And this is why I need to never be single

I went out with my cousin last night.

I hadn't really planned on it. I had actually planned to go home, and you know... be responsible and study. BUT. I was going to a place called Big Wangs. Who turns down going to Big Wangs? Not me, apparently.

It was fun. She works with cops, and they were a nice bunch. I didn't want to say "Fuck the Police" not even once.

She's single. And I'm not. WHICH. I DO NOT HAVE A PROBLEM WITH. I feel like that needs to be said in all caps, in case anyone is not paying attention. I mostly like my husband. But even when I don't, I still want him around.

Anyhoots. Back to my story. So we have some drinks, eat some wings (and hot DAMN, they were good!). One of the guys bought a round of drinks for the table. The cousin was being chatted up, so I was playing wingman...talking to the drinkbuyer guy. When not texting pictures of my ridiculousness.

It should be noted that I don't see myself as irresistible. Nor do I assume that every guy that talks to me is trying to get into my pants.

Drinkbuyer guy wants to know what I'm taking pictures of, and I show him. Because, why not? Pictures of my drinks, gratuitous pictures of myself, random look-at-my-cute-baby-kitties pictures. Whatever. Like you don't take pictures of your pets. So then he asks if I have any other pictures? Nope. Just got a new memory card.

I think I missed what he was actually asking for...

Because THEN he says, why don't you go into the bathroom and take some pictures?

*blink*

Uhh...the fuck? Hell no. What's wrong with you?

Apparently THAT was offensive. Because then he told me I should go home to my husband. Um. I will. Don't worry.

Which leads me to ask...WTF is wrong with people? Why would a perfect stranger think it's okay to ask somebody they just met who wasn't even pretending to be interested, AND, told you she was married... AND? Doesn't seem like some Slutty McSkankypants, to go into a sports bar bathroom and take sexytime pictures for random dude, i.e. NOT HER HUSBAND? I mean, yes, I've been married a REALLY. LONG. TIME. But...why is this okay?

My assumptions for these types of situations is that it must have worked at some point with somebody (and if I ever find out who, I will kick her right in the taco), because why else would he ask? I know what they say about assuming, but still.

How about instead of asking strangers to show you pictures of their chocha, you find an AVAILABLE woman, and get to know her, and take her on dates and shit (because bitches like dates and shit), and THEN, after you and she are in some sort of relationship, you tell your SIGNIFICANT OTHER TYPE PERSON to go into random sports bar bathroom and take sexytime pictures? Because then it's you keeping spice in your relationship! And being adventurous!

Not pervy and weird. Or assholey and gross. Or any of the other thousand of offensive adjectives that was.

Sometimes I just don't plan things well

You know what happens when I happen upon a random Six Layer Rainbow Cake Tutorial right before a friend's birthday?

Antics. Antics ensue.

Me: I can totally make this cake for Mo's birthday, guys.

What happens: I go out with The Man day before I'm supposed to be baking a cake, where after I take him to the movies, he takes me to a dive bar for dinner and proceeds to buy me Jamesons. STRAIGHT. Two drinks in, I realize that I needed to go shopping for supplies for fancy rainbow cake. So I make a haphazard list and make The Man take me to Michael's. I hope that I got everything I needed because now I'm slightly buzzed, and sleepy, so when I get home I go straight to bed: Do not pass go, do not collect $200. So, then, instead of making the cake the night before and sticking it in the fridge, I make it in the morning and hope that this will all work out before I have to leave by noon.


So far, so good.

Are you wondering where the purple is? *points down*

 But wait.

It's 7 AM. I took this picture and sent it to my sister: WHY DOESN'T THE PURPLE LOOK PURPLE? I'm going to the store to get some purple gel. NO. I didn't get dressed to run to the store. I went in my jammies. Yes, I did. They didn't have purple. Luckily for me, I do slightly remember that red and blue make purple, so I buy some of that. And come home and add enough red and blue to make it PURPLE. (Aaaand then, I forgot to take a second picture of it looking more purply)

Straws. To make sure my cake didn't slide off

I went to Kitson. Because it's a perk of working at Big Fancy Hospital. All the fancy shops close by. I originally went for my niece's gift for graduation to buy something quirky for her to take with her to college. I found something. AND! They had these birthday candles!

Not as brightly colored as I hoped it would be. BUT.
Everyone loved it. So there's that.

The cake was yummy, y'all. If I ever make this again. I would totally add the icing colors to make it brighter. I would also not let my husband get me drunk so that I'm rushing around like a chicken with her head cut off with only a few hours to make a cake, praying every minute of my baking time that nothing goes wrong because I just DON'T HAVE TIME to make mistakes.

No, really...take that off.

Today I saw a girl that not only made me scream on the inside, I screamed a little bit on the outside, too. This girl was at my niece's graduation. THIS GIRL just graduated. And like all of the other girls, my niece included, this girl was wearing the dress that she was going to wear to the dance they were going to after their graduation.

I should mention that *this* was an 8th grade graduation, I guess.

At first, I was like NOOO, she can't be a graduate. Except, she's wearing the "I just graduated" lei, and she was running around like a chicken with her head cut off trying to get pictures with the girls who still hadn't come out of their cap & gowns, AND ALSO? MY NIECE TOLD ME SO. 

To say I was slightly horrified would have been an understatement. WHERE IS THIS GIRL'S CLOTHES? Where are her parents? Who let her leave the house in this outfit?! Get off my lawn!

There are so many things wrong with this outfit:

1. It's ugly. I'm sorry, it is. The back of this dress sort of scrunched (rouched? is that the word?) up, making it look even shorter than it already was.
2. It's too short. Even my evil stepmother said, if she sneezes, she's going to show everyone the business in the front and the party in the back. I'm paraphrasing. Maybe she was really talking about somebody's mullet. But still.
3. IT'S TOO OLD. You are a pretty, 14 year old girl. By the time you're old enough to wear a dress like this, you will know better than to wear a dress like this.
4. Leopard prints on the boob-al area. Just, no. 

I mean, seriously. I know that we can't always pick what our kids wear, and that we need to give them a chance to define their own style (The Brat wore a Rolling Stones tee and a gypsy skirt to the graduation. Don't tell ME I don't know about giving teens some latitude), but I also think that when they are young --and she was young, SOMEBODY should be showing her how to pick a dress that is flattering and makes her look pretty without making her look like she's been shopping in the teen prostitute section of the JCPenneys. 

Find something age appropriate. Save the barely there dresses for your 20's when you're trying to sneak into your first club with a fake ID. C'mon. DON'T ACT LIKE IT WAS JUST ME.

My Dad: Well maybe she's wearing something under her dress...?

Me:  Yes, Daddy. They're called panties.

I'm either a really bad mom or a really creative one

I've been asking The Brat to do her laundry for the last couple of days. She is sooo slooowww.

Day One: She pretends like she didn't hear me say: Hey, your laundry basket is ridiculous. It's time to do your laundry.

Day Two: She sorts her clothes in her room.

Day Three: She's starts washing. Mostly I think it's because she's run out of jeans.

Day Four/Five: She's been working on a project and not getting home until after 9pm.
...

Me: Hey Umm, if you're not going to wash these clothes, put them back in your laundry basket. They just can't be on the floor.

Her: Okay. See Day One.
...

Today/Tonight

I was exhausted. I was supposed to go out, but I didn't because I was so tired I could barely keep my eyes open. I fell asleep in my den watching the CSI Marathon.

The Brat woke me around 1AM to tell me to go to bed. I go to my room and change into my jammies. And because I have the bladder of a pea, I decide potty, then bed. And on my way to the bathroom, I notice that her clothes are STILL IN THE FLOOR.

Do I get mad, and go off on her? Nope. Because, I have a better idea.

She's in the bathroom... I can hear her washing her hands, so I know I won't have to wait long.

I stand RIGHT IN FRONT OF THE DOOR. I wait for her to crack open the door and say, Didn't I tell you to pick up those clothes?

I wasn't sure she heard me over her screaming though.

But when I came out of the bathroom (where I was trying to laugh quietly because her room is right next to the bathroom), her clothes were in a basket*.


*What? I'm the only person who gets a kick out of scaring a couple of years off of my kid's life? And, there was a bonus: She did what I told her to do. FINALLY. So, I win.

No good deed goes unpunished

When I get home from work, I tell The Man, if you have anything that needs to go to the cleaners, give it to me, because I've got errands to run. He's gone for ten minutes. And he comes back with a bag as big as Santa's sack. Take that any way you want. Ahem.

I just look at him. WTF, dude?

Well. You've got stuff in this bag too, he says.

So I drag this bag to my car. Go to pick up The Brat's bus pass, stop by the beauty supply place 'cause I need hair stuff. And then I head to the cleaners.

The lady just looks at me as I pull shirt after freakin' shirt outta this bag. I feel like this is some sort of magic bag, and eventually I'm gonna pull out a rabbit or some shit. And under my breath, I'm saying ... Is this m'fer SERIOUS? I thought I had some shit in this bag too.

Oh, look. There it is!

Let's tally this, shall we?

The Man                                           Me

15 shirts                                           1 Cream Slacks
6 pants                                             1  Black Dress
1 FREAKING PEA COAT

He better be glad I had money to pay this NOW, so that I could get a discount. Because I would be mad as hell if I would have had to pay $100 damn dollars because he tricked me into taking every shirt he owned to the dry cleaners all at once.

Sometimes when I don't know what to write about...

I don't write about anything.

 I just kinda look at my blog languish, and think, "but my life is so interesting! I went to Wango Tango!(don't ask...or, don't ask YET), my family is ridiculous!, my job is driving me crazy!" But, in reality, I'm also super busy. THANK GOD (no, really) for my spring semester being over. Homework, and studying, and worrying about passing Managerial Accounting was keeping me extremely busy.

And then I don't have time to write all of the things that I want to write down, when I want to write them down. And then they kind of become fleeting thoughts:

I was in Vegas this weekend, and Monday when I should have been getting up and getting ready to flee that place, I was watching Maury. Also known as The New Jerry. Does Jerry Springer even still come on television? WHY DO THESE PEOPLE ON MAURY ALWAYS LOOK SO SURPRISED THEY GOT SOMEBODY PREGNANT? DO THEY NOT KNOW HOW SEX WITHOUT CONDOMS WORK?! Is Maury single handedly keeping that DNA place in business with all his shows about baby daddies?


My friends and I always take the most ridiculous pictures. This Vegas trip was no exception. I really hope she frames this and hangs it in the living room.


I had no idea that I was going to like Lady Gaga.Or T-Pain. Turns out T-Pain puts on a REALLY GOOD SHOW. 


Why do I always have to convince people that I have a son that's 21 years old? Who lies about that?! Related: YES. I know I look young. 


You know it's bad when I say "I'm going to Vegas" and the girl who does my nails says AGAIN? WTF, dude? I've only gone ONCE this year.


It SO SUCKS that I didn't get to go to Okinawa.


I love carpooling/saving gas money/ getting free stuff from work, I sometimes hate my carpool partner, aka Mr. Toad.


See what I mean? These random thoughts could totally be blog posts. Maybe I'll put all of these random thoughts into a hat and pick one.

People do that right?

So in other news, I'm still not ready...

I took The Brat shopping today.

I didn't want to. But, the bathing suit from last year is too small. And she was all "I NEED A BATHING SUIT." And I guess she kinda does, because her BFF has a pool and she spends a ridiculous amount of time over there. This year she asked for a bikini. A BIKINI.

I've been dodging the issue of bikinis since she started high school. Because you know: BIKINI. ON MY BABY. Can you hear my internal screaming? Because I am screaming on the inside. And a little bit on the out.

I tell The Man that we're going looking for bathing suits. His response is to get a one-piece. I do not respond. Because I already know that's not going to happen. And I don't want to fight before I even start the car.

Off we go. My requirements: No string, no thongs, and if you can't use it to actually SWIM, I'm not even going to look in its general direction. (Thanks, Grace. That's an EXCELLENT rule). I KNOW, MOMMY. Well, I'm just saying because I don't want there to be any confusion as to what kind of bikini I'm going to buy for my 15 year old baby daughter.

We grab a few. I also add that I AM NOT buying a bikini with cherries on it. WTF?! I really should have waited until I had back up for this. Did I mention that I hate shopping for bathing suits --even when they aren't for me? Anyways, we decide to try on the 2 finalists. She tries on bathing suit #1. It's cute. It's got boyshort bottoms. I take a picture and send it to her aunts. She tries on bathing suit #2. It's got a ruffle, and it is ALSO CUTE. I take another picture.

I like them both, Brat. Which do you like better? She likes them both too. I'm leaning toward #2, because it's not only super cute, it's in her favorite color. Then I get the texts about the bathing suits, there is wailing because my baby is growing up and she LOOKS like a real live teenager in her suit. BUT. If these are the choices, everyone likes choice #2. So we put the first one back. It has been decided. We grab some shorts and a few tank tops and break for lunch.

And, I get a text from a friend who must have gotten her texts late:
She looks so grown up! WHY???

Me: Welcome to my world. I don't like it here. Gah!


In case you were interested, here is the winning suit

NOT the Brat