Pack an extra pair of shoes and your angry eyes...just in CASE PEEPS

So, yeah, sorry about that, it’s been over a month since my last post.  What can I say……ummm…nothing, I missed you guys!

So over the past month, I have let my 10 year old daughter go on a 4 week vacation with my Mom and Dad to Montana.  They stayed on a working cattle ranch that my Dad’s cousin owns, they went to Glacier Park, Yellowstone, Blackfeet Indian Reservation and a whole bunch of other places.    Then we, as a family went on vacation and now we are finally back!

So during my time away, I wanted to share the following observations with you all:

First to my hubby – I wanted to say thanks for always driving, driving me and the girls around, driving the boat, driving me home when I am drunk and in general always driving your daisies around.   I also wanted to thank you for giving me a nose job.  I know it was unexpected, that large wake that came up and scared you but you handled it expertly.  So expertly, that I got a rug burn on my nose along with (2) black eyes.  

Not to mention the gallon of lake water that I drank while choking/laughing through the pain.  I also wanted to thank you for the multiple lake water enemas.   I can’t tell you how refreshing it is to leak from your butt for a week, I swear that tube enemas put olean chips to shame.  

Yep, here is the butt plug tool!

I also wanted to thank you for putting the idea of playing a board game for butt sex into Papa’s head.  Now every time we place Sequence, Mom and I are going to HAVE to win to avoid butt probing….NICE HONEY…NICE!  Also, thanks for pointing out to Papa that he needs the butt plug tool out of the Cabela’s catalog……I can always count on you.  All kidding aside, thanks for always being my rock, even when vacation kicks us in the ass.

To my brother and his BFF Morgan – I wet my pants.  No seriously, I was laughing so hard on the boat because of their “antics” on the tube that I WET MY PANTS.   It’s a good thing I was sitting on my towel and was able to wash off later in the lake.  OMFG….it hurt to laugh that hard.  (Pics below!)  It’s a good thing that they are good with their sexuality and it made it all the more funny, when my girls were like, “oh, that is totally inappropriate”. 

I hate vacation…every vacation starts out like a complete clusterfuck for us.  For instance, two years ago we decided to take our boat to Lake Almanor, during the drive up there our car battery died when we stopped to let the girls go potty.  Fixed that.  Then driving the boat up the steep hill caused our 2001 Dodge Durango to blow a hole in the exhaust system, then the brakes failed as we tried to come to a stop with the boat behind us, then we got a flat tire that required (2) jacks and my hubby almost got pinned under the Durango.  And finally, after driving through Dante’s Inferno (aka Redding) with no AC, some jackass almost killed us as we were driving on a levy road and he tried to pass us on a blind curved 2-laned road.  That trip cost me $50k.  So when the boat didn’t start this trip after we dropped it in the water, you can’t fault me for being Debbie Doomsday!  In the end, they always turn out fun…….(mostly)

kinda looked like this!

I wanted to give a big shout out to the tranny that was smartly dressed in her dress made of plastic garbage bags, with her tube socks and high heels.  Her big pink beach bag totally complemented the black plastic and the wig and 1950’s horn rimmed glasses were just spot on.  I also like the fact that she stopped in the cross walk to blow me a kiss.  Made my day.

For the homeless guy yesterday that was mad that I didn't give him money, the fact that you licked my drivers side window to show that you were pissed was fucking HI-larious!

To the “lady” in the cross walk in the Castro yesterday that showed me her tongue can quite easily fit between her two fingers, you made me snarf my Diet Pepsi.  And while I was not prepared for your act to either (1) capture on my phone or (2) come back with a witty gesture, I am very upset at you.  You see, I was wearing a white shirt, and the diet Pepsi stains did not go so well with my sweater set as I was heading to my meeting.

Fucking Google has EVERYTHING

To the “young lady” that was walking down the street with her underwear exposed through the bottom of her “dress”.  I take issue with you chickadee!  And it is not because of your dress, no no no Missy, I take issue with the hand print tattoos that you had on the backs of your thighs.  Now, I am sure that they were just for placement effect so that the boys know where to grab as you are doing it doggy style, but really….my eyes are burning.

Another big ol’ shoutout goes to the lady in the Baseball complex bathroom last night.  As I walk my 7-year old in the bathroom while hubby is playing, my smart ass little kid says REALLY loud.  “OMG, it totally stinks like butt in here, do they NOT know how to pre-flush”  As the lady exited the stall and ran into my kid, she totally gave me the evil eye.  Granted my kid was holding her nose and give the lady the evil eye back, I found this incredibly amusing.  Jackass, you are taking a SHIT – you do NOT SHIT roses.  You stink.(And not like mothballs, Nat)

I would also like to commend my smart ass 7 year old for the proper use of a word.  She properly executed the use of the word, “SHAW” while speaking to an adult who totally asked her a stupid question.  The “SHAW” was complete with eye roll and look of disgust at said adult for asking her such a lame question.  Now, I don’t condone this behavior and she did get in trouble, but holy shit it was incredibly funny.

Also – T-shirt Hell notified me of a few new shirts so ENJOY!!!

Ooops, I did it again

If you had to think of words to describe me, they would be grace…..the ability to float like Jesus over the water when she walks…..ethereal…..the epitome of ballerina like reflexes. 

Yep, that is right; I am filled with 100% of B.S.  What you should be thinking is if Mr. Bean met Pigpen and they had a cute little baby girl.  That would be me.  I have the innate ability to trip over a leaf on the ground, creating a massive cloud of dust, whip myself off the ground and try to appear as if nothing happened and I meant to do that.

Knee Injury

So in the past two weeks, I have fallen twice and injured the same hand, the same knee and fucked up my shoulder in the same area (twice).  

The first fall was entering a crack house trying to recover a plastic body for my friend Mandi,(Mandi's New Baby) and the second time was just the other day in the lobby of my office.  

Mandi’s adventure was a little higher octane, since I was entering a dark building.  And let me tell you what dark is…this place is so dark that the light from my flashlight is absorbed by the pitch blackness.  Not even Riddick with his shine on would get much here.  So, keeping one eye on the flashlight in front of me and one eye for either dead bodies or zombies, I try to find the stairs to access the crack pen where Mandi’s doll lives.  That’s when I hear the bang and the dragging sounds….and I freak the shit out.  So while running for my life, I trip and slide across a floor that I don’t even want to mention or think about the substances that might be on this floor.  As I am scrambling madly to right myself and not get eaten by the Zombie crack whores, I realize that it’s just the maintenance guy.  Apparently I scared the shit out of him too and he was trying to chase me down with his baseball bat.  Once we realized that we were friendlies, we donned the necessary plastic gloves and the large plastic bag in which we placed her well used body.  We limped out of the building like wounded soldiers, squinting at the bright light and breathing fresh clean (well, industrial fresh clean air) non-malt liquor scented air.  Maintenance Bob went back to chasing vagrants with his baseball bat and I went to the UPS store to mail off the girl to Mandi.  I also didn’t want to leave in too long in my car….you know….in case of it contaminating my vehicle.

My second trip down memory lane involves the lobby of my office…..

Yeah, the lobby of my office, right in front of everyone, and no you rat bastards I wasn’t wearing crazy tall shoes….I was just walking, into the lobby.  I opened the beautiful glass doors of the lobby of my company, and try to breeze in looking all Audrey Hepburn with my black gaucho pants and cute little sweater set, with my sunglasses on my head and my hair all nice.  That was, until I went down in a blaze of glory, the blaze so great that stuntmen would have wept for the sheer drama of my fall.  I think that I rolled twice, head over heels, complete with purse and workbag, and arms and legs until I finally reached the end of my summersault where I lay catatonic for a moment.  After gathering my wits, and the remnants of my pride (ah hell, who am I kidding, this happens so often, I am not sure what face I can save) I rise….and walk, hobbling to my office where I bang my head on my desk, repeatedly.

So today I sit at my desk wondering if these shoes + my “easy button” might help me out today.  

PS - After work, I am going to hit the treadmill....wish me luck!

Loooooooosssseee Bowels

I have always mocked and enjoyed people and their poo stories.  Not the gross gory kind like in Tucker Max’s “Tucker Max tries butt sex hilarity does not ensue”,but the ones where you thought you were almost here kind of story, where you just can’t hit the finish line before sliding’ into home.

One of my favorite stories from my Step-Dad, involved him, his fire turn outs, and his SCBA (the oxygen tank/mask you see them wear).  See, when the fire bell rings, the stories are true…..you leave with what you are wearing.  Boxer shorts, man bikini junk, wipe/no wipe…It’s showtime!!

So my Step-Dad….he was helping the probie do dishes and didn’t make it in time for the post dinner throne visit, and what would you know, the fire bell rang.  So poor Papa, he’s the first man in, valiantly fighting a house fire, when what happened??  That rumbly in your tumbly…..that sphincter tightening feeling, that there she’s blows….and how do you fight that feeling when you are fighting a house fire??  

Why you pump the oxygen in your mask, run to the toilet, and relieve the pressure while smoke is billowing down above your head.  

You can just picture it now can’t you….that FPPPFFF….FPPPPPPFFF Darth Vadar sound, smoke starting to obscure your vision, while you hope to heavens you can pinch it off before all hell breaks loose.

Or someone else that won’t be named….(cough, cough) married to him, that after a date of eating really expensive seafood had to have a private moment with his undershirt and a secured construction site.

All the while, I chortle with glee over the fact that these stories are so AWESOME because they have never happened to me!!!  Until last night….

See, I have been working my ass off and not getting home until late.  But hubby, the great man that he is surprised me with my favorite Vietnamese food (extra spicy, of course) and not only did I enjoy it for dinner but it was extra spicy and fantastic for lunch.  And then, I drove home, and I shit you not, it was pouring rain with sudden chances of Tornados…in SAN FRANCISCO??  

And wouldn’t you guess, just wouldn’t you guess that I got those same kinds of feelings.  Feelings that made my eyes start to water, and my knuckles turn white, and for my pants to feel like they belonged to a small child.  Feelings that made me look around frantically for wipes, just in case.  Just in case, I rapidly pulled over on the last 30 minutes of my commute that just happens to be a dark windy road.  A dark turn out appeared….and I dove for it!  After my perfect imitation of the sights, sounds and cone depth of a volcano.  Everything seemed right in the world again. 

Until I looked up into the frightened eyes of a couple who were trying to do their good Samaritan deed and see if a stranded passenger needed some help.  I didn’t need help, but I was almost tempted to ask them to hand me a wipe.

So after they slowly backed away (I think that I am not only going to be featured  in my blog, but I am pretty sure that I might be featured in someone else’s)  I have concluded tonight, that you shouldn’t mock someone’s IBS….because now….I blow shit too!

Short ASS

So, I feel like an old lady.  

Well, I should say that I feel like a very “experienced and WORLDLY” old lady.  Because I am sore, I can hardly get up, I shuffle when I walk and my butt hurts.

Treadmill, RIIIGHHTT

For the past week, Hubby and I have been challenging each other (and no, it hasn’t been for sexual acrobatics, this time) we have been challenging each other on the treadmill.  

If Hubby does 1.5 miles, then I have to do 1.5 miles, if Hubby does 2 miles, then WHATTHEFUCK….I have to do 2 miles or suffer the SHAME and TORTURE of having him best me.  

And there ain’t NO FUCKING way, I am going to back down….unless I die, collapse, crawl, or basically do my own stunts on the treadmill. 

*I SO ALMOST TOOK OUT THE DOGS YESTERDAY*

For this reason, I am now suffering.  And it’s my own fault.  Did I have to set the speed so high or the incline so steep??

  

No?  

But do I, just to have one up on the hubby….Ummm…Yes?

I would so fuck with my kids like this when I get old

So here I sit at my desk today, dreaming of the padded donut butt ring so that my poor abused rear could get some added support.  Not that my pads of butt fat are helping, but it hurts.  

And for whatever reason, raising my arms hurts, and walking up and down my office stairs hurts, and, and, and….I’m short.

Yes, I have just realized that I am short.  And for many, many years my 6’-2” brothers (yes, I am the fucking midget milkman’s kid) have “affectionately” called me “Willow”.

Fuck YOU J.R. for telling Steve this, and Fuck you Steve for handing me a stick

I usually take their good natured razzing because I have believed the lie perpetrated on my driver’s license which indicates that I am 5’-2”.  Not incredibly tall, but not entering the oompa loompa status either. 

Until the other day. 

That’s when hubby asked me, “Really, how tall are you?”  To which, I replied, “Fuck if I know, get the tape measure.”  WHATTHEHELL….What was I thinking?  As I am being measured by hubby, he says, “Stand up straighter”  Um Hello?  I have like the best fucking posture around.  My grandmother was an absolute NAZI when it came to posture and manners.  There was no slouching, no rolled shoulders, and on god’s green earth, would not standing at full height be allowed.  

My mom even sent me to “finishing school” where I had to learn about place settings, how to stand with one knee slightly bent and to walk with a full stack of books on my head while in high heels. 

As Hubby is shuffling the tape measure silently, I can feel the glee crackling the air behind me.  The anticipation of him telling me how short I actually am is killing him and he just can’t wait to get it out. 

“Holy Fuck Willow, you are barely 5 ½ feet and I was being generous!  Shit girl, you are SHORT…..and I mean like SHHOOOOORRRRRRRTTTTT.   When we get old together I am going to have to get you a stool so that when you stand next to me we can hold hands.   You do know that your daughter, who is 9, is 4’-9”.  It’s going to be funny watching you discipline the tall girls, it’s a good thing that you are so mean, ankle biter!  You will be like the cute little furry yapper dog running behind them.”

Hardee Har Har Jackass.  Hardee Har Har.

Heard that one before

THIS SO SUCKS

My brothers do this ALL the time

As a grown woman, I can still SWING ma feet

So tonight, I will be celebrating my last night of kiddie freedom!  The girls have been swept away by Grandpa and Grammie (respectively). 

My youngest is currently luxuriating in the warmth of Grammie’s affection.  She has conned Grammie into getting her high heels (at 6…Grammie), has had ice cream every day, spent the majority of yesterday shopping, is going to Zumba class, and will go to art class later with Grammie.  

While the oldest is basking in Grandpa’s affection, has been spoiled with her own special spa day, is getting Starbucks everyday (that’s right….keep her short), is swimming in Grandpa’s covered pool while it’s snowing, and will be going on a big fishing trip.

I will end my wonderful vacation by taking my shortie self to Hubby’s first softball game. 

Hopefully, someone will not try to steal me as long as I hold onto his hand.

Me & Hubby......