Monthly Archives: May 2014
Watch your own damn kids
I saw this sign in front of a library. I guess this means no more free babysitting for me.
No bones about it
In the auto mechanic world, the term “three legged dog” is used to describe a car that is running poorly. Obviously, they have never met three legged pit bull. This dog is fast, friendly, and clearly uninhibited.
Would You Like Some Spam With That?
Anyone who has an email account knows how impossible it is to avoid receiving spam emails. Is spam even effective anymore? Are there still people out there who click on the virus-laden links in hopes of receiving the $136 million that the Nigerian prince (who has absolutely no living relatives) has personally chosen them to receive?
I receive spam daily. To be honest, I look forward to reading the titles because they are so fun to read and even more fun to mock. So, come join the laughter as I keep a running list of some of my favorite spam titles as well as my own little commentary:
Hook UpWith Babes Tonight – Free Lifetime Access! (I guess they assume I’m a single, horny male and I will be for life)
The Secret To Making Girls Want To Bl0W You…. (Come on….no girl ever WANTS to.)
Tim Russert’s sex scandal exposed at funeral (Who?)
Have the pecker of her dreams (Pecker? Who wrote this? An 8 year old boy?)
IMPORTANT PAYMENT WIRE NOTIFICATION VALUED $10.5M (to be used on a lifetime dating membership I assume)
Can U meet up? Pics of me being bad here 🙂 (What do you mean by being bad? Did you talk back to your parents?)
Get Laid Free for a Lifetime! (See lifetime comment above)
FREE VIP PASS TO ALL PUSSIES FROM YOUR TOWN (Does this consist of milk and catnip?)
Local Women Want to Sleepover – Free of Charge Dating For Life !! (Are they homeless?)
Watch it grow bigger (Watch what grow bigger? my bills? my laundry pile?)
Watch Justin Bieber Live on the Red Carpet! (Ummm…..Why?)
An extra inch and you become the Love Guru (I’m in! Wait, how much do Love Gurus make anyway?)
Browse Profiles of Local Jewish Singles at JDate (I guess this would be legitimate if I wasn’t a gentile.)
Ass rimming the easy way (As if there’s a hard way.)
SMELL some fresh body of adorable Mrs. Ebba Zapalac (Sorry, I don’t smell married women.)
Meet Christian Singles Today at ChristianMingle (I guess they’re covering all of their religious bases.)
Boobs as big as balloons (FYI, my boobs are as big as balloons. They’re tiny, mostly deflated balloons, but balloons nonetheless)
Stud sucks and rides the cock of a bald bear (And that’s when I start to consider ditching my current email addy and getting a new one.)
New reverse mortgage options for seniors (Fuck you.)
What It’s Like Being Married to a Mechanic
Being the wife of a mechanic isn’t nearly as glamorous as it may sound. Behind all of the prestige and fortune of being married to a service-industry worker, there is a dark side.
Here’s what life is like for the wife of a mechanic.:
1. My husband’s hands are always dirty. There isn’t enough soap and water in the western hemisphere to clean his oil- and various other car- fluid stained hands. Sometimes, holding hands can be a health violation.
2. We have certain “friends” that come out of the woodwork only when they need their cars fixed. Sample conversation:
Friend: Hey man, it’s been a long time! How have you been?
Dave: I’m great! How are you?
Friend: Doing great too. Hey, since I have you on the phone, I have a question about my truck…
3. I can never rely on his schedule. If he says, “I’m working 7-5,” he really means “I’m working from the crack of dawn until I finish putting a trans in this minivan. Don’t make plans.”
4. He can never own any nice clothes. When it comes to car-fixing apparel, everything is fair game. He will work in new jeans, old jeans, shorts, sweatpants, undershirts, pajamas, etc. This means that everything he owns will eventually become stained with mechanic grease, tire marks, and whatever he had for lunch that day.
5. My backyard has become a graveyard of old cars and trucks, car parts, tools, tires, and other items that my mechanic husband once had big dreams for. Seriously, you should never walk barefoot in my backyard.
6. My car is always the last to be fixed. This means that all of his friends’, family’s, enemies, former football coaches’, customers’, bank tellers’, and even his own vehicle will get fixed while mine slowly deteriorates. Don’t believe me? I DARE you to drive my car right now.
Things My Husband Texts
Cell phones have evolved over the years. From the corded car phones in Charlie’s Angels to the bulky Zack Morris phones of the late 80s/early 90s (don’t pretend you have no idea what I’m referring to) and finally to the pocket sized mini-computers of today, cell phones have come a very long way.
And with the evolution of cell phones came the magic that is known as text messaging. Eager fingers pressing tiny buttons in an effort to form words, sentences, thoughts.
Sounds simple, right?
Apparently not…especially if you are my husband. His inability to properly press the correct buttons, combined with the autocorrect feature that he refuses to disable, produces some laughter- (and sometimes headache-) inducing texts.
Sometimes, his texts are nothing more than incoherent babble that autocorrect tries to translate in a way that only autocorrect can:
Fun Fact: The answer is “Frailty.”
Other times, autocorrect just throws in the towel.
And, every once in awhile, autocorrect turns Dave into an accidental racist.
A simple conversation about car rentals turns ugly.
So, until Dave hones his texting skills or tosses his cell phone for good, I expect to add more screenshots to this list.
(You’ll note that I wrote an entire blog post without cursing once. Strange.)
Children’s Artwork…and Other Terrifying Things
Is there anything more adorable than a child’s drawing or painting? That magical moment when your child decides to put crayon to paper to pay tribute to the things she likes the most – puppies, clouds, her parents.
Like this adorable pencil sketch of Dave and me.
And this color portrait (you’ll note that Dave looks like a blonde Hitler in most of my kids’ drawings):
The good thing about children’s artwork is that it is honest and real. However, sometimes too real.
Pooping Dad
(Dave would like me to mention here that he did NOT pose for this portrait.)
Another adorable aspect to child artwork is that it allows them to use their imagination and the sweet innocence that only a child can express.
Such as in this piece that my daughter sketched one beautiful afternoon.
(You’ll note the sweet little heart sweater that the partially-eyeless girl is wearing.)
Their use of bright, beautiful colors and texture allows us to view the world through their angelic eyes:
On a serious note, I am very proud of anything and everything creative that my children do, regardless of the subject matter. So, while I know many people would not approve of their children drawing bloody tears and pooping dads, I encourage it. Hopefully, it will teach them not to take life – or themselves – too seriously.
Snake is the New “S” Word
I love where I live.
I live in the woods. Therefore, I’m used to seeing a variety of creatures around my house.
We are often visited by deer and turkey.
Groundhogs guard our deck and shed (FYI, they work for cheap):
Bunnies and raccoons love to hang out on our lawn:
I truly love my house in the Spring and the Summer and all of the families of animals that choose to make our backyard their homes.
What I do not love is when they decide to make my HOUSE their home.
I’ll admit it. I’ve gotten used to the mice. The first time I saw one, I screamed, ran, and left a Mare-shaped hole in the wall. I threatened to move out of my house if Dave didn’t find and remove the mouse from the basement immediately. But, after ten years of dealing with these adorable little fuckers, I’m no longer bothered by them. Sure, I get pissed off when they tear into a loaf of bread or leave their tiny little mouse shits on my counters. But, I’ve learned not to be scared of them.
Don’t get me wrong, I don’t like that they are here. It’s just that I no longer jump onto the closest chair whenever I see one coming at me.
However, as of recently, we have discovered that they are not our only indoor guests. We have something far creepier and slimier living in the cold depths of our basement.
Snakes.
Yes, that’s right. Mother fuckin’ snakes in this mother fuckin’ house (I’m looking at YOU, Samuel L.!)
How the hell is one supposed to get rid of SNAKES in the basement?!?! I imagine that would require us to clean the dusty, slimy, moldy, mouse-shit infested rooms that make up our basement. We would have to go through 10 years worth of junk, boxes, old clothes, and spiderwebs to do so. But, that’s another post for another day.
To be honest, the first snake we found wasn’t that scary. It was a baby and my cat found it before we did. She proudly left us its corpse (which was eerily placed next to a mouse head) at the foot of the basement stairs.
But, we recently found it’s mother. Or is it it’s father? I don’t know. I didn’t ask for a DNA sample. It was very much alive and very much bigger than the baby and very much living in our basement.
It was this big: (just to give you a frame of reference, this is a Rubbermaid tote that the snake is in.)
After capturing it, Dave let it go in the woods directly behind our house. (Of course we didn’t kill it. We don’t kill any of the creatures we find. They are all important to our ecosystem, especially the snakes!)
The following day, the snake slithered it’s way to the opening of the woods and greeted Dave and Lucas. Perhaps it wanted to show its gratitude to Dave for humanely releasing it. Or maybe it wanted to bite our faces off. Who knows.
‘Sup, guys!
So, who wants to come help us de-clutter our basement?!?
Mom's On the Rag 
