Parents, They’re Liars: Part 2


Or maybe I’m the only one who lies to their kid…

A while back I wrote about how I lie to my children. Well, as the Halloween holiday approaches, I’ve realized I’ve told a pretty big fucking lie and it’s gonna come back to bite me in the ass.

I have to give a bit of backstory in order to understand what kind of shit storm I’ve created with what I thought was a small, insignificant little white lie.

Back when Mini 1 was about two and a half, Hubs B and I took him trick or treating for the first time and he couldn’t have been more thrilled with the idea of getting shitloads of free candy. Not exactly at first though… I crammed his screaming ass into a monkey costume and carried him from house to house. The first house was our neighbor, who proceeded to basically dump her entire night’s haul of candy into Mini 1’s bag. Un-phased, he kept howling, while Hubs B carried him to the next house, where the same thing happened—lovely elderly neighbor equals tons of candy and by the third house, it was the same situation. Mini 1 had the haul of an entire night of trick or treating, gathered with stoppage at only three houses. This was when he realized what was in his bag. He proceeded to gorge himself on candy until Hubs B and I took it away. This was where the screaming began again. I vowed he’d never accumulate enough candy to put a horse into a diabetic coma again. So, here comes the lie. (I might just be a horrible parent or an evil genius…idk.)

The next year, I began telling Mini 1 about this goblin, called the Boo Goblin that loves to eat your Halloween candy in exchange for a toy. (Mini 1’s grandma had bought him that stupid Elf on the Shelf the year before, so he was all about shit like that. FYI, I suck at that Elf and should probs do a post about that fucking asshole.) He seemed interested, so I went on to tell him that we could still go trick or treating and collect candy and he’d be able to keep ten pieces, but he’d have to give the rest to the Boo Goblin. He still seemed game, so I ran with it. I explained that if he put all his candy outside on our porch, the Boo Goblin would come along, eat the candy, and be so happy he’d throw up a toy. Again, no complaints from Mini 1 and the Boo Goblin was created.

He talked about it for days leading up to Halloween, mind you, he was only three and half then, so I figured what harm could come from it. I bought a crappy toy at the checkout line of Meijer, Hubs B put Mini 1 in the bathtub after a night of trick or treating and the candy went out on the porch, and the Boo Goblin was born. He “ate” the candy, left the shitty toy and Mini 1 didn’t consume a vomit-inducing amount of candy.

Fast forward several years and that fucking goblin still exists, but now that dickhead is bring Legos and shit for two kids! Motherfucker, this lie is a disaster, and I’m almost certain Mini 1 knows it’s a lie, but he’s fucking with me. He won’t give in and tell me because he’s concerned about his toy gathering going out the window.

And to think, it all started because he was my first kid and I was concerned about his health. Poor Mini 2, he got the shit end of the stick. If I had it to do over again, I’d say, “Gorge yourselves, kiddos! You’re too damn skinny anyway!”

On a side note…where does all that candy Mini 1 and Mini 2 collected go??? Oh, trust me it never goes to waste!



OMG…A lost dog!!


I love animals, especially cute little dogs. I love them so much, yet I wouldn’t get another one if my life depended on it. (That’s another story…our old dog died. Well, we had him put down because he’d had a stroke and had this really horrible gangster swagger, head tilt, housing peeing and crapping, can’t walk straight thing going on. It was devastating to Mini One and Mini Two. Hubs B: “Great, they’re going to hate us. We killed their dog and then abandoned them.” That’s exactly what went down. We decided to put the dog down and then leave on kid-free vacation. Worst. Parents. Ever. DERAILED…)

So last night after a riveting third wheel Friday with BFF, she left and called me only seconds later. Now BFF and I have been friends for 20+ years and together we can be quite stupid.

BFF: OMG!!! There was this little dog wandering in the street. I almost hit it! So I got out and put it in my car.

ME: OMG!! Come back here. That poor dog!

BFF: I think the dog is blind. She’s really old.

ME: OMG!!!

We can be really dramatic when it comes to animals. A few sends later, while waiting for BFF to pull into the driveway, my phone rings. She had found the dog’s owner. What a relief! Well kinda… It turns out the owner was outside with the dog and BFF basically stole the dog from in front of its house and put it in her car and well, drove away. She’s a dog thief! She didn’t intend to be…but like I said, we make poor choices.

Luckily the owner wasn’t too pissed and BFF was able to be a hero in her own mind. I’m sure this won’t be the last stupid thing either of us do, but of course Hubs B got a good laugh out of it. And I was just grateful it wasn’t me who did something stupid, like always.


Why is someone’s mom here?


Last weekend with Hubs B, Guy BFF and Guy BFF’s wife who I will call Roomie, I headed to a the Rusted Root, Gin Blossoms and Blues Traveler concert. While in theory this sounded fab, because it would allow all of us to go back to those wonderful years we spent living together during college. Where we partook in legal and illegal activities, had no responsibilities and pretty much thought anything was funny. Like my post about old movies I loved as kid, this didn’t exactly pan out this way.

First off, this concert was in the middle of fucking nowhere. Punching it into the GPS, she was like, “Bitch, you best be turning around because I don’t even know where the fuck we are.” During this aimless drive with the GPS screen showing fuck all, my brother sends me a text that goes something like this.

Bro: You at the Blues Traveler concert?

Me: Yeah. Why?

Bro: I’ve been to that venue. Camped there. Are you camping?

If my brother could have seen my face, it would have said it all. Still driving into a cornfield filled oblivion, this now gives me a slight indication as to what I’m in for.

Me: I don’t camp.

The convo ends there. I don’t camp. I won’t even stay at a hotel with the doors on the outside. (FYI…it’s called a motel.) There is not a chance in fucking hell I’m sleeping anywhere but in a bed at a four star or up hotel. So panic starts to set in and I turn to Hubs B and ask him if he knows anything about the venue. And in classic Hubs B form says he doesn’t have any idea, but he’s certain it’s in the middle of nowhere. Thanks, Hubs B.

As soon as we hit the town where the Children of the Corn was filmed I begin sneezing and not just ordinary sneezing, it was the kind where you sneeze so fucking much that no one bothers to say God Bless You after the six hundredth fucking time. Bring on the booze because it’s going to be my only salvation.

We finally find the venue, if you can call it that. Basically it’s a plowed down cornfield with a stage in the center and small children flagging you down to park your car for $5. Safe and thrifty…

So Rusted Root takes the stage and things are going well. Drink in hand, people watching and listening to music. But it all falls apart when the sun goes down and the lights go out. Two drinks in and I have to use the bathroom.

Porta Potty hell

There are like thirty and while it is still daylight, it’s all good, but the sun goes down and pissing is nearly impossible because it is so fucking dark you can’t see your hand in front of your face. This is also when the hitters and joints come out, and while I’m not against this shit, it was pretty fucking excessive. The contact high was ridiculous. Please stop smoking weed in the fucking porta potty and making it your personal bong! I actually need to take a piss.

At this point, I’ve stopped drinking because there is no possible way you can see to get back to where you are sitting. I don’t want to get lost on my trek to take a piss. Poor Guy BFF was lost for at least twenty minutes and had to be escorted back to our seats by the kid behind us who smoked more weed than I’ve ever seen someone smoke. (Shocker because Hubs B could put anyone to shame back in the day.)

It’s around this time that my allergies are now full-blown and out of control. I’m a fucking city girl, my body can’t handle this much nature! I’m certain I look like Sloth from Goonies and I feel like hell.

So the Gin Blossoms take the stage…

Oh. My. Fucking. God. There’s a reason their career ended circa 1998. They fucking sucked so hard it wasn’t even funny. It’s was two hours of my life I will never get back and because the music was so retched, I spent the time focusing on the moths swarming the stage lights. Masses of them and big ass mother fuckers, like the size of small birds. I hate moths. Disgusting, wayward, unpredictable fuckers. Life sucking, creepy, weird-eyed shitheads. So gross.

After the millionth sneeze and nearly wetting my pants, I decided to bail. I was over this pretending to be young again shit. I’m fucking old. Give me a smokeless bar, a party at BFF’s house, a restaurant with good food and a even better alcohol and I’m in. Or even better, the drink machine and Guy BFF and Roomie and a drunken game of 90’s Trivial Pursuit.

I’m too old for drum solos that last twenty fucking minutes, bad nineties music and too much weed. Glad I spent four years enjoying when I could appreciate at it, because now it kinda sucks.


Older and wiser…maybe?

The anniversary of my twenty-ninth birthday is right around the corner and I’d like to stay I’m much wiser than I was in the past. This is a huge fucking lie because I still tend to repeat my mistakes, say stupid shit and swear a fucking shitload. But there are some things I’ve learned over the last 29+ years and maybe by sharing them I can help out that younger generation, lead them in the right direction, so they find themselves older and wiser. 🙂 Unlike me who’s only the older end of that statement.

Here are a few things I wish I would’ve known or done in my younger days:

  •  For the love of fuck…wear sunscreen!! I worked as a lifeguard and baked my ass like a Christmas goose for far too many years. I swear I had crow’s feet at nineteen. And there were times, while I thought I look damn good, I’m certain now that I looked like this:


Or possibly even this:


  • Don’t get a fucking credit card until you have an actual legit job where you can pay off your balance or even better don’t get one until you understand the repercussions of bad credit. (Thanks for those multiple bailouts, Dad.)
  • Keep a small group of close friends and ditch those toxic ones. They suck, and make sure you figure this out early or else you’ll end up in tears far too much.
  • Travel, despite the cost. (Although this goes back on my credit card recommendation.) Visit as many places as you can and enjoy seeing the world, because there will come a time when the adult world creeps up and you have a real job or kids or a mortgage or are just too fucking busy.
  • Learn to like wine, because there will come a time in your life when your friends all get old and only drink wine. It’s the classy girls kinda booze, especially when you drink it out of a wine glass with a picture of Hello Kitty giving the middle finger on it. Right, PM1?
  • That boy who broke your heart in high school that you swore was as hot as fuck and you would never get over; he probably looked more like this:


Than this:


And PS…you’ll totes get over him because he sucked even back then.

  • Follow your dreams even when your mother tells you they are stupid and pointless and you’ll never earn a living doing something like that, because there is nothing my gratifying than making your own dreams come true.
  • Laugh till the point of tears regularly. This is something I try to do because it just makes everything better. I owe a big thank you to Hubs B, BFF, Work BFF, Guy BFF and PM1 for always laughing with me. Not a day goes by that I don’t have a laugh with one of them and I <3 them for it.
  •  And lastly, rock those nineteen year old boobs. And I mean this one. There will come a day after babies and nursing and age that your tits will look like potatoes in tube socks and you’ll remember your perky boobs and wish you wouldn’t have hidden them from the world.

While I’m not one of those peeps who worries about birthdays and getting old, I’d still like to think of myself as twenty-nine. That just seems like a good year. 🙂



I may have watched a million times…


I’ve been meaning to post this for a while but it keeps gets pushed aside for more pressing issues like food. Shame on me because Ben Affleck should never be pushed aside for anything or anyone, even food.

So a few weeks ago was San Diego Comic-Con and the trailer for Batman vs. Superman: Dawn of Justice was revealed. And because I’m a total stalker, I obsessively YouTubed the trailer and watched it a million times before it was taken down. Boo…

But back to my post, now while I have nothing to share with all you lovelies other than my insane recount, you’ll just have to trust me on its awesomeness.

I legit gasped, maybe even screamed and flapped my hands in front of my face when BA appeared dressed as the caped crusader.

Let me set the scene: Dark, ominous fog and then a brooding Batman appears dressed in his hot as fuck latex Batsuit, which IMO is way better than the previous ones. He looks fucking huge and muscled and well, so fucking hot, like I wanna lick him hot. OMFG…. I need a cold shower. But yeah, where was I? The trailer… so it’s pouring down rain, yeah now he’s really fucking hot and wet and oh shit fuck… I really need a cold shower. Batman reaches for a lever and the Batsignal lights up the sky and who is hovering in the sky basked in the light of the Batsignal???!!! Superman!!!! Mega hot, Henry Motherfucking Cavill! Sweet baby Jesus save me! I’m never gonna make it through this movie. Thank fuck I have BFF to support me and wail, gasp and cry at the screen right along with me. And PM1 won’t fail me either. And back to the trailer again. So Superman’s heat vision joined with the light from the Batsignal makes the sky looking fucking awesome and then they cut back to Batman. Stop my damn heart, his eyes are glowing this cold steel blue and then it ends with that killer logo. You know the one… if not, check out the post PM1 and I did when I panicked about BA as Batman.

Overall, it was amazing, and everything I’m reading is telling me that there is a possibility they’re going a different route with this one. Making Batman older, and there have been some stills from the set with BA rocking some gray hair, so we’ll have to see how that plays out. I’m all for BA and his gray hair, makes him hotter in that distinguished way. (Who am I kidding? He’s hot no matter what.)

All I know is, next year, look out because I’m heading to Comic-Con. Let the stalking in person begin.


Parents, they’re liars


Did you ever think you’d so blatantly lie to your children? I didn’t, with exception of Santa Claus, the Easter Bunny, the Tooth Fairy, the usual shit, I thought I’d be totally honest with them. Until I realized they’re like dealing with terrorists, there’s no negotiating. So bring on the lies and scare tactics.

While eating dinner tonight, I look over at Mini 1 and notice his eye is kinda red and swollen. (We had just gotten back from the water park which never fails to elicit some kind of gross fungal infection…athlete’s foot, ring worm, pink eye, etc.)
So I say to him that his eye is looking a little red and if it still looks like that in the morning, we should go to the doctor.

Mini 1 gives me the what-the-fuck face and bursts into near hysteria. Fucking carrying on and bitching and moaning about hating the doctor.

Instead of handling this rationally, I tell him his eyeball’s going to fall out. Yeah, so looking back it was pretty fucking OTT, but fuck it, because the whole scenario got funny.

Mini 2 gives me the what-the-fuck face and then turns to Hubs B and asks if it’s true. Hubs B in all his fatherly wisdom agrees with me wholeheartedly, but tries to appease Mini 1 by telling him we’ll get him an eyepatch. While Mini 2 couldn’t give a shit because, well, it’s not his eye and he’s simply less high-strung. (We call him our Mulley and Hubs B legit wanted to name him Mulligan, as in our do-over.)

Mini 1 is still asking how legit this situation is and Hubs B then tells him we’ll also get him a parrot for his shoulder. And in his best pirate accent says, “Arrh, matey, me lost me eye in a water park accident.”

While Mini 2 and I are laughing hysterically, Mini 1 is fucking sobbing. He storms away from the table and up to his room, calling us insensitive and liars.

Truth, kid. But at least you’ll have a thick skin by the time you reach middle school…either that or you’ll end up in therapy.


Holy Mother of Viking Gods…



Stop the fucking press…I’ve found my newest TV show obsession and the latest addition to what I like to refer to as my TV BFs.

Yes, I might be a little behind the eight ball, but whatever. Allow me to introduce the show, Vikings and the insanely sexy lead, whose blue eyes are nothing short of fucking mesmerizing, Ragnar Lothbrok (Travis Fimmel for googling purposes, peeps).

Holy shit…this show has got it all. I mean for starters, the guy is hot as fuck, but the story, the sets, the drama, the supporting cast, it’s all just epically fucking awesome. I’d heard rumors about this show, analogies of what it might be similar to, floating around and I gotta say, I totes agree…this show really is Sons of Anarchy meets Game of Thrones. And sexy Ragnor, well, he’s pretty much a Jax Teller – Jon Snow mash-up.

Yeah ladies, take a step the fuck back, this man is mine.

What’s it all about? Well, do we really care when this guy is strutting on screen? No, possibly not, but as good looking as he is, the story is also pretty kick ass too…and authentic, so major props to writer Michael Hirst for doing these Nordic bad boys justice. Telling the story of Ragnar, a rumored direct descendant of Odin (god of war and warriors for those of you who haven’t yet watched Thor), who leads his band of Viking brothers, while also looking after his family, in his quest to become King of the Viking Tribes. Not only is this man a fearless warrior, he’s a dedicated husband (plenty of sexy times peeps) and father. Thrown in for good measure is a healthy dose of Nordic traditions and devotion to the gods. I kid you not, I nearly shit myself when Ragnar told his son they were going to see Loki…

Fucking Loki!

Alas it wasn’t the cheeky little bad-boy we all know and love from such movies as Thor, Thor 2 and Avengers, but whatever, it’s a minor detail.

And quite frankly, Ragnar’s blue eyes more than make up for it. I mean seriously, it should be illegal to have eyes that blue. Holy fucking mother of Nordic gods, are they blue. And he is sexy and this show has got me hooked.

And for that Odin, I thank you.


True Blood…are you f**king kidding me???


Ok…in keeping with my earlier, TV show obsessed post, I need to have a rant about the latest True Blood episode. As a warning, anyone who hasn’t seen episode 3 yet, stop reading. Not only are there going to be spoilers, I’m about to rant like a fucking lunatic.

Because seriously True Blood writers…

What. The. Fuck. was THAT?

Seriously? That’s all Alcide gets?

A random shot to the head by some fucking unknown loser hiding in the bushes who’s never held a fucking gun before, while Alcide is standing there buck fucking naked (so fucking hot) after swooping in with Sam to save the fucking day?

Fuck. Me. That, is total bullshit.

Yeah ok, I get what you’re doing, we all fucking do, it’s been blatantly obvious since this show started. I mean we all know Sookie is going to end up with Bill. It’s been destined since episode 1 peeps, long before the show stopped following the books and long before it went off the rails with it’s ridiculous storyline about fucking Lilith, the vampire demi-god or whatever the fuck she was.

But that’s not what this rant post is about. No this is about how un-fucking-fair Alcide’s death was. I mean aside from the fact the guy is a 6’5” man of fucking steel werewolf, he’s also a nice fucking guy, a guaranteed bit of eye candy and someone the fans love. He deserved more than that. He deserved an epic fucking showdown that didn’t just showcase his fighting skills and his abs of fucking steel, but also his huge love for Sookie and the rest of his peeps.

Instead we get some random dickhead accidentally-on-purpose popping a cap in his head?

Fuck, the least you could do was pan the fucking camera down so we could get the full monty shot as Alcide lay there dying and I sat on my couch screaming “NOOOOOOOOO.”

And yes I know this is the final season and shit’s gonna get real, but fuck me, what exactly did his death accomplish? All it did was undermine just how fucking awesome Alcide is and make him look like a motherfucking pussy.

Oh, and make me motherfucking pissed.

Take note True Blood. Take. Note.


Parenting by PM2


As I post this, I need to throw up a disclaimer:

I have never claimed to be the best parent and this will just solidify that I will never make any list where it says I am and I’m totes ok that.

So here it goes. I have two awesome kids with Hubs B and while we are pretty firm with them, we laugh—a lot—so our sense of humor and our attitude toward life has rubbed off on them. While we find them hilarious, but I’m not sure the rest of the world does.

Yesterday was one of those days where I’m sure everyone around me was questioning my parenting and in rare form, I couldn’t have given a fuck.

While at the splash park with Mini 1 and Mini 2, we walk in and notice immediately a large child in a diaper running around. Both the Minis, stop, take him in and look immediately at Hubs B and me. Shrugging our shoulders and shooing them off to play, Hubs B turns to me and says, “That kid’s fucking gigantic and he’s wearing a diaper.”

Seconds later, diaper kid’s mom calls his name and it turns out he has the same name as Mini 1. I then turn to Hubs B and say, “Of course the Sasquatch in the diaper has the same name as our kid.” This elicits a laugh from Hubs B, but when he looks at Mini 1 he bursts out laughing. “He has your what the fuck face on right now,” Hubs B says and we both laugh our asses off, obviously thrilled that I have passed on this life long skill of pissing people off with just a look.

An hour later, while out to dinner, Mini 2 shows off my awesome parenting skills once again. While coloring at the table, his blue crayon falls to the floor and with perfect inflection and completely correct usage; he calls out, “Shitballs” and crawls under the table to retrieve the crayon. Only to resurface to Hubs B and I laughing. Again, passing along life long skills.

Yep, judge me. But I have some of the coolest kids around. They might be cheeky, but at least I’m raising them with skills that will follow them into adulthood.


Game of Thrones, stop f**king with me


Hubs B and I have a serious obsession with Game of Thrones. It’s one of those rare shows we watch on live TV. And just like last season (The Red Wedding…still bawling my fucking eyes out! WAAAAAHHHHHHH, ROBB STARK!), the second to the last episode of the season didn’t disappoint.

WARNING!!! SPOILERS!! Don’t read if you don’t want to know what happens!!!! You’ve been warned.

This is going to be a shit ass mess because my thoughts are still. But here it goes…

So Ygritte and her band of douche bag assholes Wildlings invade Castle Black in an epic battle that still has me screaming Jon Snow’s name. As the battle ensues, Jon leaves his post at the top of the wall to singlehandedly take on all 100,000 Wildlings in the depths of the castle. I’m bouncing on the edge of the couch, yelling and shielding my eyes. “Go Jon, you motherfucker! Kill them all!” Hubs B is the silent type, but trust me he’s just as anxious. He can’t die, right? But then it hits, this fucking show kills everyone and that brings me back Tyrion…OMFG I’m not going to find out if he dies in this episode! Back to the battle, fucking Ygritte that dirty whore, kills Sam’s friend with an arrow straight through his throat. So graphic and not a good way to die. But Sam stays with him and comforts him as he fades away, but then I panic again that Sam is going to die. At this point Gilly and the baby have come back and she’s hiding in the pantry and she made Sam promise he won’t die. So fuck me, he can’t die too! Jon, still in the thick of it, is now fighting like a fucking machine and during this time Sam releases Jon’s wolf, Ghost who proceeds to kill anything in his path and eat their faces. It was disgusting, yet somehow thrilling. Just as Jon has a leg up on all this shit, the king of Wildlings, that owl dude with the creepy eyes starts kicking the shit out of Jon. OMFG!!! He’s going to die!! But fate steps in and he goes down. Sigh of relief is breathed, but then that whore Ygritte shows up and now I know it’s over. NO!!! Please for the love of fuck, don’t kill him! Don’t forget Ygritte you’re the one who opened your legs to this hot ass man. And the next thing I know, she’s down for the count. This poor kid who’s been forced to run the elevator during this shit fight, puts an arrow in her saving Jon’s life. I could totes kiss this kid. Falling back on to the couch, feeling like I just ran a marathon, I turn to Hubs B and say, “It’s over already? Shit, check the time, I think that episode was only twenty minutes long.”

If you need me I’ll be watching the preview for next week’s episode on repeat until Sunday.

And that’s my take on this whole thing. Yep, I think I’ve lost my mind.