Monthly Archives: June 2013

Why I Need To Get A Job

Look.  I promise I’m gonna let this go.  PROM. ISE.  But, honestly, she just makes it so damn easy.  And like I said before … kindred … spirits.  *sigh*  Will we ever meet Brooke?  I don’t think my life will be complete until we do.  BUCKET LIST!!

Here are some tweets of “fearless revelations and soulful reflections” from the lovely Brooke Burke … she just GETS IT.

tweet 1

I love that she calls us Tweeties.  It just makes me feel all 12 years old and everything.  God, I love her.

tweet 2

You go girl!!  You are so empowering!  I’m gonna workout now too!  Even though I don’t have a nanny, cook, maid, or driver … hell!, I don’t even have a washer and dryer that work on a consistent basis or a kid that sleeps through the night.  I KNOW!  Can you believe I do all that shit myself!?  But seriously, though, you are AMAZING and those extra “o’s” prove it!

tweet 3

L … O … L, Brooke!  Come on!  We all know you have that tail waxed!!

tweet 4

OMG, BROOKE!  Someone hacked into your account!!  And I would NEVER in a million years think you DIET!!  Dieting is for losers and idiots and people who use the word “tweeties”.  When will people LEARN??

tweet 6

Nighty, night, Brooky!!  Love you 🙂  Sleep demons angels take me AWAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAY!

tweet 7

Oh, you’re Irish?  I didn’t realize.  Um, what’s with the “first hit” … are you having some chemical issues?  And a car shelter?  Is that where used cars go to be euthanized?  I’m confused.

tweet 8

Brooke!  Are you texting and driving?!  I DO THE SAME THING!!!  You are truly an inspiration.  But seriously, I’m worried about your “one hit” from your previous tweet.  Are you ok???

tweet 9

I made one!!!  Can I tell you?  Pleeeeeeeeeeease!!!  It’s to mee …. aww, MAN.  Fine.  I’ll keep it a secret.  I love wishes.  And rainbows and unicorns.  And you, Brooke, mostly just you. (too creepy?)

tweet 10

WTF – don’t people know you’re more important than stupid Barack Obama!  And, Christ!, you need that passport for your vacation to Bora Bora – don’t people know this!!!  Traffic can be so disrespectful and ignorant!

tweet 11

Ohhhhh what a RIDE it must have been 😉 … I hope he at least wore a condom!

tweet 12

Growing up IS hard!  But, Brooke, you’re 41 years old.  It’s probably time.  OR NOT!!! 🙂  You do whatever the fuck you want, bitch sweetie!!!

tweet 13

Jeez, THREE!!  I know it takes me all night to get through a Curious George picture book.  You must be EXHAUSTED.  Wait!  Was it the one where Spider Man figures out how to climb up a building??? That one was gripping (get it!!!)!  I could barely contain my tears.  I mean, when he finally figured it out … ya know, the sticky fingers and everything … serious drama.  You are SUCH a good mom!!!!

tweet 14

Brooke, have I said you’re a true inspiration?  Well, I’m saying it again.  And you were so smart to use those “2’s” to save time from typing “to”.  I learn something new from you everyday.  And the school, office AND the bank.  WTF?!  Do people think you’re a machine???  You deserve a spa day!  After your 3 hour hair appointment.  No one,  NO. ONE., deserves it more!

LOVE YOU BROOKE!!!!!

Ok, I’m done.  Maybe.

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Kool Aid

So the other day a friend of mine gave me a ziploc bag with some powder in it. WHAT!? NO, NOT THAT! Jeez, people. She told me I was to throw it in an 8oz glass of water and it would help give me some energy for my workout that morning. (actually, that sounds a lot like that … )

I NEED to lose these 10 pounds! I can’t take it anymore!! I am desperate. I attempted bathing suit shopping last weekend and not only went through the 5 stages of grief, but sent out an SOS text to my friends and family before my self esteem sank into the abyss never to be seen again. Thank god they are accommodating or I’d still be in that dressing room, naked and sobbing … probably eating a bag of Doritos.

I chug the powdered drink tasting eerily like Kool Aid and throw the kids in the car to take them to school.

The A/C is blowing on my face in my brand new minivan, but it feels like a sandstorm. Prickly doesn’t begin to describe it. I’m pretty sure it’s on the “Sand Blast” setting when I remember that Honda doesn’t provide that in their minivans.

What’s going on with me? I’m now touching my face and wondering why I feel so funny. Then the tops of my hands start to feel the same way. WTF is happening to me??? I drop the kids at school before I go into a full blown panic and start randomly screaming while staring at myself in my rearview mirror.

screaming-woman

I’m starting to feel my throat close up but I’m pretty sure I’m making this up. CALM THE FUCK DOWN – I’m shrieking in my mind. I’m already envisioning myself in the ER for the day being pumped full of Benedryl and having them ask me for the 10th time – “what did you take?” (whispering “idiot” under their breaths) Speaking of which …

Me: I think I’m having an allergic reaction

Hubs: To what?

Me: To some powder T gave me.

Hubs: I’m sorry, WHAT?

Me: It was some sort of pre-workout powder – supposed to give me energy.

Hubs: What’s it called?

Me: I don’t know

Hubs: What’s in it?

Me: I don’t know

Hubs:

Me: I’m sorry! I know. I should have gotten more information.

Hubs:

Me: You know I’m desperate! I’ve been so tired lately and I can’t get the energy to workout!!

Hubs:

Me: I’m sorry I’m not perfect like you!!!!!! (I always bring his supposed “perfection” up out of a desperate attempt to explain my ludicrous, frequently irrational, behavior. He is so over it.)

Hubs:

Me: Society has ruined women!! RUINED US!!! WE ARE ALL FUCKED UP!!!

Hubs:

Me: Do you think I should take Benedryl?

Hubs: I have no idea.

At this point I was in the parking lot of a Quest lab where I needed to drop off one of my kids’ stool samples. What? I didn’t tell you that? Oh, yeah. I feel like I’ve been dropping off stool samples weekly lately. The lady at the front desk may or may not say, “Your weekly bag of shit? Leave it right over there.”

I’ve convinced myself that I’m going to fall going into the lab and the crap, literally, is going to fly everywhere. I’m visualizing guys in hazmat suits scrubbing the lab and shaking their heads, wondering why in THE hell they went to college for this.

Drop off, miraculously, goes fine. I head back to the car and sit.  I don’t do sitting alone with my thoughts (and my imminent death) well.

I finally give in and make a frantic call to my friend who is a nurse (I’m pretty sure on a daily basis she regrets telling me her profession). She gives me the kinder version of the Hubs conversation and, as we’re talking, the symptoms start to go away.

I seriously want to go back in time and bitch slap myself. There is no shortcut. This was my lesson. Or maybe my lesson is that I should accept myself the way I am. Or, it could be, anything that tastes like Kool Aid can, and potentially will, kill you. Actually, I think the moral of the story is it’s ok to drop off a stool sample after chugging an energy drink? You probably don’t have to go to college if you want to wear a hazmat suit?? I don’t know. All I know is that I’m not getting in a bathing suit this summer. Period, amen.  The last thing I need to hear is this …

meat curtains

P.S. FYI, my friend bought the stuff at Costco, not some back alley drug cartel.  And the reaction I had, according to the manufacturers website, – completely normal.  This story is merely the rantings of a lunatic with an overactive imagination having too much time on her hands.  As you were.

I Have So Much In Common With Brooke!

So in doing research for my OMB definition quest, I fumbled upon Brooke Burke’s website. I kind of, sort of know who she is. I think she has, like, 10 kids and maybe is on Dancing with the Stars or something. I don’t know. Anyway, in my last post I spoke about how she has an OMB section on her site, which stands for Oh My Bod. I didn’t even bother to click on the link because, well, I need to keep my self esteem in tact and that’s a full time job, people. But I did see this tweet she put out …

brooke burke

“Too much food, too many drinks. Finally winding down.”

I know exactly how she feels!!! O … M … G!!! I frequently look absolutely hideous ADORABLE when I’ve had too much food and too many drinks. I curl up on my little bench by the pool (I don’t have a pool … or a bench), throw on my husband’s skin tight way oversized sweatshirt and ask someone to take a quick photo of me while I giggle at my gut hanging out deliciousness. I then say the obligatory “I look ridiculous!” (with a huge smile on my face) as millions of people retweet my photo and tell me how gorgeous I am.

IMG_1942

Brooke and I are kindred spirits. I can just tell.

And to top it off, she’s a writer like me!!! Have you seen her book??

The Naked Mom

HOLY CRAP!! I’m writing something soooo similar!!

Sleazy Lane

Host of … nothing!

fully clothed mom

The Fully Clothed Mom

An Outdated Mom’s Scary Secrets,

Horrible Advice and Superficial Judgements

Look, I don’t want to compete with her or anything, but I’m pretty sure my book is gonna FLY off the shelves.

But, seriously, Brooke … GOOD LUCK!!! We’ll still be besties, right?

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