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Am I Dying? No Seriously…Am I?


The first thing I think of when I hear the phrase “Lifetime Achievement Award” is the word…dead.  I mean that is typically an award one receives posthumously, right?  Seriously, who wants to receive a lifetime achievement award at 40?  Aren’t you pretty much just throwing in the white towel?  Nothing to see here folks, keep moving along, I got my lifetime achievement award so for the next 40-50 years I’m going to talk about my lifetime achievement award but never actually achieve anything else, because hello…I already got the award!  I don’t mean to sound ungrateful, and of course, I think I’m awesome and totally deserve such an honor, but I also spent many sleepless nights after I found out I would be receiving this award at the blogger equivalent of the Oscar’s worried that I was dying and no one had told me.

I’m being completely serious, every pimple was a potential tumor or cancerous cell (and really who still gets a zit at 40!) and I spent hours… HOURS… combing through WebMD and Google researching every symptom that I was convinced would lead to my untimely death.  I wish I could say that I was able to enjoy knowing that I was the recipient of such an honor, but I was too busy being firmly held down by terror’s grip that this meant my life was over.  So that lasted a few days, stealing my happiness and forcing me to suck the life out of everyone around me with my constant worry and fear.  Eventually, bigger fears took over, like what was I going to wear and would Adam Levine finally give me the acknowledgment I deserve and agree to be my date for this auspicious event.  I think my letter to him explaining the award I was to receive and my complete certainty that death was knocking on my door was quite convincing, so I wasn’t really concerned he would turn my offer down, but still…I had to keep the husband on standby.  Then I was hit with the worst fear of all, what would I say?!?!?!

And that my friend is the subject of this Super Secret Subject Swapapalooza submitted by the equally talented and hilarious Jenn over at Life On The Sonny Side.  Between you and me, I totally think she should have won.  Okay, not really, but that’s what I’m supposed to say…you know to be gracious and humble and all that crap, but who am I kidding?  I won a Lifetime Achievement Award; my days of humility are behind me.  There were a total of 15 brave bloggers that were considered equally deserving of this award, and my publicist is totally making me publish their links on my website, so you can scroll down if you absolutely must and check them out (between you and me, TOTALLY not worth it, but apparently SOME people think I’ve turned into some insane megalomaniac or something…whatevs, their just jealous of my success, so feel free to waste your time, but that’s why YOU don’t have this award sitting on your mantle with a spotlight shining on it).

Since I am such a consummate professional and perfectionist, I thought it best that I study past award acceptance speeches to help me cultivate my own.  I believe this turned out to be an invaluable resource and if I may brag for a moment, made my speech the best ever speech given at an award show ever in the history of award shows, but I’m sure I’m just being modest.    In case you missed the broadcast (because it was on some obscure cable channel); I have taken the time and trouble to provide the script to my speech here for your reading pleasure.  Enjoy and no need to thank me.


“OMG I can’t believe I won!  I’m just so shocked.  OMG, I just LOVE YOU ALL!  I LOVE EVERYBODY!  I’m just speechless right now.  OMG I know there are people I need to thank, but I’m just feeling overwhelmed.  Can I take a minute?  (Audience laughter)  (A moment of carefully orchestrated uncontrollable sobbing by yours truly before I compose myself and bravely soldier onward)  Now I know what Roberto Benigni meant when he said he “would like to be Jupiter and kidnap everybody and take them to the firmament and make love to everybody.”  (Audience laughter) I get you Robby!  I totally get you now and life is indeed beautiful!  I’m so not prepared, I mean there are so many beautiful and talented bloggers in this category, and I just never thought I’d be standing up before you today, so I can’t even formulate a thought (insert nervous laughter followed by more uncontrollable sobbing).  I can’t seem to stop crying, I mean if you only knew what trials I’ve overcome to stand before you this night.  I’m such a little insignificant blogger; it is such an honor to be the recipient of such a prestigious award and held by so many distinguished bloggers before me.  I’m just a mom and a wife, yet here I am tonight standing before you in this dress supported by my amazing boyfriend (blows a kiss to Adam) and my equally amazing husband watching me now from our couch at home while he takes care of our 4 incredibly wonderful children.  I’m so blessed (pretty sobbing, not ugly girl cry face sobbing).  I don’t know what I did in my life to deserve all this; I’m just a girl from a small town in Texas who had a dream.  I love my family so much, without them I wouldn’t be standing here today.  I mean I am so in love with them, each and every one.  Don’t worry, you won’t catch me making out with my siblings or anything (ahem Angelina), but seriously, behind every great woman is a great supporting cast and network.  I’m so pumped that I could do a one arm push up right now!  (Audience laughter and clapping)  I feel like the queen of the world!  Woo hoo!!!!  (uncomfortable audience laughter?)  Speaking of Titanic, anyone else annoyed with the overuse of the names “Rose!” and “Jack!”  Seriously, go back and watch it.  You will be annoyed.  And I really don’t understand why she couldn’t have shared the door so the love of her life didn’t freeze to death and die…but I don’t want to digress (nervous tittering from me, I wasn’t really nervous, but I wanted to appear endearing).  I just think an award like this means I’m liked, and I am so happy to be liked and adored.  I feel like Mary Poppins!  I love all of you so much, and I wish everyone could win (puhleeze…who ever thinks that?)  Adam, darling!  Thank you so much for escorting me tonight.  Every blogger should be so lucky to have such delicious arm candy.  My husband!  Thank you so much for allowing Adam to escort me tonight, I wish you were here (not here here because…Adam)!  I’d like to thank my children who help provide the richly entertaining fodder that is my blog’s content.  But most of all, I would like to thank…ME.  (cue  music) No, let me explain…  (security forcibly gently drags escorts me offstage)”

Why shouldn’t I thank myself?  It’s my blog!  I write it!  Well, despite being so rudely shut down by the blogger award officials and their goon squad, I think we can all safely agree that this is the best award speech ever given.  I think the uncontrollable sobbing was well played.  I thought about going with hysterical over the top laughter, but crying won out in the end.  It was good right?  I mean you totally get why I won right?  Hahaha of course you do, who am I kidding ;)

If you are a blogger who struggles to figure out what to write, whether it be informative or amusing, worries about letting down his/her readers,  pat yourself on the back, you deserve it!  Keep keeping on!  Those of us who read you, need you!

And let me add this quick apology for being late to post today.  I can’t for the life of me figure out this timed posting thing, it never works, and by never I mean the two times I’ve tried it have been epic failures.  So to the other bloggers in the swap and to the amazing Karen at Baking In A Tornado, who takes the time out of her busy schedule to keep us entertained and on track and who comes up with some simply brilliant ideas for blog content (I’m a little bit sucking up because I was late but only a little bit), I apologize and I can’t wait to read you all!

Without further adieu, check out these fantastic peeps tweep and beeps (that means friends for you uncool unhip people).

Be Afraid….Be Very Afraid


I love Jeff Goldblum, there is just something very sexy about him I think.  What does he have to do with today’s post?  Nothing.  It’s just every time I do one of these “Fly On The Wall” posts, I am reminded of his movie “The Fly” from 1986.  What is a “Fly On The Wall” post you ask?  Well, have you ever thought about what people might think if they saw what goes on behind-the-scenes at your house?  Do you ever wonder what it would be like to catch a glimpse of someone else’s daily life?  Well, you are in luck!  Here is your chance to get yet another peek inside my living room or car as the case may be.  If it’s a peek inside the bedroom you’re looking for…well, keep moving.  Today, 15 bloggers are inviting you into their homes to be “a fly on the wall.” 

Most of my best talks with man-child happen in the car, from the time we get in the car until we reach our destination, he does not stop talking.  Seriously.  He barely draws a breath.  Most of the time, you will hear my responses go something like this:




“I don’t know”

“Ask your dad”

“you’re so smart”

“we’ll see”


and lots of sighing and rubbing my head…

It seems like I spend the majority of my time in a car, so I learn lots of things.  His favorite topic du jour of late is knowledge.

Man-Child:  “I learned so much today!”

Me:  “Oh yeah?”

Man-Child:  “Yeah!  I have only medium knowledge though.”

Me:  “Medium knowledge?”

Man-Child:  “Yeah…  You know like Daddy has high knowledge, but mine is only medium because I’m only 7 and I’ve stuff to learn still.”

Me:  “Oh, I see.  So, what’s my knowledge?”

(he thinks waaaaaaaay too long on this one)

Man-Child:  “Oh, you’re high knowledge too.”

Me:  “Yay!”

Man-Child:  “Lindsay is high knowledge, and Libby is kinda high knowledge.  She is going to college, so she needs to have lots of knowledge.”

Me:  “True.  What about Emily?”

Man-Child:  “Well…she’s really nice, and she always plays with me and watches movies.”

(ouch.  Poor Emily)

Me:  “Oh…soooooo she doesn’t have high knowledge in your opinion.”

Man-Child:  “No.  Not really, but we can still love her.”

Me:  “that we can.” 


Man-Child:  “It’s important to know Math and Science.”

Me:  “Yes, that’s probably true.”

Man-Child:  “When we get home I’ll make you a math chart to help you at work.”

Me:  “Aw…how sweet of you, thank you!”

Man-Child:  “It’s what I do.”

Man-Child:  “I don’t think you’d be a very good fireman if you aren’t good at math.”

Me:  “Oh?”

Man-Child:  “Yeah.  You have to calculate…that’s a big word calculate, do you like how I used it in this sentence?”

Man-Child:  “Mom?”

Me:  “Oh, yes…calculate is a great word!  Good job”

Man-Child:  “So yeah, it is.  I’m pretty smart with words and stuff and math.  So you’d need to know how much water to put in the hose for the fires.  You need math, see?”

Me:  “Mmm-hmm.  I see.”

Man-Child:  “Yeah, so I’d make a pretty good fireman I think.”

Me:  “So you don’t want to be a villain anymore?  You’ve decided on a firefighter?”

Man-Child:  “Yeah, I guess.  Maybe a villain fireman, that kills bad guys with fire bombs and stuff.”

Me:  “Oh…well naturally.  Do villains kill bad guys? And fireman are hot.”

Man-Child:  “Yeah, because they fight fires…”

Me:  “No, I mean hot as in good-looking.”

Man-Child:  “Mom, that’s gross.”

Me:  “Sorry.”

Man-Child:  “I won’t tell daddy.”

Me:  “Thank you.”

Man-Child:  “You should buy me something.”

Me:  :/


Man-Child:  “Mom?”

Me:  “Yes?”

Man-Child:  “I love you more than a three-headed dragon.”

Me:  “Oh.  Umm…thanks?  I love you too.  So, do you love three-headed dragons a whole bunch?  ‘Cause I didn’t know about this love.”

Man-Child:  “Mom, don’t over think it.”

Me:  :/


Man-Child:  “I took a math test today and I was the only one who got an A!”

(side-note:  this information is probably not reliable)

Me:  “That’s fantastic!” 

Man-Child: “Yeah, but do you know what’s even better than an A?”

Me:  “An A plus?”

Man-Child:  “Huh?”

Me:  “You asked what was better than an A, so I said an A plus?”


More Silence.

Me:  “Nevermind, what is higher than an A?”

Man-Child:  “A shiny golden licorice star!”

Me:  “I see.  That does sound pretty awesome.  If you like licorice.”

Man-Child:  “Uh everyone likes licorice. DUH.”

Me:  “Whatever you say.” 

Man-Child:  “Mmmm-hmmm”


The hubs and I volunteered for Man-Child’s “Friendship Party” yesterday, and as we were leaving, somehow the topic of muscles came up.  Hubs probably passed a reflective surface and flexed for himself, and Man-Child felt the need to comment on it. 

Man-Child:  “Daddy is so strong!”

Me:  “Pffft.”

Husband:  “YES!”  followed by more flexing and pointing out his “awesome” triceps and “awesome” biceps which was followed by much eye-rolling and sighing from me.

Man-Child:  “And hey Mom!  You’re smart!”

Me:  “HA!  Yeah!  Did you hear that honey?  I’m the smart one!”

Husband:  “Yeah yeah.”

Man-Child:  “Daddy is kind and mommy is sweet!”

Me:  “HA!  I am smart and sweet and you are big and dumb!  Woo hoo!”

Husband:  “He says I was strong and kind and you get “big and dumb” out of that?”

Me:  “Well…yeah.  Clearly that’s what he meant, he’s just using the nicer words.”

Man-Child:  giggles

Me:  “See?”

Husband:  sighs


We finally bought me a new car, and with the new car came 3 months free of Sirius Radio.  This may surprise you but I’m quite the fan of Howard Stern.  I know.  I can feel your judgment from here.  What can I say?  I like him.  He has the best commercial breaks too.  My favorite is the advertisement from Playtex’s “Fresh and Sexy intimate wipes” because a “dirty beaver gets no wood”.  I laughed for days. I’ve almost been enjoying my commute in the car lately.  Anyway, the other day he had on these porn stars and he did a jeopardyesque like game show called “Dumber than a Box of Rocks”.  He would ask ridiculously easy questions, and well…porn stars.  Everytime they missed a questions they had to say the phrase “I’m dumber than a box of rocks.”  One answer to a question in particular really cracked me up.  Howard asks “What is venison?”

Now, I pick up Emily from school and I’m telling her about this segment, and how I hope these girls weren’t as dumb as they sounded.  I really do hope it was just schtick, but I guess you don’t have to be smart to be in porn.  You always kind of hope it’s just a stopgap for these girls, like they are really getting a Master’s Degree in Rocket Science and porn helps keep them away from student loans…but maybe not.  I get to the point in the story where Howard asks “What is venison?”  I pause.  I wait for Emily to shout out the answer.  She looks at me blankly. 

Me:  “Seriously?  You don’t know what venison is?”

Emily:  “Ummmm…..”

Me:  looking at her incredulously, clearly I’ve failed as a mom

Me:  “Em…?”

Emily:  “Ummm….a drug?”




My daughter is going to be a porn star.  

Me:  “A drug?!?!??!?” 

Emily:  shrugs

Me:  “Oh my.  No, not a drug.”

When Howard asks the question, candy or brandy or star or autumn or whatever her name was yelled out “Italy!”  As in Venice.  I’m guessing. 

Me:  “Deer meat Emily.  Venison is deer meat.”

Emily:  “oh.”

(please see comment above about high knowledge)

Just kidding my love (if you are reading this), you are both smart and beautiful and we love you bunches.  But venison?  Really?  I’m sure you were just tired from that long day of school.  Right? 


So anyway, these are the kind of things we talk about in case you were curious.  We are great at dinner parties.  Truly. 

Check out these other fantastic bloggers and find out what’s been going on at their house!

A Rose By Any Other Name…


Welcome!  Can you believe it’s already time for another round of Swapapalooza?!?!  If you are new to this fabulous posting tradition, it all began as the brain child of the one and only Baking In A Tornado.  She bakes and blogs, but she only bakes for her family, which I personally find kind of selfish.  I mean, would it kill her to throw some baked goods my way once in a while?  Yeah, I didn’t think so, but I love her anyway and accept this character flaw.  I mean we can’t all be perfect.  Anyway, back to the swap.  It’s a two-part extravaganza!  This week, 15 brave bloggers picked a secret subject for someone else and were assigned a secret subject to interpret in their own style.  Today, we unveil our little masterpieces of awesomeness for you, the readers.  I’ll post the links to the other bloggers at the bottom, but first you must suffer through my special brand of drivel.  Don’t scroll to the bottom!  I can see you!

So, my fabulous topic du jour is “There are truckloads of reasons to LOVE you BUT if you had to live with you what would be the quirks that would HAVE to go?”  My “secret subject” was submitted by the very funny and talented Just A Little Nutty.  She compares her family to fudge, and who doesn’t love fudge!  Although, I probably am more nuts than sweet…but go check her out!

I have to tell you a secret, just between us.  I struggled with this topic.  I mean if I had to live with someone, obviously I would pick me!  I racked my brain for days trying to think of any quirks I don’t find completely fabulous.  As the deadline approached, I began to get a little frantic, so I decided to conduct a little reconnaissance mission to help me in my quest for answers.  I asked the kids and hubs.  Strangely, I had to promise there would be no retribution or loss of the “favorite child” crown.  It’s a testament to me as a mother that all my children believe they are the most favored, and would worry about their standing in the hierarchy of my love.  Anyway, after much wheedling and pestering, I was able to extract a few ideas.  It’s weird though…everyone is kind of hedging around me carefully giving me weird looks, like I could blow at any minute.  I promised no retribution and I meant it.  Of course, I was a little surprised at how quickly one child was able to answer.  I keep assuring her that it’s just allergies causing THAT look, not the stink eye.  Of course, then I checked her grades online, which I haven’t done in a while, so it seemed a good time, and OMG…she is SO grounded.  There was a little screaming and temper tantrum throwing about words like “fairness” and something about “but you told me I could be honest”, but I have no idea what she is talking about.  NONE of us want her living at home forever, so those grades need to come up.

Without further ado, here is what I uncovered:


Me:  “So, if there was ONE thing that YOU had to change about me, because you were forced into it, not because you wanted to, what would it be?”

Husband:  “ummm….” Silence.  More silence.  Still more silence.

Me:  “Oh good grief, just answer!  Surely you can think of something!”

Husband:  “ooookkkkk.  Uh, I guess I wish you could see yourself the way I see you.”

Me:  “So, you want more sex?”

Husband:  “Yeah, pretty much.”

Me:  “Duly noted.”


Me:  “So, if there was ONE thing that YOU had to change about me, because you were forced into it, not because you wanted to, what would it be?”

D2:  “Well, you don’t stay mad for long which is a good thing…(you know there is a but coming) but, I wish you wouldn’t blow your top so quickly.  It would be less intimidating if it was more of a slow burn so we might have time to formulate a response to your rapid fire indignation and fury.”

Me:  “Wow.  Are you sure you don’t need time think?  You rattled that off rather quickly.”

D2:  “You asked!”

Me:  “Yeah, but I didn’t think you’d have the answer right there at your fingertips…jeez.”

D2:  “OMG, mom.”

Me:  “No no…it’s all good.  Thank you for your honesty.  Is that what you’re wearing?”

D2:  sigh.

Me:  “Just asking…”


Me: “So, if there was ONE thing that YOU had to change about me, because you were forced into it, not because you wanted to, what would it be?” 

D1:  blank look

Me:  “You can’t get into trouble, this is research for a blog, so there’s no wrong answer.  In fact, the more truthful the better.”

D1:  “Umm…it’s kinda early for this.”

Me:  “I’m sure you can think of something.”

D1:  “Ummm…ok, can I have a minute?”

Me:  “Sure.”

D1:  “Can you not stare at me?  It’s making me nervous.”

Me:  “Ok, but hurry.  I’ve got deadlines.  I’ll go ask your sister.  I’m sure she has a speedy answer.”


D3:  blank look

D3:  still nothing

Me:  “Why don’t I give you a minute, but hurry because I’ve got this blog to write.”


D1:  “I’ve got something!”

Me:  “You don’t have to act so excited.”

D1:  “You know how we tell you we need something for school or whatever and you procrastinate until the last-minute or forget about it altogether, but then get mad if we procrastinate on something or forget to tell you?”

Me:  “I have no idea what you are talking about.”

D1:  “Mom!”

Me:  “Is that your final answer?”

D1:  sigh

Me:  sigh


D3:  “I’ve got it!  I wish you had more confidence!”

Me:  “Taken.  You’re dad already used that one.”

D3:  “Dang it!”

Me:  “‘Cause he wants more sex.”

D3:  “Ewww.”

Me:  “What? You asked!”

D3:  “No, I didn’t!”

Me:  “Oh, my bad.”


Me: “So, if there was ONE thing that YOU had to change about me, because you were forced into it, not because you wanted to, what would it be?” 

Man-child:  “Same.”

Me:  “Same what?”

Man-child:  “I’d keep you the same.”



D3:  “You’re temper!”

Me:  “Your sister took that one.”

D1:  “Oh, like YOU ever get in trouble.”

D2:  “Yeah, exactly.  When was the last time YOU got yelled at?”

D3:  “OMG!  This is too much pressure!”

Me:  “Well…they have a point.  You never get in trouble.”

D3:  “Ugh!  I don’t know.  I give up.”

Me:  sigh

D3:  “THAT!  That right there!”

Me:  (alarmed) “WHAT?”

D3:  “THE SIGH.  I HATE the SIGH.”

Me:  sigh

Ok, so I think we can all agree, they were NO help.  Upon further reflection, I managed to come up with TWO things.

1)  I’m competitive.  In the extreme.

Let me explain…

My daughter spends a TON of time at her boyfriend’s house, especially around meal time.  She will come home (eventually) to rave about whatever she had for dinner. I might be a tad sensitive about my lack of cooking prowess, so I’m all like “oh, do tell?”  She fails to detect any of the early warning signals of my displeasure and barrels onward.  Apparently, she fixes things like steak and scallops or lamb.  LAMB?  LAMB!!?!?!??!?  If I fixed any of these things, my daughter would turn up her nose and fix a PB&J sandwich, chewing each bite in open defiance.  If I had dared to serve lamb, I’d get tears and recriminations!  She is very attached to her childhood stuffed lamb, creatively named “Lamby”, to the point that NO ONE and I mean NO ONE is allowed to even touch Lamby.  But apparently, it’s ok to eat Lamby’s cousins.

This is her room, in a surprisingly clean state:


This is her chalkboard wall, where you will find all manner of lewd, disgusting words or phrases and crude visuals.  Don’t look too closely, you might burn your retinas.  Man-child is not allowed in the “Rated R” room.  On the ceiling, you can catch a glimpse of her best friend’s body outline, that she colored and taped above her bed.  ‘Cause that’s not weird at all.


And then you have…Lamby.

IMG_1107Perched upon a chair, out of harms way.

So, imagine my shock when I heard about her “Adventures in Eating”.  Now, you’ll catch me saying things like this:

“Oh, it’s only spaghetti for dinner.  I wish I had the money to serve steak.”

“Oh, it’s just fried shrimp.  From a box.  Nothing fancy like scallops served here.”

“We only eat cows and pigs.  I could never eat a poor defenseless lamb.”

One day, I asked her boyfriend if his mother knew about this one-sided competitive war I was waging between our two kitchens?  He laughed and said no, but then quickly assured me that he’s loved everything I’ve fixed.

He’s a keeper, this boy.

I have another example, if you aren’t yet convinced.

Man-child wrote a letter in school the other day to the person in his life he most admires.  Here is a window into our conversation:

Me:  “So, I heard you wrote a letter today to someone you admire?”

Man-child:  “Hmm.  Yeah.”

Me:  “Well!  Tell me, who did you write about?”  wink wink…we all know it was about me, I mean who else could it possibly…

Man-child:  “Dad.”

Wait, what?  HAHAHAHAHA  I thought he just said dad!

Me:  “You wrote a letter to me?”

Man-child:  “Huh? No, didn’t you hear me. DAD.”

Me:  “why?”  If you read that in your head in a super whiny tone, then you did it right.

Man-child:  “Because he takes me to drum lessons and…”

Me:  “Wait a minute.  Who do you think scoured the metroplex to find those drum lessons?”

Man-child:  “I don’t know what soured means.”

Me:  “Scoured.  It means I worked hard to find you the perfect drum lessons with the perfect teacher.” 

Man-child:  “ok but still he drives me and he bought me Skylander’s Giants for  my birthday…”

Me:  “WHOA! Wait a hot minute!  The only person more surprised to find what’s underneath that wrapping paper than you is your dad!  I DO all the shopping.  I’m the one that calls and writes Santa so he brings you the perfect gift.  I plead with the tooth fairy to leave you BIG money.  I’m the one the Easter Bunny talks to before putting together your basket!  MOMMY PICKS OUT YOUR PRESENTS!  And I’m your room mom, I go on all your field trips!  Those jeans you are wearing, you like those jeans right?”

Man-child:  “Yeah…”

Me:  “Well I BOUGHT THEM!”


Me:  “So, if you had to write a letter tomorrow to the person you most admire, who would it be?”

Man-child:  “We don’t have to write the letter, we already did.”

Me:  “I know, but if you had to write another one?”

Man-child:  “But we don’t.”


Man-child: giggles

Me:  “Can I ask you something?”

Man-child:  hesitates.  “Yeah”

Me:  “Who do you most admire?”

Man-child:  “Daddy.”  giggles

Me:  “Well, DADDY can fix your dinner then.” sulks off to nurse wounds and mend broken heart

So you see…EVERYTHING is a competition, and I’m shameless in the pursuit of victory.

I suppose the second quirk I would change would be this:

2) I’m a hoarder-slob.


What?  No one actually uses this bathtub, so I don’t see why it can’t be my substitute closet!  I really LOATHE hanging up my clothes.  I don’t even have the “no lightbulb in the closet” excuse, because hubs replaced the bulb after I threw down the challenge a few blogs ago.  I still haven’t cleaned the closet, but I’ll spare you another photo.

I’ve been known to keep as many as six of my never finished “Diet Pepsi Soldiers” lined across my dresser.


Sometimes I hide my shame between the jewelry box and the wall so hubs can’t see it…


I don’t remember the last time I drank water…unless it coincided with the last time I was at the gym…so, it’s been a while.

The corner of my bedroom between my bed, dresser and a window, I kept all manner of important items/documents that I might need at a moment’s notice.  I’ll admit it started to kinda take over the room, but then my sweet husband bought me a container to put it all in until I found the time to sort through it.  Isn’t he just the sweetest!


I should probably dust that fan…in case you wondering how long it’s been there…

Want to peek inside?


I’m not sure why I’m saving that skittles bag.  It’s empty.  I checked.  Now I’m craving skittles.

So there you have it people!  Some of my adorable little quirks that might not be so quirky.

I know you were thinking I’d probably say something about Adam Levine, but even my judgy self approves of that particular quirk, so he stays!  Yay!

Now, if you haven’t fallen asleep…read on!  It just keeps getting better :-)

Guess What Time It Is?

First of all, let me apologize for being so long between posts!  January is a crazy busy time for me at work, so I’ve had to put the things I truly love on the back-burner for a bit, but now I’m back! 

Okay, I just lied.  What really happened is that I sprained my wrist writing back to all my amazing fans.  Who knew that thanking people for their love, admiration and adoration could be so life-threatening!  Not that spraining your wrist is life threatening, except that when I flinched from the pain I got a paper cut and everyone knows that paper cuts can lead to death.  I saw a tv special on it once, so it must be true. 

It’s true.  I’ve decided it’s time to once again share with you some words of encouragement from some of my most loyal fans.  I’m all afraid to use pictures I find on google now, because of copyright crap, so I made my very own graphic…


I think it’s pretty obvious how talented I am, and why I win at Pictionary.  Every. Damn. Time. (and by every time I mean never) 

So, guess what time it is people?!?!?!?


Woo Hoo!

Letter #1:

Dear My Brain On Kids,

Great Article.


Anus Itch


Dear Anus Itch,

Thank you so much for your kind words!  It’s comments like yours that really keep me motivated especially during the tough times.  There are moments when I just want to throw in the towel, because being so fantastically awesome is exhausting, but then I get a letter like yours and WHAM!  Just like that, I’m back in action!  Also, you should probably get that itching problem looked at.  Undiagnosed Anal Itching is the leading cause of skid marks and not to be treated lightly.  Proceed with caution and try Gold Bond Medicated Powder.


My Brain On Kids

Letter #2:

Dear My Brain On Kids,

Thanks for sharing this information….it is my great pleasure to visit your website i found by music search and to enjoy your excellent post here. god bless you!!!

Much Love,

List De Email


Dear List De Email,

Why God bless you too!  I am so humbled to learn that I can be found on music searches!  Is there no end to my fame?  My name is really out there, and it’s just such a good feeling.  Like all my hard work and dedication and coke habit were so worth it, ya know?  Just kidding about the coke habit, I’m a Diet Pepsi girl all the way.  I feel like my true purpose in this life is to share valuable information about myself with other people.  I mean why should I bask alone in my greatness?  It means far less if I can’t share it with those who love me faithfully. 

Just a little tip for you, you should please give me time to respond to your kind words before sending letter after letter after letter after letter.  So much love from one place is just overwhelming.  I hope you understand :)


My Brain On Kids  


Letter #3:

Dear My Brain On Kids,

I was looking around your site and noticed broken links. You might want to change it.

Yours Truly,

Designer Knockoff Handbag Merchants


Dear Designer Knockoff Handbag Merchants,

Constructive criticism is truly foundational in my line of work.  I just wanted to take a minute (actually several hours because I sprained my wrist rabidly searching my blog for broken links) and say THANK YOU so much for taking the time out of your busy, busy day to help me out.  I could just cry tears of gratitude!  Or the tears are from the pain I’m experiencing trying to write this heartfelt note to what is very clearly my most devoted follower.  You are the best!  YOU are the reason I strive for perfection!  Keep up the good work!


My Brain On Kids


Letter #4:

Dear My Brain On Kids,

Fuck you all Forex bustards.

Haters Unite,

Forex Peace Army


Dear Forex Peace Army,

The juxtaposition of the word “Peace” in your name with the words in your comments “Fuck” and “Haters” is truly an art form.  You clearly have exquisite taste.  I mean, that certainly explains why you love me!  Thank you for so staunchly defending me against these “forex bustards” (I’m assuming bustards is like bastards but worse, so much worse).  Obviously, I understand that with fame and fortune comes the haters and the liars, but it never gets easier.  I proudly carry this cross as long as I have fans like you watching my back!  I’ll sleep better tonight, believe you me!


My Brain On Kids

p.s.  Juxtaposition was my WOTD (word of the day)!  I’m pretty sure I used it correctly but I’m not sure any bustards will know the difference!  I’d pat myself on the back…but sprained wrist.


I wish I had time to answer more of your lovingly constructed letters, but it’s time to pop some more pain pills and catch up on Downton Abbey.  It seems appropriate to share this picture that someone shared on my Facebook page. 


Take a break from enjoying me!  I know it’s hard, but I must insist my amazingly awesome fans take care of themselves or who will I have to love me and tell me how great I am?  So really, what you do for you, you do for me :)

HUGS and KISSES to you ALL!

Queen Of The Flies


Have you ever thought about what people might think if they saw what goes on behind-the-scenes at your house?  Do you ever wonder what it would be like to catch a glimpse of someone else’s daily life?  Well, Baking In A Tornado wondered what it would be like and it inspired her to create a collaborative blog posting idea!   

Today, 14 bloggers are inviting you into their homes to be a fly on the wall (links at the bottom).

Enter at your own risk… 


Man-child’s teacher pulled my husband aside after school and brought up an “incident” that happened earlier in the day.  Apparently, when asking the children what they wanted to be when they grow up, the only thing my son could think of was “a villain.”  He followed that comment up with drawing a picture of a battle scene.  I hear this and think 7-year-old little boy.  Teacher’s hear this and think “future gunman.”  I could depart here on a major rant, but I will refrain and just tell you that we did talk to man-child in our attempt to glean a deeper understanding of his meaning and purpose, because EVERYONE knows that ALL kids grow up to be astronauts, fireman or pro-athletes; therefore, it is only logical that we dissuade man-child of any future villainess prospects. 

Me:  “I heard you talked about what you want to be when you grow up in school today?”

Man-child:  “Yeah.”  If you detect any enthusiasm in this response at all then I wrote it wrong.

Me:  “So, tell me!  What do you want to be?”

Man-child:  *sigh* “Dad already talked to me.”

Me:  “I know, but I want to talk about it.”

Man-child:  “I said I wanted to be a villain or a bad guy.”

Me:  “Why?”

Man-child:  “Because they wear cool clothes and fight and stuff.”

Me:  “Yeah, you are right, bad guys do have nice outfits.”

Man-child:  “Bad guys don’t wear “outfits” mom.  Only girls wear outfits.”

Me:  “Oh sorry, my bad.  You do understand though that Darth Vader, Batman, Spiderman are just fictional and fantasy characters.  They aren’t real.”

Man-child gives me a “duh” look and proceeds to give me the definitions for fiction versus non-fiction and fantasy versus reality.  I marvel silently at how smart I think he is, but then quickly refocus to the task at hand…averting future villainess deeds of mayhem.

Me:  “Do you understand that in real life bad guys hurt people, so when you tell someone you want to be a bad guy, even if you are just pretending, it sounds like maybe you think it’s fun to hurt people.  In real life, bad guys go to jail and a prison uniform isn’t such a cool costume.”

Man-child:  “Well…what I really meant to say was that I wanted to be a dentist, but I couldn’t think of it.”

(which I still think sounds like he wants to hurt people, but I hate the dentist, so I’m probably not being objective here)

Me:  “Oh, I see.  Well, a dentist.  That’s interesting.”

Man-child:  “I guess.  I know that you should treat others how  you want to be treated.  Be kind is another rule.  And don’t be a bully!  Be nice to everyone even if they are different from you.  I know lots of rules mommy.”

Me:  “I know you do sweetie.”

Man-child:  “Can I have a snack now?”

We talked a bit more later about the subject, but the bottom line is that my son has a very vivid imagination and he loves to be dramatic and playact.  He is also affectionate, loving and giving.  He cares about others, and he never displays his anger in violent outbursts.  He sulks and pouts, he puts himself in timeout, he might even cry and yell about how mean we are, but he’s quick with hugs, sorries and forgiveness.  We talked about the appropriate times to pretend and play, and how what we say and do reflect who people think we are and how they see us.  I don’t want him to grow up too soon, can’t he just be a little boy for a little while longer… 


I walked into the bathroom while man-child was taking a shower.  I wasn’t trying to sneak up on him or be quiet.  I put my face up against the glass, and said “hi!”.  Man-child screamed and inadvertently pissed himself (at least he was in the shower).  He continued to kind of holler and scream, his brain clearly not connecting that it was only me standing there.  I kept trying to calm him down, but in his defense I probably looked a little maniacal standing at the glass with tears of laughter streaming down my face causing my mascara to run.  I felt so bad.  Poor baby. 

Man-child:  “You scared me!”

Me:  “I know, I’m so sorry!” (I’m still laughing hysterically, bending over trying to catch my breath, so this probably came out like more a wheeze than an actual sentence)

Man-child:  “I went pee.”

Me:  (laughing even harder) “I know!”

Man-child:  “How embarrassing!!!”

Me:  “I’m so sorry, I’ll leave.  But hurry up,  you’ve been in there awhile.”

Man-child:  “OK!”


Man-child:  “Mom?”

Me:  “Yes?”

Man-child:  “I miss Dr. Martin Luther King Jr.”

Me:  “Oh?  Tell me more about this?”

Man-child:  “I mean, he was just trying to do good things and bring peace and then he was assassinated!”

Me:  (did he just say assassinated?)  “I know.  Assassinated?  That’s a big word, do you know what it means?”

Man-child:  (looks at me like I’m a few bricks shy of a load) “He was shot by James Earl Ray!”

Me:  “That’s right!  James Earl Ray was a bad guy.”  (I look at man-child pointedly)

Man-child:  *sigh*  “I know, I know!  I learned my lesson mom.” 

Me:  “ok, good!”

Man-child:  “Anyway, his birthday and my birthday are the same day!  And we don’t have school, so I’ll have to bring my cupcakes the next day, but isn’t that cool?!?!”

Me:  “Very cool sweetheart.”


Man-child:  “Mom, who do you like better Obama or Romney?”

Me:  “Well…I’d have to say _____ .” (as if I’m going to answer that here!)

Man-child:  “In Texas, everyone likes Romney but in the United States people like Obama because he won so now he lives in the White House.  Is the White House in the United States?”

Me:  “Yes, the White House is in Washington D.C. which is part of the United States.”

Man-child:  “10-2 = 8.”

Me:  “Is today random fact day?”

Man-child:  “huh?”

Me:  “Nevermind.”


As I stepped out of the shower the other day, I looked down and noticed several slices of cheese sitting on the counter.

  1. I am home alone
  2. I did not slice myself some cheese

I immediately succumb to panic and crisis mode as I stand dripping on the cold tile floor scanning the bathroom, thinking of my options.  I race to the bathroom junk drawer, yank it open, and begin frantically searching for anything I can use as a weapon while my ears strain to pick up the sounds of my murderer.  EVERYONE knows that if you are going to be murdered it will be while you are home alone and in the shower.  Plus, I did hear the dogs barking earlier.  OMG they are probably dead!  I briefly entertain the idea of opening the 2nd floor bathroom window and jumping out, because what are a few broken bones, scrapes and public nudity when death is on the line.  My heart is racing.  I can literally hear the blood pumping through my veins.  As I’m scouring the drawer looking for anything, ANYTHING, I can use, there are several things that become immediately clear to me.

I am not wearing my glasses.  I won’t be able to find a weapon because I am blind without glasses or contacts.  Even if I do somehow manage to locate a weapon, I won’t be able to see my attacker until he is upon me with his murderous rage.

*puts on glasses*

The “slices of cheese” are actually cheez-its that I placed on the counter before I got into the shower.

In case you have any doubts, let me set the record straight.  I will be the crazy old lady in the retirement home, suffering from dementia and paranoia, that tries to kill people with splenda packets and hoards crackers.

I would be the first person to die in a horror movie.

I am the last person anyone should count on in a crisis.

Murderers probably don’t “rat trap” their victims.

I have issues.  Serious issues.


My husband and I are in a standoff.

NO this isn’t about Adam Levine.  For once.

It’s about my side of the closet.

Weeks and weeks ago the lightbulb on my side of the closet went out.  I asked him to change it for me.  Several times I have asked.  He continues to ignore my demand request.  Could I change the light myself?  Of course.  That’s hardly the point.  I asked him to do it, he said he would and then he didn’t.  I feel like to change it now would be admitting defeat.  I’m not blinking first! 

Me:  “Remember when I asked you to change the bulb in my closet?  I say remember because it was a VERY LOOOOOONG time ago.  You might have forgotten it was soooooo LONG ago.”

Hubs:  “No, I remember.  I’m afraid to open the door, it’s scary in there.  Perhaps if you cleaned it out…”

Me:  “I’d clean it out, but I can’t see….because no light.  I’d probably hurt myself.  Wrench an ankle, throw my back out trying to navigate the dark and murky terrain without assistance because apparently my husband doesn’t care if I die in the closet and no one ever finds me.”

Hubs:  “You’re so ridiculous.”

The lightbulb still hasn’t been changed.


The closet still hasn’t been cleaned.

I can live with no light longer than hubs can live with the mess.  I will WIN.

Honey, if you are reading this, I have a message for you from “The Mess in My Closet”:

“I will breed and multiply.  I will take continue to grow until eventually I take over the OCD orderliness of your side of the closet.  Only light could stop me now!  Mwhahahahahahaha!”

(I think we all know who wins this round)


Hey! I’m An Epistolarian! Did you know?

There is this amazing collaborative blog, spearheaded by the fabulous Tracy at Momaical, called The Epistolarians which you can find here.  The women that contribute to this collaborative masterpiece are amazeballs.  They are hysterical, intelligent, sassy and spirited, and they let me tag along!  I’m not trying to be falsely modest or dig for compliments, I truly am humbled to be a part of this amazing group of women, and I admire each and every one of them so much.  They are amazing writers and I never have more fun than when I’m trolling among them.  When Tracy told me that January would be “open-letter” month, I almost peed my pants.  Another opportunity to fan worship Adam Levine????  Say it isn’t so!  This is also my first contribution as I’ve been a little intimidated, but now that I’ve broken my proverbial cherry, I hope I can be inspired to contribute more and rub elbows with these talented ladies.  I hope you enjoy my contribution this month. 


I probably need like an intervention or something. 

On a sidenote, I’m taking the hubs out tonight to see Les Mis!  I’m excited.  He’d probably rather sit at home and read my “Open Letter to Adam Levine”, but I promised beer, so he’s going. 

On yet another sidenote, I finished a book this morning.  You can find out what I read, what I thought and what I’m reading next under “My Brain On Books 2013”.

Even if I’m not your cup of tea, you have to check out The Epistolarians!  You won’t be sorry!


Welcome To Insanityville: Population – Variable


Guess what time it is peeps?  Yep, it’s time for the Secret Subject Swapapalooza!  Welcome to Take One of January’s Secret Subject Swap.  In case you are new to this whole swap idea, here are the details:  this week, 16  crazy brave bloggers picked a secret subject for someone else and were assigned a secret subject to interpret in their own style.  Today we are all simultaneously divulging our topics and submitting our posts.  I will post the links to the other 15 bloggers participating at the end of my post.  Now, don’t just scroll down to the bottom, read mine first!  It’s going to be totally craptastic fantastic! 

My topic was submitted by my Adam Levine stalker-in-crime Raising Reagan.  We share a love for all things Adam Levine.  To be fair, I might be slightly more vocal in my obsession, but still she encourages me.  Blame her! 

My prompt is:  You and your family recently moved here….why?

It is interesting that I would be tasked to discuss this particular topic because the day before Christmas, my family was blackballed and evicted from Crazytown and forced to relocate to Insanityville.  Nothing quite says Happy Holidays like being evicted from your home on nothing more than baseless and trumped-up charges led by an overzealous, “concerned” citizen with no sense of humor armed with self-righteousness spewing hatred and disgust.  This is an outrage!  I’m terribly vexed (my favorite line from Gladiator btw).  The Crazytown Constable hand delivered our eviction on Christmas Eve, not even Santa could save us apparently.  The deed was done.  We had 24 hours to evacuate.  According to Crazytown bylaws, once a majority vote has been cast to evict, it may not be appealed or overturned.  No exceptions.  Our torch had been extinguished.  

Why?  Well, I’m glad you asked.  Our eviction notice consisted of a strongly worded letter and a list of our (mostly my) infractions against the citizens of Crazytown and humanity at large. 

Dear Crazytown Citizens,

I find it disturbing and absurd that a self-proclaimed “good mother” would dare to claim that she had valuable life and child-rearing experiences to share, yet focuses on a sordid fantasy with a musician that is not her husband, among other heinous misrepresentations disguised under a veil of “humor” and “joking”.  We, as citizens of Crazytown, should stand united in this time of crisis.  As a community invested in the search for valuable and insightful information concerning child-rearing, we should not stand idly by and let this imposter roam freely among us, tainting our children and corrupting our minds.  As a community that concerns itself with raising well-adjusted and capable children, we should rise against the useless diatribes and delusional fantasies of this miserable wife and mother.  She should be ashamed of her behavior and we carry the burden of her shame if we do not remove her immediately from our midst.   


A Concerned Citizen and Mother

Now, please let me share with you the list of my supposed infractions against humanity.

1)  This woman has been caught on numerous occasions dancing in her underwear to Justin Bieber’s “As Long As You Love Me.”

Okay, this one might be actually true.  I can’t help myself.  It’s a catchy tune.  I defy you to watch this video and not find yourself grabbing the broom handle and dancing around your kitchen singing at the top of your lungs. 

I mean seriously.  It has dance sequences.  As far as this charge of dancing in my underwear, yeah…I want pics.  I don’t linger in the privacy of my bathroom or bedroom in my underwear for any longer than necessary lest it increase my chances of catching a glimpse of myself in a reflective surface.  I have 4 kids and a husband that works from home, I am NEVER alone long enough to dance around in my underwear.  Furthermore, what kind of pervert peeks through someone’s kitchen window!   Yet, I’m the one with issues!  I think not.  I might be guilty of poor judgment or taste in this particular instance, but I don’t truly think it reflects poorly on me as a human being or even a mother.  Excuse me, while I go watch this video…again.

2)  This woman shared an inappropriate story about her daughter’s vagina falling out, and she let her daughter have sex.

Okay, this one is true as well.  Well, except for the “let her daughter have sex” bit.  I mean seriously, does this “concerned citizen” have any teenagers?  She acts like I invited this boy over to our home, put on some Marvin Gaye, lit some candles, turned down the bed, left the room and said “take her virginity or die trying.”    We’ve had “the talks”.  I forced her to attend the “Created By God” class offered by our church.  I even let her experience the horrors miracle of childbirth when her brother was born, lest she begin to romanticize having a baby (courtesy of MTV).  I even admitted to NOT being a virgin when I got married, and told her my tale of woe concerning the loss of my own virginity.  Nothing turns a teen off sex faster than talking about your own sex life, because now the back of her retina’s have been burned with my rather vivid, if not exaggerated, storytelling complete with mind numbing descriptive prose.  The message was clear, sex changes EVERYTHING.  I also might have also “accidentally” shown her pictures of diseased vagina’s on Google.  Besides locking her in her room, or investing in an actual chastity belt, it is unclear to me how I could have avoided the arrival of this day.  I guess if I was the type of parent that a child felt they couldn’t talk to about anything, she might not have come to me with this vagina falling out issue which led to the knowledge that her virginity was no longer intact.  I’m not the kind of parent that subscribes to the belief that if I don’t know about it then it didn’t happen.  I want my children to feel they can come to me with anything, that doesn’t mean I will always agree with their choices, or that I condone their mistakes.  Perhaps, I shouldn’t have shared the story publicly, BUT, in my defense, it’s a good story.  It’s a cautionary tale…should you ever find yourself woken in the middle of the night by a hysterical teenager who believes her vagina has indeed fallen out.  Feel free to read it here.  Please don’t read if you have no sense of humor.  Also, read at your own risk as you might also be forced to relocate to Insanityville for allowing such contraband into your home.  My 18-year-old daughter is graduating high school this June, and attending college in the fall.  She’s a beautiful artist, loving daughter, affectionate and helpful, funny, gorgeous and the absolute light of my life.  I wouldn’t change anything about her, and I’m thankful for the awesome relationship we share based upon mutual respect, open communication and above all, love.  So there!  Yeah…

3)  This woman had the audacity and poor taste to discuss “anal itching” publicly.

Ummm…yeah, okay this happened.  I can’t deny it.  I think the people who complain or manage to be offended by such topics are probably the same people who turn on the water faucet when they need to poop and are afraid the other person(s) in the house might know they are pooping unless the act itself is disguised under the ruse of washing hands for several minutes.  Come on people…if you are in the bathroom for longer than a minute or two there are only two possible scenarios.  I don’t know about you but I’d rather people think I went poop than the other thing…you know…the M word.  God forbid I say “masturbation” if people find “anal itching” offensive.  Oh shit, I just said “masturbation”.  Fuck, I just said shit.  Damn.  I don’t typically curse in my writing, but sometimes it just works.  I’ll probably be burned at the stake for this infraction as well.  By the way, as promised, I did google “anal itching.”  The interesting thing to note is that if you type in the words “anal i”, google auto-selects some choices for you based upon the majority of google searches.  The three searches I had to choose from were:

  1. anal intraepithelial neoplasia
  2. anal itching in children
  3. anal itching symptom checker

As a testament to my sound judgment, I will not be posting any pics of “anal itching” courtesy of google images.  You are welcome.  Now, I’m curious about the 3rd search, “anal itching symptom checker”.  Isn’t the answer kind of implied in the question?  It’s not like asking for flu or cold symptoms.  I don’t think you’ll find “ear ache or nose bleeds” under “anal itching symptom checker.”  I think you’ll find only “itchy anus”  Right?  Maybe burning or soreness accompany the itching, but isn’t the primary symptom…itching?  You gotta wonder about people.  Of course, this from the girl who just spent an entire paragraph discussing the pitfalls of googling “anal itching.”  So maybe I shouldn’t judge. 

4)  This woman claims to be a parenting expert.

LOL.  Seriously, have you met my children?  Do you actually READ my blog?  You might catch me claiming to be an expert on failing a diet, or lying around doing nothing while looking busy, or failing to follow an exercise regime or making excuses for not going to the gym or being a terrible cook or how to eat an entire bag of rolo’s in secret, but never will I claim to be an expert on parenting.  Moving on…

5)  This woman discussed masturbation as a treatment for prostate cancer.

Technically, this is also true.  BUT, let me explain.  @OMGFactsSex (which I do follow on Twitter…what?  It has useful facts, tips and articles) tweeted that “Masturbation can reduce the risk of prostate cancer by up to 33%.”  I can’t be alone in thinking that it’s quite irresponsible to throw out stats like this one without further instruction, facts or discussion?  I can’t be expected to think for myself!  What does this even mean really?  Masturbation reduces prostate cancer?  Who masturbates?  Me?  My husband?  Me for my husband?  Do I have to remind him?  How many times per day/week?  When you say “up to 33%”, what does that mean exactly?  Does once a day increase your percentage?  Is it more?  Does it count if I do it?  Does only masturbation count or will any kind of seminal fluid discharge suffice?  Like, actual sex.  My brain hurts.  These are the kinds of questions and problems that swirl in my head when confronted with these lovely statistical improbabilities.  If I don’t share these thoughts and feelings, I’d probably implode.  It’s a ton of pressure.  Cut me some slack! 

and finally

6) This woman holds delusional and sordid fantasies about a man not her husband.

*sigh*  My husband’s first reaction upon learning that we were being forced to relocate to Insanityville was to inquire if this move would at all hurt his chances of scoring Blake Lively.  He replaced Scarlet Johansson as his “get out of jail free card” with Blake Lively recently, citing irreconcilable differences.  I think he decided “dirty sexy” was more his thing.  I mean it’s not like I scream out Adam’s name in the heat of the moment.  Okay, well once, but I totally played it off, “Adam!- it, I pulled a calf muscle I think!”  He didn’t suspect a thing.  I’m pretty quick on my feet when I wanna be…or on my back as the case may be.  Okay, so FINE!  I have a teensy tiny practically insignificant crush on Adam Levine.  I mean, have you SEEN him?  I won’t post pictures here today because it might be used against me as evidence, but please google him if you must.  I mean it’s not like I’ve gone to and posted pics of what our babies would look like because that would be just disturbing.  Although if I did…

If we had a boy…


 If we had a girl…


But I would NEVER do that!  Obviously.  Listen, it’s all in good fun.  I’m sorry if not everyone can appreciate my twisted sense of humor, but I make me laugh, so really isn’t that all that should matter?  My husband isn’t insecure or bothered in the least by my “obsession” with Adam.  All I really want is for Adam to follow me on twitter, and I won’t apologize for the shameless strategies I’ve implemented in my attempt to make this happen.  Do I secretly hope that I get to meet Adam when he comes to my hometown on his concert tour?  OMG, YES!  Do I think he’s going to throw aside his supermodel girlfriend and have his wicked way with me?  Uh…no.  If he did, would I cheat on my husband?  Ummm…I plead the fifth here…  Hello, honey…Blake Lively?  ‘Nuff said.  Do I SERIOUSLY think Adam Levine is going to be my next husband and father of my future children?  A girl can dream…or fantasize.  I’d argue it keeps my marriage stimulated and exciting.  My husband never knows what I might do or say next, and dare I say that’s the way he likes it?  He thinks I’m funny.  He laughs at my stupid jokes and my obsession with Adam Levine.  He gets me.  So suck it you uptight citizens of Crazytown! 

I’m outta here!

Okay, check out these other awesomely fantastic bloggers and their topics!

Baking In A Tornado


It’s a Dome Life

My Life As Lucille

The Mommy Chronicles

The Insomniac’s Dream

Peanut Layne

Raising Reagan

DeBie Hive

Follow Me Home

The Adventures of the Family Pants

Dino Hero Mommy

Just A Little Nutty



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