Tuesday, July 28, 2009

This one time in Vegas.

My husband went out of town a couple of weeks ago. I was going to go, but being the “responsible” adult I am, I couldn’t. Because I had summer school. And since I was taking 2 six-week courses, it just seemed ridiculous to miss a full week, plus…they weren’t giving any make up tests, blah blah blah…so I couldn’t go.

So instead of taking off a full week, I took Friday and Monday off. I didn’t have any plans except you know…not being at work. My consolation prize for not being able to go with The Man. Imagine my surprise when my co-worker (who is probably the only person who spends more time in Vegas than I do) got a 2-night free room offer at The Luxor (I puffy heart The Luxor. They make me poop rainbows). So I call my prima and tell her guess who’s going on a road trip? WE are! Yay!

Friday and Saturday night? Or Saturday/Sunday night? Easy choice. Prima has to work Sunday night and I want to recouperate/sleep in Monday, so we will take Friday/Saturday. Also making this an easy decision? Ditch Fridays at the Palms. The last time I was in Vegas, I went to the club and some dude hooked me up with VIP passes for the price of my a/s/l and e-mail. EVERY FRIDAY since then I’ve been getting e-mails about ditching work and going to the Palms Pool Party. So, since I’m off Friday AND I’m going to Vegas, Pool party it is.

Got to the Palms in the afternoon. I was ready in my lovely bathing suit. See? I even had my "I'm so sexy" pose. 'Cause I am. So sexy. No, really.

This guy was 6'10. If you were on twitter that weekend, then you already saw this picture. OMG. Me, the woman who is deathly afraid of any man over 6'3 was there for the NBA Summer League Weekend. So practically every man there was of GIANT proportion... in HEIGHT. That there's my Prima who IS not afriad of Goliath and so took this picture, while I stood away....FAR away.

(I won't even make mention of the guy who I totally ran away from because he was 7 feet tall and headed right for me. On purpose because some jerk told him of my freaky fear. I was drunk... usually I do a much better job of hiding my crazy)

Next stop? Tacos & Tequila. I love this place. And now, with photo booth! After that (and a few jello shots at the bar), we ran over to the Outlet for some baby clothes. Prima's going to a baby shower, so off to the Carter's outlet we go. F your I... DON'T, for the love of God, watch anybody else shop for baby clothes. Because then you start remembering your precious baby girl and all the cute clothes she had and OMG they had tights with the ruffled butt and HOW ON EARTH are you supposed to resist that?! And then YOUR uterus starts contracting and you start wishing for babies, with their chubby cheeks and new baby smell. But then you remember you can't drink and party in Vegas when you're pregnant, and you snap out of it, but you STILL end up spending too much money because everything was just so damn cute.

AND? Why did the clerk send us over to the Coach Outlet? Did you guess before she hates us? I did. Because we went over and I fell in love with these:
That green one, bottom right? I want. Dammit. I didn't get it THIS TIME, but I'm going back and next time, it's coming home with me.

Last thing on the schedule LAX in Las Vegas, located conveniently located in our hotel, so that we could stumble back to our room several hours after we'd planned to so we could leave early...which, we didn't. In between the drinking and flirting with cute boys, we saw

The Dan Band. Apparently they were playing that weekend at LAX. Even when I'm not expecting concerts, I get concerts. Go figure. I also got a little wet. Somebody was making it sprinkle in the club*.

Oh, and Vegas? I'll be back next month. I'm bringing my girls and meeting up with the undomestic diva and maybe miss. So be ready. 'Cause y'all have that fountain in front of Paris and if she'll jump into the Married with Children fountain, she's definitely not scared of you teeny little fountain. Or jail, apparently. So get ready.

*Throwing $1 bills from the 2nd floor, is NOT rain, that's more like a light drizzle. Rain is heavy. Say... $5 or $10 heavy. Just sayin'.

2nd Wives Club

In less than a week I will have a new mother-in-law.

I'm not really sure how I feel about that. Okay, well...that's not entirely true. I like Miss D. I've always liked her. She was an old friend of my husband's Mom, she went to their church, SHE was always nice to me even when the other ol' bitches would make snide remarks about me getting knocked up before me & The Man got married. She was at The Man's going away party for Boot Camp and every welcome back party (from Kuwait, Iraq, Afghanistan) I've had. And I've pretty much always thought she was awesome.

I remember when my MIL was in and out of the hospital and we were discussing all the church ladies (ahem. VULTURES) circling my FIL bringing food and offering a "sympathetic ear" (I guess that's what the old folks is calling it) and basically hoping they could ease their way into being Wife #2.

Hazy memories hazy memories FUNERAL more hazy memories......and then Miss D was there. I don't even know when they started dating. All I know is that in almost a year later, my FIL took Miss D to HIS Mom-In-Law's funeral (and all I could think was "the fuck? did he really bring a date to a funeral?!") Then he pulled me to the side and told me that he really liked Miss D a lot and he didn’t know what was next but he wanted to know if I was okay with it.

My response? If you’re happy, then I’m happy. And I’ve always kinda believed that older people –the 60 years and older set - get married quicker ‘cause they don’t wanna waste time (one foot in the grave and the other one on a banana peel, don’tcha know).

Fast forward to this past Sunday:
She had a bridal shower, which I was all, talk about last minute notice…but apparently she had MEANT to tell me earlier but it slipped her mind in the chaos that has been her life trying to prepare for her wedding (They’re called invitations, people. Send them). I was late, because I had a school project to attend (I swear school is taking over my freaking life).

I didn’t have time to go out & buy her a completely inappropriate gift, which I’m still gonna because that’s how I roll. AND I got there just in time for dinner. Heh. So, I’m sitting with Miss D and The Man’s aunties, and they’re discussing weddings.

Auntie #1: I didn’t care that my husband had a big wedding with his 1st wife, it was MY first wedding and I wanted a big white wedding.

Miss D: My first husband and I got married at a Justice of the Peace. When he found that out, he started planning a church wedding with the works and so, here we are.

And with that sentence I was REALLY okay with her marrying my FIL.

Not that I was ever NOT okay with it, just conflicted because I really did love my MIL very much…and even though she was gone I felt like it’s SO SOON and how could he already be with somebody else? Not that I expected him to live the rest of his life alone and lonely or anything, because I really didn’t.

And so, congratulations Pops and Grandma D. I love you both.

P.S. It should be noted that I fully expect for no one to compare in my husband’s eyes and for him to mourn my passing for the rest of his life, that is…if I don’t figure out a way to take him with me. Because really I’m a selfish bitch and if I can’t have him, nobody can.

P.P.S. You think crotch-less panties are an inappropriate bridal gift? Do you think I can get them in a pack of 3??

Saturday, July 25, 2009


I read a lot of blogs. MOST of them have children. A few don't.

This space is mostly about me. How sometimes I hate my job, or my husband. How much I love my friends. How I have a love/hate relationship with my stupid damn cat, who I have begun to call Jackass. Because he is. How I just went to Vegas AGAIN (which I did AND? going back again next month)

I started this blog because I wanted an outlet to be me uncensored, even though IRL I very rarely put on the filter that stops me from saying stupid things like calling my co-worker Noxema Jackson because she looks like, ummm...Wesley Snipes in a dress. (If it helps, so far SHE hasn't heard me, but I'm pretty sure it's only a matter of time). And also because I have a horrible memory and I would like to preserve some of this shit SOMEWHERE. You'd hope that if you ever met a rock star you'd remember...especially if you met him TWICE, but what if you get hit by a bus and have amnesia? I probably wouldn't even remember my name let alone that I met the man I'd leave my husband for.

I am who I've always been. A person who kinda fits everywhere and nowhere. I'm liked by mostly everyone, I'm sort of anti-social, I'm a flirt, I'm shy, I'm enormously confident and randomly insecure. I have freaky phobias (I could never EVER date a basketball player. EVER), I love music, muscle cars, high heels and cowboy movies.

I don't write about my kids very often because at 19 and 13, there's an awful lot they do that doesn't include me. Which is fine. They have to start pulling away so that they can grow and get ready for when they don't have me to run back to, because they most CERTAINLY cannot live here forever. Psht...say whatcha want: I got a husband y'all, and I'm looking forward to having sex on the living room table whenever we want and not just when they're hanging out at the mall or something.

Am I a mommy blogger because I can haz kids? Or am I a blogger that happens to have popped out some kids? I don't know if it's appropriate to say that I called my kid an ass when she was acting like one. Or that I let my 19 year old have a portion of my Jack & Coke because we were at home AND I've been drinking hard liquor since I was like, 14 when my cousin & I used to drink her grandma's stash of Hennessy when I would spend the night...AND my mom let me have my 1st "wine cooler" when I was 16? Is it okay to say that I point & laugh at my kids when they say things that don't make sense (No. Canadians don't come from CANADIA. They come from Canada)

For a while I was getting all freaked out because I didn't know what to say. Because I'm only good at letting it hang out when life's good. Money problems, family drama, bullshit in general mentally constipates me. But I like to keep it real, and honestly, I only know how to be me...for what THAT'S worth. So, I'm going to stop worrying about what to say, and just say what the fuck I FEEL like saying. Mmm...Just typing that made me feel better.

Wednesday, July 15, 2009

WTF Wednesdays

I have a LOT going on. Really. So instead of trying to format it into a bunch of different posts, I’m just going to verbally vomit it all RIGHT here:

There's a guy in my Speech class, who, so far, has had a black eye for every speech he's given. WTH is THAT all about?

Every time I see a clip of a concert in my Music Appreciation class, I want to applaud. EVERY.TIME.

My instructor for Speech was in a ballooning accident in Turkey. (Yeah, WTF?!) So for the FIRST 3 weeks of class we had some random teacher and Monday we got the instructor we're going to have for the LAST 3 weeks of class. He's gorgeous. Now, the most shy girl in the class...is going ALL out to get his attention. Not working though. I have a feeling the instructor doesn't want to get arrested on statutory rape charges (the girl is like 16...REALLY).

I have NO idea why I think this is so funny:

Thanks Tira. You suck. You know you do.

Instead of buying my nephew a gift, I made him a cake. (He loves his Uncle, and his uncle looooves the Marine Corps)

Sometimes, I even impress myself.

I took my daughter to see the midnight showing of Harry Potter. We sat in the chair the same way, the screamed at the same times and we found the same things hilariously funny. We also had the same random thought. I don't spend enough time with her. That's going to change.

I ran into my old boss while I was walking around campus. He said he recognized me or rather... he said, "I'd know that ass anywhere"

The Boy, who taught himself to play the guitar is performing in a "Battle of The Bands". I am equally impressed and horrified. (THIS one deserves it's own post. It's coming.)

I am sleepy. Once I get some solid sleep (and come back from my mini-vacation - NO, I still don't have a camera BUT I replaced the battery on my phone, so be prepared for drunken twitpicking and twittering), I will be ready to post something that doesn't resemble brain stew. Until then....Please to enjoy.

Thursday, July 9, 2009

What's the name of that song....?

So I was sitting in my Music Appreciation class --sidebar: WTF am I doing in a Music Appreciation class? As my friends have pointed out, I think that I could be single-handedly keeping TicketMonster in business. I've seen No Doubt, Linkin Park, Foo Fighters & The Cure; I've got tix for Green Day, Depeche Mode; I WANT tickets for the Killers AND The Sound of Music Sing-a-long..that's just THIS year! It could be argued that nobody appreciates music more than Me. --back to what I was saying...So I'm in this Music Appreciation class..CLASSICAL music, that is...and she says you've probably heard this a thousand times and had no idea you knew this song.

I could have picked Anywhere But Here, or Austin Powers. Where did I remember hearing it? Right here:

Similarly, whenever I hear Wagner's Ride of the Valkyries...all I can sing is "Kill the wabbit, kill the wabbit..."

I watched too much TV growing up.

Wednesday, July 8, 2009


(I'm wearing shades to hide my embarrassment for being such a bad girl)

I know. I willingly entered into this relationship with you. But I kind of assumed you knew the deal: I couldn't devote all of my time to you.

We were in agreement as to how much time I could spend with you. A couple of days a week, no more. At first you seemed to be okay with that; you didn't even ask what I was doing on the days when we weren't together. Maybe that's why I thought you were okay with it. But now, you're demanding more of my time, and baby, quite frankly I just don't have it to give. So maybe it's my fault for not being more clear.

I don't want you to misunderstand your place in my life, and I don't want to seem like a bitch. BUT.

We need to talk.

Did you forget that you are a summer school class that I take AT NIGHT? Not that you aren't important to me. You are. Without you, I can't graduate. But like Popeye, you am what you am. You are a quickie course that our Educational Systems insists that I take so that I am a "well rounded" student (whatever THAT means). I signed up to hit it and quit it pound a semesters worth of information into 6 weeks of Tuesday and Thursday NIGHTS. NIGHTS because I am somewhere else in the daytime, as are most people who take night classes are. That means *NOT* Monday or Wednesdays and DEFINITELY no "afternoon delights". I'm busy.

In fact, I have another piece on the side class on Mondays & Wednesdays. Also? I don't want to see you on Fridays or weekends. I really think that 2 days a week is plenty. And I would much rather spend my days that I'm not in school STUDYING *coughBULLSHITcough* or spending time with my family, or even sitting around with my thumb up my ass. But I would NOT like to spend that time with you.

Please baby, know your role. I participate in class, I have almost perfect attendance (I skipped ONE day to go to a Linkin Park concert, can you blame me, really?), and I've gotten A's on the test. I want you to feel important when I'm with you, but I have other classes that I have to devote my time to as well. And I can't just take time away from other classes for you. Be happy knowing that whenever we are together you have my undivided attention: I will not study for another class, or spend my time texting/twittering/looking at my facebook page, because I care about my grade your feelings.

Remember, this relationship was never exclusive, and you knew that when we got together. When you look back on our time together, I hope that you will give me an A have enjoyed our interlude and much as I did, and you remember me fondly.