The Conversation with my Bladder, my Brain and my Stomach

My Brain: This is the second detour we've encountered on our way home, do you really think we have time to stop at Subway? Boy #3 has to be at work in an hour.

My Stomach: All you've dropped down here today was a Big Texas Cinnamon Roll and yogurt. Stop at Subway.

My Bladder: Don't forget the 24 oz. Mocha, the bottle of water and the Pepsi. I don't know how much more I can hold, clearly I'm your biggest problem right now.

My Brain: It's a no brainer, pardon the pun, we must go straight home and directly to the bathroom. You can make a sandwich just as well, if not better, than a Subway employee.

My Stomach: I don't believe what I'm hearing, I'm so hungry I could eat the ass of a skunk. Cross your legs and feed me.

My Bladder: Wal-Mart has a Subway inside and a bathroom, THIS is a no brainer, duh.

My Brain: The boy! The boy!

Me: SHUT UP! SHUT UP! Let me think.

My Brain: Let me do that for you, you might hurt yourself. It is what I'm here for you know.

Doh! Erv is my brother!

Since the beginning of the year, when I told my brother, "I'm so blogging about this." He has been faithfully reading my blog and commenting anonymously. Here are few of his comments:

From - The Unmistakable, Over-Powering Smell of Bleach
Great Story!!!
I thought the brother was awesome!

And - It's Time To Tell The Fish Story
This sounds way to familiar, The exact same thing happened to me as a kid. Has your brother recovered yet?

When he realized his sister was slightly retarded he changed his username to erv. erv? No where close to his real name but everyone at work calls him that, he became more obvious and he left these comments:

hey sue,
Thanks for sharing my allergy story. I like to think that I looked more like Rocky when he said "cut me Mick."

I'll give a hint. You,re coming to my house on Sunday for my son,s birthday and cook out.

Ohhh! erv is my brother! The sad part of this story is that he bet his wife I wouldn't catch on, she thought I would and said she would run around the house in the snow while wearing her bathing suit and make a snow angel in the back yard if I didn't. The poor woman has to do just that next winter, it took me so long to get a clue the bet couldn't continue and is being carried over until a climate change. I feel bad she got caught up in a little sibling rivalry but honestly if I didn't go over and take pictures when she follows through on the bet what kind of blogger would I be?

Uterus For Sale

For Sale: one used uterus, has carried 3 children, 1 large, 2 medium, has been stretched beyond legal limits but rebounded nicely, comes with a free bottle of Midol.

I'm so over this uterus. The directions on the Midol bottle say not to exceed 8 caplets in a 24 hour period and I say if you're going to limit me then put some kind of narcotic in it or let me mix it with alcohol.
It's served it purpose and usefulness and I'm ready to move on, part ways. Every month or so it feels like it's going to fall out, so when it does I'm putting it on Craig's List. I'd put it on eBay but they frown upon selling body parts.

And There Will Be Free Chipolte For All

Nothing says great day at work like free Chipolte. Except maybe if they brought us Margaretta's too. God Bless the woman at work that had the sense to put her business card in the Chipolte fishbowl on the counter near the cash register while buying lunch. Who thinks of stuff like that? People that think ahead that's who and she will forever be my favorite co-worker. Chipolte drew her business card out of their "free lunch for work" fishbowl. I always thought those things were for a restaurants mailing list, didn't think they actually came through with the free lunch. My favorite co-worker picked up about 20 burritos and asked me to get on the company page to announce lunch was served.
"Attention please! Chipolte has entered the building. Please pick up your burrito in the break-room."
We all happily ate our free lunch in the conference room, when I decided we needed to go on to the next level. To blanket the immediate area with our business cards, everywhere there is a "free lunch fishbowl" someone needs to put a business card in.
"If we take this seriously enough we can be eating free once a week at least."
I think it's one of my best idea's ever or I'm still basking in the glow of my free burrito. A burrito high.

I Invented a New Diet

What you need to do is get yourself a cheese danish out of a vending machine at work first thing in the morning. Wolf it down with a mocha while sitting at your desk trying to answer the phone. See you end up hardly chewing it because of the phone, it's a Murphy's Law thing, as soon as you bite off a piece of danish and I use the word danish loosely, the phone rings forcing you to either try and moosh it to the side of your mouth or swallow before you should. All this is perfectly fine if you plan to follow my diet. If not might I suggest finding time for a proper breakfast?

Now most diets are hard to follow, not this one, you're done. That fake cheese danish will sit in your stomach undigested for the entire day. It will be like a brick sitting at the bottom of your digestive track, giving you the sense of fullness. Husband brings home Chinese for dinner, "No thanks dear, I'm full."

__________________________________________

I'm the "Jack Bauer" of the office. I'm the only one that would try one of those cheese danishes. I've left instructions to be stopped at all cost if I buy another one. The cheese danishes just have no business being in the same vending machine with the Big Texas Cinnamon Roll - The Pastry of the Year! I'm not sure which year or if they keep winning it year after year, but they're in a league of their own those Big Texas Cinnamon Rolls are.

You have no idea the week I've had with this hair.

"Are my contacts in by any chance?" I asked the contact lady and gave her my name.
"Why yes! I just called your house and left a message on your machine telling you they're ready."
"Isn't that funny? I'm on my way here to see if they're ready and your calling me to tell me they are, I was told a week but it's only been 6 days, I thought I'd check anyway, this is great."
"I'll go get them." The contact lady said and also, "Cute hair cut by the way." And she went to the back room.
I looked behind me to see who she was talking to and there wasn't anyone back there. To the left and right of me, no one. I went to the mirror and checked, 'Yep that's the same hair that's given me nothing but trouble all week.' I struggled with it every morning barely making it to work on time. Huh.
"Here are your contacts."
"Thank you and you have no idea the week I've had with this hair, thanks."
She smiled at me and I was on my way with a new attitude towards life. It's amazing how great you feel when you realize you don't have to shave your head.

The Fish Heads in my Freezer

And let me explain the logic behind that title. The husband is a fisherman, so are the boys, after coming home from a long day of fishing the fish must be cleaned. You have to chop their heads off and then there's guts too. The brilliant plan, and it's a good one when properly followed through, is to put the fish heads and guts in zip lock bags.
But wait there's more!
If you put the zip lock bags in the freezer and then dispose of them on garbage day, you've locked in and frozen fish gut smell on those hot summer days. It's genius. Have you ever smelled fish guts that have been in the garbage for 3 days?
But remember to follow through with the plan, for about the last two years, I've had two zip lock bags of fish heads that stare at me every time I open my freezer. The last year or so I've tried not to make eye contact with them especially when I take out a bag of fish fillets for dinner, it's kind of awkward. The husband and I haven't taken the garbage since the boys learned to walk and we have remembering issues. But it is all his fault.

The Difference Between Boy #2 and Boy #3

Last night:
Boy #3 says to me, "Mom, the milk is low, how much do you need in the morning?"
"You're so nice to think of me precious baby boy, I just need a little splash for my coffee in the morning. We did something right with that one, he's the most considerate of all of them, isn't he, he's so cute."
"Yes dear."
"You fill that glass with milk honey, you're a growing boy. Do you need any money?"
Boy #3 left me with a warm fuzzy feeling.

This morning:
I shuffled out of bed towards the smell of coffee. "Where's the.... is that a empty milk jug?"
Boy #2 was getting ready for work. "I made a protein shake. Have you seen my wallet? Wait a minute, I think it's in my car. Bye mom."
Boy #2 left me with black coffee.

A Girl Hammer, One Cute Kid and One Creepy Kid

My mom sent me on a wild goose chase for her Mother's Day present, actually she told me exactly where to find it but I thought I'd be able to find the "girl hammer" at one of all the other places I had to go to today - no.
A girl hammer is a hammer with flowers on it, apparently my 72 year old mother needs a hammer all to herself, for what, I have no idea. But she keeps one handy and my father finds it, uses it and never puts it back in its rightful place. Now her hammer with flowers on it will stay put because no self respecting handyman will use a hammer with flowers on it. We'll fix him good. I really, really tried to post a photo but my aging camera wouldn't cooperate, sorry. They have them at eBay if you search "For Ladies Only" hammer. I searched that on google images and got some unrelated things not suitable for my blog.

During my shopping spree today at a local department store, not WalMart for a change Relax Max, (and the snow is all melted in the parking lot, thank you for asking in your 1,000 word comment) I ran into one cute kid and one creepy kid.
Cute kid: "Daddy can't we just buy mommy a golden necklace with diamonds on it?"
The cute kid knew mom a lot better than dad did. Dad was actually attempting to pick out an outfit in the clothing section.

Creepy kid: Well, he was hugging a mannequin with no head.

In The Back Row

The funeral we went to made us think of Lamaze class because we sat in the back row. Not to be disrespectful, it's just that all the seats got taken up and we found ourselves, the husband and me, in the back row. Which, again, not to be disrespectful, made us laugh.
Back when I was pregnant with Boy #1, I fell for the load of crap that is Lamaze class. And dragged the husband along kicking and screaming. What was I thinking? Natural childbirth when drugs were available? I was so young and stupid. They taught me how to breath in such a way that the pain would ease. A deep cleansing breath and then short "he he he he" breaths. Around class number 5 or 6 was the movie class. We were going to see a baby born on full screen in full color. That's when the husband spoke up and insisted on sitting in the back row, I was pretty sure he was planning on taking a nap. But that plan was brought to a screeching halt when the instructor came in and said, "They always set this room up wrong, would you help me move this projector to the other side of the room?" All of a sudden we had front row seats. The husband saw more than enough, he never made it to the delivery room with me.
After "he he he he'ing" for hours I asked the nurse, "I can't feel my fingers, is that normal?"
"Your hyperventilating, stop breathing like that. Let's get you some oxygen."
"Oxygen and bring me some drugs, I'm so over natural childbirth."

If Whore Was The Look You Were Going For...Congratulations

Every day in the summer I thank the Lord above for giving me boys that like to wear baggy clothes, every day. Our weekend consisted of temperatures in the 60's, which meant to me, a light jacket, jeans and flip-flops, if I felt daring. Out making my weekend observations, I get at least 10 to 17 ideas I plan to blog about and the majority of them get lost in my head before I can write them down, but one managed to stick with me.
Sixty degree weather brought out the hussy in all the little teenage girls. Tight spaghetti strap tops and tight little skirts up to their twats. Girls, if whore was the look you were going for, congratulations, your goal was accomplished. You've also sent you fathers off to obtain firearms permits and they will be regular customers of the nearest liquor store. Mom's across America are filling prescriptions for Prozac. "Doctor my teenage daughter dresses like a whore."
"Fill this prescription and take it with alcohol, preferably."