Friday, October 19, 2012

Secret Society! Secret Society!

Sometimes, being a Goddess is exhausting. Wearing cute shoes, having shiny hair, being awesome, it's enough to wear any deity out. In order to cope with the overwhelming pressures, it's important to surround yourself with fellow goddesses, those amazing ladies who understand the extreme standards you strive to maintain every. single. day.

It's not always easy locating other Supreme Beings. After all, not every woman you meet is a goddess. That woman in front of you in line at Wal-Mart with the mullet wearing knee-high purple boots with the fur and a shirt that says While you were reading this, I farted? Is not a goddess.

Thankfully, we have the blogging and twitter world to make up for Wal-Mart's goddess deficiency. I have met so many super fab woman since I began blogging that I decided it was high time to acknowledge them, not only to recognize their awesomey goodness, but to provide a resource to bloggers in need of the support of other goddesses. And what better way to do that than to form a society?  A Super Secret Society of Awesome Goddess. And by "secret" I mean "not a secret" but still super and also? Awesome.

I am so excited to announce the first member of the Super Secret Society of Awesome Goddess that I just peed a little. She is without doubt the Coffee Goddess and she's undeniably the supreme being of all things thong onesie. She is the one, the only, Coffee Lovin' Mom. Not only is she awesome on the interwebs, but she's awesome in real life. I know, because I met her. Oh yes I did.

We shut the place down. Literally. They had to kick us out.
 I admit, as I was driving to our agreed upon rendezvous point I was worried that she might not actually be that cute girl who appears in pictures on her blog, but a middle - aged fat guy with a comb-over who spends his days in his mother's basement scratching his balls while pretending to be a cute woman who loves coffee.

Rest assured, everyone. She is just as hot as she appears.

Now, without further ado, I bring you...Coffee Lovin' Mom.


While usually, you can find me talking about coffee and family- which are never topics for debate in my case, they just come with the package - I'm branching outside my comfort box here today to talk to you about the Big Debate. No, I'm not talking about the presidential debates - you can sigh relief here - we are discussing more serious issues than middle class taxes, immigration and gas prices, this is about the future of our country and our children people!

I'm speaking today on the topic I debate about the most when it comes to breakfast planning - Bacon or Sausage. These two morning tantalizers have long been coveted by meat eaters as the most important meal of the day. The staple meats in the breakfast world if you will.
In the realm of sausage, there are so many more options - links or patties, maple or spicy, kitchen sausage or bedroom sausage, making it a good candidate coming out of the gate. Biscuits and sausage gravy weigh heavily, sticking to the ribs in the swing states and could easily tempt voters to sway.
A wise woman once said, "There's only so much room for sausage."

Then there's the bacon. You can bring it home, you can fry it up, cold or crispy, it's quickly becoming the crowd pleaser. Not only does it come in bits, sandwiches, pancakes and dog treats, it can really be added to just about anything including ice cream and milkshakes, enhancing the flavor of everything; giving it an extra advantage in the long term polls not to mention endless recipe possibilities.

Case in point: Bacon wrapped sausage.
See what that just did? Jump in the polls right there.
Whether or not you've debated about breakfast meat at one time or another, it's hard to deny (or explain to kids) how it all comes from the same animal. There's no five point plan when it comes to swine. Even Big Bird will tell you, fried up pork is not an anytime food unless you like your cholesterol high.
Leave my insides out of it!
While I could bore you by listing all the pros and cons of each, pointing out the fat content, calories, cholesterol or protein all of which bacon has less of depending on quantity of course - I decided instead to go right to the quality source and get some opinions from the real voters themselves. I put the question out to the Twitterverse and Facebookwide; I think you'll find the results were pretty astounding.
The race was surprisingly close on twitter - 47% in favor of sausage and 53% for bacon. Meanwhile on Facebook, it was much more of a landslide being a whopping 87% in favor of bacon and only 13% for sausage. If I had a pie chart to show you here, you would see that bacon is the favored chocolate covered candidate.
 Don't deny yourself sausage in the face of bacon! Don't leave yourself out of the running - please vote for your favorite breakfast meat in the comments! Thank you for your support. I'm the Coffee Lovin' Mom and I approve this message.
She's awesome, isn't she?
Be sure to check out her blog.
And you can stalk her on twitter and facebook.

Comment gems!
Just Keepin It Real, Folks!: I never understood the whole pillow case thing used to hold your candy. That is so upper crust high class. I'm used to redneck country where we pull out a trash bag and hit the streets for some serious swag.
Meredith Price: Hahahaha! Trick or wine...BEST IDEA EVER GIA!! :D
I have never understood Trunk or Treating either, it sounds like a pedophiles idea of heaven if you ask me.

Tuesday, October 16, 2012

Halloween is Fun. But Also Confusing.

I love Halloween as much as the next person (who doesn't think it's Satan's holiday), but there are some things about the day of costumes, candy and creeps that I just don't get. And so I bring you...

Six Halloween Traditions That Baffle Me

1. Trick or Treating
Their entire life we tell kids not to take candy from strangers. But on Halloween parents personally escort them from stranger to stranger while they downright beg for the stuff. I guess we’ll just chalk that inconsistency up to the ol’ Do As I Say Not As I Escort You To Do’ philosophy.

2. Home Invasions
Speaking of strangers coming to your door, Halloween sounds like the perfect night for a home invasion.

“Knock knock.”

“Who is it?”

“Home invaders. We’re here to murder you, but not before we rape and torture you.”

“Somebody didn’t say the magic words.”

“Oh, fine. Trick or treat.”

3. Trunk or Treating
Recognizing the potential dangers of trick or treating, some parents opt for Trunk or Treating, which is usually done at a “safe” location like a church parking lot or the abandoned lot behind that abandoned warehouse where the drug cartels have set up shop. For those of you unfamiliar with this progressive from of soliciting candy from strangers, adults decorate the trunks of their vehicles to lure children over to obtain their sugary goodness.

I don’t know who came up with this genius idea but I suspect there’s a kidnapper holed up in a prison cell somewhere screaming about royalties.

4. Distributing Drugs
What’s with all the people giving drugs to kids? Or did that only happen to me? Oh, come on. Don’t tell me I was the only four year old given LSD on Halloween. Or maybe it was PCP. Which is the one that comes in the form of a sticker that you slap on your body to absorb the hallucinogens through your skin? That one. As you can imagine, my mom didn’t let me go trick or treating after that. Instead, I had Halloween parties where we opted for healthier activities like…

5. Bobbing for Apples
Nothing says “party” like slurping down your friend’s saliva in an effort to pick up apples with your teeth.

6. Dressing Like a Whore
Actually, this one makes perfect sense to me. The only complaint I have is that we only get to do it once a year. If I want to dress up like a sexy ninja the other 364 days, I should be allowed to. Without any comments from the Uptight, No Fun, Stick Up Their Ass Gallery. I’m an American; I have a right to be objectified, dammit!

So, what Halloween traditions do you like, dislike, or leave you totally baffled?

Comment gems! (As usual, they were all are a few highlights.)

Sandra: I think the whore-ish costumes need to continue long into old age for continued success. For instance, I'm attending a conference next week, and for the 80s theme party, I'm going as the chick from Flashdance so I can wear as little as possible, and perhaps flash some nipple to the guys who work for Ford in hopes of getting a free ride. You're funny! This was brilliant!
Just Keepin It Real, Folks!: So very true. Why would I want to give a lollipop to a bumble bee when a whored out sexy wench really knows what do it with that candy on a stick.

Friday, October 12, 2012

If You Love Her, You'll Dress Her Like A Whore

A recent study by the Institute of Women Are People Too shows there’s a direct correlation between the costumes young girls wear on Halloween and the success they have later in life. The results may surprise you.

From the time their daughters are born, parents work hard to ensure their little darlings develop a positive self-image. There are many ways to build up their self-esteem, but perhaps none better than the opportunity presented on Halloween.  When selecting a costume for their daughter, parents have two choices: cute and furry or sexy and bare-skinned. While the right choice may seem obvious, parents sometimes pick the wrong one. And the consequences are devastating.

“There is something alluring about seeing their little girl dressed head to toe as a bunny, with its cute floppy ears and cottonball tail. However, parents who choose bunny, or any furry animal for that matter, are letting their heart dictate their actions, a heart that will love their child forever and ever no matter what. The rest of the world will not be so kind. Which is why parents should choose with their head, the epicenter of logic,” says lead researcher and clinical psychologist The Sarcasm Goddess. “When choosing a costume, parents should follow a general rule of thumb: the whore-ier the better.”

Findings show that not only are midriff showing, short skirt wearing, high heeled teetering toddlers given more candy on Halloween, but ones dressed as cute animals are destined for a lifetime of failure.

“Honestly, parents. A bunny?” says Dr. Goddess. “It’s like you want your daughter to suck at life. Do bunnies get promoted to VP of Very Important Shit? Do they get an expense account and the corner office with a window? No. Bunnies are relegated to a cardboard desk in the supply closet and spend their days making copies and fetching non-fat-skinny-soy-vegan-sugar-free-OMG-there-better-not-be-any-calories-in-this-latte latte for big-racked, fake-nosed sexy kittens.”

Twenty-six year old Chastity Jones couldn’t agree more. “My mama dressed me as a sexy sloth when I was six years old. Twenty years later I’m promoted to Chief Financial Officer of my company and I don’t even know what a balance sheet is!”

Sometimes, parents want to do right by their daughters, but either as an act of rebellion or plain ol’ stupidity, their children have other ideas. “When my daughter told me she wanted to be a cute puppy dog for Halloween, I told her to start practicing saying, ‘Do you want fries with that?’ Then I sent her to her room to think about the consequences of her decision,” said thirty-two year old mom Cassie Titler.

Researchers surveyed 100 women, all of whom reported being unsatisfied with their career. All 100  cited the conservative costumes forced upon them when they were children as the reason for their lack of success. Seventy-nine of them said they haven’t had a raise in ten years and an astounding ninety-nine of them said they are ignored in staff meetings, even when offering practical solutions to their company’s debt problems.

The study also shows that it’s never too early to start dressing your daughter like a whore. However, sometimes that’s easier said than done. “When I couldn’t find any slutty costumes for my nine month old, I made one. I fashioned a pair of go go boots from some old leather g-strings I had lying around, made a skirt out of sheer nylons and used Hello Kitty stickers to cover her ta-tas,” said parenting blogger and self-proclaimed DIY wizard Viola Washington. “We have high hopes our little Natalie will be President of America one day.”

It’s important that parents don’t go too far, though. “Maintaining an air of mystery is key,” says Dr. Goddess. In their eagerness to set their daughters up for success, some parents are forgoing clothes on their kids altogether. Dr. Goddess says this is sending girls the wrong message. “It’s important for women to save the revealing of their biscuit and tambourines for really important things, like concert tickets and free ice cream. Showing off your goodies too readily and without cause will only make people think you’re a slut. And while dressing like a slut is okay, actually being one is totally not.”

Clearly, it’s a delicate balance. But achievable nonetheless, as evidenced by the highly successful Dr. Goddess, who in addition to her clinical and psychological accolades is a semi-renowned unpaid freelance blogger and an expert reality t.v. watcher. “This year, I’m dressing as a peacock,” she says. “My costume consists of four strategically placed feathers. Because my mama raised me right.”

Comment gems! 

Whoa! Susannah (Formerly Write, Rinse, Repeat):
This is so so so true!! I just turned 31. I had two beers, some pasta, and passed out watching Sherlock Holmes. I woke up the next morning with gas and a zit. Happy effing birthday.

Happy belated birthday!

I've reached the stage where if I walk into any clothing store other than Muumuus 'N Mom Jeans 'R Us, the staff just won't bother talking to me.


Wednesday, October 10, 2012

Battle of the Ages

I recently turned thirty. And while I’m not quite old enough to qualify for the early bird special. I’m still…old. Okay, not old, but I’m not the spry chicken I used to be. As I prepared for and celebrated my big Three Oh I noticed there are some distinct differences between celebrating your 21st birthday and your 30th.

Drinking at 21:
The morning of your 21st, you wake up and are all, “OMG! I can drink!!!” You have a mimosa for breakfast followed by after breakfast drinks, followed by a liquid lunch then mid-afternoon drinks, followed by drinks while getting ready (don’t spill your rum and coke in the shower!), followed by pre-party drinks followed by PARTY TIME DRINKS!!

You arrive at Da Club and explode from excitement. “What?! Girls drink free?! This is great!!! Shots for all my friends! Living in a college town is great! Another round of free drinks!”

Drinking at 30:
You declare to everyone within earshot that you  need to drink something light or you’ll feel bloated all day. And nothing with sugar. You don’t want to have to double time it at the gym. Suddenly you feel nostalgic for a time when you could eat and drink whatever you want, wake up the next morning and magically look like your skinny, sexy self again. Ah, the good ol’ Sleep Your Fat Away workout routine. Those were the days…

You order a non-bloaty drink from a bar and nearly choke on the price. Ten dollars?!  Is this liquor made of gold? You ask for a water and another one for later because hydration is important. And also? TEN DOLLARS! This bitch is on a budget.

The Outfit at 21:
You find exactly what you’re looking for at the This Isn’t Slutty It’s Sexy store: a backless shirt with a plunging neckline and pants so tight your friends have to sew you in.

The Outfit at 30:
You walk into store and need help.

Salesgirl: Can I help you?

You: Yes, I’m looking for something cute but sophisticated. And also a little sexy. But not like trashy sexy. More like sexy sexy. And something that camouflages here. *points to stomach* and slims here *points to thighs* and makes my boobs look perky. Like if they could talk they would say, “I still know how to have a good time, but a classy good time, not a whorey good time.” Got anything like that?

The answer is, No. No they don’t.

The Hairstyle at 21:
You spend two hours curling, fluffing, and styling to achieve the right amount of body, shine and flowy-ness.

The Hairstyle at 30:
You spend two hours trying to hide the grey.

The Party at 21:
You are an energizer bunny on crack. You’re all “Woo!!” and “Hoo!!” And “Wooooo hoooo!” You lay out by the pool all day and get your tan until it’s time to party til the break of dawn. You’re gonna drink and dance and drink and party and dance and IT’S GONNA BE CRAZY!!!!

The Party at 30:
You can’t wait to lie by the pool and just relax. You rent a cabana because, after all, the sun is bad for your skin. And even though you’re fully shielded from its evil rays, you set the alarm on your phone for every fifteen minutes so you remember to reapply the sunscreen.

Most importantly, you really hope you get a chance to nap before dinner.

Dancing at 21:
Look at you dropping it like it’s hot! Damn you look good, people better watch you back that ass up! Do you wanna go on stage? Heck yeah you do! EVERYONE should get to see those sexy dance moves.

Dancing at 30:
Dancing? No one told you there’d be dancing. Before you drop it and break it, you change into your tennis shoes with the good ankle support. And dammit! You knew you should have brought your knee brace.

You start to shimmy and shake and think, I still got it. I’m hot. Look at me move my hips. I’m sexy, I’m…


Oh shit. What was that? It was either my back or my hip. Or my knees. It definitely could have been my knees. Medic!

The Morning After at 21:
Your head is throbbing, your mouth tastes like sandpaper and you’ve never been so thirsty in your life. It’s entirely possible you have vomit in your hair. As you eat your greasy hangover food you swear you’re never going to drink again. By seven o’clock that night you’re doing “Shots, shots, shots, shotsshotsshots!” and getting ready to go out again.

The Morning After at 30:
Other than a throbbing hip, back and knees you feel great! You’re little tired, but that’s to be expected. You did stay up past midnight. You meet your friends for breakfast and no one makes any plans to party again for at least a month.

Yes, twenty one was great, but I think thirty is better. After all, with age comes wisdom. And wisdom is way better than awesome dance moves.

However, I almost microwaved metal the other day. So, lucky me, I’m an idiot who can’t dance. Thirty sucks.

Comment gems!

I'm scarfing down as much bacon as I can before the Apocalypse reaches my corner of the world.

It always amazes what people google to get to my blog. The weirdest ones were "pumpkin thong pulled aside" and "elephant bookmobile." Okaaay.

oh.... i was gonna ask something about your vagina. never mind then.


Monday, October 8, 2012

You Googled What? - It's All About the Boobies Edition

Before we get to all the weirdos on the internets, I have an announcement to make! You've heard me talk about my Just Plain Awesome bloggy friend Just Jennifer. Well just when I think she can't get any more awesome, she does.

On Saturday, she talked about me on her blog. In fact, she made a pretty big announcement about a recent project of mine. I had planned on mentioning it here, on my blog, on the same day, but I was out of town and my internet decided to crap out on me, which means I also wasn't able to tweet, facebook, instagram, or text. As if that wasn't a big enough sign that the world was ending, I went to a bar and ordered cheesy bacon fries. When the waitress delivered them they were missing the bacon. We promptly (and hysterically) reported the gross oversight and she promised to bring us a plate of bacon.

But she never did.

And then it became clear.

The Bacon Apocalypse was upon us.

It's amazing I even have the strength to type this post, what with my body's lack of pig fat consumption. It's like I'm learning how to live all over again.

I've digressed.

The point is, Just Jennifer is amazing times infinity and you should head on over to her blog to read about the Very Awesome Thing about me that she announces. It may or may not have something to do with my vagina.

(P.S. It has nothing to do with my vagina. Why would you even ask that? Honestly.)

When you're done reading that post, come back here to read the latest edition of the bizarro things people googled that led them to my blog.

Cat plan of world domination
We are so screwed, you guys.

Girls tiny boob falls out at swimming pool
Don’t worry, honey. No one noticed. Except that one kid with a video camera who is going to post your humiliation all over the internets.

Hi guys i show my boobs on the internet for likes meme
Silly girl. Everyone knows if you want likes you gotta show your “biscuit.”

Super girl boobs
I bet they’re full of super powers. I wish my boobs had super powers…other than hypnotizing the husband into doing anything I want. Not that that’s not totally awesome, it’s just that sometimes I wish they could shoot rockets at idiot drivers. I’d be a true super hero then. Not only would I be making my life easier, I’d be making the planet safer for everyone. Win!

everytime you eat bread it makes ryan gosling cry 
Bahaha. I can’t even express how much I love this. And how much I love bread. And Ryan. This is a hard decision, but I think I love bread more.

dumb people and things going straight over their head
If I had a dollar…

head hurts all over
I’m sorry to hear you’re dying. Or having a panic attack.

hey mister wanna see my boobs
Uh…of course he does. Unless he’s a gay mister. But even then, he might like to see them, you know, for funsies.

husband sleeps 15 hours, awake 6 hours
I see the husband’s been googling himself again.

Guys, it is easier to lose an argument to your girlfriend, when you compare it to losing her forever
True. But the easiest thing of all is to just accept that you’ll never coming close to winning an argument so don’t waste your time trying.

Hey girl spiders 
Unfortunately the spiders got to this googler before they got to finish their search. What they meant to type was:  Hey girl spiders are freaking scary and will eat your face off.

my husband doesn't know i'm a prostitute
Well won’t he be happy when he finds out. I think you should wait for a very special occasion to tell him. Like your anniversary. “Happy 8 Years, Honey! You have herpes!”

I love that you have breasts
Thanks. I love that I have them too.

Eat, sleep, figure skate
What else is there to life?

Guys revving engine at stoplight
Are stupid, annoying and over-compensating

Shove your green card up your ass 
Do I hafta?

I peed my pants poor grammar 
It's to know that even after you've humiliated yourself you're concerned about grammar

Comment gems!

hilljean: You guys are cute :) I cannot think of a more enjoyable evening than reading through those emails. I kinda sorta want to create an account for a 70 year old me and use my grandma's old photo. Hmmm. It would just be interesting to see who got excited over that. And also kinda creepy.

Ok, way creepy. Never mind, not gonna do it.

momnextdoor: One day my husband and I thought it would be hilarious to each sign up for e-harmony (under fake names lest our neighbor find us) and answer all 50 bazillion questions and see if we would get matched up together. We did not. On second thought, we should have done that BEFORE we got married. Hmmm.

Wednesday, October 3, 2012

Putting a Ring On It Isn't Always As Easy As It Sounds

The husband and I have been married for seven years. We've been together for ten. From the moment we met, we were inseparable. Never once while we were dating did we break up. Not even for a day or in the midst of a fight. In fact, I can't remember us ever having a fight. Well, except for the time he got a better grade on a test than I did and like a true adult, I threw his $90 calculator across the room and he yelled, "DON'T THROW MY CALCULATOR!"

We are soulmates. Best friends. From the very first exchange of shockingly white smiles in the black light of a tiny dorm room there seemed to be unspoken agreement that we were committed for the long haul.

So imagine my surprise when I learned the husband was back on the market. The market. About a month ago, I discovered an email congratulating the husband on setting up his profile.

I'll give you all a moment to let the shock settle in.



How could he do this? Don't the last ten years mean anything? I mean, I know I can be a total psychopath from time to time, but we made a vow! For better or worse, in sickness and health, til death do us...

insert sound of screeching record

I think I should back up a little. Yes it's true that "The Husband" signed up for But apparently there is another "The Husband" in the world and that "The Husband" is actually the one who signed up to meet women over the internets, not my "The Husband."

Confused? Me too.

About a month ago, the husband texted me the following: I just got an email from welcoming me. Apparently I was born in 1962 and I am a man seeking a woman. I must take necessary safety precautions though because they do not do background checks.

Me: Well, at least you're not a woman seeking a man!

The husband: Or a man seeking a man!

The husband: Or a dog seeking a cat!

And then I laughed for 427 hours at the image of a dog creating a profile in the hopes of finding a cat companion.

"Seeking cat who has all of her nine lives left, is good at throwing tennis balls and ignores her name when called."
Somehow, when this other man, who has the exact same name as the husband, created his profile, he entered the husband's email address instead of his own. We learned that he was interested in women between the ages of 40 and 70 (that's quite a range!) and over the next several days the husband received emails from potential matches.

Totally. Awesome.

I was dying to see who these women were and what this guy looked like. But the husband forbade me from signing in under this guy's profile. Every night we would lie in bed and review the day's emails from the interested single ladies. The husband would declare that he had to contact to put an end this and I was all, "you should totally do that," but secretly, I hoped he never would because this was the most fun I'd had in, well, ever.

Positively dying to know what this guy looked like, I went on but unfortunately you're not allowed to just troll for people like a creep without creating a profile. I was seriously tempted to create one just so I could find this guy, but then decided that was probably one of the worst ideas I've ever had.

Even though the husband and I were having the time of our lives with this whole thing (or at least I was) we felt bad for the poor guy who was probably wondering why not even one single lady was interested in having ring put on it.

It's not as easy as it sounds, Beyonce.
Sadly, the emails stopped one day. While I do hope this guy is on his way to happily ever after, I will forever miss the days when the husband was fifty, single, and ready to mingle.

Comment gems!

Gia: I'd make fun of you, but I can no longer use my vacuum because I vacuumed up a spider last week. So yeah. 
Marianna Annadanna: THE LIZZARD is an ASSHOLE.