BREAKING NEWS...

Okay. Cade hopped the car today and said, "Mom! I have breaking news!" I suppressed a giggle and said, "okay dude, let's hear it." "Emmy is officially, really in love with me," he says. "Oh really buddy, how do you feel about that?" "Well, I picked my nose and wiped boogers on her and I farted on her because I really thought that would make her not love me. But she told me that she picked her nose and farted too so that didn't matter, she still loved me," says Cade very matter of fact. "So, what did you do then?" I asked, very nervous at this point. "I thought about it a little bit and decided I may like her too because I always help her up if she falls down." Hm.

Wieners...and I don't mean the dog.

It doesn't seem to matter the age of the man, they are ALL obsessed with their wieners. Whether it's my husband gesturing towards his "man parts" with raised eyebrows and a knowing smile or my son telling a family friend the he is going to "punch his nuts out of his mouth and then punch them back down" (cute, right?), they all at some point feel the urge to comment. My sons find great joy in fake hitting themselves in their wenis's (not sure why they call them that, at least they are close) and then rolling on the ground proclaiming "ohhhhhh my nuts!" My husband and his buddies think it's hilarious to sling shit at each other about the size of their "dicks". Little boys revel at the fact that they can write their names with their pee on anything that stands still, except the toilet. Men associate athletic ability with the size of their bulge and little boys become fascinated with their extra appendage in diapers. And I don't understand their need to constantly "adjust" their packages, I'm fairly positive they are just making sure it's still there in case they need to make a big decision. Perhaps women should try it out! We can drop hints by grabbing at our lady parts and raising our eyebrows and on girls nights we can drink a bottle of wine and talk about who has the biggest lula or we can try to finagle free drinks from bar tenders by yelling across the bar "I have a HUGE vagina!" I mean, that's a good thing, right?

Note from the husband

My husband finally figured out my password for my blog and thought this would be funny....





Women have this uncontrollable urge to make themselves think of what is going to happen, even before it does. The reason this is so important is it happens to be negative 95% of the time. Women also have vagine like sleeves of wizards. Let's not forget the fact that they bleed out once a month and somehow survive. I am not trying to rag on women or anything, but shit they rag on me once a month.



FUN FACT:

Did you know that women are the ones who came up with all those fancy spellings on an upside down calculator. That's right ever since digital clocks on stoves came out women got very creative while cooking dinner.



Women invented head aches to get out of sex. Then invented a medicine that gets rid of them. The funniest thing is head aches are just in your head, you don't need medicine to get rid of it.

Um...shut the hell up.

Picture this. I'm sprinting my daughter into her school trying to avoid talking to anyone for too long. I'm bra less, haven't brushed my teeth and I am WAY late. Then, one of "those" moms stops me. I try to avoid these women at all cost. They are the moms that share. I enjoy sharing, I enjoy hearing about people BUT not ever do I share some of the things that these moms do upon first meeting. I don't want to know how their last pelvic exam felt nor do I care that their husband gave them a nasty rash on parts I would rather not hear about. She talks about her children, he husband, her pets, her friends (and I am seriously wondering if she includes every person she pounces on her "friend")...her sex life. So. Just when I think I have an out I get, "So, I think I gave my daughter a yeast infection in her mouth." WAIT. WHAT? How the hell does that even freakin' happen? I know that curiosity killed the cat and all that what not BUT really. I found myself frozen. Unable to run or change the subject. So, Mrs. Over share says..."the doctor said it's probably because I don't wash my hands after I wipe and then feed her and prepare her food or something like that. I have a REALLY nasty yeast infection." Um....gross. Okay, I realize things are part of life. I. Get. That. But, you don't share that. No ma'am, you do not. And just when I thought I was going to be able to run away she says, "Well, I guess that's why my husband won't have sex with me." WTF. Maybe, just maybe, he won't have sex with you because the whole time he's going to town your running your damn mouth about the fact that you GAVE YOUR CHILD A YEAST INFECTION BECAUSE YOU DON'T WIPE YOUR LADY PARTS! Really. Some people should shut the hell up.

Wax my what?!

Okay. Sally Hansen kicked my ass. Like a lot. I decided in my efforts to save my family money I was going to wax my own lady part. So, I trooped into Wal Mart and found what seemed to be the perfect waxing kit! No warming up wax. No slathering my body with nastiness. Just nifty little strips that you warm up between your hands and rub on whatever hair it is that you want torn from your body and pull. Seemed easy enough. I let the product sit on the counter for a few days while I thought of a great, pain free game plan. Fantastic pain-free game plan #1: ask Channing Tatum to come over and drink a bottle of tequila with me the HE can do the waxing....and stuff. Fantastic pain-free game plan #2: ask my husband to help, again after a bottle of tequila) but I am not sure he would EVER view my lady parts the same afterwards. Fantastic pain-free game plan #3: It's going to hurt like hell and there is NOT a single thing I can do to change that so I may as well grip it and rip it. So. Since Channing didn't answer and I couldn't bring myself to ask my husband, I went with number 3. I trooped upstairs determined to get it done. OMG. Never again will I challenge Sally Hansen to a beauty contest. She won. I will be the one at the pool with the 70's afro on my lady parts. Who knows...maybe I will buy a pretty pick for it.

Butthole Mouth

LOVE the fact that my daughter feels the urge to comment on everything. No really, it's like a running commentary on my life and all the lives around her. So she sees a wrinkly old lady in a store and starts staring at her. And I mean REALLY staring at her, like starting to make me feel uncomfortable. I asked her why she was staring at the lady...such a horrible decision. She said, "Because her mouth looks like a doggy's butt hole." What. The. Hell.

RAC...favorite saying of the week!

RAC or Random Ass Chick. No for real. That's funny.