Have you seen the Potty Mouthed Princesses yet? There's a company called FCKH8.com who made this advertisement to help bring awareness to women's inequality. Sure this video is designed to sell t-shirts, but they're for a good cause and it's still awesome to watch because it's full of a bunch of little foul-mouthed sassy girls who drop more f-bombs than me.
Sooooo ... you know how much I loooooove silly names, right? Names like Aighmey and Alicin and Rocco and Jacin (he's Alicin's brother). Well, this week I was introduced to a couple more to add to my growing list I like to keep.
Anyone else have a husband who drives her crazy? I don't know what the deal is today, but the Hubs is getting my very last fucking nerve. (Actually, I know the problem, this time I'm the one with PMS instead of him.)
The Hubs and I spend waaaay too much time together. (Which is just the way he likes it.) We live together (duh) and we work together at home. There is no office for me to escape to. There is no office for me to pack him off to. There is no one to go have lunch with or shoot the breeze with at the water cooler. There is just the Hubs. If I turn a corner in my house, there he is. If I go upstairs, he goes upstairs. If I go downstairs, he goes downstairs. He just looooovvves to be together. Truly. He can't even run an errand alone. He likes to have me along, because he "misses me too much." Ugh!
I know it probably sounds lovely and romantic and all that, but really it can be so annoying. There is a fine line between loving someone and holding them hostage. I think I have Stockholm Syndrome, because I'm being kept prisoner, but I love my prison guard.
It's because over time Gomer has asked me not to write about him. He will do something hysterical or tell me a funny story and immediately he stops, gets an intense expression, and asks me, "Will this be on the blog, Mom?"
This might be the worst story I think I've ever heard.
Apparently somewhere in America a principal is having an emergency meeting with a group of mothers. The mothers are there not to talk about their children's behavior. Instead they are there to talk about their own behavior.
So there was a music concert the other night and this group of bitches sat behind a teacher from the school and during the concert they proceeded to put chewed up gum in the woman's hair. Let me say this slower for you, because the first time I heard this story, I didn't quite understand and I thought it was the kids who did this. NO. Not the kids.
I've never cared about baseball before. I've never liked watching baseball or playing baseball. I was raised by a dad who loooooved baseball though. Growing up on the east coast I attended quite a few Yankees games and then when we moved to Kansas City, my dad bought Royals season tickets for several years. I always took my friends to the games where we sat in the bleachers and ate nachos and gossiped. I never paid any attention to the Royals or what they were doing.
Until this year.
Well, really until late September of this year.
Kansas City is a town where our sports teams don't win much. But when we do, we come out in full force. This town has a lot of fair weather fans. But none as fair or as weathery as I.
That's right. I jumped on that blue and white bandwagon! I jumped on so far that I'm practically driving the wagon. My town has had a 29 year drought. The last time they won the World Series, I was completely unaware, because I was sitting in a dark movie theater watching the premiere of Back to the Future. We're finally getting someone to notice us. No longer are we a flyover state. People are actually stopping and watching the Royals play. Those guys are killing it and I am their biggest cheerleader (and good luck charm).
Gomer will be 10 this year and I've been wondering about what age is too old for trick-or-treating. I can remember trick-or-treating way past my prime. I can remember dressing up like Madonna in seventh grade. My dad wouldn't let me out the door until I showed him a picture of Madonna, because he was certain I was lying and my costume was really "underage hooker." I can remember hitting the local Walmart for adult-sized footie pajamas, a bib, and a pacifier when I was in college. I dressed up like a baby so my friends and I could score some free Snickers bars. The stupid part is I'm pretty sure my "costume" cost us more than if we'd just bought a bag of Snickers bars when we were at Walmart. But I later realized those jammies were an investment. They got worn all winter long.