Is that a sock in your g string, or are you happy to see me?

I married for the first time when I was 18 years old (a wee baby). During that time of my life I had a serious stick up my ass. I did not do the typical teenager type things…no partying, no drinking, no nothing. I am not saying that is a bad thing. I can only hope that our 3 children are as tame as their mother. However, not only did I have a stick in my ass, I had my nose stuck very high in the air. Thank goodness life has knocked me down a few pegs and I have lost the stick and all my snottiness.




My BFF at the time was my matron of honor. She was a few years older than me and was a lot more worldly. She had what I call a disappearing stick up her ass…you know the kind that only showed itself when her parents or preacher where around. Needless to say, she had been shit faced a few times in her life.



Well, BFF decided to take it on as her personal goal to get me shit faced. She decided that my bachelorette party would be the perfect opportunity. Just so happens that around that time a local club was having a male review. They would allow 18 year olds in for the male review, but they had to leave when the show was over. It took her (and a few other people) a little while to convince me, but I eventually gave in.



When we got to the club they carded all of us and gave the over 21 crowd arm bands to buy booze. Which they promptly bellied up to the bar and purchased my first alcoholic beverage. I was super nervous with my first few sips, but soon got the hang of it. Five or six drinks later I was drinking them like kool aid. My friends were getting quite annoyed because I was not getting the slightest of a buzz.



It was time for the show to start. I must say, they did not disappoint! A bunch of muscle heads gyrating around in g strings with a couple hundred women…what fun. If you have never been to a male review I highly recommend it just for the entertainment factor alone. The women entertainment that is. These women were acting like crazy people.



I have never been to a female strip club. I have been told that it is look and no touch or they breaka your facea. Not so at a male review. As a matter of fact, they jump off the stage and dry hump half the audience (if you want it or not). The dancers actually will take your hands and put them on their body. Needless to say, little Miss Stick in the Ass was very uncomfortable.

By the third dancer I was getting bored. I mean there is only so much muscles, oil, and gyrating in my attention span. I then turned my attention to drinking again. While I was a goody goody, I did want to know what it felt like to be drunk…just a little. I kept drinking, and drinking and drinking. I felt no different. WTF! Oh well, drink some more.



There were a lot of bachlorette parties there that evening. It seemed like every ten feet there was a chick with a veil and light up penis necklace. So when the MC started talking about bachlorette parties we all started yelling.



Then it happened.



They said my name! Coolie! I am like a bachlorette stud…wait…did he just say come on stage?! Oh fuck me! I am not going up there! Holy hell! At this point I was shoved on stage by my own entourage of light up penis wearers.



Are you fucking kidding me? Here I am, Stick in My Ass, on stage in front of all of these people. Alone.



Not for long.



The next thing I know all of the dancers for the evening came dancing their little g stringed asses off. ALL AROUND ME! One of them got a chair and told me to sit down and proceeded to give me a LAP DANCE! While the guy behind me rubbed his crotch all in the BACK OF MY HEAD. Two guys on the sides grabbed both of my hands and made me RUB THEIR CHESTS!!!!!!!!



OH MY! I was in Chip n Dale HELL!



Thank God this is when the 19 drinks I had kicked in. Not like a full fledge buzz, but enough to get me through this situation without me crapping on myself.  And enough to make me want to peeeeeeeeeeeeeee! (I guess having 175 pound man gyrating on my bladder did not help.



Then (and now) I wonder what made them pick me out of the sea of brides to be. All I can figure is that whatever I was wearing showed my stick in my ass and they wanted to help me pull it out.

Just another reason why I need a Gay BFF!

I am back...and this is a doozey!!


For those of you that do not know, I am addicted to stupid reality TV. Yes, I am the person that keeps up with the Kardashians. I live and breath for Real House Wives of ___________ (You fill in the blank. I love them all.) If there is trashy, crazy entertainment…I am there baby!




It should not come as a surprise that I was enjoying the newest installment of Khloe and Kortney take Miami last night when I heard a phrase that I have never heard. Anal Bleaching. Errmmm?? What? So naturally I turn to my partner in trashy TV watching, my husband.



Me: What did she say?

Dean: I don’t know. I think she said anal bleaching.

Me: What does THAT MEAN?

Dean: How the hell am I suppose to know?

Me: You are A LOT of help. I must know what that is…



Later on in the shower I was trying to come up with a way for me to find out exactly what “anal bleaching” was and what exactly it involved. I can’t google it on my computer. If I did I surely would have like 100 ballizion pop ups for all types of porn…probably mostly gay porn. Then my computer would get some kinda STD and lock up forever. I just can not do that to my precious computer. How would I play bubble pop and maya pyramid? No, googleing it was not an option.



Ahhh…this is where my good ole blackberry comes in handy. See this is where I search for things that I don’t want to possible affect (infect) my computer. I am in BIG TROUBLE if anyone can do some kinda search for all the things that I have looked up on my blackberry. I just hope if I ever turn up missing I have my BB with me. If not the cops are going to think I am a sick bitch that has a fascination with celebrity’s ages.

So we go to bed and I get out my handy dandy BB. I type in ANAL BLEACHING.



HOLY CRAP. People really do this crazy shit. Apparently, it started with the porn industry. They started bleaching their ass holes so that it would look more appealing.



WHAT!



I mean, who even thinks of such.



“Umm yea Cindy, that is a great shot. Great yelling and screaming…just one thing. Your ass looks a little to ass like so hows about you start wiping your butt with Clorox clean up wipes.”



I just sat there reading for half an hour. Apparently it is not as easy as just switching to Clorox wipes. You can go to a salon to have this procedure done or your can go to your dermatologist and ask for a cream.



That is not a conversation that I would like to have with my dermatologist. Nor would I like to go to a salon and have someone lather me up in butt bleach. For people like me, there is the option to order cream online. You have to apply the cream twice a day until you achieve the desired color of ass hole you would like. Then you have to use Kleenex wet wipes to wipe your hiney so that your prestine butt hole will not be stained again. You can use regular wipes, but the Kleenex wipes are flushable.



Anal Bleaching is very popular in the gay community. See! If I had the gay BFF that I always wanted I would not have had to google “anal bleaching” on my blackberry! I am still in a desperate search!

I get how this can be appealing for gay men. Thankfully, I am not their target so they don’t give a rats if my asshole is pink and fleshy.



After reading all about this new phenomenon, I started thinking. I don’t think that most heterosexual dudes care if your ass looks like ass. I mean, if they are willing to sick their dick where poop comes out, I don’t think that their standards are that high…just sayin’.



Another thing that struck me was all the celebrities that have jumped on the “clean the ass” band wagon. These bitches need to think about the women that are trying to immolate them. What kind of message are you sending if you say “your ass is nasty”…hello! It is an ass! It is suppose to be NASTY.



Next thing you know these cleb bitches will start eating potpourri so their shit really does smell like roses.

Taking a break

I am going on a bloggin vacation.  I love blogging, but there are a few other things that I want to accomplish in the next few months.  My baby is becoming more mobile/needy...and being a mom comes first. I also have slightly cured my sleeplessness, so that leaves less time to blog.

Sorry no post this week...

These people have been keeping me busy...





and when they go to bed I am spending time with...



So, anyway...sorry I have not been around.  Thanks for the comments and the AWARDS!!!  I love you guys!! Be back later.

A Saturday funny!

A chick from HS post this on FB and it is FUNNY!  Try it!  Call the Nestles hotline at 18002950051.  After it promts english or spanish just sit there about 10 seconds...then press 4...friggin FUNNY AS HELL!  Then press 7.

Trip to the doctor...part deuce. I almost died.

As I prepare to write this blog I have to tell those that read my post last week about taking Matt to the doctor , I DO NOT MAKE THIS SHIT UP. Sometime I wish I did. My brain is just simply not creative enough to come up with this crap. I know that if I was reading a blog like this at some point I would have to say “WTF!”. I also want to apologize for the length of this blog. Please stick with me until the end…it is worth it.



Today was Ansley’s turn to take a trip to the doctor (9 year old check up). This time I took Laney with us. I decided to make it a girls day. Her appointment was at 10, but we had to be there at 9:45. So rush, rush to get us all ready and get us there on time. We were in the parking deck at 9:39, so we were cutting it close.


I did not expect for this trip to be anything to write about. I knew that I was in for a time with Matt. That is just how things roll with him. I am not saying that Ansley is not hilarious. She is just more dignified. She acts like a little adult when we are in situations like this.


We arrive at the same stupid sign in desk and answer the same stupid questions as last week. Thankfully, this week I remembered my name and did not just start shouting out numbers at the receptionist. We find a group of chairs close to the door that call you, but positioned so that I may be able to scope out everyone in the waiting room.



I am a people watcher. Along with my people watching, I am a people talk shit abouter. That is, if there is anyone to ogle. My only real wish is that I can have a mini camera that I can take pictures of all of the people that I ogle and talk shit about so that you may get the full effect.



So I hone in on my ogle target. A woman with 2 little boys. The boys looked to be about 7 and 4. The 7 year old was playing DS (What a fucking wonderful invention! Smooches Nintendo!) and the 4 year old was drawing. What made me decide to ogle them was the mom.


I live in the deep south, but it was rather chilly here this morning. 31 to be exact. This woman had on tapered “mom” jeans and flip flops. Often miscues on wardrobe selection will put you on my ogle radar. I have a pic of her feet. I snapped a pic of Laney and was able to get them in without her going all Sean Penn on my ass.





After some mad text messaging to my husband (he is normally my partner in crime when ogling) I started to eavesdrop. (No, I am totally not above that). Mommy Flip Flops was reading a Medical Terminology book with a fierce passion. She was flipping from the back to the front like a mad woman. She was steadily jabbering to herself.

The younger boy came over to show mom his art work and she half ass glanced at it and then said (in a perfect Prozac voice) “Why don’t you write your numbers 1 to 100.”


Me and the little boy gave her a WTF look. It is not like he was misbehaving. He just wanted her to look at his drawing. Anyway, she proceeded to draw 2 lines on the paper and put him to work while she went back to flipping madly though that damn book.

All of a sudden she yelled out “He needs to drink more water!!”.

Umm ‘Kay.


That was it. Then she went back to her jibbering and highlighting. I am was beginning to think that maybe she was in the wrong place. I think that she needed to be at the wacko office getting some more of her crazy meds.

Then in walks my next target…

A very cute little girl and her mother. There was a child size table and chairs in the middle of the waiting area. Little girl takes a seat in a little chair. Mom scans her options and sees that the waiting area is pretty full by this point, so she decides to take a seat in a little chair. Well, mom was a little fluffy (totally not talking shit about that because I am fluffy to the 2 power). As she sat down her little girl yell out “You gonna break that chair and fall on your butt!”


OMG!


“Ansley” the nurse yelled. Thank God. I did not want to be there to witness what that mother might have to do to that child.


So we go back and do the weight, height, blood pressure song and dance. Then we go into a room (bigger then last weeks) and the nurse give Ansley a gown. As the nurse leaves Ansley looks at me and says that she is not undressing.


“Well of course you are. You are going to do whatever they tell you.”


“Ugh, what all do I have to take off?”


“Everything down to your underwear”.


“Well, we have a problem. I don’t have any on.”


Oh Lord. I so wish I could have a picture of my face to share with the class. I was in total shock.


“WHAT! WHY THE HELL DON’T YOU HAVE ON ANY UNDERWEAR?!”


“I took them in the bathroom and forgot to put them on.”


“Holy Hell! What are we going to do now?!”


“I don’t know, but I don’t have any on.”


I swear I have taught her better then this. OMG we are at the doctors office and she is sitting her commando! Naturally I text Dean so he can share on my shock and horror. I asked him what to do, and of course he had no friggin idea.


So I decided that she would just take off her shirt and leave her jean on. I was hoping that at 9 they would not be taking a look at her goodies…Please God don’t let them look at her goodies.


Resident comes in and does her thing. Question, question, question…then time for the physical exam. Sure enough, she asked Ansley to unbutton her pants so she could check “down there”…sigh.


It was not as bad as I thought. It was just a sneak peek, so she might not have even noticed that my kid didn’t have any drawers on. Then she tells me that her attending will come in and take a look at her. I asked would it be the same exam and she told me that it would not be that in-depth.

Phew!


I sure hope that you did not think that was my big finish for this long ass story.


Attending come in and examines her and does make her unbutton her britches to look at her private parts. Then she told me that since Ansley was pigeon toed she wanted to examine her legs more closely to make sure that there was nothing abnormal.


Ummm ’kay.


“So, I am going to get her to remove her pants so that I can get a better look at her legs. Sometimes pigeon toed can show signs of one leg shorter then the other. I need to make sure everything is symmetrical. Does she have any panties she can put on?”

TOTALLY EMBARRASSED “ No, she forgot to put them on this morning (and I only have diapers for my baby in my bag. I did not know it would be necessary for me to carry a pair of drawers for my nine year old!)


Doctor: Well she is just going wild and free today!



Sigh. This is where I surly thought I would die of embarrassment. Now, I am sure that written in my child’s chart is a note that say “Mother does not make child wear underwear”. That will be there for all eternity. I am so proud.

My Skew on the Tiger Press Confrence-Elin Style

I had a Tiger post prepped, but I held it back to be able to play along with the ladies of the Skew.




If you have a Skew on Cheetah Woods go on over and link up with the ladies.

 



Transcript from Elin Wood’s Press Conference







Good morning, and thank you for joining me. Many of you in this room are my friends, Most of you are just money grubbin tabloid journalist that have been following me around for the last 3 months on constant “wedding ring watch“. Many of you in this room know me not for my smoking hot body, but as the Swedish nanny that snagged the Tiger.. Many of you have cheered for his sorry ass, and have been real fuckers for keeping his infidelity a secret…and on some occasions aiding him in these endeavors. You can all suck it.



Some of you have been critical of me. I want to say to each of you, fuck a whore and get speckled dick syndrome. I am not responsible for anything that pathetic version of a man that I am married to has done. As a matter of fact, because of his “selfish and irresponsible” behavior, I have had to have my va jay jay examined on more then one occasion, and I have had to under go multiple blood tests.




I know people want to know why Tiger did these things. Well, the answer is simple. HE IS A MOTHER FUCKER. Just like every other man that has ever cheated on his wife. I mean, it is not rocket science people. He can get up and say that he has an addiction and all that bullshit…to that I say DUH! What man is not addicted to sex? HELLO! Then other people ask “How could you do these things to your wife and your kids?” Easy, he is a narrstic rat bastard. He only cares about himself and his little (I mean little) Tiger.



Tiger has stated that he and I are starting the process of discussing the damage caused by his behavior. I wanted to clear that statement up and say that we are discussing how that sorry mother fucker is going to pay my ass. Pay dearly, for the rest of his sorry mother fucking life.



I also want to clear up something else that he stated in his “stroke his ego like a hand job” press announcement. I did not hit him on Thanksgiving, but I beat the FUCK out of that Cadillac. I was swinging at him, but the pussy got in the SUV and tried to drive away. So, no I did not hit the cum stain, but I did want to.





I am not ruling out staying married to Tiger. However, it will be on my conditions. The first condition is that if he has sex with anyone other then me (which is not gonna fucking happen) he agrees to have acid slowly dropped on the tip of his dick until it is mutilated. Not even Rosy Palm. No one. One day, if his actions prove that he is worthy, he might be allowed to come back to our marital bed. The second condition is that I have total control for the next 14 years (one for each whore). This includes, but is not limited to, if he says something that pisses me off, or does not do what I say he will be subject to whatever I deem fit. Punishment can be anything. Like playing a major in full drag queen style.





There has been news in the media that has stated that Tiger used “performance enhancing” drugs. I am here to say, DUH! Get real people. Did you think that his guns just popped out like that over night from lifting whores? I also have a picture of his ball sack and you tell me if you think he has been hitting the roids.










Also, I want to add that “performance enhancing” drugs are not only used on the golf course. He has been on Viagra, Cialis, and Enzyte all at the same time. He can no longer achieve a natural erecting because of all of the steroids. Even while on all of these drugs, he has serious soft dick. (not a good fuck people, not a good fuck).
Don't believe me! Rachel Ucantelliamawhore is coming out with her tell all book "I've had Tiger in my tank, and I felt empty". Nuff said.




I also want to let all of you know that today I am going to buy the biggest, bad asses Hummer type car that I can find. If you mother fuckers do not leave me and my kids alone I am going to ram your asses off the road. I am also going to buy one bad mother fucker of a trained watch dog and if you come near my house you are going to have your balls removed by his razor sharp teeth. Enough. Leave me the fuck alone!



----------------------------------------------------------------------------

I have started a new blogy for all of my shit box (TV) talk. If you get a chance come over and check it out.

Curling is my current crack...

I am really not an Olympics kinda girl. I do like the winter version much more then the summer version. I usually only do skating. Pretty much, that’s it. In 2006 Dean and I were neck deep in getting married, so I watched nada.




During that Olympics I heard back ground noise about this sport called “Curling”. By the time we got back from Mexico the Olympics were done and put to bed, not to be thought of by people like me until…well now.



Again, I was only interested in skating. I will watch here and there if nothing better is on the shit box. This is the point where I got sucked in…to Curling.



I must say that I often get hooked on one thing and I become obsessed. I have been through several phases in the past several years. There was the poker phase. I could not go to sleep at night with out hearing the clinking together of poker chips (yeah, strange) and I was getting in fights with assholes on pokerstars.com because they were talking shit about me not being a woman (WTF? A woman can play poker, and kick your ass thankyouverymuch…ask Dean). Then I had my Tudor’s phase. I became totally obsessed in everything that had anything to do with Henry VIII and all of his wives, esp. Ann Boleyn. I even went so far as to wanting to visit all of the graves of these dead mother fuckers. I mean they changed how the whole friggin country worshiped and totally just snubbed the Pope. All because little Henry wanted to come out to play. (And they say that the world is going to hell, we have been there a long time!). I love good gossip and a juicy story, and those scandalous Royals have it all covered.

My biggest, and longest lasting obsession is Louisiana and Cajuns.  I took that to a whole new level when I married one and then procreated.  Now I have a little aaaaayyyyiiiieee gal running around.



I go through my Big Brother phase every summer. We have Showtime just so I can watch those people fight and act like fools. That is kinda a long obsession for me. It runs from July to September, and by September I am ready for it to be over. There are many, many more phases…too many to list. Basically, I have obsession ADD.



So that brings me back to my current crack. Curling. I have no idea why. Dean was watching it one night and I became totally involved. I am asking him questions (like he fucking knows). It did not take very long before I started telling the people on the shit box how to play. They didn’t listen all the time…and they fucking lost.  I also like being on the red team. IDK why, but it pisses me off if the red team is not a team that I like.  Also did yall know that curling started in 1565? I do! Because, as my husband puts it...I am a dork. I am not trying to be a dork, it is just part of my obsession. When I get hooked on something...I must know every single thing about it.







I have decided that I must be on a curling team. Not only on the curling team, but I want to be the Skip. I am really good at figuring things out and I am DAMN GOOD at bossing people around. There are just a couple of issues that I have to clear up before the 2014 games.



1. We gotta get some kinda stick approved so when I have to throw the stone I don’t have to bend my fat ass over. (Ha! You think I am going to lose weight?)



2. I have to get a place to practice. I live in the deeeeeep south, so there are not too many frozen ponds to do the sling and sweep. I thought about the roller ring, but Dean said that would not work that well. Sigh.



3. I need sponsorships. I looked up how much the stones cost (I shit you not, I totally did look it up) and the sites I went to did not even list prices. In my world, that means that I am too po to afford what they are selling.



So if anyone wants to get behind my redneck curling team, hit me up. Better hurry up…my attention is leaning to other adventures…my nervous tick is starting to kick in…

Post It Notes- Week 3

Does everyone know what time it is.......
That's right kids! It's POST IT NOTES TUESDAY brought to you by the one and only...


Link up and play along!!!

I love my son! He is a hoot!

I am so freaking full I am about to pop…seriously…

Dean and I went out for our anniversary dinner tonight and it was gooood. I am currently a vegetarian due to my Lenten promise, so I ate eggplant parmesan. I must say, I did not miss meat a bit! LOL I have been meatless for 3 days and I am hangin tough. It is not near as hard as I thought it would be (but I like veggies).

No post from me yesterday because all hell broke loose in my house. Laney has her very first ear infection, and is not dealing with things well. She cried all day long…All. Day. Long. I should have went to the high school and pick up a few gals that thinks that having a baby is “so cool” and let them take care of her. Having a baby is cool…but not at 15...17...hell it is hard at 33.

Not only did I have Miss Fussy Pants, I had to take Matt to the doctor. Yeah me! My mom, God bless her, came and watched Laney so I only had to deal with Matt.

If you have read my blog for awhile, or know me in RL (or have been an online friend for awhile) you know that Matty has issues. When he was 6 his 1st grade teacher told me that he exhibited signs of ADD. Ugh! Not my little perfect child…

I was wrong. He is very well behaved and is on the A/B honor roll at school, but it is a daily struggle for him, and us. We have battled this monster for years. We have used different memory techniques, and tried everything under the sun to not have to take the step towards meds.

Matt came to me some time last year and told me that he wanted to go to the doctor. He is sick of having to battle this alone. I don’t blame him. I am still not sure how I feel about meds and we are still in the evaluation process. Meds might not be our first line of defense, but we are going to see what is out there.

Anyone that knows Matt in real life with tell you he is funny! I mean FUN-AY! He is shy at school, but anywhere else he is a ham. He once stood in a booth at Outback and shook his money maker to the point that he had the ENTIRE restaurant looking. The waitress said that she had never seen anything like it! I have no idea where he gets this junk from. While I spew crap on the internet, and I have been known to cut up with friends…I don’t shake it in public…well, not as much as he does.

He and I were both nervous about this appointment. Kinda for the same reasons. We did not know what the heck to expect. He drove me crazy on the way to the appointment telling me how things were going to go. Yeah, yeah son…you’re the boss…whatever you say.

We get to the doctors office and walk up to the counter. A not so nice lady looked at me.

Me: Yes, my son has an appointment. He is on the adolescent side, is this where we sign in? (they have 2 sides pediatrics and adolescent)

Her: Yes, sign there (pointing at clipboard)

Me: (pick up pen and start signing in)

Her: Name?

Me: John Sanders

Her-DOB?

Me- 1/17/99

Her- Address?

Me- 123 my street (ok mean looking lady, I told the people that I made the appointment with all this info. WTH. Not to mention you are asking me all this info in front of a million bazillion people in the waiting room. Have you heard of lower your voice…yo. Not to mention, I am signing in. I can not write and talk at the same time).

Her- Your name?

Me- ugh..ummm…ugh…April (I think)
Her- Maiden Name?

Me-Cook (still trying to answer all the questions on the sign in sheet)

Her- Phone number

Me- ugh…my last name is not the same as his…I am not April Sanders

Her- OK, well what is your maiden name? Cook, right?

Me- Yes, but that is not my name! I don’t go by April Cook.

Her- That is ok.

Me- What? You don’t even want to know my last name?

Her- no, I don’t need that

Me- OK 555-5555 (YELLING)…oh wait…did you ask me for my number?

Matt- Mama!

Me- What?

Matt- You are bringing me to the doctor, I think you need the doctor!

Me- Yeah, yeah, yeah. Go sit down you little smart ass.

So we sit and wait for awhile. Then we go to a room that is (I am not shittin you) is the size of a broom closet. Joy.

So here is me (who is so confused that I don’t even know my own damn name) and dufus (who is so nervous he can not sit still). He jump up on the table and is actin a fool. A nurse come in and he looks like he is posing for play girl. When she walked out I said “Matt, you are crazy”…he said “Y’all made me this way. It runs in the family. Heck, you don’t even know your own name!”














Smart ass.

Next med student came in and asked a trillion questions. A fucking trillion. It seemed like we were in that closet forever. Anyway, she examined him and all was good. Then she told him to take off his clothes and put on this gown. HA!

I really wish y’all could have seen the look on his face. He was like “nah, I am good.”

Med student- put this on and the doctor will be with you in a few minutes.

Exit med student

Matt-(SHREAKING) WHY DO I HAVE TO PUT THIS ON?

Me: Because she said so.

Matt- I DON’T WANT TO PUT THIS ON. WHAT ARE THEY GONNA DO THAT I CAN’T HAVE MY CLOTHES ON FOR?

Me: I have no idea, but do what they say.

Matt- MAMA! ARE THEY GONNA LOOK “DOWN THERE” (pointing to his crotch)

Me- Son, I don’t know. Just do what they say.

Matt- I don’t want anyone looking at my balls.

Me-(ROLLING LAUGHING) Go put the damn gown on!

So he makes a huge production about going behind a curtain and getting undressed, all the while bitchin about them lookin at his balls. I am laughing so hard at this point I am crying.





He goes and hops back on the table just as the doc and the med student come in. We talked for a little while then she did his physical exam. Ear, throat, listen to his heart beat…all that jazz. She told him to lay down so she could listen to his stomach. He shot a glance at me, but complied. She listened for a minute or so then grabbed his underwear waistband and said let me take a peek.

OMG! It took all I could do not to laugh. He looked at me like it was all my fault. Like I slid the doc a $20 so she would look at his dingy! He was pissed!

It was like a 2 second peek. I thought to myself, what in the hell could she have really have seen medically during that peek? Hell, it was kinda like she was just verifying it was there!

Sigh.

Exam over. They leave. But not before she orders some blood work. Nice. So I let them look at the dingy and I am going to let them stick him with needles. I am so gonna get it when we leave here!

He gets dressed, again bitching at me like I personally wronged him in some way. I guess I should have said “NO! DON’T LOOK AT HIS PENIS!” They already think I am a freak that does not know my own name.

The lab tech came in and he got very serious with her (I guess he decided that he was no leaving his medical care up to me any more since I allowed someone to look at this weenie). He looked her dead in the eyes and said:

Matt- You care going to take my blood?
LT- Yes, is that ok?
Matt- Are you a professional?
LT- (kinda taken aback) What do you mean?
Matt- How long have you been doing this?
LT- 10 years in November
Matt- You have been working here 10 years?
LT- yes
Matt- and you have been taking peoples blood the whole time? Not none of that behind the desk stuff?
LT- No, drawing blood for 10 years
Matt- Ok, you can do it.

And they say that people don’t ask enough questions when they go to the doctor! LOL





On the way home we talked about it and he got ok. He understands that they have to check things out in the nether regions. Freaked him out a little, but he got over it. As we pulled in the driveway he says “I am gonna tell grandma they looked at me balls (yes, he said me balls).

Oye!

Anyway, we are doing some evaluations and we have to go back in the next few weeks. Laney is much better (thanks to magic bubble gum meds). And I am going to peel these jeans off my ass (note to self, next time I go out to eat wear elastic).

From the "Stupid Shit" File in my brain

Through out my life I have stumbled across a lit of strange shit. I have a file in my brain that is actually named “strange shit”. That is where this blog is coming from today…


One day I decided that I HAD TO HAVE some “old grandma house shoes”. These are the house shoes that all of our southern grandmothers have worn. These are the shoes that if you go to a laundry mat on any given day you will see several people shuffling around in. I decided that I must have a pair.



I am odd in this way. I get one thing in my head and I just will not let it go. I looked high and low, left and right. There was not a pair within 50 miles of my house. I was pissed. I knew they still made these shoes. I saw at least one person wearing a pair every time I went down to the gas station.

I was on a mission. I went to my friend the internet. The internet knows all and could surly help me find some grandma house shoes. I searched several sites to no avail. I was becoming increasingly irritated and more determined. So I went to my ole pal eBay.

EBay has everything. So, if they still made these shoes…I would find them there. I searched the word “slippers”. A million bazillion listings came up. Since I could not narrow it down much (I don’t think that the correct name for these slippers is “ole grandma”) I had to look at all the listings. FUN FUN!--not.

As I was looking I came across a peculiar listing. It was a listing for a pair of well worn house shoes. (what?). I looked at it more and it had 30 something bids and the price was up to over 100 bucks (WHAT!). I am very confused at this point. Are these mutha fucking magic shoes? Do you click your heels and your house is clean? Is this a cover for some kinda drug ring? (Yes, I really thought all of these thoughts).

I shook my head and continued on my search for grandma shoes. Again, I came across a crazy ass listing for well worn slippers. Ok! WTF? This is way too strange for me…and intriguing. I abandon my original search and type in the words “well worn slippers”.
Cha Ch’ing! I hit the jackpot! There were 100’s of listings. I am even more intrigued. So I start clicking and looking and I just get more and more confused. Why? Why in the world would there be 100’s of listings for nasty worn house shoes?

I could not stand it anymore. I had to know. So I emailed one of the sellers (yes, I am a freak). I stated that I was in no way interested in her slippers, but I really wanted to know what was so special about them that people would spend that kinda money?

Have you figured it out? I didn’t! I was floored when she emailed me back that it was a fetish item!

WHAT!

Men pay hundreds of dollars to wack off on nasty worn shoes! EWWWW

I am not knocking foot fetish people. I am just saying that to someone that is not a foot fetish person it is slightly bizarre…and gross.

She also told me that slippers were not the only item they seek. They also like worn socks, nylons and their favorite is high heels. Most auctions are private so to protect the identity of the purchaser.

I got schooled. I must say that I sat there with my mouth hung open for about 5 seconds before I grabbed the phone and started spewing this jibberish all over my friends and family. My father (who is beyond an idiot) was on board with starting a nasty slipper business. He said that he would get them worn but I would have to be the model. Ummm, I don’t think so pops.

So, if you don’t have issues with men jacking off to your smelly shoes and know how to work eBay, you could make a little cash. I did search well worn slippers when I thought about writing this post. I have to say the economy has hit them hard. There is not as many listings and they are not going for near the cash that they were during the first time I searched this. Here is a current listing (so y’all know I am not just a raving lunatic).

Click here for a laugh (or to be grossed out)


Oh and for those wondering…I did get my slippers…not well worn, thankyouverymuch! (and the next week they had a whole rack at Wal-mart. Go figure!)

Post It Notes- Week 2

Brought to you by

Link up and play along!

Undercover Jackass- Hooters...and some awards!

This is a bonus Monday post. I had the post below set on scheduled publish then I watched Undercover Boss and I just had to write. So read below for my real Monday post.




If you have not watched Undercover Boss this week and you don’t want to hear about it stop reading right here…



Stop



I am gonna talk about it.



You better stop now.



You have been warned.





As most of you know I am a shitbox (aka the tv) junkie. I can not get enough of all these stupid reality shows. I love them. I have several that I have new obsessions with. I am surprised that I can even function in life with all of these great shows coming on the shitbox. Thank God for DVR.



I totally got sucked into the after the Super Bowl premiere of Undercover Boss. It was a pretty good little show. Then they sucked me in with previews for this weeks “Hooters” episode. I loath Hooters. Loath them.



I guess they have a place in this world (kinda like my blog! Ha!). But I aint buying what they are selling. Maybe it is because I am not into tits and ass. It’s is just not my thing. I feel sorry for the women that work there. I guess I shouldn’t. I mean they know why they are there. They applied to be sex objects. Must be something they like to do.



I get up on my soapbox about things, and this is one of them. I would not want either of my daughters to work there. I know that everyone has heard my arguments before about how it is degrading to women. It is sexist. Yada, yada, yada…all the things that most women say.



Well last nights Undercover Boss just summed up everything I thought. There was one particular manager that was shit ton stupid. He was the poster boy for male chauvinist pigs. If you have never heard of this show here is the trailer from last nights show…















The pig would be the ass that made the girls play “reindeer games” to go home (the place was dead and the ladies were making no tips). At this location the undercover jerk off boss was training to be a manager. Included in this little segment was douche bag manager lining the girls up for “inspection”. He even said something to one girl about not having her nails painted. (?) I am not sure what that has to do with serving food, but whatever. He also called all the girls “Pre Madonnas” and acted like he was enjoying humiliating these ladies.  FYI for those that did not watch, he mad them eat a plate of baked beans...piggy style. Whoever won got to go home early.



Undercover Jackass just stood by, watching. He even said to the camera crew “He knows the brand…he is just executing it wrong”. OOOOOOOOOk. He did leave and call the franchise owner and told him that he had some “concerns”. This is what the conversation should have went like…



UCB: Yeah, this is the person that sold you your franchise. You have a huge dickwad for a manager and I expect his ass to be fired like 5 minutes ago. If you don’t I will get all my high priced corporate lawyers to sue your ass for damaging our brand and putting our company at risk for a whole bunch of different lawsuits. Get it? I am going to yank your franchise. So do something…now.





If that would have been said…I would actually eat at Hooters.



But it was not. Undercover Boss Pussy just “talked” to him. He told him that was not an appropriate way to act. Waaaaaaahhhhh WTFE (what the fuck ever). I got the feeling that if a CBS film crew was not following his ass he would have slapped him on the back and bought him a beer.



I sure hope that he did not think that this show was going to be good for business. If anything it just confirmed everything I thought. Even my husband, who dearly loves Hooters wings, said that he will never spend another dollar with them after watching that.



Sigh. What a dumbass.



Onto brighter things…











I got 2 awards! Yea me! Well it is the same award from 2 kick ass bloggers.

First from

It's a Mummys Life



And then from



B Sparkly





These are awesome mommy bloggers! Go check them out! Right now! Thank you very much to both of them!



I am suppose to give this out to 12 bloggers. I am not good at this. I can never pick just 12, so I am going to break the rules (again) and give it to everyone. I think that everyone has so much to offer in their own special way, and I enjoy reading all of your blogs every single day!

Baby, When I think about you, I think about LLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLOOOOOOOOOOOOOOVEEEEEEEEEEEEE..(dun nun nun dun nun nun) Feel like making people throw up...(dun nun nun dun nun nun)

Dude that could totally be a Weird Al song!!!!!!! I hope I don't have to get any money to Bad Company!........................................ANYWAY.....................................


Dean and I had our very first date on my birthday. I am going to admit, I was not in a place where I wanted a relationship. In my mind he was just another “internet jerk off”. I had had my fill of them. I only went on a second date because 1. it was my very first Easter without my kiddies and 2. a guy that my friend was dating told me that I needed to not judge every internet man by the frogs I…er…kissed…yeah kissed.




We went to a movie (Hitch) and to lunch (Macaroni Grill) and then to the store to get my kiddies a few things for Easter. That is what I do when I miss them. I buy shit. I better be a fucking millionaire when they move out.



That day I started to like my new friend. He was different. Internet frogs would not have given a shit about going to pick out stuff for a 4 and 6 year old. Dean did. We had a great day. More importantly, I could be myself. I was myself from day one (I will tell y’all more about that later). And he liked me.



His birthday is 9 days after mine. On his birthday we went to play Put Put and then we took a trip to Wal-mart. Raskel Flatts’ song “Broken Road” was popular at that time, so I wanted to get him the CD. Well…



We pulled into the parking place and sat there for a few minutes. Then we kissed. When I say we kissed, there was tongue. By no means were we groping each other (there was a huge friggin center console thingy in between us). We kissed a few times then talked then kissed a few more times, you know…all that shit you do when you first start dating.



I am going to stop right here and let y’all know that I am not a fan of wild public displays of affection. If you want to play tonsil hockey and feel each other up…do it at home. I am also going to say that we were in the truck, 2 country miles from the front door. I am going to add…we were just kissing, not muggin down.



Anyway, we get out and go walking hand in hand the 2 country miles into the store. I get him the CD and go about our business of checking out and walking the 2 country miles back to the truck. When we got in I noticed a piece of paper under the wiper on his side. Hmm. Dean grabbed it, read it, and handed it to me. The note said:



EWWW. GET A ROOM!





OMFG! I had no idea that anyone was WATCHING US! Not that I cared b/c we were not acting like horny teenagers, but it creped me out that someone was watching. Then I died laughing. I mean, someone too their friggin time to find a piece of paper, write a note, get outta their car and put it on Dean’s truck! How fucked up is that!



I am not gonna lie. I talk mad shit about people’s wardrobe choices (leggings were not intended for fat girls…I can say that b/c I am a fat girl, and yes if you have a florescent green mohawk I am gonna snicker), but I do not actually tell these people they are stupid or need a personal shopper. I also my crinkle my nose up if I see a couple muggin in the mall, but I am not going to tell them to GET A ROOM!



Oh well. Apparently they didn’t enjoy the show. We will try to do better next time! :0)

SNOW SNOW BABY!

Hell has froze over. By hell I mean the south. Trust me, if you came here in August you would call this place hell also. Surly, hell could not be much hotter. Anyway, we have 6...yes 6 inches. I know this is like baby shit to the people who live up north, but to us...this is huge. The last time it snowed this much was 2002. Ansley was 1 1/2.


Being from the south, I do not prepare for such times. We don’t have mittens, snow boots...nothing to use to go outside and properly play in the snow. Hell, it took 20 minutes to find Laney's coat! Here is how we roll in SC. (don’t snicker you Yankees). Laney had on 1 long sleeve shirt, 2 footed sleepers, a hooded jacket, her winter coat, and a hat...and a partridge in a pair tree. She looked like Ralphie’s brother.



The big kids got off a little easier…they had on thick sleeping pants, jeans and 3 shirts…with coats and hats. The did have to put ziploc bags on their hands and then put socks over them…what! I didn’t want their hands to freeze. The hospitals here are not prepared to deal with frost bite. I am pretty sure they ditched that look as soon as I came back inside. Oh well. I did my crazy mama duty. If they lost a finger in the big snow of 2010, that was all them.



Laney did not think the snow was that cool. Actually, she did not like it at all. She let us put her down for 3 seconds and she was done. The big kids loved it, but were not complaining when we told them to come inside. Less then 24 hours after it started, ½ of my yard is melted and the other half is going as quick as the wicked witch on the Wizard of Oz. I am not sad. I must give kudos to my friends that live in the north…I don’t know how you do it. Check back with me in 4 months…I will be hating the heat then. Hopefully, my nasty ass pool will be pretty and blue by then…if we ever get the sunken tarp out. Oye!
 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 
One nasty cement pond!