Boobiful

Girls just wanna have……..boobies?

I have big boobs.  I have always had big boobs, and there are times in my life where they have been the bane of my existence and there are other times when they have been the most helpful things in my life.  Now, I am not talking about their shelf status, or the ability to use them to help put my lipstick on while I am holding drinks in my hands, rather I am talking about their ability to distract people so that they do what I want.

In all started in the summer between 5^th and 6^th grade.  You see that is when I got my period, and then in one summer it was like god stepped on the bike pump a little too long and overnight a C-cup appeared on my chest.  (Now they are more like D’s but I blame that on gravity, good food and wine).

I think that I was the first girl at my private school to even wear a “real” bra.  All of the other girls were wearing these sporty, razor back things and I had to go for the maidenform underwire industrial bra that helped keep my baby puppies strapped tight to my chest.

My first true experience with these suckers was when I was 15.  My grandparents took me to the Marines Memorial Hotel in San Francisco to go to dinner and see some musical.  My grandmother took me to Nordstrom’s and bought me this cute little skirt and this short jacket.  The jacket was this beautiful peach linen jacket that was cropped in a military fashion with a snazzy cross button in front.  HOLEEE Shit, I thought I was da bomb in this jacket.  And of course, my new boobies were encased in a tight white top under the jacket.

So after dinner and the show, my grandparents want to go and have a night cap in the bar of the hotel.  And who am I to say no…PPPFFFTTT…15 with new boobies and hormones raging….HELL YA. 

The place is packed, apparently a new Air Force Lieutenant group had just graduated and they were taking over the bar.  The only place left to sit was at the bar.  AT the BAR….Yeah.  So as we sit at the bar, my grandmother says, “Jana, take of your jacket sweetie”  Not thinking anything of it, I arch back and take off my jacket.  The entire row of guys at the bar stop and look at me as I am arching back, and one young brave Lieutenant says, “OH MY GOD”.  I think that I folded back into myself at this moment, I was so embarrassed.  The young man then looks at my grandfather and says, “Sir, I…I…can I buy your family a drink, sir”  My grandfather says, “Son, that is my granddaughter and the only thing that you will be looking at are my eyes at this bar.”  Of course, my grandparents thought this was hysterical after we left the bar.  As we get into the elevator, they totally made it more awkward with my Grandmother saying, “Well, little bean, it’s obviously that while you have your mother’s beauty, you were blessed with my rack.”  This does explain while my mother banned me from “borrowing” her bras, she always complained that I stretched them out.

Fast forward to my college graduation trip to Europe.    Who doesn’t want an all expense paid trip to Europe, where your Grandparents rent a house in Southern France and then take you on little “mini” trips to Paris, Monte Carlo, Italy and England.   Their idea of “roughing it” consisted of hotel rooms at the Hilton. 

So, of course, I did what any single, new college graduate would do……I spent 95.5% of my time on the beach at St. Maxime…..topless.

Did you know that you can burn your nipples?  Did you??  Did you??  Well, I did not.  Of course, my grandfather asks that I wait until he falls asleep before taking my top off, which isn’t too long because any time he sat down he fell asleep within 5 minutes.  So my grandmother would warn me…..”Little bean….he’s asleep….you can take your top off.”  Now, I know that many of you might be surprised by my grandparents but let’s just say….(1) they still made out in front of me (gack, ick, gross, but now that I am married….I can’t wait to do that in front of my grandkids) (2) When my grandparents lived in Hawaii, my grandmother faked a heart attack on the beach so that this cute lifeguard who kept walking by and checking me out, would finally come over.  I eventually got over the mortification and shagged him on the beach later that week. 

Apparently the sight of fresh college boobies naked does strange things to men of all ages.  One very, very, very wrinkly old man who only had his privates encased in a g-string nut sack cover wanted to buy me a drink.  Then a very burned white German man tried to talk to me….it was very hard to understand him over wincing at his burn.  A creepy old Saudi man tried to buy me from my grandparents.  And a very cute Scottish boy charmed his way over and managed to snag my “attention” .  Later when I was back in the States, he mailed me a picture he had taken of my boobies.  On the back of the photo…..he wrote “The Rockies”.  

I still have the photo….after I had my girls, I pull it out occasionally to confirm that my rack was once nice and high and that yes, I indeed had pretty little pink nipples.

And we arrive at the here and now………

The other day, my youngest daughter wanted to get in the shower with me, which is fine because it saves me time.  As we are in the shower, she pauses and we start this conversation:

Ankle Biter #2:  Mommy, sit down

Me:  Why

AB #2:  I want to talk to you

Me:  (Sigh) ok

AB#2:  Criss-cross apple sauce, Mommy (long suffering sigh)

Me:  Fine

AB#2:  I have two questions for you, (1) How did your boobs get sooooooooooooooooo big and (2) when am I going to get mine?

Me:  (Stunned that she actually broke it down and help up fingers to annotate between the #1 question and the #2 question)  Well, they grew that way on me and you will get yours in high school.

AB#2:  Well, Mommie, that is fine, but will mine be as low as yours? (In the meantime, she is trying to lift them up and I am smacking her hands off my boobs)

Me:  Get out of the shower.

But the other day, a sweet young 17 year old boy made me feel so much better.  At the checkout, he was helping me put a coupon into the “self-service” checkout machine.  The next thing I know, he is giving me like $30 worth of coupons and I was stunned.  I turned to him (and of course, who isn’t taller than me) to say thanks.

 I looked to make eye contact with him and say, “Hey, thanks, that was awesome!!.”  He looks down my top and says, “Yeah, no problem”

I will never, ever, ever, ever….take off this bra.

How my ass can keep your clothes hole free.....and drinking with the nanny

Apparently this is not my week, and it all started on Friday. 

I blame my husband. 

It all started so innocently, I got home a little early and was visiting with my girls and the nanny.  For the most part, I have tried to kind of keep my distance from our new nanny, and for those of you who know me this is a good thing.  I tend to get involved and it has NEVER turned out well.  I become very open and sharey, and want to be their “friends”, which never works out when you are paying someone to watch your kids.  The next thing you know, you are schlepping the kiddies around while your nanny gets a mani/pedi on your dime because “she” has had a rough day.   Or they start to dictate what they will and/or wont due now because we are BFF’s. 

So Nanny and I have been together for almost a year and I have done my best to “maintain” a good and positive working relationship.  That is…..until Friday.

So, I invite Nanny to have a glass of wine with me until Hubby gets home.   When hubby arrives, he’s like, hey let’s order pizza and I will pour you girls another glass of wine.  Which is all fine and dandy, until I can’t find the bottom on my glass.    You see, hubby has been banned by my mother from keeping her glass full, and now……I know why. 

  

I used to think that this was funny when he did it to my mom….like the time that she told all of us that we don’t know what “true” partying was, because BIOTCHES, She partied like a rock star before their were rock stars”.  Or the time that our friends who were sitting at the campfire were afraid to come into the cabin because she was calling us all bitches (we were kicking her ass in the game "sequence") but they didn’t know that.  Or the time that the dogs farted in the cabin (OMG, I had to crawl on the floor of the cabin to get to the door because it was so bad) and then when my brother finally opened the cabin door so that we could breathe sweet, sweet pure oxygen, my dad blamed the stink on my mom.  I don’t think that I have ever seen my mom jump up and down threatening my dad like a little kid to “TELL THEM THE TRUTH JIM, YOU KNOW IT WASN’T ME, YOU KNOW IT WASN’T ME…TEEEEEEEEEELLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLTHEM”.  If I wasn’t already on the floor, I would be there because I was laughing so hard.  You know, those laughs, where you think you are going to die because you cannot catch a breath.  I was like….THIS CLOSE…to passing out from laughter.

Now, it’s not fucking funny.  That sneak, he poured me the never ending glass AND he poured the nanny the never ending glass.  Then he suggested that we go out…..with the Nanny’s mom to the wine bar.  This was all kind of levels of wrong.    So here I am with my drunk ass self, my drunk ass nanny and her mom chaperoning us to the wine bar, where I proceed to cry, tell my nanny that I love her, tell her mom that she birfed  a wonderful nanny and sing Sweet Caroline to everyone in the bar.  Not my finest moment hubsters….not my finest moment.  At least I wasn't alone....nanny's car stayed at our house until Sunday evening.

And to top it off, when hubby is trying to tuck me in bed, I wake up at of my stupor and tell him, 

                                                            “I kissed your friend”     

             

WHAT THE FUCK???  I HAVE NEVER, EVER, EVER, EVER, EVER (except for Dave) KISSED HIS FRIENDS.  (Dave is hubby’s best friend and I have kissed him on the cheek and once on the mouth, all in front of hubby.  The mouth kiss was very awkward, because I was kissing hubby goodbye before they went golfing and then turned and gave a peck to Dave right on the lippers.  We both were like…EWWW) 

And so you ask, Jana, how does your hubby feel about this???   He is giddy…..and has done nothing short of tormenting me UNMERCIFULLY for this entire week.  I swear to the lord high above, if he changes the lyrics to that Katy Perry song again, I won’t be responsible for my actions.

To pile onto the madness…….I ate brussel spouts and had the worst gas, so I am chatting with my friend and tell her that my gas smells like mothballs ………………I think I am now a trending topic on twitter with my sweater saving ass.  Fuck you lady….fuck you! That Fucking Bitch Blogged about it.....and FACEBOOKED it

And to cap it all off, I ate something that I am allergic too, and now my lip has sputnik on it….and my supportive husband, he is now calling the lip sputnik “the gift from his friend”. 

I can’t wait for fuck you Friday…….its on bitches...its on.

I am IM'POTENT.....or at least in my own mind

So first off, apparently I was awarded a Liebsters Blog Award from Britt over at Polkadot Clovers  

Apparently, I have fooled that bitch into thinking that I am a funny and witty new blogger.  MUAHHHAHAHAHA…….(evil ringing of hands here), little does she know that it is just a jedi mind trick.

Really, I would like to thank Little Miss Britt for the honors, I am merely watching the world around me and providing incredibly snarky commentary on what I see.  I am a mere hack compared to some of these other peeps, and I am incredibly grateful for each and every one of you that stops by to read what I have to say.  Heartfelt thanks to you all! 

So the rules of the Liebster Blog Award, must the followed (YO) or you will break the chain and the crazy Chinese Lady will totally NO AND THEN YOU!  

Rules as follows:

If you are awarded the Liebster Blog Award, here are the rules you “have” to follow.

1.        Link back to the person who gave you the award.  Yes, you must thank this bitch for thinking that you are pretty witty and/or awesome and/or I had no one else to nominate and/or I think your pretty and/or that dress looks nice on you and/or aahh…fuck it….I think your cool!

2.       Pick five other deserving bloggers to give the Liebster Blog Award to who have less than 200 followers.  You must also say nice things and tell them why they are the fucking bomb.  Which is easy because I only have kool friends!

And I bestow the funky chicken statues tooooooooooooo………………………….

Charity at Metamorphosis  You know when you talk to someone and you hear Angels Singing, like this was meant to be?  Well, when I first met Charity is was so not like that (kidding).  Charity and I are cut from the same cloth.  Opinionated, frank, slightly fucked up, seriously fucked up sense of humor, and the ability to piss people off and make them love you at the same time.  Peas in a Blog.

Jenn at the Pondering Pisces   Jenn and I have known each other IRL (In Real Life for you slow bitches) for almost 12 years.  Jenn might heckle me about calling other girls “besties” but there is only one true best friend that I have and that is Jenn.  She is dynamic, funny, beautiful, witty, and snarky all wrapped up into one fabulous package.  I should tell her more often how much I love her, but since her birthday is coming up and we are going out…..I will just have to post the pictures to prove it!  (PS – R if you are reading….you’re  coming with us…YO…it will be EPIC)

Mandi at Atypically Relevant  Fucking Mandi – I knew that we were soul sisters the moment you posted about making your own dildo…..You are fucking RAD.

The one, the only, Ninja that fends off fucktards and can keep the whores in check, all in one night Front Desk Ninja    Holy Shit, I want to spend just one day hanging out with her at the front desk.  I promise to amuse her with my witty commentary if she lets me hang with her at the Front Desk.  She’s brutal, dynamic, and funny as hell.

And last, but certainly not least…that Dirty Hooker Monica……how can you not love a blog called Dirty Hooker.  Monica is my kind of girl!  From tacky Jesus pictures to that god damn Marquis De Sade painting…girl…..you fucking kill me.

And now, I would like to share some reasons with you all as to why I am so incredibly talented.....

See, this is my parents.....kind of explains it huh......

And the offspring that they produced (meaning me) takes the same amusing pictures

Here is my grandfather, the sign says "Beware of the Orange Baron", he used to mow the grass in his Air Force flight suit....fucking hilarious.  I also included nice pictures of my grandparents....they were my best friends

These are two of my favorite pictures of my grandparents.  My grandfather never left the house without his martini.....the drive from their house in Hawaii to dinner were always the most interesting in my life.  And who else gets taken to Europe over the summer and gets to live in a house on the French Riveria...Yeah, me Bitches!!















Now then, we arrive to my formative years of why the hell I am so crazy......maybe that because we always thought it was funny to take pictures of the "private moments"  Like when Dad is peeing in the lake.











Or when your brother is "busy" sleeping

High School....were we tied a tampon to the car antenna just to see who would notice....

                                                                                                         Or dared each other to stick stuff up our noses.....like bracelets....

College......and our neighbors fridge....says it all

And wouldn't you know that I would meet a man...who's first baby picture shows him giving everyone the bird.....man....I love him.

And a special shout out to our dogs.....who drank tequilla, ate weed, and would lie on their backs while we got drunk playing board games.....just to amuse us!

 So one day, I hope to look like this, since this is my Mom.  59 years old......and who is known to throw out the ole "I used to party like a rock star before there were rock stars....biotches".  I kid you not.













And here is my costume that I made for Halloween last year, that's right y'all.  I was the "Naughty Spottie" while hubby wore his fire turn outs.  And you know what that bastard did, when I was good and drunk....he managed to clip a leash on me....fucker....for the rest of the night everyone was stepping on my leash and I was gasping and choking.  Fucking Retards....

 And our offspring making the Gene Simmons "Kiss" Face.

Until next time BIOTCHES

Genie, you bitch, give me what I want!

There are moments in my life when I just wish that I had my own personal Genie with unlimited wish supplies.  And I swear that I would only use the wishes for good, never for evil…..well, never for like super evil bad purposes and I would never hurt anyone, well I would never hurt anyone who DIDN’T deserve it….if you are a douchebag you are going down. 

For instance, the other day, I picked up my girls from school and there is roughly a 30 minute wait in between when Ankle Biter #1 and Ankle Biter #2 get out of school.  So, our usual M.O. is to go to the park right by the school and wait for #1 to get out of class.  It’s at said park where the Mom’s all gather around and rummage through the kids backpacks to discover a few things.....

• Why the hell didn’t you eat the lunch I packed you?  Jesus H. Christ, I fucking made you that sandwich and you didn’t eat it……or the snack?  Because you what??  You bought a fucking donut at recess time with your hot lunch account??  What the HELL…..Arrrgghhh...... (You are too young for me to be closing accounts because of bad spending habits)
• Crap your teacher writes a huge weekly summary and I get exhausted reading all the things that I am supposed to be doing at home with you.  Thank God for Nanny……if I have to do multiplication with you one more time and you tell me that I don’t know what 2 times 2 is….I will bang my head repeatedly.
• How do you end up with seven socks in your backpack?  Did you put them in here?  Are they yours?  Did you have a sock puppet show and tell day? Or what???  My god, this must be the other side of the sock black hole that enters through my washing machine and exits out into your backpack….EUREAKA….I found a match!
• The Park Moms are bitchy and I want to stab them in the eyes.   Oh, I am sorry that I was in your way and you felt the need to hustle me out of the way because I was in “your spot”.  I didn’t realize that your name was emblazoned on the park bench and that your precious spot next to your “park” bestie was in danger due to my fat ass sitting here.  Yeah, and I loved the “huffing” noises that you made while turning your back away from me to craw about how difficult it is for your child to be in first grade.  And boy was I ever excited when all your “besties” left you that I would be so privileged for you to look down your nose and finally talk to me.  I guess my rolling my eyes at you and walking away, cemented my status as the outkast of the “Park Biotch Club”.     F-U-C-K         Y-O-U. 

So, it was out of this angst that I started daydreaming my Genie Wish list…..in between clapping for my little Mary Lou Retten on the monkey bars.

In no particular order…..

I wish that Carrot Top would just go away, every time his picture appears on the internet or on TV, I get very nervous.  He looks like he eats people in a Peppermint Patty crossed with Silence of the Lambs kind of way.  I could just imagine him saying that he wants to cook you with carrots and brown sugar in the microwave, Clarisse….fffffttttt.

I wish I could freeze time, like this one show that used to be on when I was a kid.  I can’t remember the name of the show, but he could totally freeze time with this really cool old fashioned pocket watch (apparently Google knows what I am talking about because it was called, “The Girl, the gold watch and everything” and it had Pam Dawber in it)   Who the hell doesn’t love Pam Dawber…..I kind of hate her because I have a slight crush on Gibbs and she has been married to him ….like FOREVER.  Anyway, I would totally freeze time and draw mustaches on those park biotches.

I wish that I had a money tree in the backyard that bloomed whenever Nordstrom’s was having its ½ Yearly Sale.  That way, I could get whatever I wanted totally GUILT FREE and its ALL ON SALE!  DOUBLE POINTS

I wish that Pandora would always be on in my head.  That way, whenever I needed music to motivate me, it’s there.  For instance, who wouldn’t want to hear “Bottoms Up” by Trey Songz while you are guzzling champagne and dancing around the house?  Perfecto…..   Or belt out Little Lion Man and all the rest of the awesome songs from Mumford and Sons while you are stomping around.  ‘Cause they fucking rock.  Or you want a little makin whoopee music….some Barry White or a little Red Light Special….for you know…da mood.  Or when you need a good dose of the Cure, Siouxsie and the Banshees, Lenny Kravitz, Garth Brooks, Colbie, Robin Thicke, Sugarland and all the other artists that I love in random genre’s.

I wish that I push a mute button on people.  You know those people, the ones that open their mouths and its like nails on a chalkboard.  For no particular reason, you hate them.  Hate the way they talk, hate the way they shuffle paper on their desk, hate their squeaky shoes, and hate how they try to interact with you when they know that you hate them.  MUTE….it solves so many problems.

I wish that my Office Voodoo Kit really worked.

And last but not least, I wish that my friend Jenn and I could always work together. She is the best! I miss her……she will always be my one hope.  (PS - I'm trying to upload our video....)   done

Gasp, I have been shunned from the Juicy Club

The majority of days, I can totally relate to Emma Stone in the movie “Easy A”, and not because of all of the fake whoring around, I did all my real whoring around in College.  (Sorry, Mommy, if you are reading just ignore the last part it was dramatic prose)

There are just days that I feel like the Hester Prynne of my daughter’s elementary school.  (For those of you unfamiliar with Nathanial Hawthorne’s novel “The Scarlet Letter”,  I will boil it down to the following nugget, “Woman acts like a man, refuses to name baby daddy, get shunned and branded with the letter A, is really the heroine (duh)”.  If for any reason you think that you should watch the movie with Demi Moore, I would check yourself before you wreck yourself.  Watch Easy A – it just feels more like Hester)

So back to the As the Elementary World Turns, I apparently do not fit in with the “cool” kids.  I don’t wear the appropriate Stepford Wives uniform, nor do I frequent the gym and hook up with my professional trainer (hence the pitying looks for my fat ass), nor do I go every day to my daughter’s classroom to help out, I (occasionally) miss my daughter’s school parties (where other parents feel the need to adopt my child since no one should be left behind), and OMG GASP GASP CHOKE CHOKE, I commit the GREATEST sin of ALL MANKIND……(are you ready)….I…..I…..I….I….work (FOR SHAME).

OH THE HUMANITY, CAN YOU BELIEVE THAT….HOLISHIT BALLS BATMAN….WHAT A HORRIBLE MOTHER…..  Yes, my friends, I work.  I have a full time job.  Now before any of my friends who are stay at home Mom’s that are reading my blog get their panties all wadded up in their bachina.  I am not talking about you guys, nor am I in any way dissing those Moms’s that stay home.  I am dissing those Moms who have taken staying at home to a whole new High School Musical level.

 I wish I could stay at home with my girls (sometimes), but I also need the second income and I enjoying working outside of my home.  I always (and I do mean always) give props to my friends that stay home with their kids.  They have a much more difficult job than me, there are no breaks, no salary increases or bonus, their husbands are sometimes away a little more often (Holla to R & H) and for the most part, their jobs are thankless from others but wonderful for their kids.

My youngest daughter once told me when I was working on a deadline that she hoped that I got fired because that would mean that I could be with her at home always.  Now, that shit tears up my heart.  But the crazy crap that really makes me feel like I should be branded with the letter A for “Abnormal” and forced to wear scarlet instead of the Stepford Wives uniform of Juicy Couture, is when one of those Juicy Club Moms gives me “the tone”. 

And here is a selection of actual shit that gets said to me…

“Oh, you are (insert Ankle Biters name) Mom, oh, I didn’t know who you were because I only see your nanny.”  (Bitch please, you saw me last week dropping the kids off)

“Oh, I can tell that you work, I have never see you at the school”

“Oh, you work huh, boy, it shows, (long suffering juicy sigh) I just could never be away from my child for that long, I just want to be here to fulfill every one of their needs and make every day the best possible day that they could ever have, it must be hard not to do that, huh.”  (Bitch, I want to cunt punch you so bad right now…..I could actually brand you with a scarlet letter…..”T” for Twatwaffle.

“Oh, we were going out to coffee after the gym, Jana, do you want to go?  Oh, no, that right, you work.” (SMACK YOU NOW)

Then, then I have to listen to the drivel that comes out of their mouths…….they must think that I have an eye tick because I am constantly rolling my eyes.

The best part is when I am actually trying to have a conversation with them and they then see someone else who is much higher in the Juicy Twatwaffle Social ladder and they leave you, mid conversation, to SQUEEE…….OMG…..BESTIE……You look so great today…..OMG……Jonny (come on…you know you’ve seen the new spelling of kids names)  was like totally acting up today and I was like….BOY….I’m gonna smack you…..and my hubby….OMG…..he doesn’t do anything.   Gym later…SQUEE…then we will like totally have to go to the wine bar on Friday…cause….SQUEEE….I so need a break.

I guess that the long and short of this, is that while I miss my girls with a desperation that aches in my heart and at times makes me feel like I am the worst mother in the world, I like who I am.  I may not be the perfect Mom, I may not wear the perfect shade of juicy pink or have a pair of UGGS for each day of the week, or have the perfect size 6 body, or have all of the perfect friends on our perfect play date, or perfectly make dinner by 5 p.m. every day……instead…..I will brand myself as “A”…….for rocking the Absurdly Abnormal.

And to my small, yet scrappy, set of girls that join me in the abnormal world, I salute you.  Cause if I was around those Juicy Twatwaffles everyday........weaves would be a-flyin.  And if I don't tell you girls everyday, I love you, we might we a small group, but at least we have got each other.