And while I'm too tired to creatively entertain all of you in my usual capacity, I felt I should at least share how I felt last night when reading comment #15:
While urinating in a public restroom this past weekend, I was reminded of one of the reasons why all men need to keep their lower region neatly trimmed [aka: "manscaping"].
After following the proper men's public restroom protocol,
(Rule #1: Always leave at least one empty urinal between you and the next closest urinator), I found an empty urinal and an imaginary spot on the wall, just above it (which is Rule #2).
Ladies, the "imaginary spot" is where we men look while urinating, never looking left or right out of fear of being caught checking out another guys' junk. (Yes, we are that insecure and are often secretly comparing ourselves.)
I then looked down in the the urinal to take careful aim, and there it was ...
Yep, that's a stray you see in there.
A Jumper.
And it's not mine.
I wasn't able to switch urinals (once again, see Rule #1 above), so I aimed and hosed that F'n thing down the drain to spare the next guy in line, and to make sure he didn't think "it" was left there by me.
I finished up and left disgusted, but proud knowing that I did not leave behind any strays.So Gentlemen please, keep it trimmed down there. Public restroom users will appreciate it.
Also Guys, always keep in mind... the other benefit of "manscaping":
"If you cut the grass short, the tree looks taller."
It's been a rough week here at the "Splendid Blended's". We've had all four kids for the past 8 days, and this chick is ready for her ADULT WEEKEND starting T-O-D-A-Y.
As usual, we had our weekly run in my husband's ex-wife, just like clock work. And I've been venting at night to my husband after all the kids are put to bed, in order to try and understand why this woman is so fucking crazy. Obviously, we'll just never figure that one out.
So during one of my nightly tirades I seem now to remember exclaiming something along the lines of how I could seriously "rip her eyes out". Oh, what joy that would bring.
This is my step-son's valentine's project he gave me which has been adorning our refrigerator for the past month. Do you see the pipe cleaner legs hanging?
Well, it used to have eye balls too. However, last night little Cooper obviously pissed off my youngest Sydney, and decided to "rip its eyes off" because Cooper made her made.
That's what she said, with the biggest, proudest smile this morning.
Shit.
Like Mother, Like Daughter.
Well, it was bound to happen at some point. And yesterday was the day.
I threw it out there. Big-Time. Right Pitch. Excellent Tone. 100% Fierce Attitude.
Yep, I dropped the "F-Bomb" for the first time to our entire gang of kids. And I feel like an ass.
And then there's my husband who continues to remind me as he laughs out loud that it wasn't just me "throwing out an F-bomb" that was so entertaining and hysterical, but it was the entire scene of watching me storm out of the bathroom at 70mph, screaming:
"I CAN'T EVEN TAKE A FUCKING 1 MINUTE SHIT WITHOUT ALL OF YOU GUYS FIGHTING AND CRYING OVER SOMETHING????"
Reaction was silence. And then giggles from behind me [adoring husband] and giggles in front of me [adoring four children whom I did not love so much yesterday morning] .
And by the way, I love having a vagina.
Hair and all.
OK, did you ever have a day where something stops you dead in your tracks and makes you wonder:
"Do I have a problem?"
[And no - I'm not talkin' about drinking too much red wine.]
This weekend, I was forced to think back about the content of some of my posts. I realize I've talked about my husband's male member at times - but all in fun - absolutely no "porn" twists to it or anything, right?
And then there was the time I suggested a website to those of you who haven't been introduced... do you remember??? Youporn? But THAT was a suggestion from a friend of mine, and see, I was just trying to share the wealth, people. Do you understand?
Ok, and THEN I quickly was brought back to the time I offered to show my boobs for some technical support... but if you read my entire post I actually ended it with "Just kiddin' baby"... which was directed to my husband, and was also implying to all my readers that I really wasn't actually prepared to show my real boobs.
K? You all following me here?
So when I entered one of my first online giveaways by Tattooed Minivan Mom for a $50 gift certificate to an online sex toy store... [I mean, come ON - who wouldn't want a couple of free sex toys, right???]... I started getting some rather empathetic e-mails from a long time follower... actually I think the first person I started following when I started this blog back in August. It was Dorsey. And she wanted to send me a goodie box since I didn't win the sex toy contest.
This blogging world is still all new to me. So when she asked me for my address via e-mail, I reminded her that my husband's a cop and if she was a stalker he'd literally beat the shit of her.
Nice response, right?
Because then I began thinking, what if Dorsey's blog is a big cover up???
I mean, all those videos and pics of her and her beautiful family could be fake. And then there is that thing about how she's so "real" in her writing... and how she posts all those old pics of herself from high school, you know? It could be anyone in those old pics, right??? And her real life journal entries from when she was sixteen? I mean, come on. ANYONE could do this, right?
And then it hit me. MAYBE, just MAYBE, it's her husband who blogs under her identity to secretly get innocent victim's home addresses so he can drive across the country to assault them.
Shit, my man's a cop, remember? I am suspicious of all people.
So this weekend, I get my goodie box. And here's what I got:
SOOOOOOO, if you know me well enough, I'm all over the paranoia shit.
Stalker or not, I'm keepin' it. And you know what they say... sometimes in life you gotta just take a chance, and roll the dice.
And I'll be rolling my sex dice each night this week thanks to Dorsey. Go check her out, and if you're nice, maybe she'll feel sorry for you too and send you something!
Thanks Dorsey!
Why is it that women usually get the short end of the stick when it comes to digestive systems. I mean come on people, I'm talking "shit habits" here.
I.Can't.Poop. My husband eats like he plays pro-football and is continuously training for the Superbowl. And whatever he chooses to put in his body usually exits via sphincter canal within 7 minutes after meal completion. Seven measly minutes, people. Yet in the past 72 hours, I have consumed an easily estimated 4 bottles of wine, late night sushi, Mexican food and margaritas [I mean, come on - who the hell doesn't shit after MEXICAN??!!], chicken salad, calamari salad, water, water and more water, more wine and then an amazingly protein filled breakfast plus three mimosas at Sunday brunch. And the only thing that has exited this body within the past 72 hours is an ever so growing wind tunnel of gas that seems to be building and brewing like no one in their right mind could or should be able to imagine. Never mind the veggie lasagna last night. So, my question is: Why in God's name do so many of us women get blessed with malfunctioning GI systems, while the men who would rather pack on a few pounds of bulk lose weight just from the amount of stairs they have to travel in a day to get to a fucking toilet before exploding 6 pounds of internal material each trip? Life is not fair. However, girl's weekend was totally worth the bloat.
I'm not sure what it was that made this week rather L-O-N-G.
Could it have been the two unemployment office "counseling" appointments I was forced to attend where I felt I had to haul ass from my car to the inside main lobby so I wouldn't be assaulted in the rancid neighborhood I was forced to drive to? Or maybe it was dealing with a cyber stalker who I believe would have loved to assault me no matter what I really look like, even though I do [thankfully] live 12 freaking states away. All I can honestly say is: "It's been one L-O-N-G ass week." And with that, I'm off Friday at noon to Philly for my annual girls weekend. And I can't wait. From noon tomorrow through noon on Sunday I'll be in another world, talking nonstop, laughing uncontrollably and loving every minute of my girlfriends and their incredible stories that only they can tell in just the right way to ensure we all spit our drinks out simultaneously, while wiping away tears. So this Friday I'm dedicating Candid Carrie's Friday Foto Fiesta to the Gang that I'm leaving behind.. even if it is just for 2 days...
Momma needs a new pair of shoes...
And a very long spa day...
And a ton of red wine...
lil' more....
more.... more.....
............. little further..... ..............
HERE!!! :
BWWWWWWWWWAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAA
HHHHAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAA
HHHHAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAA!!!!!!!!!!!
And by the way, I googled "funny boob pictures", and I'm not kidding, this was the first one.
And if you really want to know what my face looked like when I saw those things, it looked a little like this:
Except, I think I would have to pass on those boobs.
Yuck.
I hope you still come back.
xoxo
Horny Lurkers... Back the fuck off, please.
Let's Clarify A Few Things Today:
1. I love my husband, and he reads every word of my blog and connected e-mails - and that's because this is our fun, personal blog.
2. I don't share him. He won't share me... [except for that Blonde mystery woman we fantasize about together, but that's a whole other topic].
3. I love to get new visitors to my blog - and I LOVE reading new comments - but look, when strangers start e-mailing me sudden, lengthy notes on wanting to see my boobs, asking me what types of sex-toys I have at home, there's a line that's been crossed in my mind.
So for you type of lurkers, go fucking lurk on some other female blogger who is as lame as you. Maybe if you'd pay some attention to your wife instead of advertising your anonymous need for infidelity, you'd get some.
To each their own. Just not my own, thanks.
To my Gals at the Lost Dog Cafe:
I love you. I could go three years without seeing you and then get together as we did last night and just want to sit in the same spot for days. Not hours... Days.
PS... How the HELL did I miss out on limo sex night 5 years ago?? I am still devastated. Seriously. It's total bullshit.
Until next month,
xoxo
a) Finding out my 9 year old daughter kicked a boy in the nuts while playing in our local McDonald's play place even though he was blocking all four of our kids in the suspended tunnel and shaking it uncontrollably while mocking them repeatedly;
b) Receiving two essay length e-mails from my husband's ex-wife about first, her thoughts on sports selections for their 2nd grader who you'd think at this moment was in his third year of high school making a life decision around scholarship selections; and second, how she still needs to "ponder" our request for her to not pay the little tyke unheard of monetary awards for simply completing basic homework assignments that all other kids need to do as a normal reading requirement in class;
c) Realizing on this Saturday evening - the 7th day in a row of having all four insane and bad ass kids with us who don't give a shit about anyone else but themselves - after getting home from a family birthday party of 20+ people where kids ruled the entire house and the temperature in the main room rose so high causing the need to pat formed sweat stain marks on my new shirt with tissues - that I am now home, walking to the wine cabinet and noticing we are completely out of red wine.
Have you ever seen those lame ass commercials for the male enhancement product called Extenze? We laugh every time we see one... our favorite joke we have is to order the actual "Extenze Energy Drinks" and have my husband walk into roll call one day at the police station, just nonchalantly chugging a can of it.
Disclaimer: While I do not promote products on this site, I would like to say two things:
First, my husband does NOT require any type of male enhancement products what so ever...
(Feel better, sweetheart?)
And Second... Even if your husband possesses a bodacious and girtholicious member,
(which I am SURE he does), please, please... check this shit out anyway!
Dear Hiring Manager,
I would like to make this last plea in convincing you I am the absolute best candidate for your team. While I am excited that you find my past performance to be outstanding and my abilities to be above any other candidate you have interviewed to date, I am not willing to accept your hesitation in the fact that being "overqualified" means I will not be committed to stay with your company.
Please, all I ask of you is this:
Would you agree that I am also overqualified to attend 1st grade field trips, ride on yellow school buses with the pure entertainment of a huge fucking dried booger stuck to the bus seat where the group of girls I was responsible for at the time were sitting, and sit by smelly children [whom yes, I know, SOMEONE loves these children] who ensure their dirty [most likely scabey and lice infested] coat touches every inch of me as they take 30 minutes to get comfortable in a theatre seat?
I believe the answer is YES.
I am way to fucking overqualified for this.
But I am committed.
And I will continue to do this, for the love of my own child in supporting her class.
As I promise with passion I would remain committed to you.
In the meantime, I'll be dousing myself with hand sanitizer and Lysol, and helping school bus driver's flick dry boogers to ensure my own child isn't tempted in doing so herself.
Sincerely,
Overqualified and Oversanitized
God bless teachers.
There are so many sexy things about my husband. I love watching him do things around the house. He loves his tools, and can fix absolutely anything. And it's not like I ever have to ask him to do something in particular. Last weekend, we found him in the midst of tearing apart our rather new leather computer bench in the middle of the TV room. When I asked him what he was doing, he simply said he had heard me mention to the girls that the computer bench was flat and uncomfortable, so he was just going to fix it. His idea of fixing meant unstapling leather, measuring and cutting wood, and creating an amazing seat that we all keep commenting on. My idea of "fixing" would have revolved around heading out to just buy a new one.
Today, he's mounting our TV in the kitchen. I've been watching and he doesn't even notice. And his hands are one of the most sexiest hands I've ever seen...:
I'm not sure if it's the fact that he's a police officer of 14 years and that I've seen him at work in some unbelievable circumstances. I've heard about too many things I never knew existed in this country. I know that we are fortunate in so many aspects. He's seen more than many people would care to experience. Yet this, coupled with his unbelievable kindness and true respect of other people, makes him an amazing man.
Yesterday, as we were leaving my girls' soccer game, I realized I had picked up an extra trophy and had to run back inside before some 7 year old became emotionally distraught thinking their own trophy was stolen. My husband said he would get the car, and he'd pick me up at the front door in a few minutes. As I returned outside to wait for him, I suddenly saw an old man on the street corner crash down to the ground, watching and hearing his head impact the sidewalk as his cane flew into the road. My heart stopped. It was the loudest sound I've ever heard.
In the half a second I debated what to do - I immediately ran inside knowing that I wouldn't be able to handle the situation by myself, realizing I didn't have my phone on me. The slow pace and lack of concern from the employees at the local YMCA was nothing short of disturbing. I started yelling "PLEASE! I NEED HELP! A MAN HAS FALLEN AND HAS HIT HIS HEAD AND I THINK YOU SHOULD CALL 911!!"
A woman behind the desk slowly looked at me, then away, then slowly pointed to another gentleman behind a second desk on the other side of the lobby. As I commanded this man to assist me and bring a phone, I began to run outside filled with fear as to what I might find.
And what I saw, brought tears to my eyes.
It was my husband. Kneeling down in the street tending to the fallen man.
As Mark was pulling the car around, he saw the dropped man and jumped out to help. He was questioning him and examining his body before deciding whether he could move him without further injury. In minutes, we had 911 on its way, and God must have sensed what was happening as I know he was responsible for the medical resident who drove by at that very moment. My husband and this Resident were amazing.
The injured man I believe will be okay. He had a head contusion, was bleeding from scrapes on his hand, and was suffering from Parkinson's Disease. He had no family. He lived with friends almost 2 miles away and had been walking to one of the hospitals yet another mile from where we stood to visit a friend. He was 54. He looked at least 68. He currently had two broken ribs that occurred during his last fall. He falls regularly.
My husband held him in a safe position until the ambulance arrived. And to him, it was normal. It was no big deal, and this was what he or any passing person would do. He was just filled with kindness, concern and the natural sense and ability to help. His presence calmed me. His actions and eye contact spoke nothing less than "I'll handle it Sue, don't worry." To me, I think he is amazing.
And I can't stop thinking about the man.
Dear Old Parkinson's Man,
My heart and prayers go out to you. I hope you are okay, and I hope that in all of this you will receive appropriate medical attention not only for this fall, but to ensure your safety and well being from now on. Today you have reminded me that what I have done through work in the past 13 years is worth everything if it has helped at least one person in your condition.
Sincerely,
The Scared Blonde Who Really Did Run As Fast As She Could
PS... Happy Birthday, Baby. I am so grateful for the day you entered my life.
Since I started my journey in this electronic black hole of communicating with pretty much total strangers, I've never been one to enter those daily blog contests you come across regularly that offer prizes like homemade items, gift cards, and product favorites. It's not that I'm against them or anything, I just seriously never took the time or really found something I've been in absolute need of.
Until Today.
Thanks to Tattooed Minivan Mom.
You see, there are some things worth stopping life for. And today, I would like to declare that SEX TOYS would be one of them.
Now before you go thinking we have swings hanging from our mirrored ceilings and all, I'd like to make it clear it's not THAT crazy here. But, who wouldn't want a chance to win a choice of scented SEX LUBE plus a $50 credit towards any purchase at all from Eden Fantasys?
[Dorsey I KNOW you'll be in on this one. Katie however, no need to hide in your basement... I'm not FORCING you to enter, OK???]
And while I want to be selfish and keep this contest a secret, I'm racking 3 extra entry points for sharing it through a post...
So go check it out NOW... you won't regret it! SEX TOY CONTEST LINK .
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