Sunday, September 29, 2013

Story Time Sunday- The Apology Pizza

I worked at a tattoo shop in South Carolina for 3 years. To this day, I'm always asked about the most difficult customer I ever had. That, dear readers, would be the story of the Apology Pizza.

This kid (and when I say "kid," he was like 21 or 22- that was young to me) worked with Hubby. He was that kid that, when he walked into a room, just joined into a conversation like he'd been there the whole time, making things extremely awkward. So, people in Hubby's shop generally steered clear of him. When he (over)heard that I was a tattoo artist, he immediately came in to see me, to have his tattoo cherry popped.

He had this idea for this huge back piece. It was to be a fight between good and evil on the two sides of his back, and straight down his spine would be 9 kanji symbols (the Asian characters) that represented the 9 levels of hell from Dante's Inferno.

Great idea. Amazing concept. I was excited.

Until the day came for his first session. Because he'd never had a tattoo done before, and was a little short on money, he wanted to just start with the first symbol and last symbol- that was it. The first symbol was placed right below his neck and the last symbol in the "tramp stamp" position of the lower back. I put him in the standard "tramp stamp" tattooing position, straddling a seat backwards, and started the tattoo.

He literally jumped out of the chair when the needle touched his skin. Not just moved a little- he lept up and over the back of the seat he was straddling. Up. And. Over.

I told him he couldn't be doing that shit. I explained to him how he needed to sit really still, and I was good at

Thursday, September 26, 2013

I Wouldn't Lick My Coffee Mug or Use My Toothbrush, If I Were You

I've been MIA lately. Pretty legit reason this time, I promise...

Saturday I woke up at like 1 in the morning, my throat on fire. I immediately grabbed my phone and turned on my flashlight app (seriously, does anyone have actual flashlights anymore?) and looked at the back of my throat...

If we were to infect zombies with a flesh-eating virus to try and further their decomposition, then drop an atomic bomb on them, what would be leftover is what the back of my throat looked like. Yeah. That.

Considering The Ginger had strep throat two weeks earlier, and I was the person that stayed by his side through the entire thing, this wasn't a huge shock to me.

We moms take care of our kids and our spouses when they are sick, just to be rewarded with... getting sick weeks later. WTF, Universe? Can't we get a "Get Out of Strep Free" Card, for crying out loud? Sheesh.

So, I immediately started with antibiotics, in a half-preemptive strive, before the fever and all other bullshit set in. With The Ginger, after the first dose of antibiotics, he started feeling better. Two doses in and he was asking to play video games again instead of passing in and out of consciousness on the couch. Three doses and he was back to his old self, eating me out of house and home.
The movie "Jawbreaker"

Only, 3 doses of antibiotics later and I was worse off than ever. Fever was close to 102, chills, my entire body felt like a Mack Truck had hit me, then put it in reverse and ran over me again, my lymph nodes were so swollen I looked like the dead chick in the movie "Jawbreaker," and I could barely sit up in bed to take a sip of anything. I made Hubby take me to a different doctor, where my strep test came back negative, but upon the doctor's examination of my apocalyptic throat, assessed that I did indeed have strep, and gave me different antibiotics, and a numbing mouth rinse for the pain.

I will pause right here for a moment- if you are ever offered the numbing mouth rinse, pass on it. Seriously. Your sickly mind will not process that in order to get the mouth rinse to the back of your throat to gargle, it has to pass over your tongue and cheeks, thus rendering them numb as well. Horrible. Absolutely horrible. You instantly turn into a drooling idiot, and your throat still hurts. Go with over-the-counter throat spray and aim that shit directly where it hurts, bypassing your tongue and cheeks so you can keep some of your dignity intact. You'll thank me.

We will fast forward now to Day 6 of this "strep throat". My lymph nodes are still swollen, my throat still very tender and has healing zombie-like leftover patches on it, I can't do much of anything for longer than about 20 minutes before I'm out of breath and tired as hell, and my whole body still aches like the Mack Truck is just hitting the gas every few hours.

What do you call strep throat that wasn't really strep throat that goes on for a week and has flu-like symptoms with it?

Mono. You call it mono. Only, I'm choosing to not call it mono because I'm not a 15 years old who got it

Sunday, September 22, 2013

Story Time Sunday #3: That Time Our Daughter Was Possessed (Like, Really Possessed)

Caution now: This story is super-weird, and if you scare easily, is going to give you goosebumps. This stuff really happened... I couldn't make it up if I tried.

When The Girl was 4 years old, we bought our first house. It was a 1960s one story, with the kitchen, master bedroom and dining room on one side of the house, the kids' bedrooms and main bathroom on the other side of the house, and the living room in the middle. In the 9 months or so prior to moving into this house, we had just moved back to the states from England, were living in base housing, and decided to move once again into our very own home.

Strange things happened in this house.

It started shortly after we moved in. The Girl started having night terrors, screaming so loud that it would wake us up on the other side of the house. We figured it was just all the moving and upheaval we had done in the last year- that she wasn't adapting so well to it.

The Girl looked just
like this scene from
the movie, "The Ring"
Sure... We'll stick with that theory.

One night, I woke up in the middle of the night because I felt something weird. When I turned over to look at Hubby, there was The Girl, standing perfectly still, on Hubby's side of the bed, hair in her face, just staring at us. I shook Hubby awake, who looked right at The Girl, yelled out some obscenity, and sat straight up in bed. I was frozen. I couldn't move, it was so creepy. He flipped on the light, and she just continued to stand perfectly still, and stare at us. Hubby got out of bed and walked The Girl back to her room, where she climbed back into bed like nothing had happened. To this day, we have no idea how long she was standing at the side of our bed, just staring at us.

The bedside staring incident happened several times over the course of about 2-3 weeks, and each time, The Girl had absolutely no recollection of it the next day. We weren't even sure if she

Thursday, September 19, 2013

My Tiger Mom Stripes Start to Show

I want to start out by saying I hate mom labels- Tiger Mom, Helicopter Mom, Free-Range Mom- they are all ridiculous. My use of the term "Tiger Mom" in this post is for humorous purposes, and those who regularly read my blog know I am not one of those moms who pushes her kids to do... well, anything. If my kids enjoy something, then Hubby and I support them. If they don't want to do it, we don't force them, unless they haven't given the activity a fair try.

Now that we've gotten that out of the way, on with the post.
Pic from Parenting Mojo

One of my main goals as a mother has always been to teach my children about choices; everything in life they do is based on a choice. There is nothing in this world that isn't based on a choice, and that is probably the #1 thing I preach to my kids. When I tell them to do something, do they have to do it? Nope, they don't. They can choose not to do it, but then they must suffer the consequences. Does Hubby have to get up and go to work every morning? Nope, he doesn't, but if he chooses not to, he could get fired. Everything in life is a choice, and my kids know this. They hear me say it just about every single day.

So, when The Girl came home the other day and said that she had a huge problem, I listened with open ears and an open heart, to see how I could help her. She had one week to read a book, and here it was, 6 days later, and she still had over 350 pages to read in the book. The assignment was due the next day. She immediately came out with, "I hate how hard my teacher is. There's no way I can read 350 pages tonight. This is so stupid." 

Whoa, whoa, whoa there, little missy. My Tiger Mom stripes started popping out. I needed to collect some more information before I unleashed them fully.

Here's what I found out:

  1. The kids in the class were allowed to choose their own books.

Sunday, September 15, 2013

Story Time Sunday #2: "Be Very Quiet or We'll Wake My Wife Up"

Over a decade ago, before The Girl and The Ginger were even a twinkling in Hubby's eyes, we spent our weekends like many early 20-somethings did- drinking and having fun with friends. When Hubby turned 21, we were living in base housing, so our house immediately became the party house, as all of his friends were still single and lived in the dorms. I honestly wasn't a huge drinker back then, and I was working 10 hour shifts at the mall, so I would come home, maybe have a wine cooler, and sit on the couch and watch TV.

One particular evening I was super exhausted, so I plopped on the couch, which we had situated in front of the dining room (open floor plan), so behind the couch was our dining room table. Hubby and his friends were sitting at the dining room table, playing some drinking game, so I flipped on the TV and ended up falling asleep.

I was awakened a little while later by some loud sound. I opened my eyes, but didn't move my body on the couch. As my senses started to focus, I realized that the house was dead quiet- not normal for an evening of drinking games. I laid there for a second, looking around the living room, trying to figure out what the sound was that woke me up. That's when I heard whispering coming from behind me, from the dining room table.

"Shhhhhh. Everyone be very quiet or we'll wake her up. Don't make a sound." 

Oh hell's bells, what in the hell did my husband just do that

  1. He didn't want me to know about
  2. Quieted the entire house
  3. Warranted him warning everyone to be quiet until whatever it was, was cleaned up and/or disposed of.
I heard the sliding of a dining room chair across the floor, so I popped up, over the couch, and stared directly at Hubby, who froze in a mid creep from the table.

"Hi, honey, love of my life. How did you sleep?" Hubby said to me, as I watched him try and block the

Friday, September 13, 2013

Loopholes, Sneakiness and Kids' Lunches

One lesson I never thought I would have to teach my kids was how to be sneaky. For me, as a child, this came naturally. I was figuring out loopholes and how to get my way from an extremely young age. I was that kid who, when told go to my room and go to bed for the night, and was found 20 minutes later laying in bed reading a book, simply stated, "You told me to go to bed, not to go to sleep."

Symantics have always been an important part of who I am, which is why I just assumed my kids would have inherited my love of bending the rules.

Good grief, was I wrong.
Pic from Eating Well

My kids have been coming home lately with food still in their lunch boxes, leftover from lunch. This seriously urks my nerves, because
  1. It wastes money.
  2. I don't pack their lunch for my health or enjoyment.
  3. It wastes money.
  4. It means they aren't getting a well balanced lunch.
  5. It wastes money.
I decided to test my kids, and see just how far the apples fall from the tree. Choosing my words extremely carefully, I told them:

"I am tired of y'all bringing home food that you didn't eat at lunch. No more. I want to see empty lunch boxes from now on, got it? And that DOESN'T mean you just throw the food away. That's wasting money, too."

They gave me some sort of a yes answer and went on about their business. The next day, they came home with leftover food in both of their lunch boxes. 

"What did I tell y'all? I told you empty lunch boxes."

That's when The Girl told me she doesn't like cheese sticks and The Ginger told me he wasn't fond of the

Tuesday, September 10, 2013

Dear Miley Cyrus,

Pic from EOnline
With your recent VMAs performance and now the release of your music video for "Wrecking Ball", I've seen everyone from mom bloggers to celebrities begging you to stop your destructive behavior. Your family initally stood behind your actions, but now seem to be refusing to comment any further, leaving the world wondering if they, too, have joined the Anti-Miley movement.

Well, Miley, I'm not here to ask you to stop. On the contrary, I'm here to tell you to

Keep it up!

You have obviously discovered the joys of sex and the exciting world it has opened you up to, so why not share that with the entire world? Most people want to keep sex special, and personal, but why? Why not emulate every sexual move you have with your fiance on a stage, with Robin Thicke, for everyone to know exactly what it looks like to have sex with you? Makes so much sense to me! It might kill your future sex video sales, because everyone will have already seen your gyrations, facial expressions and favorite positions, but hey, that could be years, months, weeks into the future, so why worry about that now?

Keep it up!

Your behavior, your every move, is caught on camera, and will make it very easy to teach your possible future daughter many important life lessons like:
  • How to dry hump in public, but keep your stamina up so you can still sing
  • How not to contract communicable diseases by licking random tools
  • How to properly finger bang yourself with a foam finger as to not scratch your nether regions
  • How not to contract BV (bacterial vaginosis) or a yeast infection from sitting on a wrecking ball butt-ass naked
  • How to properly let the entire world know that you are no longer a virgin and proud of your newly-discovered sexual ways
Keep it up!

Your fiance, Liam, has been on the fence about marrying you. I'm sure after your latest video, he's probably

Sunday, September 8, 2013

Story Time Sunday #1: The Portal Girl

Somewhere along the line, I've been told I have great stories to tell. Between having been a tattoo artist, new age store owner, having lived in 2 countries and being a mom who doesn't think like most moms, I guess I can see that.

So, I decided to start Story Time Sunday. Each Sunday, I'll share with you all a random story from my life. Yes, they are all true... I couldn't make this shit up if I tried.

Grab a cup of coffee, pull up a chair, and gather around for my first Story Time Sunday! This week, I'll start out with a bang!

The Portal Girl

I owned a new age store for several years, and would get asked the craziest things. I had a completely open mind (why I opened the store), so while I never talked down to anyone or argued with what they believed, there were a few times I raised an eyebrow when a person asked me a question.

I will never forget The Portal Girl. She came rushing into Static Moon (the name of my store) one day, all in a frenzy.

Portal Girl: OH, thank goodness you are here today. I came yesterday, but you weren't open.
Me: Oh. Sorry. I close on Sundays. Are you okay?
PG: No. I have a question that I hope you can help me with. I don't know who else to turn to.
Me: Okay, shoot.
PG: How do you close a portal?

At this point, I didn't say a word. I started looking around, wondering if I was on Candid Camera. The look on her face told me I was not.

Me: I'm sorry, what? A portal?
PG: Yes. How do you close a portal? 
Me: Well, to be completely honest, I'm not sure. How did you open the portal?
PG: With this spell I created.

I started looking around the room again. No hidden camera men were popping out at me.

Me: Okay. Well, can't you just reverse the spell, which would close the portal?

Thursday, September 5, 2013

Always Rock the Nerdom

The Girl walked into the living room last night with her shirt pulled up slightly to expose her stomach area, and she was rubbing her belly as a sign of just having eaten an amazing meal.
Pic courtesy of WeHeartIt

"Hey, Mom, look at my stomach. Isn't it luscious?"

I shot her the Look of Death.

"Isn't it what?"

"Luscious. Like my hair," and she giggled.

I did not pass go, I did not collect $200, I went directly into Oh Hell No Mom Mode.

"The word 'luscious' is NOT used to describe stomachs, especially those of 11 year olds. Where did you hear that?"

"It's just what everyone says. Hair is luscious. Clothes are luscious. Abs are luscious."

"Abs are NOT luscious. Clothes are NOT luscious. I don't give a rat's ass if this is the new word of your generation, you will NOT be using it."

I grabbed my phone and googled the definition of 'luscious' as she stared at me with eyes as wide as saucers, and started to argue with me. She obviously had no idea what she had just stepped into.

Luscious, by definition:

Tuesday, September 3, 2013

When Things in Life Get Too Serious, Draw Penises

I used to be that chick that always had to talk through things, especially in relationships.

"What are you thinking right now? How do you feel? Where do you see us in a year, 5 years, 10 years? What's on your mind? What's wrong? Are you okay?"
Amazing emoticons for you from

I was also a raging bitch who verbally attacked people for no reason, lived life in paranoia and pissed-offedness, and was constantly starting fights to make myself feel alive.

I quickly realized a few things about life:
  1. Life runs smoothly when everything is as it should be.
  2. Being that chick is a serious buzz kill.
  3. It wasn't in my nature to be this emotional leech, sucking the life from anyone near me.
For years, I seemed to be this emotional parasite and found myself depressed, crazy, and spiraling downward. So, it took a series of bad relationships, and a serious bout of introspection to help me realize that life is too damn short to take things so seriously. My biggest piece of advice for people who still take life to the extreme, emotionally speaking, and want to change is:

When things in life get too serious, draw penises. 

Yep, you read that right. Draw penises. Of course I will explain.

I recently joined this kick-ass online mom's group. Yes, I said kick-ass which does go against previous posts I've written, but when you find a bunch of potty-mouthed, open-minded military wives in your area that just seem to "get" you, it's a beautiful thing. 

First impressions were not so amazing, though. Apparently, prior to my joining, they had some women join just to start drama. So, when this influx of new membership requests came in, the admins raised an eyebrow. Instead of approving the newbies and sitting back to see if any of them were there for drama, we newbies