It's OFFICIAL...the earth has shifted and I have become MY mother

That's right folks.

You heard it here first. I am MY mother.

Dear Planet Earth help us. (I kid Mom.)

I've suspected for about a year that I was slowly transforming into someone else. Someone that many doors become slammed on, fingers pointed at for reasons of frustrated tears, eye rolling over mundane things said by me. How could I evoke eye rolling because of the awesomeness of the words that come out of my mouth??? HOW?

And then it hit me.

While on a little excursion with my mother, my many jabs at how she was turning into her mother triggered some little reality inside my noggin that said...."Ding, dong...guess who YOU are?"

I argued with Reality for a bit.

I.Am.Not.

Eekk....that's just what my mother said about her not being her mother.

Eekkk again.

I started going through some mental list of possible offenses.

1. When we are driving I talk to my mother like her license should be taken away.

Just like she does about Grandma Rambler...(well in my mothers defense...G.Rambler is effing scary to drive with..but back to my point)

2. My level of patience?

Is ALL her. With a little bit of my laid back father poking through. But he never had a chance against her. Anxiety and paranoia always kick calm cool & collected to the side on occasion. She has absolutely NO patience with my grandmother. Zilch. It's thin already when she knows they will be in each others presence.

3. I started carrying a purse....the mommy purse....loaded with work things, me things, receipts of stores from 2 weeks ago, Lil Rambler stuff....

Envision my eyes rolling at my mother while she digs for something for someone to give them anything they might need.

Just like she does with her mother.

4. I started napping when I had a moment to read a magazine on the couch.

5. The kitchen became a place to be excited about rather than afraid.

6-1000.Doing laundry, picking up toys, going grocery shopping, planning doctor and dentist visits, teaching a little one to pick up after themselves, being a hairstylist.

All of this....is/was everything my mother does/did.

And now, it's my turn.

So, I told my mother in mock desperation with how I had been pushed off the edge by my old self into the depths of this new person who so closely resembled her. (Do you hear the drama here people?)

She listened patiently (as all mothers do, to ranting lunatic 30 something daughters), and let me hem and haw. I ended my speech of pain and torture and told her this was way too soon. She told me to accept it...as she enjoyed this new version of a mini-her.

So all I could do to 'fight' back with was....

if I was her....then she was her mother.

(Insert evil laughter)

But seriously folks, everyday I feel myself changing, moving forward in this journey of my life, becoming a better version of the person I was yesterday. And if it means I am similar to the woman who birthed me. Life will be good.

(Just don't tell my mother I said I enjoy being like her....because I will deny deny deny.)

Mermaid out of water.

Spending the day with my daughter at one of the most beautiful places to be 'beached' at.

Lanikai Beach.

If you haven't seen what my genius has been up to please visit here. I promise you'll thank me. At least, I think you will.

I'm here people....but really over there....

I know I'm not here....but my life is resuming back to normal as of Saturday.

For now here's a snippet of what's you'll find over at So Not Mom-a-licious as she asked for guest bloggers and I totally was like....um...hellllllllooooooo.

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Do you know how it feels to beg, plead, bribe, flatter someone so they'll let you take over their blog...for a moment?

That would be me. (Ahem, my name is The Rambler over at My Rambling Thoughts.)

Someone I have been reading for a long bloggy time has requested anyone out there to volunteer to man her blog as she moves her life from San Diego to Texas.

I was like....Uh, uh, pick me, pick me...uh uh (waving hand wildly, but fearing the teacher won't pick me), right here, hello, here (make eye contact dang it)..

Yeah. That was me.

Janah had no choice but to look at me. (evil laughter.. I have won).....

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For more....go go go here please please please.


I do promise I will be around this weekend blogfriends. Hope you are all well.

Dear (insert something) letters,

Dear Exercise,

I hate you. I hate you. I hate you.

Sincerely,

Overweight Ihateyou the Second.

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Dear Wii Fit,

Yeah. I.fuhreaking.know.

Signed,

Shamed while couch potatoing it with a box of wheat thins.

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Dear Punk Kids on the Freeway,

Driving with a car in each lane and slowing down the traffic so no one could pass you guys for 10 exits?

NOT COOL!

Signed,

Anxiety driven, over tired mother

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Dear Weather Gods.

Please be nice on Sunday. BFF's wedding day. Please?!

Signed,

Willing for it to storm many days in hopes on one great day for Sunday


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Dear Husband,

Enjoy your 'work' trip on the East Coast for two weeks.

Signed,

Your "Don't worry I got it" Wife

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Dear Cousin in Law,

Thank.you. for.flying.to.Hawaii.to.watch.my.kid.so.I.can.work.and.be.helpful.with.BFF.wedding.

Signed,

LOVE YOU LONG TIME!

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Dear Blog,

Gonna be a busy week. Might be missing under a slew of activities this next two weeks.

Signed,

*Sigh*

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Dear Blog Friends,

Wanna try to win a homemade warming pad? See my sister's blog.

Signed,

Nepotism runs strong here at MRT, Inc.

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Toodles...

Karma paid my husband a visit...

So, I'm not entirely gloating here or feeling like someone in the universe gave me a little justice.

Buttttt.....

My husband was being a tad douchie the other night. Being a good wife and Samaritan I decided to ignore his douchieness!

When he had a tantrum that matched our three year old, he went into the room while my angelic ways continued in the living room.

I heard a thud and a not so nice word coming from my bedroom door.

When I went to investigate I realized he had sat on his computer chair to hard.

And.it.broke.

(Buwhahahahaha...see what happens when your evil to your wife?)

Karma comes a knocking.


High Five Karma Fairy, High.Five.

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For the record, I don't ever wish ill harm to my husband. I closed the door and snickered without him seeing! What kind of wife do you take me for?

Toodles!!

What a weekend, what a weekend.

Where do I start?

Between getting a call from one of my musicians singing happy birthday over the phone and another serenading me in the middle of my bar, your bloggy birthday wishes, my personal facebook birthday love, and all my family and friends...I most definitely felt loved that day. So as we say here in Hawaii...Mahalo Nui Loa.


It was quite a weekend and I promised you that this next post would be about....

"What happens when Rambler throws a Sex and The City Party?"

Well.....holy whoa is all I have to say.

I decided to host a party for most of my female staffers after hours in our bar for camaraderie's sake and to just mix, mingle and hang out with each other.

Our original premise was to gather and have a movie night (Sex and The City).


And somehow it came along with an innocent presentation from an old employee showing us the latest and greatest toys. Of the sexual nature. (blush) They are called Passion Parties.

Again, I assumed innocence and that it couldn't be too wild. Right?

Imagine 25 of my girl employees, 2 Cosmo Martini Towers that held 5o+ martinis (cause it's what the girls in Sex and the City would drink...duh), a naughty cake that would make a porn star ecstatic and a leopard clothed 'pleasure/treasure' chest filled with lotions, creams and 'other goodies'.

Um.... all I can really say is a LOT of giggling went on, silly games that made us laugh even more and a feel and touch of certain products to 'understand' it's purpose (more drunken nervous giggling) and being given names that were 'dirty' that started with the first initial of our name. Oh my.

Some things you might have heard had you been in attendance....

"You put that where?"

"Ohhhhh, febreeze for vajayjays"

"Erm, um, his what goes THERE?"

"Ohhh, it does tingle."

"Girls (said scoldingly) that is NOT lotion for your arms!" (Sex consultant to slightly inebriated Rambler and fellow staff member thinking the febreeze vajayjay lotion was a body lotion)


Yeah. it was a really interesting weekend :)

I do wish I could share photos...but the fear my grandmother will ever see this blog frightens me. (tee hee) Although, she and my aunt baked me pee pee cookies for my bridal shower. (shoulder shrug)

Another Year, Another Day....A sweet message from above?

Yesterday was a really GREAT day. So great it's been a while I think since I felt so great.

This song has been playing on my IPOD so I thought I'd share with you while you read this post....an oldie but a goodie I say.



Back to story...

My mother had called to see if me and the kid could take her on for an emergency tooth repair on her lunch break. Of course with all she does, I said we would be there. The tricky part of getting her is that traffic is so all over the place that my drive to her could be either 10 minutes or 30 minutes. (On the really bad days...an hour..blahhhh).

The kid and I went for our usual coffee and bagel at our favorite "Cocoa" Place/Starbucks. Enjoying the time with each other made me proud to be her mama.

When the coffee was drank, and the bagels eaten we set off to pick up Nana Rambler.

The traffic had cut me a break and I arrived to my mothers office building with 15 minutes to spare so I decided to stop by my fathers grave to visit and say a quick hello.

My daughter who's three got out and we said hello...and I don't know why but I asked her to sit by his tombstone so I could get a quick pic on my Boyphone with her and her Papa H.



As soon as I had clicked the photo a pure YELLOW butterfly fluttered right past us and hung around.

I love YELLOW. My father apparently loved YELLOW. That color has been the physical reminder as my father at my graduation and wedding thanks to friends and family members.

In the 16 years I've been visiting his grave I've never seen a butterfly, let alone a yellow butterfly...let alone a PURE yellow.

I strangely felt it was him and little tears sprung to my eyes and I had to catch my breath from the surprise of it. Was I reaching to far to think that it was a sign from him?

I sent that picture off to my two sisters and shared the story. That maybe Dad had paid a visit in his way.

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Adding to this was that my favorite CCBFF (crackity crack BFF)/cousins wife from California is coming back to help me with the kid while my husband travels to Connecticut for work. After frantic calling around to arrange sitters for her dogs (my cousin is a fireman so he's gone many days in a row at a time), she secured her ticket back to sun, sand and a three year old that will be her little shadow.

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And...well...today is my birthday. And I felt really loved with a lot of early well wishes. I tell you this not in an arrogant sort of way but in a "Gee, maybe I'm an ok gal after all" kind of way. Like a little shocked that people think of me at all way.

I bid you all adieu.

Tune in for my next post....

"What happens when Rambler throws a Sex and the City Party?"

(I swear I haven't promised porn people I would say the word sex a trillion times in my post)

Long Absence makes the blogheart fonder....tales of sex shops, bridal parties, and other misc. things

Did I get you at sex shop?

Did you just go back to read my title?

I know...where the hell I been right?

RIGHT!?

You've missed me a bit?

Right?

I realize it's been over 3 whole weeks since I've posted last...that's like 3 years in blogtime I think. Where do I start?

Maybe...the sex shop?

Yeah. Alright. You twist my arm, I talk. (Rambler stretching arm toward you)

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I'm not a frequent goer to the sex shop. I blush every time I pass one. I pretend I don't know about things like dildo's and blow up dolls.

So when BFF's bridal party sleepover came up, it was time to suck it up (my courage, you dirty's) and put on the sexy no grandma style panties and drag my Crackity Crack Family BFF with me. She vacations in Hawaii from California and I tell her she must go with me.

Our husbands watch the kids....and we go. At nighttime....since for some reason it seems more seedy and appropriate to walk into a sex shop for bachlorette toys and games. I debated wearing a sign that said that.

We drive there, and I'm giggling. Me and the CCFBFF talk about the crazy things they sell in there. (NOT that we would KNOW things like that). I told her the last time I walked in about 2 years ago for a past bridal shower I threw, the cashier screamed a welcome as I entered so others would look at the new 'arrival'. (FOR.THE.LOVE.)

I was alone. It was intimidating looking at boobies, and va jay jays and ding dongs because they can't help but jump at you as you make your way to the bacholerette section in the FAR rear of the store.

Going with someone is soooo much better. More giggling....more snickers...and wonder of how something so ahem, cough, ...big...could be comfortable. Let alone pleasurable.

Anywhoodle. Complete with dirty charade games and stick the slong on the hot macho man poster and candies with naughty words on it, we were outta there. (THANK.GOD.)

But not without scaring a couple with our conversation walking back to the car that included words like "What do they do to the plastic sheep?"..."Anal beads??" "Double headed??? What does that mean?"

Ahhhh, it's all about the good times in life...RIGHT?

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My family was visiting in town and somehow I channeled my inner Martha Stewart and got more domesticated than I ever have.

It's great hosting family. No, for real. I had a good time doing it.

We tourist'ed around Oahu, put my diet on a serious scare due to excessive junk food eating, and let the sun bake my profoundly white skin back to a normal Hawaiian skinned color.

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So the bridal shower was great. Some of her besties got together. We had such grand plans of streaking through the 5 star hotel after dinner, jumping in the pool, or checking out the lagoons. Drinking like when we were 19.

But we weren't 19.

We had a fantastic dinner at a restaurant down the road, drank good wine, ate amazing food and closed the restaurant down. (I know Hip Hop Hippie...I know...baddddd Rambler)

And the hotel shuttle that was supposed to be there due to this answer when I asked the driver how long the shuttle ran.

"Every half hour"

Apparently that was NOT correct. So we walked it back....which was totally fine. So 5 drunk girls walk around 11ish back to the hotel.

We got back to the room and we slowly realized we couldn't hang like the old times.

The bride passed out first, and then before I knew it I was snoring like a banshee.

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So maybe I'll stop here... I'm slowly making it back into reading everyone's blog soon.

And I'm wishing my first lil sis Antibloggedy luck and support today. She's making a hellavu decision today.

Until later folks.

Just getting outside....

Sorry for being so MIA lately.

Just trying to get back into real life.

Be back soon.

The Husband...Me....and everything including the kitchen sink.

My husband and I are like from two different planets.

My world of fairy tales and unicorns with barbie dolls mixed in.

And his planet of G.I. Joe's and heavy laden tanks with a dallop of all things computer.

We aren't alike in any way. (Um, obviously...boys have penis's es and girls have vagina's....what movie was that?)

When he looks at a computer he visualizes it's insides and how every screw, wire and whatever else computer geeky has it's purpose.

Me? I wonder what blogs I'm going to visit.

He tried once to bring me into his world. I really did try.

We had just moved in with each other and he always took care of all things mechanical. That day he decided to take me to my car to 'educate' me. (Buwhahahahaha). We opened the hood and I could see his mind just whirling away with how the car engine operated.

Me. I wondered how long this would take.

He proceeded to point out things to have me and it's function. My girlie brain tried so hard to focus and when asked to repeat the whole "the leg bone is connected to the..." but insert engine parts I would be connecting the washer fluid to the radiator?? Wait, is it connected to the radiator?? Eh...see!

Poor guy. He tried.

And when he crosses over into my world a bit, it's a tad humorous.

He went to the store for me. I had to be real specific for him because he does not know how to deviate from the list if I am too vague.

We were making a pasta dinner and had our mind set on that. When I opened my box of noodles out came some nasty bugs...yuck..gag...yuck...gag.

He offered to get some new noodles and I mentioned I wanted a certain kind, and wasn't exactly sure of the name. But he knew what they looked like.

He had come home with a tale of complete man breakdown while deciding between two different noodles. Standing there. Sweating it out a little bit. Panicky. Over noodles.

I buwhahahahaha'd with him. Silly man.

But...I digress a little.

I had for some lame reason dumped my bugged out noodles that had semi cooked into the garbage disposal. Apparently the noodles that didn't get properly cut up expanded more while 'trying' to go through the U-shaped pipe and caused a major malfunction.

I clogged the sink.

Me and the kid sat there while dinner was cooking. He unclogged, noodles disbanded all over the kitchen floor with me murmuring that I would clean it. (ahem...the shame of being completely ignorant of throwing things down the drain that would fare better in the trash can). Him, anazlying and doing whatever he does well. Thank God he was there.

Cause I would have just kept standing there looking at my clogged sink hitting the switch for the garbage disposal.

*Happy and content Sigh*...our two planets. They keep revolving around each other. Both co-existing in the same universe. Our kid being our sun and moon.

It would be empty without him around.

(as much as I hem and haw about him being around...giggle).

To you honey, I raise my Fruity Martini to your Beer.

Here's to my cooking dinner and you unclogging my mess!

Me and Stray Cats....Just.Don't.Get.Along!!

Some of you all know that I've had my run in's with my neighborhood stray ninja cats.

Well....I got paid a visit the other night after work.

My family and I live in a townhouse. We occupy the upstairs unit.

So imagine stairs to my front door.

Imagine me coming home after midnight.

Imagine it being dark. Really dark. (For theatrics sake)

Imagine me flipping the outside light on from the BOTTOM of my stairs so I can see the keyhole when I get to the top.

Imagine my surprise when I flipped the light on...I find a cat digging around in the garbage bag my husband left outside the front door to take out 'later in the morning on his way out'.

It was a black cat.

I had taken two steps upward in the same motion of flipping the light on and startled the beegeesus out of the cat and as it hissed and felt cornered it jumped on top of the railing by my front door and we had a stare down.

I took many steps back....cause I'm the biggest chicken sh*t in the world...especially when tired and cranky after a long hard strenuous work day (yes....the violins are playing for my whine and cheese story).

I silently curse my husband for leaving the trash out. I wonder if I'll have to go back to my car because if you read the other ninja cat story you'll understand my hesitation to proceed.

I'm sweating. And panicking.

So is the cat.

And then it freaking jumps off the railing to the tree away from where I am. But the leaping thing made me think it was leaping in mid air to attack me.

So I sorta threw my purse down, and covered my face and head and squealed in mock pain like it had hit me.

Then the tiny little rational person inside me, who had tried explaining that I outweighed the furball by a trillion pounds and that I was the person, IT was the animal....and that along the food chain of things I ranked superior, heard tree branches and scrambling of 4 tiny disgusting vile feet make it's way beyond me.

So it's past midnight. My purse is on the ground by the slugs because I didn't pay much attention when I frigged out. My nerves were beyond shot. And I need to go to my front door but the paranoia plays mean mind games on me thinking the cat was still in the tree right by my front door and would lunge for my face and rip out my eyeballs.

So I did what any completely silly person would do. I ran up my steps with my slugged slimed-ed purse to my face and opened up 2 doors, (since when the hell did my husband close both doors? I close the second door when I get in...), 4 locks with trembling hands and escaped what I'm sure was a near death experience.

And I'm sure that if ANY of my neighbors (or husband) had been up at the late late hour I would have looked/felt/seemed more pathetic than I was.

Sigh.

Some days it sucks to be me.

I hate cats.

The stray kind.

Interviewing can be interesting....

I've been in management for over 10 years and I have to say...

I've interviewed some really interesting characters.

Before an interview I usually like to designate someone to 'watch me'. Just in case I don't know how to politely end the interview. I don't care what they say just please come by and say it's the effing President on the phone and I have to end the interview.

Below are some of the people I get to interview at least once a month...

The Over-Talker-InterviewEE-turned-InterviewER.
(The OTITI..I know what it sounds like)

The person kind of sneaks up on you. Beware. It's innocent really, because they are dressed nice, good eye contact. They brought a pen to the interview!

(My pet peeve. To me, it's like going there without a shirt on...always be prepared. Bring a pen. You should only have to ask me for an application.)

The OTITI immediately takes over the conversation in an instant.

She/He speaks quickly and without breathing. While you stand there and attempt many inserts of your own questions, they rattle on. Oblivious to the fact the manager has not been able to ask one question except to say..."Hi, my name is Boss Rambl..."

My mind wanders a bit in between attempts. "How many pots of coffee has she had" "Will she shut up so I can ask a question" "Too bad, she looked normal"

My Designator was busy 'flirting' with a pretty gal who'd just come to his bar. (Damn him, must remember to pick more reliable Designator)

The Awkward-Quiet-My-Mother-Told-Me-to-Get-A-Job

This is a kid that usually sits on their behind at home. Just graduated from high school, maybe. Completely unmotivated. Their mother just wants them to get OUT OF THE HOUSE. (I don't blame her).

This makes for a most awkward interview because of their one word answers to all your questions.

Or blank looks because they can't believe they had to dress up with a nice shirt and tie and sit at a table with an "old" lady and answer questions.

For me, this is an easy interview to end quickly.

Don't call me, I'll call you kind of thing.

The-Don't-Look-Me-In-The-Eyes-Person

I grew up learning to shake hands firmly and look people in the eyes. Shifty eyes can be unsettling and uncomfortable.

This person from the moment you shake hands looks over, around and below you. I find myself secretly brushing past my mouth, nose and eyes blindly searching for remnants of food, buggers and or crap attached to my face in an unattractive way. Or checking to see if my bra strap is showing or toilet paper is stuck on my shoe. All at the same time. Because shifty eyes makes me nervous.

I ask my questions. I get answers but with very little to no eye contact. Again, I wonder if the spinach I ate days ago is somehow lodged still between my two front teeth. Very distracting for a person like me doing an interview.

And usually after the interview...I go to a mirror to check myself out.

Gotta catch another thing...Person

"Dude...you the manager?"

"Yes?" (Oh God)

"So, do you have to work hard here?"

"Um..." (Oh Lord. Really?)

"Cause I need money...but I don't enjoy working. Dude."

"Erm...I'm not hiring right now" (As I hide the Now Hiring sign)


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So words of advice from Boss Rambler here.

Bring a pen, shake hands firmly but not WWF-ly, make good eye contact, and let the interview be a two way conversation.

Random Tidbits to start of my week.

A little happy jam to start our morning. Heard this on It's Sherendipity blog. Don't need to watch the video...just hear the music as you read on.


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It was the kids' 3rd birthday Sunday.

Hots Dogs, Teriyaki Burgers, Bubbles and Bouncy House.

We had a blast.

Lil Rambler had the best day.


Small confession. I can't sing Happy Birthday to HER without choking up inside. I am in awe of her, and just being a mother to her, and loving someone as much as her that it literally knocks the breathe out of me when everyone is singing around her while she glows. She makes a mommy proud.

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On to hot dogs and the never ending asking of this question.

WHY in the world do hot dogs come in packs of 8 and the buns come in packs of 10?

WHY?

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I promised Mo "Mad Dog" Stoneskin a cold one while he started his Monday trekking through blog land. Hoping he stops by for his beer. Wasting beer is bad isn't it? :)

He's a great writer and has American Moms going gaga for him.

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Another moment brought to you from my job.

This person ate all their food. They then told the server it needed to be taken off the bill because they refuse to pay for it. Server was nervous and asked me to speak to the table.

Of course. That is why I wear the manager badge. So that I can get my ass chewed out on a daily basis for ridiculous reasons.

I politely, professionally and firmly explained because most (98%) of the meal was eaten I could do nothing. The person thought I was the most ridiculous person on the planet.

People. Its like eating all your Big Mac and taking the empty wrapper back to the cashier and saying you didn't like it and want your $1.50 back. Crazy right?

*shaking head* I'm getting too old for this sh*t!

btw...I did not budge. He paid for the meal he ate.

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I have started potty training. It's tricky. Well actually my daughter is tricky.

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Have a great week everyone!!

Think About It Thursday #27....Time's up

You movie stars had some great answers to last weeks..."If your life were made into a movie what would it be called and who would star as YOU". Read some of last week's comments.

Aunt of 14 said...

Right off the bat... a straight version of Rosie o Donnell would play the part of me. And she'd have to dye her hair blonde. And the movie would be called "The Boring Life of a Neurotic Blogger"

Ao14...I laughed so hard for some reason. I heart Rosie...and would so watch your movie!!

One Sassy Girl said...

Well, the most humorous times of my life are when I'm with my gays (no, I'm not Kathy Griffin), so I'd be played by Charlize Theron (cause who wouldn't want that?!) and her co-stars would be a gaggle of gorgeous gay men like Rupert Everett and TR Knight.
The title would be "Megan and her Gay Menagerie" or maybe "The Gay Collector"
It would be a Rom-Com where I'd be swept off my feet by Gerard Butler (a girl can dream) while her gay friends would make witty jokes about hot he is.
I'm off to write the screenplay now ;)

Who doesn't love a movie with a girl and her gays? mmmmm...Gerard....mmmm....share some alright.

hotpants™ said...

I'd call it Sarcasm's Underrated. I think Rachel McAdams could play me.

I love the title. And Rachel McAdams is one of my favorites. She had me at Notebook.

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I was going through some of my old posts and came upon this one when only myself was reading my blog. And I knew I wanted to use it for this week's Think About It Thursdays...


"If your time was up today, have you done what you've wanted to accomplish in life? Do you feel you made a difference in someones life?"


Think away blogfriends. I can't wait to read some of your thoughts!!

Random Grumblings of a Restaurant Worker...

Most of you that have been reading me for a bit know that I manage a restaurant in Waikiki. If not, well....um....I manage a restaurant in Waikiki. (smart ass...right...it's what your thinking?)

And the past month or so I find myself shaking my head at the lack of common sense that people have when they visit the latrine/the loo/the john/the powder room/the little ladies room...

Why do people NOT flush the toilet at my restaurant.

1. They do work. (Because when I adorn the gas mask and kick the lever to flush, IT WORKS!)
2. They are NOT automatic flushers. (And if they were, wouldn't you realize after pulling up the panties that it didn't flush. Don't people WAIT for their toxic wastes to disappear in sewer land?)

Okay and one more thing on this one...the days where I open a door to make sure it looks clean and doesn't need a refill on toilet paper and am surprised with poop on the walls and the door...I'm confused.

I didn't notice anyone walk out of the stall with fecal matter all over their clothes? Because again...my toilets are in good working condition. So what happened that my bathroom got 'blessed' with your crap and YOU didn't? The kind that makes me rethink allowing drunk people in the bathrooms? Wait...is it that all those people are drunk? Nah...too easy.

I'm not asking for much people. I do work hard. I know it's part of my job. BUT come ON. I would like to keep the gas mask to just my home for use by my husband or myself. (he says I'm stinky...but I'm sure it smells like roses. **snicker, snicker**)

Think about me next time you visit your favorite restaurant and go potty.

Pull the panties up. Turn around. Kick the lever with your foot (cause that's what I was told), Watch it flush. Exit the bathroom stall. Wash your hands. Viola. Easy peasy.

Be kind.

And flush.

Or I'll do it and leave you with NO toilet paper. And you won't know until AFTER....buwahahahahaha.

I kid.

Kinda.

A stir of memories...

I was perusing through blogland and stumbled on Vodkamom's blog and saw this video she posted a couple of days ago.



I love watching the ones where some random place has a zillion regular people doing a random choreographed dance to a song. This particular song always makes me smile. At some point at least a couple of times a year, you might catch me humming it.

In fact, this movie bonded me to my grandfather. Two people, related, but not really 'connected'. And this movie gave us a connection of being our favorite. And maybe it's why I loved this movie even more. Because I will always have THIS connection. Or whatever that corny saying..."We'll always have this dance.." is.

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Today just brought me back to some things that I hadn't 'forgotten' but hadn't thought about in a while. And when the memory is connected somehow to my father, a range of emotions flood me. Sometimes it's happy and warm and I can go about my day.

Other times I find myself in a startling reminder of realizing he isn't physically with me. Even though, come this January, it will be 17 years.

Half my life is coming up without him not being in it. How did time move so fast but feel like an eternity at the same time?

I spoke with a man about the Big Island (Hawaii) today at work. It was the last place I had lived with my dad. Memories of the things/places/people we spoke of brought a smile to my heart. It had been a while since I had thought of these cobwebbed pieces of a long ago life.

I often wonder about the unfinished life that might have been had he not died. Some days, I let my mind wander far down it's path. Those are the hard days that feels like life is punching me in the guts. When life told me my dad's time was up.

But I know better.

Everything has it's reasons. Any ONE thing in my life that would be different, ultimately would change where I am today.

And where I am today, is being my beautiful daughters mother. That always brings me back.

The ONE thing I am most certain of in my life.

Forgive the tangent today. It's the song and the innocent conversation with a stranger.

It triggered me today and made the memories stir.

Think About it Thursdays #26...Your life on the big screen

Yes. We took a little break. But it's OK. We, meaning me and Think About It, are back to ask YOU what you think.

Thank you to those that really LET IT OUT about who bugged them...

Saskia said...

This question is easy-peasy to answer.

MY BOSS.

Urgh he is the most horrid man IN THE WHOLE WORLD.

~ He has the biggest beer gut
~ And an egg shaped head
~ He is red
~ He bought his wife from a website in Thailand specialising in pretty young wives for rich red old men
~ He has "enemies" by his own admission
~ He knows EVERYTHING about EVERYTHING and is NEVER WRONG of course, by his own admission (and no one else's)

And yesterday he told me off for using a paperclip instead of a stapler!!!!!!!

AAHHHHHHHH.

And breathe.

I'm looking for a new job. Looking really, really hard.

Saskia x

Oh Saskia...you made me feel your pain. 'And breathe' was my favorite part.

Tooj said...

The fast guy in traffic.
The slow guy in traffic.
My stepson's mother.
My stepson's grandmother.
Sometimes my husband.
Sometimes my children.
Sometimes my siblings.
Sometimes my parents.
The KKK.
The Neo Nazis.
Lindsay Lohan.
Perez Hilton.
The Real World cast.
The Bachelorette casting directors.
Punk a$$ kids today.

Did you want to know why?

This was my favorite comment that day!!

**************
On to this weeks question....

"If your life story were told on the big screen what would the title be and who would you want to star as you?"

Don't hold back...:)

Me and Time Out...are like this!

Just added my post to Cammie's Kids Say What Carnival.

In this house...I use my husband as the threat to get my kid that turns into some out of control 28 pounds of madness to "cool it".

In this house...The Rambler is usually on the brink of tiredness from the paying job and the non paying job (parenting) that it seems my child knows how to 'work me' over.

In this house...my husband usually wears the pants of discipline.

In this house...Lil Rambler comes to me for comforting.

But something happened the other day that tilted our normal Rambler world. That shifted my husband's cosmic hold on Lil Ramblers way of disciplinary life.

Me and Lil Rambler (yah, yah...I should of said Lil Rambler and I...) had a timeout. And I thought for sure she would be the victor of the 'game'.

But I was persistent. I kept plopping back the angry little imp in her timeout seat.

The TV went off.

Toys were taken out of her reach.

Her juice was put in the refrigerator...(her one chance of trying to escape).

And we had ourselves a standoff.

Evil stares were thrown my way. I did not waver.

Runny nose was snotted my way. I did not falter.

I asked of her one thing. To say she was sorry. And I asked nicely.

While she temper tantrum-ly refused.

I have to say that I kept my cool, for once. My brick wall of "I am the parent, you are the child" was strong. Supernanny would have been proud.

She cried. I almost buckled. She knows my kryptonite.

But I said almost. Because I gently asked again if she was sorry.

And her little arms flailed and her legs kicked with venom. And her tears turned to an angry sea of terror.

Touche little one, you almost had mommy there.

Timeout sat next to me and said to keep it up. She won't stop loving you because of this. She won't hate you and start packing her toddler suitcase to look for a better mother. She will always love you and she needs this.

Then a half hour (that felt like infinity...since it was me and her in our stare down of the century) came and she had had enough.

With only drama that could come from my side of the family, she whimpered....

"You win Mama...you are the champion...you are the light..."

WHAT? That coulda happened....Alright, alright....she didn't say THAT. (giggle.)

"Immmmm....ssoooorraaaahhhyyy.....Mammmaaammm"

I held out my arms and our life went resumed back to normal. (If Timeout were a real living person we'd be high fiving like a bunch of crazee's)

Well, not exactly. When I said that our world changed a little. It did. Because that night, while out to dinner, Lil Rambler acted up and USUALLY daddy just has to look at her. And it didn't work. He said something. That didn't work. She put out a little more attitude than she usually does with her father. And it got to him.

But then all I said was "Timeout?" and the Lil Rambler knew who was boss in this house!

10 zillion for Lil Rambler.....11 zillion for Daddy Rambler....and finally...TWO for the Rambler.

Pass on a high five, if you please...

Fiauna is someone that's been around my blog for a while...she posted the cutest thing today that her daughter kind of started around her home.

It's the high five coat...go check it out. It's simple, but I thought it would be nice if you drop by and say hey and give a girl a high five!

If you please. :)

And then...life happened.

I know I've been bitter Betty lately....or Negative Nancy.

Whatever name that describes crankiness and as non-tolerant as one can be....it has my picture next to it.

But for a brief moment this week I was given a gift.

I witnessed for the first time the birth of a baby.

Yes, that's right. My first time.

I know I'd given birth to one, but it's quite different being on the other end of the spectrum.

If you ask around these Rambler parts, I do NOT have the strongest stomach. My gag reflex and vomit button are connected to my 2 senses that are vital to being of any help.

Smell and sight.

So just because I might be able to close my eyes to help you, if something is pretty narly smelling on you chances are.....the gag reflex is gonna trigger the vomit in me and I'm a mess. And you still need help...well, now WE both need help.

My own mother wasn't sure how I was gonna deliver.

When my cousin (you know, the one who I mentioned forced me to read Twilight...I swear, last time, as I've managed to slip in Twilight AGAIN) called me Monday morning and invited me to be in the hospital room as she gave birth later that evening...my first and most natural instinct response was

"Of fricking course. Call me when you actually get a room and settled"

Erm, who am I and what did I do with myself?

It was her third and that crazy it's my first child I'll get to the hospital a zillion hours early with my family and a BBQ in tow was of her past.

I had prior plans to meet the BFF's and have a girls night out and still had time to do it.

While dining early with the girls, I had had a glass of wine and had received text messages that she had finally got a room...cause it was 'busy' and so the low priority pregnant ladies had to wait until a room was available. Can you imagine? Waiting for a room and being pregnant and wanting to just give birth already?

Anywho....I'd had a glass of wine like I mentioned and I had questions. My two BFF's were present at the birth of Lil Rambler and I asked..."How bad was it?"

They know me. They know I'm weak in the stomach.

My BFF was funny.

"um...it smelt like vagina??" said not in a disgusting way, just trying to get across to me...to be prepared.

"WHAT?" me totally being a drama queen and thinking I was going to vomit.

"Maybe wet vagina, I guess?" Important because I use this very sentence later...in front of medical professionals.

"Oh. God." Me...sweating it...my BFF's laughing cause again, I. am. dramatic.

Another glass of wine and I was on my way to the hospital...with words of wisdom from them.

"Don't pass out...remember it's about the baby."

I get there. I call for the room number again because my two glasses of wine brain couldn't remember and the last thing I wanted to do was walk into the wrong room with some pregnant lady and whoever was supporting at some inappropriate time.

I threaten my cousins husband via the phone that if he sends me to the wrong room because he's bored...I'll kick his ass in the hallway. He laughs. I swear more, but whisper swearing out of respect for where I am.

I open the door with hesitation.

Whew. Its the right door.

My cousin and I have been with each other since her birth. Our mothers are sisters. We did EVERYTHING together. It's like we are sisters really.

As cousin-sisters we reveled in the art of drama. We live it, breathe it, love it.

She says as I appear a little nervous and says she's sorry and if I wanted to turn around and run, not to worry.

I plop down on the chair next to her husband and say...I'm here for the long haul baby.

The nurse is there. Checking the baby's vitals, my cousins fluids that seem to be plenty that are hooked to her arms. I'm nervous. So...

For some damn reason.....I actually asked...(not really sure who I directed this question to)

"So...does the room really smell like wet Va-jay-jay when it gets near?"



Goddamn glasses of wine!!

That's it. My cousin and her husband laughed. The nurse giggled.

Hours later. My mouth in check...the big moment came.

I did good. My cousin was A.M.A.Z.I.N.G!

New found respect for Mothers. NEW.FOUND.RESPECT.

And then folks....a new little 'drama' queen was born to my family and the biggest smile my face had graced all month showed itself.


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Happy Birthday to my littlest sister today!! 24. Where does the time go!

xoxo.