Thursday, December 31, 2009

Going out with a spare....

It's never a dull moment in my life.

The other day at the grocery store, I was rummaging through my purse for my wallet to pay. (Because I'm not an organized mother who has everything in it's place)

And out with a vengeance, came Lil Ramblers spare underwear. Like a Matrix slow motion out. Where everything else stopped in time EXCEPT her little Dora underwear.

She's newly potty trained. You parents know it's wise to carry a spare with you. Or your sweater, or pretty shirt becomes a wrap for accident prone little ones until you get home.

Well...that spare landed on the high school male cashiers, (who's seemed 17), conveyor belt. He looked at me, I looked at him. He was startled. By my kids Dora underwear! Silly non parental person.

He wasn't sure it if it was mine. And if it was mine, was it clean or dirty? And was this an 'older' ladies way of flirting with him. (I'm not sure...I threw that one in). I felt like I saw all that play out in his eyes as I slowly and painfully grabbed at her underwear.

So meekly...I said it was my kids, cause she was accident prone...I kept talking as he stared at me but through me and sprayed the area my?/lil rambler's panty touched with his disinfect spray they use for runny meats and spilt milk.

As I swiped my card to pay, I kept talking.

As he bagged my milk, ice cream, tabloid magazine, and other goods, I kept talking.

As he gave me my receipt, I kept talking.


Nervous laughter and my embarrassed apology and reassurance it wasn't mine was the absolute last thing I gave him as I pulled away.

Oi Vey.

Later that week, I offered a ride to an employee so she wouldn't have to walk to her car. I have that touch pad thingie majig that I usually use instead of digging for my keys. You know, so that I'm not standing OUTSIDE my car taunting some crazy person to come up and get me (mmmmm, like your crazy guy HipHopHippie).

So we are sitting there in the car, talking, searching (insert reminder that I'm not organized) and I'm digging and pops out.

In her lap.

And for a second I realize she thinks it might be mine. And the uncomfortableness of the cashier moment slowly made it's way into my mind.

But she's seen my kid. I'm sure my kid might have bossed her around.

"Lil Ramblers??"

"uh, yes...I wish I were that tiny" giggle, giggle, giggle.

Ask me if the spare is still in my purse?

Come on...ask me!


Well blog...goodbye to 2009.

We are thankful for the many many blog pals we have met along our 2009 journey. And what a journey it's been.

Until next year people. Be safe. Hug the ones you love.

Friday, December 18, 2009

Dear Grumbly Letters...

Dear Malls Across America,

You know those kiosks that sit in the centers of aisles that you must walk past to get to other stores? The ones that have extremely pushy salespeople that jump in your space to rub lotion on your arm, or flatten your hair or tie a skirt into a dress into a who the eff knows what else? Those people!


The anxiety level that rose in my BFF as we tried to strategically dodge one today by both sipping our Starbucks quickly...and MOCK talking into our cell phones. (I'm not sure, but I think mine was upside down...we were rushing.) weaving left

Crap, weave right when we saw him zone in on us.

Lordie, left again. Dear Hell, he's coming right at us.

Yes. This is what you have led us to.


For Petes Sakes...REALLY!


Dear Stale Coffee,

You effing SUCK.


Pissed off and tired.


Dear Celebrity that has a dark secret not known to the world,

Please come out of hiding so I can STOP listening/reading/watching about Tiger Woods. PUH-LEASE!


A tired Tiger non follower.

P.S. Remember the stale coffee.


Dear Neighbor,

Can you kindly talk INSIDE your house to whomever you call on your cell phone,late at night? I really don't want to hear you speak of your rash, or your 'conquest', or you fat boss, or get it?



Rather listen to Sex in the City talk about their rash, conquest, fat boss, etc...


Dear Christmas Tree Seekers,

I got the last one at Target....SUCKA'S


I know, not nice.


Dear Post Office at Christmas time,


My tired best,

*Sigh again*


Dear Douchebag driving like it's a Nascar Race Track at the Mall,



Former Hall Monitor


Thursday, December 10, 2009

I must remember....I am 34 and he is...3. (and other tidbits)

It's been about a month since my three year old has been in preschool.

It's been great.

I decided to go on my three year old's first field trip to a Children's Discovery Center. (Awesomely Awesome by the way).

I was paired with my kid and her little boyfriend. BLESS his heart. If every little boy could be like him....I know she'll marry a good man. Oh and I only 'lost' him 3 times. Don't tell.

(I also praise any adult that actually WANTS to take 75 children OUT of the preschool. Between the ages 2-4. I seriously bow my head down.)

BUT, (and there is always a but), I met HIM.

The absolute complete opposite of my daughter's adorable future husband. The one that MY husband fears my daughter will choose cause he's the bad ass. The rebel. The one us girls can't stay away from.

The KID that just screams at your insides and scratches his nails on your inner chalkboard of a soul.

That is mean...just to be mean.

Your 3?

How in the hell can you be such a little sh&t?

I mean poopyhead?

I mean...not nice.

(as I recited to my little one when she complained why was he mean to her)

I sorta noticed this little hellion her second week but thought nothing of it.

But after spending two hours with Satan's spawn, I had to keep reminding myself....I am 34 and he is 3. They are children. They will 'work' it out.

It became my mantra that day at the Children's Discovery Center.

Kids were everywhere, learning, sharing, not sharing, listening, not listening....and I silently thanked the blessed teachers who were probably praying for a flask of alcohol to get them through the day.

I kid.

Only cause we love Teacher Amazing & Teacher Awesome.


I kept swatting at my legs this morning while waiting for my husband to let me back into the house after uh, locking myself out while walking the dog.

I looked down cause the 'flies' kept annoying me.


I need to shave my legs.

Whoa...I REALLY need to shave my legs.

And my eyebrows if my BFF has anything to add to that. (right BFF?)


Saskia over at Saskia's Spot takes the most amazing photos and she is absoTUTELY fantastic.

Thanks for the little holiday cheer that came my way!!

Go check her out! Tell her hello!

Anyone so refined and lovely that enjoys my antics has to be awesome :)


My job never gets boring.

While leaving work the other night, around nightclub time, a co-worker and I watched, (and giggle-smirked), a girl pull up to the elevator thinking someone was going to valet her car, then get back in when the security guard was walking by saying she needed to PARK her car herself.

And THEN watched her slooowwwwlllly pull into....

.....a parked car, and not the empty spot next to it.

The poor security guard told her to back up...but halt heart attacked while I shrieked and ran like a frantic not so graceful paranoid person realizing my car was in her back up path of destruction ..

"Whoa...let me move my car, before crazy drunk chic backs up real slooowwwlllly into it".

So the guard put/sacrificed his body by positioning himself between my car and hers to let me save my chariot from sure stupidity of drunk girl driving.

All while her semi drunk friends all slurred to her...


Who lets these people drive?


I'm sorry I haven't been around. I always get stressed out around this time.

I wrote about it last year so I'll just link you there. It's not my normal funny so don't go without tissue.


Happy Holidays Bloggy Peeps.

Happy Holidays!