People I Want to Punch in the Throat

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With Neighbors Like This, Who Needs Enemies

I was scrolling through my Facebook feed this weekend and I saw a very upsetting status update from my friend Molly at A Day in Mollywood.

Molly came home last week to find this note on her door:

Source: Instagram
It says:

YOUR HOUSE IS THE FIRST HOUSE THAT EVERYONE SEES WHEN THEY ENTER THE NEIGHBORHOOD, COULD YOU PLEASE SHOW A LITTLE PRIDE OF OWNERSHIP AND TAKE BETTER CARE OF YOUR YARD! THANKS. [Smiley face]

First of all, I have no idea what Molly's lawn looks like, but in my lifetime of having neighbors, I have listened to enough of them bitch about lawns, to guess that Molly's grass is probably a bit shaggy with a few weeds and/or dandelions sticking up in the bushes. I guarantee you that's as "bad" as her lawn is.

I am positive that her lawn is NOT three feet high with a broken dishwasher thrown in there.

I can only imagine how much time this person had on his or her hands to sit down and craft this fine note. Maybe enough time to knock on Molly's door and say something like, "Hi. How are you? I know you've got three little kids and you and your husband have busy jobs, but I noticed that your yard needed some attention. I'm not doing anything right now and I was wondering if I could help you out? Where do you keep your mower?"

Every Move You Make. I'll Be Watching You.


We've all heard that it doesn't matter what we post on the internet, it just may come back to haunt you and yet we all continue to do it. Don't we?

I'm not talking about bloggers. I put my stuff out there because I WANT people to read it. I WANT them to be entertained by it. I'm talking about people who go to seemingly "private" places and then get caught.

I'm always amazed by the number of people who just put their dirt out there and never consider for a moment who just might see it.

Do You Make Your Kid Share?

Do you teach your kids to share? Do you enforce some sort of sharing rule in your house? What about outside of your house?


An article was brought to my attention recently. It's called Should You Teach Your Child to Share? The author is firmly in the camp of "my child does not need to share." EVER. Her child attends a preschool co-op where the children are not required to share toys. They can even call dibs on a toy and a teacher/parent will hold that toy for them while they go to the bathroom, break for snack, etc. They also don't have to share the swings or the monkey bars at recess.

This Letter Stopped Me in My Tracks



School started a few weeks ago, and we're still trying to get back into the swing of things. I don't know about you, but it's been tough. Are you back in the routine yet?

Our morning routine is pretty standard. The Hubs wakes up early to get the kids ready for the day. At 7:30 am, he starts out by yelling -- I mean, gently wakes up the kids. Every morning I hear "Adolpha, get down here and get dressed" and Gomer "Get dressed and brush your teeth." Some days there is more yelling than others.

This morning was one of those mornings. Both kids woke up grumpy and sluggish and there was more than the normal drama to deal with. Gomer had lost a shoe and Adolpha was refusing to brush her teeth. I had had it. I was trying to make lunches when I found Adolpha's take home folder on the counter, buried under some junk mail. It was stuffed with papers that she had not shown me. I was so irritated. She doesn't have many jobs, but she is supposed to empty her folder each night and show me what's been sent home so I don't miss anything important. I flung open the folder and started slamming papers on the counter, saying, "Adolpha, you know you're supposed to empty your folder! Why can't you do what you are supposed to?"

A Love Story About a Dude and His McChicken

Source: McDonalds
OK, so I couldn't sleep last night. That happens sometimes. I wake up because I have a bunch of ideas I want to write down, so I get up and I work for a few hours. However, this time I got up and my brain just wouldn't SHUT UP. Only it wasn't a good thing. It wasn't a ton of ideas that will soon be huge bestsellers and then turned into blockbuster films. NOOOOO. It was the worries. You name it, I was worried about it. I covered everything from "What is this lump? Is that cancer? Am I going to be dead by Christmas?" to Syria to Trump to my inability to leave sugar alone to "Did Adolpha get all her reading done last night? And why hasn't Gomer said more than two words to us in the last two days?" to my husband to the electric bill to being irritated that there's a damn moth flying around my office and I can't catch it. Then I worried that I wasn't getting any work done and when would I get my work done and that sent me into a shame spiral and that made me want to eat handfuls of sugar and just go back to bed. But now it's 6 am and this is the time when normal people wake up, so I'm fucked essentially.

PHEW. Did you get all of that??

The Craziest Conversation I've Had With My Children in a While

As I've mentioned before, riding in the car seems to be the time when my kids really want to talk and I learn a lot about how their little brains work and what they think.  This is the craziest conversation I've had with my children...recently.

The other night we had a 30 minute drive and Gomer and Adolpha started talking to each other.  I'm not sure how the conversation got started, but by the time I figured out what they were talking about, I realized that somehow I have raised a femi-Nazi and Ward Cleaver.

Gomer:  Adolpha, are you ever going to be a mommy?

Adolpha:  No way.

Gomer:  But why not?  If you were a mommy I could be your kids' uncle.


The Place That Waxed My Eyebrows Today


Today I had some time on my hands and some seriously bushy eyebrows (as I was kindly reminded the other night).  Instead of going to my usual waxing joint, I decided I'd go to someplace a little closer.  I was running errands and I saw a sign for waxing.  I figured I would pop in there instead of driving across town to my usual place.

The sign said walk-ins welcome and I was hoping I could just run in quickly, get the brows ripped, trimmed and tweezed into shape and be on my merry way.

I walked in and I was greeted by what I can only assume was the owner.  "Hello.  How can I help you?"

"Hello," I replied.  "I'd like to get my eyebrows waxed please."  The man looked me up and down thoroughly.  He took in my caterpillar-like eyebrows and nodded in agreement.