C., Saydee, and Brenda have gone. What did I do wrong to lose my celebrity status? It’s like I’m M.C. Hammer and have lost everything over night!! I’m not ok with this!

Sometimes you really do wanna go where everybody knows your name!

Love to you all. Please send money or gift cards to Maverick.

Wedding Bell Hell

I think it’s been a while since I complained publically about something that drives me crazy. Well… at least on my blog, I do it every day on Twitter and Facebook. I find that by complaining about things I have no control over out loud, I feel a little better about myself.

There are a couple things I’m not ok with, but, to each their own so take this with a grain of salt if you are in to these kinds of things. I’m pretty much over the whole- put your arms out holding a sign that says- “We’re getting married!!” thing. Here’s the deal folks… you just sent me a wedding announcement. Don’t you think I put two and two together without you having to hold up a poster board that says it? These pics are just about as over done as a Katy Perry song. Sitting in a photo booth having each picture have a different piece of information isn’t any better. Example: We’re… Getting….. Married….. June 12, 2012. Those ones just piss me off (sorry I said piss mom)… I see the first one, “we’re” and I’m thinking “HOLY CRAP!!! They’re about to announce something INCREDIBLE, the anticipation is KILLING ME!!!” Next one “getting”….. “Oh my gosh?? What are they getting?? A Zebra? A lion?? -No…. Scotty is allergic to Lions, it wouldn’t be a lion-… could they be getting a monkey? A dolphin? WHAT IS IT??” Last one… “Married”…. *insert crickets chirping* “WHAT?? Who cares!! Send out an announcement when you have something cool to tell me! What a let down!”

Maybe it’s because I’ve got one failed marriage under my belt that the excitement of it all is a little obscure to me. But I feel as if every wedding announcement I get is trying to one up the last one. Let’s be honest, I’m just going to throw away the 500 picture collage you just sent me so you’ve basically just wasted 2.00 plus postage on me. If you want to send me something worth while, just send me cash. I’ll attempt to come to your wedding, so long as it’s in Salt Lake County, preferably within the Riverton/Herriman/South Jordan area, and as long as your refreshments are worth it, but I’m totally cool with an invite on Facebook. Save yourself the money, and the idea of me laughing at your all too lovey dovey engagement pictures.

Love you all!

p.s. sorry for any grammar errors, this was a rant and not combed through

p.s.s I’m not really sorry.

Meg for Prez

I think I’ve talked about this before, but because of the upcoming presidential elections, I feel obligated to talk about it again. I know nothing, and when I say nothing, I mean literally NOTHING about politics. I couldn’t tell you who, besides Mitt Romney {Shout out to my Mormon peeps} is running this year.

I can’t tell you what Obama did or didn’t do, other than be made fun of on Saturday Night Live a few times. But they seem to be able to mock every president fairly well so really, it made no difference. I do know Michelle Obama took French fries out of school lunches and did push ups with Ellen, but those don’t really win over a vote for her husband from me.

Gas prices suck, I’m not sure if that’s because of Obama or something else, but there’s nothing I can do about it, so I continue to get hosed at the pump once a week as a fill up.  My health insurance premiums are still outrageous, and I’m still paying out the a-double-s for diabetes supplies every month for my kid. From what I’ve gathered, I’m paying for people with no jobs to get insurance basically. Right? Or am I just making this up. Probably.

This is what happens when my main source of news comes from Facebook and Twitter. I thought while following “The Onion” I was getting some legit news stories. Turns out those are all fake. Oops, my bad. I’m sure I’m a disgrace to society for not caring more; but in all honesty, nothing makes me madder than Greys Anatomy being interrupted for a presidential address to the nation. I don’t care what he has to say! I just care if Grey and McDreamy are hooking up in the break room again!

Anyway, there’s really not a huge point to this post, other than the fact I’m a little, ok a LOT, politically disabled. I’m ok with that. I've managed to survive this long without an understanding of it all. But for the love of all that is holy, for the next 8 months, could you all tone it down with the politics on social media sites? You’re really putting a damper on my free entertainment.

Thanks!

p.s. maybe write me in as your presidential election this year?

My Moms First Blog Post

My mom sent me this email today, it may or may not have made me cry. She's an amazing mom, grandma and friend. She may not agree with every choice I've made in my life, but she loves me anyway. She is my rock through hard times and makes me laugh when no one else can. I'm fortunate enough to have a mom I can call my best friend. Thanks for all you do! (And sorry to post this.....) 

I've always wondered about why women blog.  But after watching 5 grandkids I get it.  I forgot how fun this was. First you need to know I slept exactly 3 hours and 47 minutes last night. Between snoring, coughing nightmares and my mind writing my talk for Sunday at 2:00 am it was a very long night.  I had a Benadryl at 4:00 thinking if I could just get a couple hours Id feel great in the morning...apparently Benadryl is longer lasting than 2 hours.  I'm just praying I don’t get pulled over for a DUI by the cops running the speed trap on 3600 west.  I know it's a trap cuz I've been down it 8 times already today. 

You'll be proud to know all kids have gotten to school on time.  (Seatbelts may or may not have been on).  After getting 4 of the 5 to school I had 45 minutes to get ready for the day.  I know that's about 3 times as long as most moms, but keep in mind I'm use to leisurely mornings reading the paper sipping Pero.  After I'm ready I help Gunner with his homework.  We count out 100 M&M's and count them by 10's.  I started a diet today so I only eat 5....well maybe more like 50, I quit counting.  We go pick up Marin and Drew (on time again, go me).  Get home and make sandwiches when Halle calls and says she needs shoes for recess.  (It's pajama day and she wore slippers).  Keep in mind I've been home from picking up Marin for 4 minutes.  I slap ham on bread for sandwiches and we pile back into the car.  I snarf the crusts down for my lunch and say to heck with the diet bring it on!!!  I get Gunner to school about 10 minutes early so let Marin and Drew play on the playground so I can sleep in the car for 10 minutes.  Just as I'm dosing Gunner opens the door to tell me Drew has broken a school rule and climbed up the slide.

Right now I'm on the toilet faking like I'm going while Marin and Drew are trying to watch me under the door.  I reach for the TP and see a piece of cheese clinging for life on the roll.  (don't ask, I have no idea).  I wash my hands and hear the doorbell, crap!!!!  The RS Presidency is coming for a visit!  Really?  Why?  I'm fine!!!!  My house is a complete disaster!  After an hour visit I make Drew his lunch, he wasn't hungry earlier, I eat his crust and figure that's a meal combined with the crusts from the other sandwiches.  Things have calmed down a bit.  I'm going to make beds and straighten up before the others get home. 

So what I'm trying to say in all this, is I get why mom's blog.  When I was a young mother we stood outside and talked to our neighbors and told horror stories like my morning to each other while the kids played.  Now a days, we don't do that.  We text and we blog and we take Xanex to get through the day.  My baby turns 28 tomorrow.  I can hardly remember her as a child.  I don't remember the days like today.  I don't remember the hard times, I only remember the joy she, and my sons have brought to me.  The wonderful feeling of holding your child for the first time.  Of falling so in love you can't imagine a life without them.  My days of little children are gone. I only have grandchildren who visit and stay over occasionally.   I realize that being a mom and grandma is the best job I could ever have.  I've been blessed with 3 wonderful children.  Who are my best friends. Thanks for being such great people.  I love you!

Mom

A little rant....

**Heads up, this is just MY opinion, I’m sure it will rub someone the wrong way, but when have I ever tried to sugar coat things like this? Get over it.**

I was listening to The Painful Circle this morning on X-96 and they were talking about divorce. A lady called in wondering about Alimony and child support payments. I don’t even know what they ended up telling her or what they told her was going to happen because I pulled in to work just as they started chatting about it. But it got my blood boiling that women can be so dependent on “spousal support” to live.

I’m divorced with two kids, (shocking, right?) there is nothing that irritates me more than women who drain their ex husbands bank accounts every month so that they can continue to live comfortably rather than going out and working to support THEIR children. TWO people made the decision to get married and have kids, not one. ONE person should not support the children.  Things HAVE TO CHANGE once a divorce happens. (Girls,  you may actually have to take the sweat pants off and get out of the house and get one of those “job” thingy’s…) I understand CHILD support and completely agree with it. Obviously if the husband was bringing in all of the income, the wife is going to have to have help…FOR THE KIDS!!

I find a sense of accomplishment and independence that I’ve been able to get myself into a house, find a great paying job, pay my own bills, pay off some debts and still have some money each month to let the boys have some play time. {side note…..I’d be lying if I said I didn’t have help from my parents to get me to this point, so here’s a little shout out to them. You guys are AMAZING!!}

The majority of my “accomplishments” have all been done, with very, I repeat VERY little child support and absolutely NO ALIMONY!! Why should both my ex and I struggle each month to make ends meet? What does that do for the kids? Oh, I know, it makes THEM suffer!! I’d rather the ex (who I really don’t give a rats for) be able to take my kids to do fun things or be able to buy them that video game they’ve been begging for, instead of draining his bank account each month because he has to pay me alimony.

It’s my hope that later in life my kids will be grateful for the fact that I busted my a-double-s to provide for them, and have an appreciation for the fact I didn’t exhaust all of their dads money so that I could afford to have a few luxuries or pay my house payment each month. I did it all. BY MYSELF!

To tie up this little rant about lazy women who depend on their ex husbands, here’s a little food for thought: Grow some lady balls, and get things done without depending on that ex husband to pay for your lifestyle.

Amen

A lesson for everyone.....

Today at work, my friend Phil came back from lunch smelling like a pile of Onions. He stinks! So I decided I needed to write a little blog post about workplace personal scent etiquette. It is NEVER ok to come to work smelling like the following:

1. Onions
2. Beef Stew
3. Cigarettes
4. Elk Urine
5. The back of a garbage truck
6. A McDonalds, or any other fastfood bathroom
7. Fish
8. B.O. covered by Old Spice
9. Curve for Men
10. Wet Dog
11. Sunflowers Perfume
12. Dirty Laundry
13. Aqua Net Hairspray
14. Hot Dogs
15. Adidas Cologne
16. Teen Spirit Deodorant
17. Baby Vomit
18. Beer
19. Cabbage
20. Lindsay Lohan

It is acceptable to come to work smelling like the following:

1. Rubber Cement
2. Really big sharpie Markers
3. Paint Thinner
4. W-D 40
5. Those colorful smelly good markers.

Please feel free to sit in my Cube if you smell like the above 5. The above 20, please move your workstation to the break room with the homeless man for the rest of the day.

That is all.

True Loyalty

I think it’s funny when people all of a sudden become a fan of someone/something. Enter Tim Tebow, Jimmer, and the 49ers. Granted, I have been a 49ers fan my entire life, so it may seem I am a part of this group of people. (If you need proof, I will post pictures of myself in 49ers apparel at a young age.)

I realize Tim Tebow has had some amazing come backs this year and taken Denver 7-1. However, if I see one more person “Tebow” to God, I will punch them in the face.  Also, the water cooler talk at work regarding Tebow needs to stop. Where is your loyalty to hating a certain team people?? Hasn’t the ignominy of the Colts season this year proven to you, that ONE person can make a team look good?? (And yes, I right clicked/synonym on the word embarrassment to get the word “ignominy” to look smarter)  Where will all you new Denver “fans” be when Tebow gets injured and the Broncos start losing? Probably jumping onto the Niners bandwagon.

To sum up my loyalty of hating, I will give you one more example. I hate Diet Pepsi more than water. (That’s A LOT!!) If Diet Pepsi all of the sudden turned my pee into gold, I’d STILL drink Diet Coke. Why? Because I am a LOYAL FAN!  

Thank you for your time.

Please send money.

A Little Holiday Song

What would the holidays be like without a post from me complaining about all the things I don’t like about them? Well it wouldn’t be the holidays! That’s for sure! I’ve written a little song about Walmart this Christmas Season. You’re welcome.

On the first day of Christmas Walmart gave to me, a nasty case of hepatitis B.

On the second day of Christmas Walmart gave to me, two drunken bums, and a nasty case of hepatitis B.

On the third day of Christmas Walmart gave to me, 3 “special” greeters, two drunken bums, and a nasty case of hepatitis B.

On the fourth day of Christmas, Walmart gave to me, 4 screaming kids, 3 “special” greeters, two drunken bums, and a nasty case of hepatitis B.

On the fifth day of Christmas, Walmart gave to me 5 car door dings! 4 screaming kids, 3 “special” greeters, two drunken bums, and a nasty case of hepatitis B.

On the sixth day of Christmas, Walmart gave to me six Chuck Norris t-shirts, 5 car door dings! 4 screaming kids, 3 “special” greeters, two drunken bums, and a nasty case of hepatitis B.

On the seventh day of Christmas, Walmart gave to me, 7 backed up toilets, six Chuck Norris t-shirts, 5 car door dings! 4 screaming kids, 3 “special” greeters, two drunken bums, and a nasty case of hepatitis B.

On the eighth day of Christams Walmart gave to me, eight cashiers nursing, 7 backed up toilets, six Chuck Norris t-shirts, 5 car door dings! 4 screaming kids, 3 “special” greeters, two drunken bums, and a nasty case of hepatitis B.

On the ninth day of Christmas Walmart gave to me, nine ladies stealing, eight cashiers nursing, 7 backed up toilets, six Chuck Norris t-shirts, 5 car door dings! 4 screaming kids, 3 “special” greeters, two drunken bums, and a nasty case of hepatitis B.

On the tenth day of Christmas Walmart gave to me, ten creepers creeping, nine ladies stealing, eight cashiers nursing, 7 backed up toilets, six Chuck Norris t-shirts, 5 car door dings! 4 screaming kids, 3 “special” greeters, two drunken bums, and a nasty case of hepatitis B.

On the eleventh day of Christmas Walmart gave to me, eleven lines to stand in, ten creepers creeping, nine ladies stealing, eight cashiers nursing, 7 backed up toilets, six Chuck Norris t-shirts, 5 car door dings! 4 screaming kids, 3 “special” greeters, two drunken bums, and a nasty case of hepatitis B.

On the twelfth day of Christams Walmart gave to me, twelve butt cracks showin, eleven lines to stand in, ten creepers creeping, nine ladies stealing, eight cashiers nursing, 7 backed up toilets, six Chuck Norris t-shirts, 5 car door dings! 4 screaming kids, 3 “special” greeters, two drunken bums, and a nasty case of hepatitis B.

Back to Panhandling

I started my new job when sales where BOOMING! I made more money my first month on the job than I had in years. It only got better as the following months went on. And then October happened….. {Insert crickets chirping here}

Yesterday, I made 119 phone calls. Of those 119 phone calls, I got two, count them TWO sales!!! I WAS REJECTED 117 TIMES!!!! In ONE DAY!!

Do you know what that does to ones self esteem? This sales stuff messes with your mind more than watching an episode of Jersey Shore does! Show me a person who enjoys a .02 success rate other than Kim Kardashian’s marriages, and I will give them .02 percent of my sales yesterday! (It’s not much! Don’t get too excited!)

With this in mind, I’ve been reminded that I am still waiting for everyone’s money to start filtering in. I started this blog in April and not one of you has paid up. Or gotten me on an episode of Ellen. Is it going to really take me dressing up in a pink tutu and singing a Nicki Minaj song to land me a spot on her show? Or is one of my friends going to step it up and follow through on their end of the deal?

Maybe I should aim lower and start with landing a spot on Chelsea Lately instead. I do love her show more than I like most people, but I don’t know what I’d do about the whole Chuy situation. You all know my fear of midgets…..

**side note: I’m only partially kidding about all of this.

Dear Diary.........

I was thinking to myself earlier today that I hadn’t written a blog post for a while. So of course, I sat with a blank look on my face and stared off into space for a good 32 minutes about what I could write a post about. Turns out, I just looked like an idiot staring out into space and came up with nothing.

How do I not have anything to talk about? I’m usually the one with an opinion (usually negative) on everything! So far this month, I’ve voiced my concerns about Facebook threatening to charge, complained I couldn’t find Halloween cereal anywhere, and announced to the world I puke when I get nervous. (I also may have lied about my age in this status, but that’s not a big deal.)

So then I started thinking a little harder (which is never really a good thing for me to do) and wondered how we ended up here. No dummies, I’m not wondering how we got here, despite what my mom thinks, I know all about the birds and the bees. I’m wondering how we got to the point that our every thought has to be poured out in some huge Facebook Status, or that we can’t deal with our feelings unless we write them down in a blog post for the world to see? Do people still keep private diaries? I know I never did, but I can imagine my diary being a lot like my Facebook posts….

July 16, 2010: Do I seriously have to listen to these stupid neighbor boys light fireworks ONE MORE NIGHT??? I HATE KIDS!!

April 29, 2011:  Had a great day at work, I didn’t say one bad thing about anyone today!!

September 27, 2011: Flipped my neighbor off today! I’m not even sorry!  

And lets not forget my claim to fame:

April 23, 2010: Just saw a deer completely castrated on the side of the road!!

Looks like I was able to come up with something to talk about for a blog post! To make a point to this post, I think its funny that we all have decided to take our “diaries” viral. Don’t get me wrong, I enjoy Facebook and blogging and will probably continue to do it until like I said, they start charging. Social networking has actually turned out to be a pretty good thing for me. (I’m pretty sure Chris will disagree seeing how I online stalked him and forced him to be my boyfriend, he’ll get over it one day though.)

Shits and Shingles Fundraiser Walk

My brother is one of the nicest guys I know. He is such a patient, kind, and generous person.

But this blog post is about my other brother, Brock; a victim of Shits and Shingles. What is Shits and Shingles you ask?? Shits is street slang for IBS (Irritable Bowel Syndrome).  Shingles, is a disease Brock, along with many other 75 and older humans, suffer with 2-3 times a year. Shingles is a form of the chicken pox, only it shows up in awkward patches on your body making it unbearable to touch and awkward to be seen in public. It is unfortunate there are so many who suffer from both.

 

Brock has been suffering from a shortage of bathrooms and porta-potties for years! I believe it is time we step up and make a difference for those suffering from Shits and Shingles. Please join me, along with many senior citizens, on June 22^nd 2016, in the first annual Shits and Shingles walk. This walk will be a half mile walk in the park, with 225 porta-potties along the route. There will be 3 rest stops containing Percocet and Immodium incase any flare ups take place for those walking and are victims of Shits and Shingles. (Crap bags available upon request for those with severe cases.)

Money raised will go towards providing 7-11’s across the country with better toilet paper, as a thank you from the many run ins they have had with Shit’s sufferers who couldn't quite make it to work. Also money will be used to provide a number of porta potties along the freeway, for those moments when the shits just won't wait for an exit. Funds will also be donated to help find a cure for victims like Brock, with Juvenile Shingles.

A special thank you to the following sponsors:

Honey Bucket

Immodium AD

Depends

Pepto

Milanta

Prozac

Larry H. Miller
Snoop Dogg

Kool-aid for Sale!!!

                                                   

I decided the one disadvantage to owning an iPhone is that my kids think they own it. The second I pick them up after work they're on my phone. It's not "Hi Mom! I missed you!" It's "Mom... can I see your phone?"

I was ok with Angry Birds, Tiger Woods Golf and even some what ok with Talking Tom; the annoying cat that repeats everything you say in an extremely annoying voice. But lately I keep getting this message: "Your Siamese cat is finished breeding" and I'm thinking, what in the hell are my kids playing, and how much did this cost me??

Apparently, the iPhone app creators, a.k.a. people with no life, have come up with a pet shop game that allows you to breed animals and sell their offspring to make a profit for the pet shop. I was a little worried I was going to witness the actual conception and delivery part of the Siamese cat litter, but luckily, that isn't part of the game.

What is this world coming too? When I was a kid I worked hard for my entertainment and money. I had to go outside, find a REAL cat on the side of the road, wait 2 minutes for it to get raped by some homeless ally cat, and then try to sell those kittens for a REAL profit. My kids are lazy and have no ambition. Tonight, I'm going to make them sell Kool-Aid on the side of the road and teach them what real kids do!