During my morning workout, I felt a familiar feeling wash over me. Familiar not just because I’d felt it before, but because I’d expected it- only not right at that moment. How could anyone expect something like that to happen at a time like that?
Last night, I may have had too much to drink. I don’t say that because I regret it- I don’t! I deserved it! But when you have a bit too much to drink, if you’ve had too much to drink before, you know there can be consequences. Sometimes there’s barf (I didn’t get that), sometimes there’s a raging hangover (Nope! Not me!) and sometimes, there’s what we adults like to call the “beer shits”. It doesn’t matter if you haven’t had beer- all alcohol should have a label that warns of this possibility.
WARNING: MAY CAUSE ANGRY BEER SHITS. DO NOT MOVE OUT OF THE PROXIMITY OF A TOILET FOR 18 HOURS AFTER CONSUMING!
A warning like that would put a serious gas cramp on the alcohol industry, so I guess I can see why they don’t. They should, though.
It was while I was mid Zumba that the gas cramp of the evil beer shits hit me. Since I thought I was a total bad ass, that wasn’t going to stop me! I’d shake my ass right through the urge to poo! No. The only thing shaking my ass did was shake loose a bunch of farts. I felt so sexy. Luckily for me, the only place I exercise (as to not embarrass myself) is at home, and the only witness present to this daily spectacle is my 5 year old. The same 5 year old who thinks it’s funny to sneak up on people, place his butt on them, and fart. The same 5 year old who thinks anything poop related is the most hilarious thing ever. The same 5 year old I GREW INSIDE OF ME AND STILL WIPE HIS ASS- and what does he do as he hears the BRRRRP BRRP BRP I shook loose?
“MOMMY!!!! Why are you FARTING?! I thought girls didn’t HAVE butts!”
Okay- first of all, I did not teach him that! Second of all- WHAT?
“Uh, kid. We have butts. Everyone has a butt.”
“So then why are you FARTING? Is the exercise you’re doing a FART EXERCISE? FARTERCISE?!”
Mortified. I do not Fartercise. But why? No, not why don’t I Fartercise (UGH!)- why is farting in front of my kid embarrassing? Again, I STILL wipe his ass- so what’s the deal? It’s natural, right? Everyone does it! Even us ladies without butts!
Much like the feeling of Beer Shits creeping up on me, another familiarity came over me. It’s something I’ve randomly thought about for YEARS- the one moment, if I could, I’d go back in time and change- the moment farting became embarrassing to me. Most people would go back and say something to a loved one who has now passed, or change some detrimental decision they made in life- but mine is a fart. A single fart.
It must have been about 4th grade. I was just coming out of my tomboy phase. I lived in a small-ish town, and the class sizes at all the local schools were pretty small, as were the classrooms. Close quarters, y’all! I was at that age where I was slightly boy crazy but refused to tell anyone because boys were EW- and also because I towered over them like fucking Bigfoot. I could never like a boy shorter than me! THE HORROR! Which means I could never like any boys, because every damn one of them was a solid 2 inches shorter, which was a huge deal.
One day, we were taking a test. Everyone in this small room was absolutely silent, because if we weren’t, you would have the wrath of the evil teacher rained down on you so hard you’d wish to be sent to the damn principal. OBVIOUSLY, there were no beer shits to worry about, but I needed to fart something fierce. There was no way I was going to let this happen. Have you ever tried holding in a fart that is trying so hard to get out you think you might explode, so in your best attempt to appease it, but not make it known- you try to slowly and silently let it slip?
See, here’s the thing about those plastic school chairs- your sphincter is no match for it. ANY fart against the curvature of one of those chairs is amplified times a billion, so my tiny little squeaker came out loud, and sharp.
I will never forget that sound, or how hot my face burned afterward, or the crucial mistake I made at that second. I looked up. DAMNIT, I LOOKED UP! For some reason, I thought it would be a good idea to see if anyone else noticed. In the first millisecond, all I saw were heads down, focusing on their work, and then, the worst. Eye contact. Eye contact with a BOY. Eye contact with a boy who I LIKED. One of those EW short boys. We were the only ones looking up. He knew it wasn’t him who had hermp’ed, so the only logical conclusion he must have made was that it was ME. MEEEEEE! WHY GOD, WHY?! CURSE YOU, COLON! CURSE YOU, SCHOOL CHAIR! CURSE YOU, LIFE!
I never spoke to him again. I bet he’s married with kids and cringes in horror any time one of them lets a fart squeak out. It’s all my fault!!!
That was when everything changed. I went from blasting my family out of the living room with my butt trumpet to swearing I would never EVER fart again. Not where anyone could hear it!
I can’t help but wonder what my life would be like had that fateful fart never slipped past my cheeks. Would my Fartercising this morning have been something I’d be bragging about here in this blog? Would my husband be threatening divorce due to eyeball burning butt fumes?
On second thought, maybe I should be thankful for my mortification at such a young age. No one would have married my nasty ass had I not gotten this shit under control! That room-shaking HERMP might have saved my life!
Ever since I wrote the “Dear Husband” blogs about the dark point in my marriage a few years ago, I often get asked from friends, family, and readers- “How did you know your husband was ‘The One’?” and I always respond “Well, I had to kiss a lot of frogs before I found my Prince!”
Did you throw up in your mouth a little? I apologize. Bile is not an appetizing flavor. I was only kidding! I have never referred to my husband as my Prince. Ew.
Picking “The One”- loosely translates as the one you want to bet half your shit that you’ll be together forever- is not as cut and dry as having them ride in on a white horse and sweep you off your feet. Or that disgustingly sappy. I love storybook endings and happily ever afters, but there is a reason they are called “Fairy Tales”.
Those movies and television shows and books and songs will all try to make you believe that true love is the one and only thing you need. All You Need is Love! Well DUH you need love in order to have a healthy relationship (and not one that ends up in therapy on some VH1 Reality Show)- but that is just the foundation. You’re gonna need a little more than that for the long haul. Sorry, Beatles.
Once you get the whole “love” thing nailed down and out of the way, what’s left?
By no stretch of the imagination is my marriage perfect. I don’t believe that even exists- but we’ve survived for almost 8 years now, which is far longer than most people predicted when we got together, so I know a thing or two. No really, I only know one or two things. The rest I’m still learning.
REGARDLESS! I think I can pass down some sage marital wisdom. This isn’t going to be anything like an in depth marriage book that will spell shit out for you, but, this MIGHT help you decide if you and the person you’re considering spending the rest of your life with will actually survive the first few years. Literally.
Before you walk down that aisle and repeat “‘Til’ Death Do Us Part”- consider the following. It could save you from hefty divorce fees down the road.
Does your potential future spouse annoy you SO much every day that you want to jab them in the throat with a plastic spork? Every OTHER day is completely normal, but if it’s all day every day, you may want to reconsider. This can be determined by whether or not your blood pressure rises as they chew. how early or late they brake at a stop light, or even in how they BREATHE. I’m serious! These are things you will have to deal with almost every day of your natural lives. You don’t have to love it, but you may be tempted to leave it. It’s best to sort this out beforehand.
If your bladder is about to explode, does your “one true love” dart into the bathroom before you, leaving you high and not so dry? Nothing has made me want to smother my betrothed more. Common courtesy!
Does the way they put the toilet paper roll on backwards, load the dishwasher, organize the Tupperware, or make the bed make you want to scream obscenities at an alarmingly loud volume? Hey, it might sound petty- but this is FOREVER we’re talking about. You have to deal with the Tupperware falling out of the cabinet all over you for the rest of your life- can you deal with that??
Can you stand the thought of their face on your offspring? You might think they are the most gorgeous creature on the planet, but if you can’t handle the thought of seeing their nose, inherited from their mother, on the face of your child? That’s gonna be a problem- and not one you can do a damn thing about without plastic surgery, which is frowned upon for small children.
Can you stand their family? At all? Or would you rather light your hair on fire and sit bare-assed on a bed of nails than sit in the same room with them?
If none of the above is an issue for you or your love, CONGRATULATIONS! Your marriage will be just fine! And by just fine, I mean it won’t self destruct from any of the above shit. At least for a week…. I mean…. There’s plenty of other things to consider- but when you begin picking apart everything… well, just don’t.
Come to think of it, as horrifically obnoxious as the above list is, I’m sure a marriage could survive even with ALL of these things going wrong, but not with love alone. Love might not get you to the finish line, but if you’ve got patience, it will put your tired ass on its back and carry you the rest of the way. If you have no patience? Well…then….you’re kinda screwed. Oh, stop! I’m kidding again!
Just know that no matter HOW much you love someone, even if it is more than you can put into words, they are going to annoy the shit out of you. A lot. That’s what keeps marriage interesting!
‘Tis the season! Actually.. It already was the season according to all the stores that started putting out Christmas decorations before Halloween- but now we’re actually closer to the dates of holiday cheer. Two of the radio stations here have already switched over to non-stop Christmas music, and every other radio and air wave is flooded with nothing but Black Friday ads. Deals and discounts as far as the eye can see! Come shop on Black Friday!
I hate Black Friday. You cannot convince me to shop on Black Friday. Ever.
This year, people are outraged because not only are retailers starting their deals before dinner time ON Thanksgiving, but people are actually planning on going. What about the people who have to WORK retail? They’ll miss Thanksgiving because you want to get $50 off of a flat screen? What about those chicks sitting out side of Best Buy 3 weeks early who would make more money working minimum wage than ANY discount Best Buy could ever offer? Aren’t they proving why Black Friday is awful?
Yes, I think that the spirit of Thanksgiving is being crapped on by these sales impeding on the traditional family dinner time, but some people have made traditions around Black Friday shopping. Yes, I think it’s totally ridiculous that two women would sit in the cold for WEEKS over some stupid discount- but I guess we have to chalk that up to a difference in ideas of fun (and priorities, perhaps). I agree with the outrage (though I’m too lazy to rant about it) and the disgust and all that jazz- but that is not why I hate Black
Friday Thursday, and not why I refuse to go out shopping on that day.
Luckily, I don’t work retail, so my dislike can’t be based on longer hours and asshole customers. My family gets together every year, and every year we sit down, not all at one table (because there are far too many of us)- but still together- and we stuff our faces. There is turkey and stuffing and all the holiday regulars(mmmm canned cranberry sauce), and this totally ridiculous 6-cheese macaroni and cheese and a mountain of potatoes and a literal buttload of pie. There is laughing and drama and likely football on the television, though I never watch it. Sometimes, some family will huddle around a table and circle items in the magazines and flyers for the Black Friday sales and make a plan for what items they want to snag and when- but they never cut our meals short just to run out and wait in line, and last year I got an awesome pair of boots out of it- so I can’t complain about that either.
It’s the after that is the problem for me. After all the stuffing has been stuffed into faces, the cranberry inhaled, the epic buttload of pies consumed in a ravenous competition style-manner (okay, not really, but it goes quick!); after we’ve chatted, and laughed, and caught up, and gossiped- when we’re just starting to slip into that food coma but are only kept awake by thinking about how this was the last holiday before Christmas and HOLY CRAP WHERE DID THE TIME GO, and I’ve finally allowed for the binge-watching of Elf and other cheesy schmaltzy holiday flicks to begin- the last thing I would EVER want to do is pick my carb-loaded ass up off of the couch, get in my car, drive to Wal-Mart, or Best Buy, or Target, or wherever else, and shove through a crowd only to get elbowed in the mashed potato and gravy stuffed gut over a fucking Easy Bake Oven. Or a television. Or a frickin’ Nerf Gun. Or whatever stupid junk it is that I think I must have. I love shopping. I love the rush of a good deal, and the satisfaction of snagging a great discount, but no $10, $20, or $100 dollars off is worth ruining the happy full-bellied comfy TV surfing relaxing beginning of the holiday season tradition.
If you think it’s fun, if you look forward to it all year and finish your Christmas shopping in one insane night- more power to you. No sarcasm intended! As for me? I’ll be here, nice and warm on my couch, not getting elbowed in the potato gut, and drinking booze and yelling over the television without getting arrested.
I’m sorry…what exactly is this!? Because it looks like to me a doll with a hair ‘dryer’ that uses glitter as a projectile. If this is indeed what it very much appears to be, then I have one thing to say to you:
Can we talk?
Dear inventor who clearly doesn’t have children ( because obviously this is the only way this product could have ever been imagined and put into production),
I have something I need to get off my chest and I believe I can speak for all the other parents out there: ARE YOU EFFING INSANE??!! Do you realize what this is and what it does? It shoots glitter. It. Shoots. Glitter. Say it with me G L I T T E R.
GLITTER, you childless, inept product developer…..GLITTER. You know as in the herpes of craft supplies…as in, this will never go away, as in you’ll find it in your underwear and in your socks in between your toes. You’ll find it in your laundry that WILL go through the dryer and get on every piece of clothing you and your family owns, it’ll get in your towels, your wash cloths….you’ll scrub the glitter on your body (hey at least it’s exfoliating right?) oh but that’s not all ….you’ll towel off and end up rubbing it it your crotch while drying off (ladies, this is where exfoliating is a bad, bad thing)…THIS STUFF WILL NOT GO AWAY. It’ll get on your work clothes, too, so you can explain to the boss when he asks you exactly where you were for lunch “stud” referencing the glitter on the collar of your shirt and then you can back peddle oh so convincingly that it came from your daughter’s Barbie doll and not some stripper named Barbie (of course there will be the people who won’t ask, they’ll just assume and there goes the rumor mill at your next company gathering, thanks Barbie).
And just when you think it’s gone….nope, not a chance in hell (remember what we’re dealing with here, HERPES) you will find that shit on Valentines Day, at Easter time, Fourth of July, even Columbus Day isn’t safe from the staying power of the demon craft supply. You’ll be haunted at Halloween when your deatheater costume is sparkling with sheer terror thanks to that damn doll and her ‘accessories’. On your table runner for Thanksgiving dinner…GLITTER GLITTER EVERYWHERE!!! And just when you think you’ve seen the last of the shinning spawn of satan, we’ve come full circle back into the Christmas season, just in time for the glitter spray on tan Barbie. About the only place you won’t find it is in your child’s room anywhere near the damn doll it came with.
In closing I would like to say to you and your product developers, and the focus group that told you this was a good idea (which by the way, they lied to you just to get the free product) on behalf of damn near every living, breathing parent,
You’re a %#*>£!?&&);!?@$**%# with no &#^@(%&#$#@ sense and I hope you (#$^(@#(*&%^# in a @%^$(&*@# and choke on it.
Consumers with children
Damien (The Omen), Samara (The Ring), Malachai (Children of the Corn), Reagan (The Exorcist), Gage (Pet Sematary), Carol Ann, even the twins in The Shining beckoning us to come and play with them “forever, and ever, and ever”, small children have been used as ways to terrify us in movies and TV shows for decades now. One has to wonder- why? Is it because they are so sweet and innocent that watching them commit any kind of evil act is chilling to the core, or is it because kids are just flat-out CREEPY AS FUCK??
I’m going with the latter.
If your kid doesn’t occasionally terrify the ever-loving shit out of you, well, I don’t want to alarm you, but perhaps you should be sleeping with one eye open. WHAT?! It’s always the quiet ones, isn’t it?? I’m just saying- most of the world thinks miniature humans are frightening. Even their toys aren’t safe (Hello- Chucky, Annabelle, that freaky as fuck clown in Poltergeist?) from the horror movie treatment. Yep, definitely the latter. Plop a little kid or their creepy little toy into a movie and you have the winning ingredients to horror movie gold.
It definitely didn’t take long for me to find this out to be true, not just on the silver screen, but with my very own children. Week 1: precious new baby is asleep in your arms when suddenly, their eyes begin to roll back into their head and THEY GIGGLE. THEY GIGGLE, Y’ALL! WITH THE WHITES OF THEIR EYES ALL OUT LIKE THEY’RE FLIPPITY-FLOPPIN’ POSSESSED!
Adorable? AHHAHAHAHAHAAA no. Not cute at all.
And then there are the things that come out of their precious little mouths. Mine never said “They’re heeeeerrreeee” while staring into a fuzzy TV, but they have said some things that could rival Jack Nicholson in all his door-smashing glory.
My 5 year old has an imaginary friend. His name is John. Or Jean. I don’t really know, and I don’t really care. You see, John is awful. A tyrant, a bully, and a douchecanoe. Basically, he’s just a total dickwadish sociopath. He “says” everything that Parker wants to say but can’t get away with saying but somehow thinks “John” can. Nope. John cannot. John got “thrown in the trash” this weekend because we all got so sick of his BS. I am fully expecting to wake up with Parker standing over me with a giant cleaver or a pillow with which to suffocate me and right before he ends my existence, he says “John said I can only have one mommy, and John is my mommy now.” and then BAM. Lights out. If not John, it’ll be “Daniel Evil”, who is John’s replacement. Damnit.
This whole situation got me thinking. Not just about my mortality, but about creeptacular kids. Obviously, with all the box office success, I’m not NEARLY the only one who’s been creeped out by my very own spawn- so I’m curious-
I’m serious! I want to know! This is a READER SUBMISSION blog! WOO! I’m gonna put together an ENTIRE blog full of the ones that could easily fit into the script for a scary movie. Think about it, shake off the heebie-jeebies, and submit yours using the contact form below! The deadline to submit a creepy kid statement is 11/20 (that’s a Thursday) at 8pm EST! Now, I am sure some other blog has done this before- but that’s okay, because I truly believe I have the best readers EVER (hey, that’s you!) and that this will make for an amazingly creepy (yet hilarious) blog! Send yours in, and then share this mofo with your friends!
**the submission period has ended. Thank you all for your entries!
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