My Weekly B&M

I am starting a new tradition.

Every Friday or Saturday I will be posting my weekly Bitch and Moan post, sharing something that happened to me during that week that I have a gripe about .

You are cordially invited to join in and do the same on your blog or mine.

It will be called MY WEEKLY B&M. Not to be confused with a weekly BM, which would be rather uncomfortable.

This week's B&M:

To the woman who still "hovers" over the toilet in the public restroom,

I realize that you don't want to sit on the public toilet. I also realize that your mother probably has ingrained that position into your little germ-fearing brain. But please, FOR THE LOVE OF GOD, WIPE YOUR DRIBBLES!!!

I could be cute and clever and say something like "Be a sweetie and wipe the seatie", but LADY, come on. Unless you eat with your ass, what exactly are you scared of contracting?! And maybe someone does eat there, but I would hope you would shower with antibacterial soap for their benefit before they do just that.

For those of us that are too lazy, too fat for our trembling legs to balance our heavy trunk full of junk over the water hole, have to pee too badly to hover because the force will be too great on emission, or a combination of all of those, we have an announcement:

NO AMOUNT OF TOILET PAPER CAN BE USED TO CLEAN UP YOUR TOO-GOOD-TO-SIT-DOWN PEE DROPS. I hope you know you probably kill at least one tree, every time you hover, because if I follow you, at least half that roll will be used to clean your mess up, before I sit my ass down. Stepping in your sprinkles as they pool at the front of the commode is bad enough.

I understand you don't want to someone else's ass germ, but really, don't we all have something covering our hump, our hump, our lovely lady lumps, before we go into the bathroom? And even then, they make the special toilet seat covers and the ever famous, just F'n put some toilet paper on the F'n seat trick.

Now, unless you are mis-shapen, your 'pretty' is surrounded by mounds of flesh, albeit some of us moundier than others, and hopefully doesn't come in contact with the seat itself. The ass germs of the previous sitter, I can promise you, will not crawl into your great divide and give you syphilis. Really.

And I have had small kids that dribbled going onto and off of the potty, but I ALWAYS wiped up their mess. But you can bet your sweet bippy, I am not taking the chance that the dribbles I will sit in might be cute little Emma's.

So, please, turn around after you orbit over the disgusting white throne that in reality just saved you from pissing all in your new Vera Wang trousers, and wipe up your mess.

And do not flush anything except toilet paper!
Thank you,
the Management

Call Me at This Number

I received this text from a friend of mine yesterday:

Call me at this number ASAP: 650-388-1117

I freaked out and thinking OMG, where the hell is 650, what is going on, what am I going to do, I called her at that number.

Then... I texted all my friends with any sense of humor and scared the shit out of them.

Try it. ASAP.

Should She Stay or Should She Go Now?

I am having this huge dilemma.

My daughter, Claire, is 13 and hates going to see her dad on his visitation days. Now Claire is my calm, non-dramatic daughter, giving that award to her oldest sister. Other than the occasional emotional meltdown, she is your typical teenager with the slob-like tendencies to stuff dirty clothes wherever she can hide them so when I do the room check it appears clean, mumbling like a cartoon character and the non-stop texting of her friends. She is very intelligent (like scary smart) and we have such, deep conversations sometimes that when she asks me something, I can hear crickets chirping due to the deafening silence of ignorance on my end.

About a month ago she asks me if she has to go to her dad's on his weekend. She then tells me how her dad's wife treats her, putting her on a guilt trip for not living with them and some other things that made my blood boil. So, because I am so smart and have like 56 yrs experience in child psychology (NOT), I say, "Well, Claire, the judge said every 1st, 3rd and 5th weekend." (just state the facts,ma'am)
"But mom, Cassie said the judge told her when her parents got a divorce, when she turned 11 she could choose who to live with. So why at thirteen am I made to go to a place that I don't like or want to go to?!"
*crickets*
"You should call your dad." (pass the buck...)
"He won't answer his cell phone. He says it's for HIS use and if he wants to speak to someone, he will call them."
(Reason #473 that I am so glad I am not married to him anymore.)
"You need to talk to your father about how you feel. I bet you can work something out with him."
"Mom, come on. She makes the rules and he follows them. I can talk to him until I am blue in the face, but he is going to do whatever she tells him to do."
*crickets*

So she has avoided going to her dad's for three weekends now. She has had some legitimate "skip" excuses, but he is getting wise on her and said something to me about it yesterday when he picked up Cooper.
"Jill, I really need your support on this," after telling me I am setting her up to think she can make all the decisions in her life and that she is only thirteen and a child blah blah blah.
"You gave up your right to ask for my support when you filed for divorce six years ago, John."
So he slams his car door and leaves and goes to preach to his congregation of unsuspecting lambs, seething with anger and hate for me.
I walk back into my house and smile, proud of myself for standing up to him.

So, oh-wise-beyond-your-years Blog Buds, what is your opinion on this? Should I allow her to call the shots or should I make her go?

My heart bleeds for you

Somebody out there loves me!!!

Yesterday I was given a great gift by a great friend, who I called Bob Vila due to her tile job and landed in last place. You must read that one. I cried laughing. She gets a little testy apparently doing home improvements. But God knows I love her and am trying to get her down to Texas. Thanks Deb! (and please take note that you, my dear, are the only one to get two links. To match your jugs.)

So to be in the spirit of the Olympics, which I realize are over, I am passing the torch of the "I heart your blog award" to the following people I love:

1. Amelia Bedelia who can poke my eyes out and pull my heart out and eat it for lunch.
2. Ronda at Ronda's Rants who has to be the sweetest soul and earth and I have no idea why she likes me.
3. Jill at Scary Mommy who not only has an awesome name, but can make me laugh every damn time I read her, even if she doesn't mean to.
4. Trevor because I birthed him and almost died having him, and paid his way thru college, and it never ends...But he is an awesome writer...hmmm wonder where he got it?
5. Sqiudney at Sidz6kidz who has almost as many kids as I do and still likes them.
6. Richie who I didn't birth, but when I married his daddy, became mine.
7. Coral at Coral's Chaos who I have the privilege of working AND laughing with.

1. The winner can put the logo on her/his blog.
2. Link the person you received your award from.
3. Nominate 7 other blogs.
4. Put links of those blogs on yours.
5. Leave a message on the blogs of those you’ve nominated


So get on with your bad selves and pass on the love. And speaking of love.....How many times did you vote for me today? I am going down fighting, with a big 22 votes. But I still am in the game and still holding my head up. And I have made it easier for you.

Okey dokey! For those who don't have the energy to drag and click countless times, I have made it easy for you. Scroll all the way to the bottom and slowly come up a little, a little more...there. Click on jill jill bo bill. And thank you for your donation.
















Just think, you only have 3 more days to have to hear me, or read me, whatever...

Stay tuned for the next party I have planned for us!

I open my email and this is what is in my inbox today:

Crunchless Abs
Zone Pilates Team
One nutrient all women over 40 need
Get trim and fit for less
Generate your own stem cells
Diminish hunger and boost your mind

Bastards! How do they know I am fat, over forty, having memory issues, and may need my stem cells regenerated? Huh?!
God knows I don't ask for information from exercise places, shop at health food stores, order diet plans, nor have I ever clicked on a stem cell ad.

Alrighty, then. I am feeling quite chipper up until I realize that even my sightless computer has turned on me.
Then my skinny 20 year old calls me:
"Mom, can you go to GNC's and pick me up some 'Weight Gain'?"
"No."
"Huh? Why?"
"Because Trevor, I will go in there, find it, put it on the counter, and the guy will say,'DAMN! This stuff works! And I will be thrown in jail for murder. Not today."
"Okay then."
"Okay. Love you."
"Love you, too."
------------------------------

By the way, as you all know, as far as the Hottest Blogger Females Calendar, I am not in the top 12...yet. I have been advised to go on YouTube, advertise in the newspaper, and take extreme measures to get my name out there and solicit votes. So if you drive by the same homeless person under the bridge and he's holding a sign that reads "Vote for Jill Jill Bo Bill" drive on by and know I have taken care of him and his drinking problem and you are in the clear until Monday.

Now do what the bum said and vote!! Vote a thousand times. It may or may not count. But it's worth a try....

I May Have to Throw in the Towel

Due to the high number of people NOT voting for me, you probably won't be looking at me on your 2009 calendar sprawled across a hay bale with a piece of grass in my teeth. I know. I'm sad, too. But I am not giving up until all the Circuit Cities and Best Buys within a 60 mile radius have been hit by me and and their computers have been voted on. I will go down fighting.

It sucks to be me.

But thanks to the 9 people that voted. I know it says 13, but I voted for myself from all 4 of our computers. But an alter-ego pushed the vote button, so it really wasn't the same person...

Dear Gawd, I BEG of You!!!!!

First, let me say a big thank you to the legally blind smart person who nominated me for this HOT BLOGGER CALENDAR . This is my ONLY chance to fulfill my dreams as a pin-up calendar girl be recognized by my millions of fans, as well as offering money to a photoshop genius to put my head on Dara Torres' body ask* for your vote.

I didn't even know I had been nominated or actually what the hell it was, but while I was stalking reading up on Tena at My Therapy, I noticed my name and went to the site, and it's true.
And I promise Amelia Bedelia, you are coming with me. In fact, since we look alike, can I use your boobs? (or Deb, or Georgie, or Tena, or...hell, who I am kiddin'? ANYONE out there has bigger moquito bites than I do!)
The voting ends Sunday and they can only accept votes from one computer, so go to the library, work, your neighbor's house and vote for me and Tena (My Therapy), Jen (the Mom), Insane Mama, and Sue (Happy Meals and Happy Hour) and then go to another computer and vote for me one more time. Call all your relatives and tell them to vote, too. You even may be receiving a recorded call from me asking for your vote.

Go to the Gidget gadget thing on the right that says 'vote for me', click on the 'vote hottest female' tab at the top of the page on the right (me=hot), then scroll down like forever and I am in the middle to last (because obviously they put the heavyweight contenders on the bottom!) under jill jill bo bill. Just click on me and your vote will count!!

* grovel; plead; beg; implore; solicit; give vital organs, children, or sexual favors homemade cinnamon rolls.

What Makes You Laugh Today?

I am typing this on my brand new laptop!!! My other one kept turning off because it was a shitty Toshiba, not a great Toshiba like Trev has. Mine would get so hot you could pop a bag of popcorn if you held it up against the back of it. I hated it and sent it back to them like 4 times and it was never right. So Thurs, on the day Rick closed the deal of the century, his truck was broken into and his laptop was stolen, along with a bag of tools. So instead of running naked thru the streets and screaming and celebrating, we were calling the credit card companies and changing all our passwords. But the jokes on the MF'n thievin' swine- his computer is worse than mine and won't even turn on! herr herr

So, anyhoo, he bought two because they were a great buy, AND because he knows I would've pouted, AND basically he's the greatest guy in the world, AND he reads this blog. Hi, honey!! Now I can actually finish reading everyone and commenting. So if you haven't gotten a comment lately from me, it's because my old computer sucked.

Okay now onto business:
I am doing a survey. Okay, not really a survey, I am just nosey and want to laugh. And I want to be a trend-setter. I want to know what made you laugh so hard you cried. I mean cried with real tears and if you peed, even better. Something that makes you laugh outloud STILL TO THIS DAY. You can post about it on your blog, but comment on mine the main character's names. That way we can all go to your post, I can keep a tally of the characters, AND I will get comments, because remember, it's all about me. For example, I would comment 'Amy and Nell Carter separated at birth'.

I have so many (be it I am just goofy, think everything is funny, and have bladder control problems or just lucky) that I will tell the most recent. Plus it's my game and I make up the rules as I go along.
________________________________________________________________

Last night Amy texted me to "READ" and I was hysterical reading her post about Nell Carter. She had found this program that you put your picture in and choose "celebrity look alike" and up pops the stars who have your shape and structure of face. But who her look alike was wasn't the funniest part! She called me and while I was on the phone crying laughing about how mad she was about Nell and her being twins, she was putting in everyone's picture she had, including my grandmother and grandfather.
She was getting madder and madder saying, "Your's is-REESE WITHERSPOON?! Erin's-TIA LEONY?! Mom's-CANDACE BERGEN?!", then she says, "Ok, I am going to put Nell Carter's picture in and I swear to God, if my picture comes up, I really am going to shoot myself."
I have no idea what happened because I fell on the floor.

Hey DFW Friends Who want to go to Canton

To all my friends and acquaintances who live the DFW area:

I am tentatively planning a trip to Canton on Labor Day weekend, Saturday to be exact, ONLY IF THE WEATHER IS BELOW 95 DEGREES. If you watch the weather and it says it's going to be over 95, I will wait to go in Oct or Nov because I hate to sweat when I shop.

Please understand I am no expert on Canton (no idea where certain booths are), but mentioned I am wanting to go and had some people say they might want to go, too. So how fun would it be to all go there on the same day and meet somewhere? Friends AND junk. I can think of nothing better.

If you are wanting to go, just let me know and if you need to follow me, I only live about an hour and a half away from Canton. We can meet in Ennis and convoy our happy junky butts over there. If you can't make it Labor Day weekend, I am definitely going back in Oct or Nov.

I am crossing my fingers that it will be somewhat cool on the 30th.

The Rest of the Story

Okay, let's review:

I have told you about Amelia Bedelia and the Glamour Shot Episode, how she farts when she laughs, how she skipped at our grandmother's funeral, how she ran over her luggage, and she in return has scoured the recesses of her mind to come up with all 8 of the stupid things I have done, writing FOUR in one post alone.

So just to finish off this silly "one up" game, I will call a truce...after I even the score. Here is my eulogy to her, 'cause she's gonna diiiiie!!!

1. Once after Amy had her first gyno exam, she, being the fashion guru of Borger High, wearing pantie hose and no shoes, starts down the carpeted stairs and slips and with one leg in front and one in the back, descends the stairs on her newly examined area bouncing hard on every rung bam,bam,bam and hits the floor with a thud. Then cries when we laugh.

2. We always had dinner as a family. Always. And one night with steak and potatoes and all the good food, Amy is carnivorously attacking the steak and gets choked. She grabs our arms, we look at her with wide eyed amazement and she reaches down her own throat and pulls out a four inch long hunk of meat. No one at the table moves and my Daddy says, "Good God, it's a whole side of beef. You might try chewing that up first." She would have cried then if she hadn't been so drained from no air.

3. One night, while trying to maintain her savage tan all us redheads are notorious for, she leaves our heat lamp on while she is tanning her stomach and falls fast asleep, only to be awakened by a dream that she was in an oven and someone was cooking her on a 9x13 cookie sheet. Her flat tummy was burned beyond recognition, which made it very difficult for her to pour herself into her skin tight Gloria's and attend the Stinnett Rodeo, let alone don the giant belt buckle she wore. She had to suck in all night and had stomach cramps for days. I'm sure she cried about that, too.

4. Speaking of rodeos, Amy was not a fighter. But she had this one girl, Helen Crawford, who wanted to kick her ass. She had no idea why, but passing in the hallway, Helen would say thru gritted teeth, "Today I'm kickin' your ass." So Amy would run home and put her boots on because she always felt much tougher in her boots. And apparently it worked because no fight was ever recorded. Those jeans were so tight she had to put the tops of the boots in first, before she put her legs in the jeans. But they were damn hot.

5. One day she couldn't get her car to start after work. Try as she may, it wouldn't turn over. So she calls Daddy and tells him her battery is dead. He goes by the local Ted Lokey's and picks up a brand new battery and comes to help. He pops her hood takes the old battery out that looks surprisingly new as well, and has her turn the key, Nothing. So as he is trying to jiggle the wires, she drops her lipgloss and when she reaches down to get it, noticed that the gear stick is on the "D" for drive. So while her heart is stopped, she slowly and quietly, because Daddy might be a little miffed if he knew, slides it into "P" and THEN tries the key again. Amazingly it starts right up!!! She yells out of her window, "Thanks daddy, You're my hero!" and quickly drives away while poor Daddy loads up the perfectly good battery for disposal. She didn't tell him until last year what really happened, and between me and you, that was probably the precursor for his heart attack.

Amy was the the most fun in the world to grow up with and we laughed until we cried and wet our pants. I remember when we were little, all four of us would draw an upside down eyes and nose on our chins, put a shirt upside down on our head and hang over the bed and have conversations with each other. We did it when we were grown thinking it would entertain our husbands, but they only stood in the doorway and faked smiled and said to one another, "They're weird". None of us are married to them anymore. Really.

I will miss my dear sister. She always laughed at me when no one else would. I know she is looking down from heaven now, giggling and tooting. I love you, sister!!!

Okay, we are even. No more. Be a big girl now. And no lies!

Once Upon A Time

Once Upon A Time there was a girl named Amelia Bedelia. Amelia Bedelia was very beautiful and very much focused on having fun. Sometimes her Daddy would ask where her brain was and she would just giggle and giggle.

One day when Amelia Bedelia was going on a very long and important trip with her choir, placed her bags, which were fully packed with everything she would need and wear for the next two weeks, behind her car so they would magically jump in her trunk. Amelia bid her family farewell and backed out of her driveway. Those bags that never got into her trunk were pushed down the driveway and into the street never to see their Amelia Bedelia again until the neighbor lady called and asked why we had luggage in front of our house in the street.

So, Amelia Bedelia happily loaded her bus with all her choir mates and never wondered why those bags that magically jumped into her trunk wouldn't just jump out of her trunk and onto the bus. But Amelia Bedelia was so busy laughing and talking with all her friends and helping them load their luggage onto the bus, she never realized her bags that held everything she owned weren't there. She never missed them. Until they arrived 14 hours later at their destination and those damn bags didn't magically appear in her room. Even as she was laughing and talking with her friends and helping them unload their bags, the thought never crossed her little tiny mind that her bags were missing. Until she got to her room with her fun roommates and sat on her bed and looked around and blinked her eyes and looked side to side did she realize that there was something missing. But what was it?!

So poor poor Amelia Bedelia had to sit in the audience in the same clothes with the sponsors during every performance because she had no dress to wear. And she wore all her friends clothes and makeup and had to borrow money for food and souvenirs from everyone on the bus.

The End

THE talk

Alright, I sat down to have THE talk with Cooper, my 12 yr old, while he was watching TV. I had been rehearsing in my head how I would approach this and I was really nervous, not ever talking with my boys about this. I had handled the girls, and their father had talked with the boys.

It went a little somethin' like this:

Me: "Hey, Coop, I really wanted to talk to you about something."
Him: "Okay. Am I gettin' in trouble?"
Me: "No. I just wanted to talk to you."
Him: "Okay. " (turns towards the TV)
Me: "I want to talk about sex."
Him: "Hmm?!?" (high-pitched and now focused on me)
Me: 'You know, when a man and a woman are in love and they show their love to each-"
Him: (holding up his hand) "Mom, really. You probably should be having this talk with Claire. She's the one with the boyfriend."
Me: "Yes, oh-wise-one, but I need to explain to YOU exactly what sex is."
Him: (still holding up his hand) "Mom. Dad's weekend is next weekend. I would probably learn more from him."
Me: "Yeah, okay. You're probably right."

Gee, that was easier than I thought!

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

And in response to my beloved sister, Amelia:

Remember the time I came into my room and you had drawn all over my Donny Osmond album cover with a pen that didn't work, so it wasn't obvious that you had scribbled on it until I was listening to the record and singing to his gorgeous face on the cover when suddenly the light hit it just right and I saw? Yeah, me either...

Be afraid...be very afraid....

Pull My Hair and Call Me Stupid

After the discovery of the Pokemon porn, which I thought I handled rather calmly, I began to wonder if it was time to have "THE" talk with my twelve year old son. I have never talked with my boys about "that". That was always their dad's job. I handled the discussion with my girls, only I didn't use a chart and a pointer stick like my mom did.

My decision that it was time for the birds and bees to be taught was cemented when I found a DVD under the dresser of his room when I was cleaning. Not just A DVD, but a-"Pull my Hair and Call Me Stupid"-with-a- half-naked-bimbo-sticking-her-ass-out-so-boys-will-fantasize-about-her DVD. And I am dead serious-that was the name of the porno, "Pull My Hair and Call Me Stupid".

Apparently my innocent child had opened the boxes his Older Worldly Brother had packed up and left when he went to college, found it, and was only going to watch it because it said both "pull my hair" AND "stupid", two words that he could relate to. I know that has to be reason he wanted to view it. I just know it!

But when I told Said Worldly Brother I found his porn, he swore it wasn't his, adding that he wouldn't watch any porn that combined comedy and action. He was only interested in the action part. I nervously laughed that "heh heh" laugh and prayed he was just trying to make my blood pressure shoot up and cause my head to blow off my shoulders. And then he blamed it on his weasel-y friend that I despise. "It's probably his". Okay, it was that creepy friend's porn. I knew it! Even my Worldly Boy wouldn't watch such filth!

So, because it was Wednesday and the kids were at their dad's and the house was empty and Rickiepoo was on his way home and I was feeling rather friskey, I decide to text my man to let him in on what awaited him once he stepped thru the door. I envisioned Him opening the door and me standing 35 lbs thinner with toned arms and legs and bigger boobs and a flat stomach, leaning provacatively against the bedroom door, motioning him forward with a slow movement of my pointer finger while wearing my black negligee and my 4 inch fuck me shoes with fur trim. So I text him "Pull my hair and call me stupid". There. That should make him hot and bothered.

Nothing. For ten minutes I wait. 'He is a very busy man' I think. He must not be able to text me. He must be closing a big deal. So I text him again. "Put the pedal to the metal. I am horney." There. That will surely make him call me. I can picture him now, in his big manly truck laughing and getting turned on by my mysterious texts. He will come thru the door and throw me on the bed (okay, I climb on the bed. He has a bad back and I'm a fat ass and all) and make passionate love to me for hours. Loudly.

Nothing. For ten more minutes. Dammit! Now I have to call him and I am so much sluttier in words. Not so much in person. I can never stay serious. But I am a good actress and I will fake my way thru it. And I will tell him to "Be ready because I am going to jump your bones" in my porno voice with the music and all in the background and he will be so turned on. So I dial his number.

Voicemail. Shit! He never listens to his voicemail. That's it! The mood has passed. I am going to be in the house all alone with no kids and a porn and no hunk of man. Just my luck. So I pour myself a stiff drink of diet coke and sit down to watch HGTV. Then the door opens and I can hear him coming down the hallway.

"Did you get your texts?'
"No. Did you want to go eat somewhere?" (yep, I could have been offended by that ...)
"No. I, uh, I was thinkin'... we have the house all to ourselves,"
"Uh huh"
"And...uh..."
He pulls me close and kisses me like we were dating, not married, with his sexy blue eyes and his even sexier bald head and says,
"Pull my hair and call me stupid".

God, I love this man.

And I am having "THE" talk with Cooper this week.

Tag, I'm It!

I have been tagged by my friend Deb, and thankfully this tag game involves no running.

So for your viewing pleasure I will divulge 6 completely insignificant facts about myself. Take your No-Doze now.

Six Unspectacular Quirks I have:
1. I secretly wish I could dance like the professionals on "Dancing With the Stars".
2. I secretly have dubbed myself  a member of the "Fashion Police" and wish I could arrest many of the people I see on a daily basis.
3. I start major projects around the house that I secretly know I cannot accomplish, knowing that my anal-retentive-handy-man-of-a-husband will finish but won't ever start.
4. I secretly wish spiral perms were back in style because I looked really cute with one (or maybe it was that I was 50 lbs lighter).
5. I secretly think it's sexy when my husband wears his bossy pants and tells me how things are going to be done, even though I pout about it.
6. I secretly imagine myself head-butting everyone who is blatenly rude to me, but I know it would hurt and leave a mark and I hate things like that.

So, because I always follow the rules, here they are:


1. Link the person who tagged you

2. Mention the rules on your blog

3. Tell about 6 unspectacular quirks of yours

4. Tag 6 following bloggers by linking them & leave a comment on each of the tagged blogger’s blogs letting them know they have been tagged.

The last part of the tag game is to send it to six people you want to know 6 insignificant or unspectacular quirks about. My six chosen ones are:

• Jill at Scary Mommy because she will kick my ass if I leave her out again and plus she cracks me up and has a cool name.
• Georgie at Confessions of... because she also cracks me up and we have this nursery-rhyme-name-thing bond.
• Deb at Postcards from the edge because again, much cracking up is done by me when I read her or we talk, and I haven't heard from her since her lake trip and I can only be good and not be mean to her for just so long!
• Dana at Life is Good because for the fourth time, I find myself cracking up at all she says and wishing we lived closer to one another so I could hang out with her on her porch.
• Karen at NucMed is Hot because between her and Leslie, which was very confusing to me at first who was who, I laugh out loud and agree on most things with them. Must be the medical background and liking to stick people with needles, I'm not sure.
• Sidney at Sidz6kidsz because I love my neighbor and she has blogger constipation and I want to be the prune juice in her life.

So we will all wait with baited breath for the unveiling of y'alls info and I will wear an extra Depends.

I'm So Glad We had This Time Together....

Tonight ends a TERRIFIC weekend. We had the awesome privilege of hosting our wonderful friends from Saint Jo and their chitlins. Their daughter, Emily, and our son, John David, are dating and thankfully arranged our little get-together. Our family and the T's have been friends for ten years with our kids being best frinds and Ang and I being insepartable, being we share a brain and all. I can't tell you how incredibly wonderful it is that our babies are dating and how equally hard  it is not to do cheerleading jumps when we think we may be related someday. But we are playing it cool and silently celebrating the possibility. I will add how gorgeous they both are and how perfect their offspring would be... I just hope they have my athletic ability. (Ang is the marathon friend I have spoken of in earlier posts that I would meet at the finish of her long runs and eat lunch with then drive my lazy fat ass back home.) Yeah, she's skinny and healthy and I'd hate her if I didn't love her so much. Her hubby, Michael is a scream and cracks me up. I am trying to talk him into starting a blog on golf, but the name he picked out I fear Ang has ixnayed due to the balls conotation. She's prudishly nice like that.

Then to top the weekend off, I was able to meet some of my fellow North Texas blogger sistas for an incredibly delicious meal and even better fellowship. With these 4 hilarious chicks, you know that something funny would have to happen. Elaine and Texas Poppet will be fighting it out on who will blog on the funny episode, while both Holly and Holly  and I will sit quietly by and sip our drinks and giggle.

And yes, as par for me, I embarrassed myself within1.5 seconds of arriving at the swanky place we met. I have never seen any of these girls in person, so I reviewed their blogs like any good stalker would do so I would recognize them. I left early because it was in downtown Dallas and since I never go straight to my destination, I had to alott myself an extra 30 min of driving the wrong way, getting lost, and prolific cussing time.

I prepared myself for this meeting like it was the damn prom, looking thru my closet and trying on clothes. I decided on something not too over the top ( I decided on subtle, since my formal was a size 3, and well, I am not anymore). But I did go the extra mile and wore my Chic Shaper. Yes THE Chic Shaper that I had ordered off the infomercial that made my small bosoms look larger and perkier AND made me stand up straight. That due to the fact you have to strap it on like a pivate investigator's gun holster and latch it under your unsuspecting TaTas. So with falsely intensified breast and perfect posture, I arrive at the restaurant and, as I am walking in the door, decide I need to pull down the Shaper so my breasties look incredibly huge and for the sheer fact it hadbeen shoved up ONTO my boobs because my belly roll took up all it's space on the hour long trip there. I was under the impression it was like a bra and could be move with a simple tug. But because it is rigged with suernatural abilities and material to make the impossible possible,  the tug caused the magic elastic to snap loudly and obviously in the tall ceiling foyer for all to hear. And Holly was there to witness it all. Never meeting her or knowing she was one I would be dining with, I just snickered and said something intelligent like, "Oops", once I caught my breath from the impact.

It was good fun and I am just hoping that my Chic Shaper and I get invited to the next party.

P.S. I will be doing my tag tomorrow, Deb, since I have to think and all...

Way to go Victoria

To all the preacher's wives out there, ex and current:

Our real identity has been shattered by the leader of the pack. Everyone knows now we all smoke, drink, and cuss and have to have our way in everything. Stupid bitch, Victoria, has ruined it for all of us. There will be a meeting to discuss how we can look perfect again to the unsuspecting parisioner. Bring all your weapons, drugs, liquour, porn videos, and hymnals. We must ban together on this and kick some ass.

She Loves Me, She Loves Me Not (plus a side note)

I have noticed that I use the words "love" and "hate" a LOT in my vocabulary.

For example I say things like:

I love waking up to hot cup of coffee in the mornings.
I hate it when I am out of sweet'n'low.

I love to eat.
I hate to exercise.

I love to wear linen.
I hate that it looks like I have slept in it by the end of the day.

I guess I live a very black and white life. The few things that fall in the gray area are the things I don't really care about. In other words, I don't hate them, I just don't like them or love them.

I also feel it's important to let someone you care about know that you love them. I have had many close family and friends die and I knew that they knew that I loved them. That truly helped in my healing process.

There are different levels of love. And I realize they have specific "smart-like" names like agape and amore. But I have my own version.
There's the love I have for my husband. He stands alone in that love category. He holds the prestigious 'No one but Rick' category award.
I love my kids. This one is the 'I wipe their butts, clean up their puke and wipe their snot and smother them with hugs and kisses' category.
I love my family. They fall into the 'I would wipe their butts, clean up their puke and wipe their snot, but I would make them repay me with the same treatment. On purpose. ...not really...' category.
I love my friends. These are the 'I would wipe their butts, cleanup their puke and wipe their snot, but I would gag the entire time so they would hear me and feel bad' group.
I love the patients I care for.This one is 'I DO wipe their butts, etc, etc. And I gag privately where they can't hear me. I mean they ARE sick and all' category.
I love being a nurse. I love owning my own business. I love my employees and co-workers. And these fall into the 'Only if I had to' category. (No CH, you fall in the`friend category)
I also love this one cashier at Walmart. She always makes me smile. This is the 'I don't think she needs her butt wiped anytime soon' category.
I love Sonic's vanilla diet coke with extra ice. I added this one to let you know how important this is to me. It falls into the 'If it had a butt, it would rank up there with my kids' category.

And different levels of hate that don't make into the gray area. I am not a violent person, but I think I could be if the perpetrator were smaller and I wouldn't have to run after them.
I hate sneakiness. People who sneak around fall into the 'I could really punch them' category.
I hate when my kids fight. This is the 'threaten to punch them' category.
I hate that I can't see my mom and sisters more often. I call this the 'whine a lot' category.
I hate when someone crunches ice or pork rinds and I can hear it. This runs a close second to 'I could really punch them' category, but I have simmered in my old age and now it falls into the 'Give them the look' category possibly followed by the 'open handed whack upside the head' category if they continue.
I hate to be rushed or to be late. This one is the 'I will probably yell and drive like a maniac so don't get in my way' category.

I guess I am sharing this with you is to let you know that if I read your blog and it makes me smile or better yet, laugh out loud, if it makes me think, if it makes me cry, then I will always try to tell you so you will know.

When we were little, I would say, "I love that!" and my little sisters would all say in unison, "If you love it so much, why don't you marry it?"

So, now to all my bloggie buds out there, I have a new category for you. Since most of us will never meet eye-to-eye until we all go to the big Internet in the sky, I have a new category for y'all. It's the 'So, ya wanna marry me?!' category. This one entails the knowledge that I break my neck to read your newest post and literally wet myself if I am ever mentioned in said post. If it's really good, I may even get up (that alone should mean something) and do the happy dance.

All this just to say I love you. And I do.

*****SIDE NOTE***** Make sure you got to my son's blog and show him some love. It took some finagling but I managed to bring him to the dark side with us. Plus I gave him $5.

My Last 32 Hours

My last 32 hours:

3am- Awaken to loud knocking of door.
3:01- Face-to-face with police informing me my 15 year old niece has been arrested for curfew violation and needed to be picked up at station.
3:02-Feel blood pressure sky rocketing. Begin to search thru Britt's room to find clues.
3:16- Niece returns home with Rick still alive, no blood or broken bones.
3:40-Find out that Britt wants to go home to her mother because we are "too strict".
4:00- Read her confiscated journal, totally ignoring the right to her privacy, and learn that she has had sex with 3 different guys just since we moved here 8 months ago, sneaking out almost every night since summer started.
4:01-Realize she has single-handedly re-routed the alarm to the back door off the guest room that is never used so that the alarm is never triggered.
4:02- Begin to rethink I can handle and change her.
4:15- Contact her mother in Amarillo and tell her to come get her.
4:16- Decide I have done all I can do over a three year span for this lost little girl.
7am- Help her pack and supervise that she isn't taking any extras that she is infamous for taking.
8:30- Find out through more reading of her journal that the weekend we went to Amarillo and I let her stay the night with her mother, she and her got drunk together to celebrate her 16th b'day "in style" like most moms and daughters do...
8:31- Confront B with the entry of her journal and she says it's all true.
8:31-10:00- Discuss with her about what she is getting into by moving back in with her mother and how important graduating from HS and not getting pregnant is. Do the whole drug counseling, safe sex speech I have orated over the last 3 years AGAIN. Secretly feel relieved that my 13 y/o daughter and 12 y/o son won't be around this anymore.
10:01- Struggle with the guilt of giving her up and the fact she is doomed to fail in the environment I am allowing her to go back into. Wonder if I had adopted her 3 years ago if I would be sitting here doing the exact same thing I am doing.
10:02- Come to the conclusion she would have done the same stupid things, adopted or not.
1:30pm- Meet my sister and her husband at a gas station and give my niece to back to her.
1:31- Have to put gas in my sister's unairconditioned clunker because they have $40 to live on the next 2 weeks.
1:32- Secretly amused that Brittany really thinks she is better off with her mother in this life.
1:38- Give my sister $40 for another tank of gas to make it back, not giving them a dime more to eat on. See Britt melting in the back seat with the look of fear-masked-by-determination-to-get-her-way with a hint of regret on her sweet little face. Smile at her with my look of "this is your choice, you'll be sorry" look.
1:40- Drive off alone with my husband, leaving behind the child we let into our hearts and home and pray she remembers some of the things we taught her and that she stays safe. Think this "tough love" could be a bunch of bullshit and I have just signed her death certificate.
1:41- Cry like a big fat baby.
1:45- Call the guy to come change our locks and codes and to fix our alarm system.
1:47 to present- Pray constantly that Britt will be okay and Claire, my 13 y/o, learned nothing bad from her cousin. Consume chocolate at ever possible chance. Enjoy the 2 kids I have left at home. Look ahead with great anticipation to the development of Empty Nest Syndrome.

*****Today is my youngest child's 12th birthday. Cooper, or Coop-a-loop to me, is the sweetest boy known to mankind. I am going to totally immerse myself in him and his wishes today and enjoy the moment of his youthful innocence, knowing that over the next 364 days he will venture closer to the dark side of Teendom. Do you think it's too much weight on his 12 year old shoulders to let him know that he alone holds my teetering sanity and one wrong move could send me plummeting? Yeah, I thought so...

Sunday Funnies on Monday

I have no idea why I am hell-bent on telling you every embarrassing thing that has happened to me, but I laughed out loud at myself yesterday morning and wanted to further cement-in the fact that I am completely eat-up with the Dumb Ass.

Behind my house, about 300 yards away, is our closest-in-proximity neighbor whom I have never met. In fact, I have never seen her before yesterday. Our houses are separated with our iron fence, a street, and her iron fence.

I was outside on my back porch in my favorite rocking chair when I hear this never-before-seen neighbor scream, "LADY!"

Thinking that the world revolves around me, I immediately jump up and say, "Hi!" and wave. Only she doesn't hear or see me and she keeps yelling, "LADY!" right at me. So I begin to walk across my backyard towards her waving my arms and yelling back, "HELLO!" She is looking right at me, still yelling and becoming almost frantic. I begin to panic that she sees something I don't, like my house on fire or someone robbing me thru my side garage. So I begin to trot faster (fast for me) towards her, all the while looking over my shoulder to see what she sees in, or on my house.

I am close enough to her now I can see she has on her blue house coat with small white flowers or dots on it, her hair is jacked a little, and she has no makeup on her weather beaten face. Looking straight ahead right at me across the street that separates us she says again, "Lady!" At the moment my mouth was coming open and the words, "What's wrong," were in my throat, she bends over and scoops up this minute doggish thing, still looking straight ahead at me.
"There you are, you rascal!" my apparently blind and thankfully almost deaf neighbor says to her pet. She then turns and slowly makes her way back into her house never the wiser I was standing there after EXERCISING(sigh) and sweating from all that trotting over to her.

HMMM. She didn't want to say hello to me after all.
HMMM. Her dog was Lady.
HMMM. She never heard me saying 'hello' or saw me waving.
HMMM. I almost made a complete ASS of myself in front of the neighbor.

HMMM. I am a dumb ass and I am taking care of your sick loved ones.

(close eyes and shake head)

Damn the Torpedo

If you haven't already read my sister's post where she told of my embarrassing moment with my family's friend and dentist, which by the way, I really said "hymen"(sorry old dude), then allow me to further humiliate myself by reminiscing on yet another time my mother wanted to crawl under a rock and I gave up life guarding at our country club.

Watching the Olympics and reading Sue's latest post brought the horrific event that scarred me for life back from the recesses of my mind.

I decided I would work as a lifeguard one summer and took all the required courses to become certified. We had a small class of 6, with Marcy, my best friend and I being the only females and the youngest. On the last day of certification, we were required to jump in fully clothed and tread water for an entire 30 minutes.

I woke up that morning with the dreadful realization that I had started my period(sorry again male readers). So I frantically screech thru the bathroom door to my naive mom, "MOM!!! I need some tampons!" Now, let me paint for you the picture of our home life: my mom is 61 and has still has NEVER to this day worn a tampon. Which translates, that at 13, I had never been introduced to the foreign objects and we didn't have any in the house.

She says to me thru the closed door, " I'll go next door and borrow one from Sherri." Now, before you flip out, we lived next door to my aunt and uncle, and Sherri was my cousin who was 5 years older and "worldly", wearing tampons and all.

So, 5 minutes later there was the tap at the bathroom door and the pink and white wrapped "plug" that was going to save the day was handed to me thru the cracked door like a baton in a relay race.
"How do you do this?" I ask my mom. " Just put it in, I guess. Do you want me to help you?"
"OMG, NOOO, mom!"

So I place the pink savior inside me, totally winging it since I had no written instructions or pictures to guide me, and off we go to the country club. It was difficult for me to sit all the way down into my seat during the drive and I said to mom, "These things hurt!"
"Did you push it up far enough?" she asked. She drove like a maniac hitting every bump in the road all the way there. We were late. so, she took the corners fast and if I raised my butt off the seat and held myself up with the door's arm rest and console, it stopped hurting enough that I could actually breathe.

Mom screeches into a space in the parking lot and I fling the door open and run just as fast as I comfortably can to the pool. I arrive to pool and the instructor says, "Jump in, Jill and do a lap to warm up before you put on the clothes."

Everyone had done their lap and were perched on the side of the pool to watch me. I take off my warm up and grimace as I step up onto the diving board, still feeling I needed to shove the tampon a little further up. I glance over to see Marcy and the 3 "older guys" watching my every move.

I began to silently pray, "Please don't let the string be hanging out. Please don't let the string be hanging out." I trot with great pain to the edge of the diving board and do the most beautiful dive I had ever done in my 13 years.

When I hit the water, I completely forget about the agonizing pain I had endured over the past 30 minutes and, as I look up to greet the air, I am revelling in how impressed my audience will be. I hit the surface at an angle so my hair looks really good and anticipate an ovation or my friends holding cards with a big "10" on them.

Instead I see the faces of my friends, my instructor, and my mom all with their eyes open wide and their mouths wide open. Man, I thought, I did even better than I imagined.

Slowly Marcy raises her hand and points at the water. I look over and see a pink object floating, slowly rising and falling with each wave.

My heart stops and I lunge to grab it before anyone "notices". When I get it in my hand I notice the shell of my tampon, empty and odd looking. Still not knowing exactly what had happened, I swim up to Marcy who says in a whisper, "Man, that thing shot out of you like a torpedo!" My mom is there right over me in 2.4 seconds and is saying,"OMG, did you NOT take off the applicator? OMG, I need to take you to the gynecologist! OMG, will you ever be able to have my grandchildren?! OMG!OMG!OMG!"

Needless to say, becoming a lifeguard suddenly became very unimportant and I shot out of the pool and ran to my mom's car. As I was running, visions of fingers pointing and reels of laughter rang thru my head. Then I suddenly stopped.

Hmmmm.... these tampon things were pretty damn cool and didn't hurt a bit!

The Second Half plus a Bonus

Okay, okay , settle down...everyone take your seat please...Okay, kids....

Lights begin to dim.

Cue music.

And now for your viewing entertainment, we now present the second part of the questions you always wanted to know but were afraid to ask...or really useless mundane info on the redheaded fat chick...

14. I drink a Route 44 Diet Coke with vanilla and EXTRA ice almost every day.
15. I was pregnant with Kalee when I married her dad.
16. I was a Senior in high school.
17. Because I was pregnant, I wasn't allowed to receive any class favorite honors that I won, such as "Best Personality" or "Class Favorite". They gave them to the runners up.
18. My best friend from first grade, Marcy, died from tongue cancer 10 yrs ago.
19. I used to sing with a band.
20. When I was in HS, I sang for Tom Landry (the then coach of the Dallas Cowboys) and some of the players in Thousand Oaks, CA, at their church.
21. I puke when I drink Tequila...I mean violently puke.
22. I was given in-school suspension in HS with 6 others from the class of honor Latin students for drinking on a school-sponsored trip.
23. I continued to date a guy my parents forbade me to see and my dad sold my new car.
24. I had to ride the bus my Senior year until I earned my parent's trust back.
25. I haven't been back to church regularly since my divorce from my preacher ex-husband.
26. I didn't go to college until I was in my 30's.
And because you have all been so attentive, here is a bonus that only my family knows:
27. I have ulcerative colitis and can't fart....really.

Okay, nothing is sacred now.... sigh...

The First Half of 26

I am really trying to be a good mom and actually spend some quality time with my kids before they go back to school on the 25th (the day "The Hallelujah Chorus" will ring out and the heavens will open up with floods of light).

So to do that "Quality Time", Rick gives me the "Step away from the laptop down and slowly back up. I need to see your hands!!" routine and says he will be home by lunch and we will go do something as a family.

In order to be the obedient submissive wife(snicker snicker), I am going to make this post short and sweet. Since this is my 26th post, I will give you 26 useless facts about myself over the next 2 days that the majority of you millions of fans don't know or care about:

1. I was a foster parent for 14 years and cared for over 30 kids.
2. I have never colored my hair.
3. I have this urge to help all pregnant women come up with a baby name.
4. I named 2 of my sister's kids.
5. I straighten pictures on the walls of wherever I go.
6. I notice non-significant things when watching movies. (Ex: they are about to make love and I say, "OOH, I love that headboard.")
7. I am a neat freak only about certain areas, like my silverware drawer and....that's about it.
8. I love a clean house, but hate to clean my floors.
9. We just built a new house and I whined for dark hand-scraped hardwoods and... see #8.
10. I am a yeller.
11. I am scared of birds and leave Home Depot if they are flying around in there. (Deb, I would have had to be institutionalized if I had been you!)
12. I have a Home Health with 3 male partners.
13. I call Jack, one of the partners, just so I can say, "Hey, Jack, it's Jill" because I'm weird and I think it's funny.

I know you are ALL so antsy about what lies ahead with what the next 13 might divulge, but be patient, my little ones. It will take me until tomorrow to think of that many more tidbits.

Peace out, homies.

I'm da bomb for now

I would like to thank the academy, my parents, my sisters, my husband, my kids, and my friends for the profound laughter you have allowed me to have at your expense. I could not be where I am today if it were not for your asinine antics. Thank you.


Thanks so much to my new best friend, Tena at for my kick ass award!!! I told her she was gay to snap her out of her funk and she awarded me for being a loving and caring bitch. Who'dathunk?

SOOOO, to pass on the love, I will send it to five of my favs who maybe have already received one. If so, shut the hell up and be appreciative. If not, you are sooo welcome.

1.Amelia Bedelia

2.ciii

3.Postcards from the Edge

4. Coral's Chaos

5. June Cleaver Nirvana


* Choose 5 other bloggers that you feel are “Kick Ass Bloggers”
* Let them know that they have received an award
* Link back to both the person who awarded you and also www.mammadawg.com* Visit the Kick Ass Blogger Club HQ , to get codes click here and it will take you to KABC HQ, sign Mr. Linky then pass it on!



Sorry it has taken me an entire day to do this, but I had issues, which I may be blogging about in the near future once I attend therapy........ or not.

Skymall Sickness

I have this sickness. It's an illness passed on genetically from my mom.

I am obsessed with magazines.

I subscribe to way too many. I have family and friends who give me old magazines and I read them. I pack up and move the ones I love from house to house when I change addresses. I can't throw the ones I love away until they are at least 5 years old and everything is outdated. (And even then I somewhat panic thinking that that style may become popular again and that I just tossed good info.)

I love decorating ones, ones about traveling, celebrity ones, ones that have great hairstyles, and fashion ones. (Note that nothing intellectual is listed.)

But my ALL TIME favorite magazines are the ones such as SkyMall, that have a plethora of shit you never see in the store and possibly cannot live without.

I literally spend hours looking thru them and always find something I never had seen before when I thumb thru it the 78th time.

I mean who can live without:

The 120" inflatable outdoor big screen for $249.00
The hearing-aid-disguised-as-a-cell-phone-ear-piece for only $39.99
The clinically-proven-to-promote-hair-growth laser comb for $544.99
and
The startingly unique garden Yeti that looks like Sasquatch for only $98.95?

And the coolest thing about ordering from this magazine (Yes, I ordered the nice mahogany man's jewelry box that really is a box with a power strip for all his cell phones and ear pieces with a drawer for the jewelry he doesn't wear for 99.99 plus S&H) is that you get on the mailing list of all these other cool magazines that have OTHER useless junk that you can't live without and for a small fortune can have for your very own.

I also am the one in the waiting room of your MD, Chiropractor, and Hair Salon that steals, I mean borrows, the good magazines.

That is why, HMHH, there is only Highlights and Trout and Stream left.

(Unless the Hidden Picture section is really good, then that one is gone, too!)

Pokemon Porn

I drag my lazy-still-tired-from-traveling ass out of bed this morning and with coffee in hand, sit on my couch where my laptop slept last night.

Only it wasn't asleep.

Poor Toshiba had been used and abused by a user looking up Pokemon Dress Up-Sex Games.

HMMMM...You are probably thinking, 'OMG, I WOULD BE SO PISSED!' But, if you knew my 11-soon-to-12 year old, it was actually music to my ears...eyes.(?)

Cooper, my youngest, was adopted when he was 5 weeks old and has been the eternal baby, never having to do anything around the house, getting his way in all things, and crying like a girl. These are the qualities that each of his 7 brothers and sisters remind me and him of daily.

I was actually wondering if he would ever grow up.

I am thinkin' now..maybe this is a good sign. Not that I promote Internet porn, but now that he is curious, I am far less worried about his sexual tendencies.

His older brothers would constantly harass him for whining and call him gay when I wasn't around. Then one night, Trev, my 20 yr old came to me in private and voiced his concern. "I really think he's gay, mom." I stated all the politically correct jargon like, 'I wouldn't love him any less' and 'If he is, there's nothing I can do but love him', but all the while I was panicking inside.

He doesn't dance around the house in tap shoes or wear his sister's makeup, but because he doesn't like football or ever mention any girls, Trev and John David are convinced that he will never like girls. He is much more into video games and books.

So, as sit here now I really am not worried. And I don't think I am even going to bring up to him that I know he was on the Pokemon Sex site. I will give him the same, "My computer tells me who is on and where they go" line along with my all-knowing look I have perfected, and he will secretly shit his pants and hide upstairs for 6 hours because he knows my lazy ass won't climb the stairs to confront him again.

I would send Trev and John David a text about the good news, but I fear they will let him in on the "good" sites. For now I am okay with him seeing cartoon characters getting it on. This one time.

Inquiring Minds Want to Know

Just as Amelia said, the party was lots of fun. I arrived early so we could talk and of course she put me to work....tearing lettuce for the hamburgers. Freakin' slave driver.

Just when you think you have reached the pinnacle of coolness, spend time with your young-adult children and they will tell you otherwise.

Kalee: "Hey, did you know mom BLOGS now?"
John David and Trevor: "You do?"
Me: (with slight trepidation) "Yeah."
JD: "What do you blog about?"
Me: "Y'all."
Trev: "Like a real blog?"
JD: "Don't you have to have my permission to say stuff about me?"
Me: "Nope. That's the beauty of it."
Trev JD Kalee: "You're gay."
Me: "Hey, I have like a following of people all over the world and they don't think I'm gay."
Trev: "Do you make money?"
JD: "Like how many people?"
Me: "Millions."
Kalee JD Trev: "You are so gay."

So, needless to say this entire weekend, anytime anything funny happened, my boys would, in their annoying falsetto voices, say, "Oh, I am going to blog about that!"
When we got gas, when we stopped to eat, when we stopped 27 times to pee, me and my blogging were the subjects of all the jokes.

So, to prove them wrong and make them pay:

Trev turned 20 on Sunday, so we celebrated early with the fam before Gene's party started. So after much chocolate cake and much illegally consumed beer, Mr. Birthday Boy, decides to show off his real-life athletic ability on the trampoline. He was reaching heigths of 8 ft off the trampoline when I shouted, "Do a toe touch!" After the oohs and ahhs from the crowd of family members watching, he decided to get all fancy on us and began to do these death-defying tucks and twists. After finishing, the smaller boys, ages 8-12, were patting him on the back and reminding him how cool he was, when Jacob asked, "Hey Trevor, were you a cheerleader?" herrherr

John David and Lance(Kalee's hubby), July and August's calendar models for AnheiserBusch, decide to try and outdrink each other and will never live down the puking and the inappropiate peeing EVER!!! What rookies! Point and laugh

Amelia forgot to mention to you about the self-tanner incident, which actually helped our kids tell us apart at the party: Me- no color feet, Amelia-the splotchy orange feet. We threw them off again though once the sun went down.

We laughed a LOT and just left it up to our kids to embarrass us that night.

Heading Home

The reunion of the sisters and mom was a complete success. The food was fabulous, the alcohol was plentiful and the stories were abundant.

Erin and mom, the skinny weak ones, party pooped out early and left the strong and mighty to finish the food and beer. Sigh. The sacrifices fat chicks have to make.

We are about to embark on the 8 hour trip with all 14 of us in three vehicles. The big boys are banned to one vehicle, due to their overabundance of beer and the aftermath it brings. Beer farts aplenty only to enjoyed by those who partook.

I have my rocks and sharp sticks ready and will post tonight on the specifics of the party.

Pictures and stories to follow.

Peace out.

To KNOW Her is to LOVE Her

My Dearest Amelia Bedelia,

Now, honestly, the cocoa krispie incident was not your fault. You were born the strange oddity on the back of your neck and as fate had it, with one fail swoop of a gay man's comb, it is but a shear memory.

But I love you and thus want our newest mutual cyber friends to know and love the Amelia I watched grow up.

You were always the happy oblivious one who giggled and got in trouble for never stopping. I remember the precious sound of your childhood laugh and want the others to share the joy.

It went a little somethin' like this:

Jill:"You are a retard.'
Amy: "HeeeheeeFaRRRRRRRRRt.
Jill: "Gag, you farted."
Amy: "heheheeeheeFaRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRtheeeheeeheeeFaRRRRtheeeheeeee"
Jill: "God, go to bathroom, you sicko."
Amy: "heeeeheeeeeheeFaRRRRRRRRRRtheeeheeeFaRRRRRRRRtheeeeheeeeeeFaRRRRRtheeee"
Jill: "Hahahahaa. Can you not laugh without farting?"
Amy: "HeeeheeeeheeFaRRRRRRtheeeeheeeeeeFaRRRRRRRRRt FaRRRRRRtheeeeheeeeheeeee"
Jill: "You are a retard."

And so the story goes....laughing makes you fart and farting makes you laugh. It's a vicious, vicious cycle. And God help us this weekend.

I love you.
Your loving sister,
Jill

PS: Hope you are farting as we speak.

Setting the Record Straight

I drive 8 long hours with 4 of my kids and 3 grand kids in two cars, stopping at every town for a pee break or drinks to fuel the next pee break, listening to arguing and loud music and crying, wishing I had rocks to chew on or sharp sticks to poke in my eyes...

...when I drive into Amarillo, and receive a call from Amelia. Funny, funny Amelia. She informs me to read her blog, to which I respond, I can't because Mom's computer is in the shop and mine has been locked in the hot trunk for 8 hours and would have to charge because it's a POS.

That's when she springs the news:
Her: "I blogged about the football game incident."
Me: "Which one?"
Her: "Dr. A"
Me: "You did not."
Her: "Uh huh."
Me: "You die."
Her: "K, bye, love you."
Me: "Love you, too.

So, when we pull into mom's driveway, everyone bails out and hugs and kisses and oohs and awws over the babies and I shout over my shoulder as I race into the house with my computer, "Hey, Mom, Love you. Amy blogged about the football game incident. Have to go do damage control." To which mom says, "Which football game incident?"


Okay, I just need to set the record straight:

I said "HYMEN" not "clitoris".

And That's a BIG difference!!!

And that WAS one of my most embarrassing moments, and I was happy to share that embarrassment with my entire family and friends!

It's taken me 27 years to live it down...

And I never DID get my hymen, I mean frenham, cut. The hymen, well, that was taken care of, but not by my dentist...

Stay tuned, I am digging up some dirt...