I’m giving in. Sort of.

Enough said.

It’s November 5th. Five days into the ‘thankful month’. Seems like all I’ve seen on FB and  Twitter for the last five days,  are people participating in these ’30 days of  Thankfulness‘ challenges.  That’s a great mission to partake in….if it’s your thing. And it’s also good to read…..if that’s your thing.

But I’ll be honest. It’s not mine.

You want to know why?  Chances are you don’t, but I’m telling you anyway. Probably also thinking ‘what a bitter bitch’. That’s okay too. Whatevs. I’ve got my big girl panties on, and I hiked up my skirt and grabbed my balls before I decided to write this post. So, I’m good.  Anyway, here’s my thing.

Being thankful all 365 days of the year. Not just for the thirty days in November.

Not to sound sappy or cheesy, but I wake up every single morning, thankful I woke up. Then I go about my day, silently thankful for the many things I have that others don’t, and reminding myself not to take those things for granted. Because I’ve learned from past mistakes, and know very well that all of it can be gone in the blink of an eye. Life is unpredictable and full of surprises, and is even shorter than we all believe it is when we say “Life’s too short”. It just doesn’t seem fair to be thankful for only 30 days out of the year, when the other 335 are just as important.

There’s also a flip-side to this. Some days I wake up on the wrong side of the bed, and I’m sure Satan himself is saying “God help us all… She’s up.” Those days, I’m thankful I’m not a violent person. Other days I’m thankful ‘my mama taught me better than that’ when I plot revenge against someone I feel has wronged me or The Man or worse… The Beans. ** There are also those days when I feel thankful for my resentment. An odd statement, I know, but it keeps me on my toes and thinking about how I can be a better person, free of resentment or regret. Don’t get me wrong. I have few regrets, and little resentment, but I’m only a human, work in progress.

But, in the spirit of November, I will list a few things I am thankful for at this moment, and in all the other moments of all the rest of the 364 days of every year:

1. A husband who tries his best, and is perfectly imperfect….and who can ‘fix it in post’ and make movies sound better than anyone I know 🙂

2. Daughters who are breathtakingly beautiful, and don’t know it; humble and compassionate. Who are wild and too loud and drive me crazy, but melt my heart with random ‘I love you’s’ whispered in my ear when I need them most.

3. A bunch of ridiculously talented and creative siblings, nieces and nephews who can paint things like this, make cool things like this, and write stuff like this and this. Oh and there are others….they just don’t have websites. Yet.

4. A circle of friends stronger than diamonds who ALWAYS have my back, and would walk barefoot, across an ocean of fire and broken glass to get to me if they knew I was in trouble. Even when I forget to call them or text them , or withdraw into a shell when I need them most. And they always know when I need them most, because they pay attention, and they know who they are.

5. Being a graduate of THE University of Alabama, who has the #1 football team in the country, and who will be BCS Championship winners once again this year. ROLL TIDE ROLL!!!

6. I am thankful for all my new bloggy sisters and brothers, in the Theme Thursday crew, and especially for Lori, over at The Next Step, for thinking this post, was worthy of a guest feature on her blog yesterday. She even did it without my knowledge, which made for a nice surprise! The traffic I got from it put me over 14,000 views up in here since I started writing in January…woo-hoo 🙂

7. I am thankful I have the right to vote tomorrow today, and I will be exercising it too. And proudly wear that sticker all day. On my forehead.

Okay, that’s enough for now. You see, it’s late, and if I don’t go to bed right the fuck now, I’m going to fall asleep and bang my head on the keyboard, causing a gash which would no doubt cause me to be ‘thankful I have health insurance’ when I end up in the ER having it stitched back together. And then I’ll have one of those mornings where my feet hit the floor, and everyone says…..“OH SHIT. SHE’S UP, and INJURED. And can’t wear her sticker on her forehead. We’re screwed.”

Lights out.

**FYI, I have decided to refer to my girls as The Beans aka Sugar Bean, Butter Bean, and Sweet Pea, respectively, from this point on. Sorry for any confusion this may cause. It just seems more fitting a description for them. LOL. 

 

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I need a nurse…STAT!

Looks like it might hurt, huh?

Living out here in the land of ‘pretty much anything goes because it’s Hollywood’, I witness all sorts of things. It’s only on rare occasions when I’m an insider, instead of a spectator. Well, lucky you…because this past weekend, I was all up in the insanity, and it made for a very…um…colorful story, to say the least.

First you should know it involved the part-time writing gig I have (yes..the one I got because of this one) which I normally do from home, in my pajamas, while answering online reservation requests for a very upscale club in Hollywood. Rarely do I have to go in. To be honest, I have never actually been asked to come in, but being the Type A, overachiever I am, I believe it’s important to pop in from time to time and do a bit of ‘Vip customer public relations’ (i.e. meeting the people face to face that I book bottle service for, and normally only deal with via email, to make sure they are getting drunk having a good time). And because our huge Halloween parties were happening this weekend, I believed it was crucial that I pop in and say “Hi”, or at the very least laugh at people’s costumes as well as the debauchery sure to happen at a kick-ass Hollywood Halloween Extravaganza.  The only catch was, I had to wear a costume in keeping with the theme, which revolved around an insane asylum. Fitting, right? Because we all know there are a bunch of crazies in Hollyweird. Anyway, the costume requirement boiled down to….‘Naughty Nurse’. Yeah, those risqué costumes that every male patient on the face of the planet wishes his girlfriend, wife, nurse would come through the door wearing. Yes, I have pictures. You will never see them. Get over it 🙂

So….Friday night was pretty benign. Nothing too exciting happened. Started off the evening downstairs in the office processing reservation requests on the computer (yes, I know. I could have done that from home). After I was done, I went upstairs, and just stood at the front door of the club looking like a 40 something, Nurse Ratchet in a costume that belonged on Nurse Anita Lay, surrounded by all the gorgeous 20-somethings who also work there, and SHOULD wear those kinds of costumes 24/7. It was definitely motivation for me to get my ass to a gym….STAT. Mostly, I greeted people as they came in, and laughed hysterically at their costumes. All in all, an easy fun time.

BUT BOY OH EFFING BOY…..Saturday made up for it, by leaps and bounds. It was a freaking doozy!!! Not sure if it was because my costume was smaller, making me look like a trampy ballerina nurse (I had on a tutu), or if the crowd was just completely CRAZY BALLS, but this is what happened:

The Man was with me, which turned out to be a blessing. Otherwise, I would have been much more frazzled than I was after the shit show I got caught up in.

Now, let me set the scene here…..when you walk into the club, there is a huge outdoor courtyard, with 2 long reflecting pools. One has a fireplace in the middle of it, and the other has a GIANT, vine-covered swing erected above it, with a round ottoman anchored in the pool in front and back of the swing. They hired an actress on Saturday,  to dress up like a creepy looking little girl, and swing on the swing. Well, she decided she needed a break, and left the swing unattended. I was out front, greeting folks again, and The Man texted me and said “I NEED HELP AT THE SWING. PLEASE COME IN HERE.”  So off I go. I rounded the corner only to see a gaggle of drunk, Harajuku girls dressed in nothing but lingerie (since when is this a costume?) trying to climb onto the swing, in the absence of the swinger who had vanished. The Man, dressed like he just walked off the set of ‘Men In Black’ was explaining to them that “no he wasn’t an employee, but he knew they weren’t allowed on it”, in his best, unofficial security guard voice. Now, I knew if these pop-tarts got hurt on the swing it would be a liability, and having the best interest of the club at heart..guess what I did? I got up there to keep them off it. BIG MISTAKE. That just prompted one of the most scantily clad one of the lot to climb onto the ottoman in front of me, and writhe around like a skanky stripper, facing me and opening her legs spread eagle, giving me a very vivid crotch shot, every time I swung forward. OH JOY! I was trapped on the swing for FORTY FIVE MINUTES, and adding insult to injury, all her flockies whipped out their smart phones and started taking photos, and no doubt, video….which has probably already made it on to YouTube. Yippee effing skippy!

Anyway, if the girl whose job it was to swing, hadn’t shown up when she did, to take over again….I had made up my mind that I was going to put my legs straight out and knock Hello Kitty off the ottoman and into the reflecting pool with a swift, go-go booted heel to the forehead. Even though, she kept saying ‘you so hot’, non-stop. No compliment is worth that kind of torture. Seriously.

The Man and I ended up leaving right after this happened, because despite my stone-cold sober state, once I got off the swing….I was ready to vomit. Good times, people.  Good times. But I am clearly too old for this shit.

And now for the photos. What? You thought I wasn’t going to post any didn’t you?

This was Friday night’s uniform. Of course, this is NOT ME. Mine looked just like this one though…minus the hot girl in it. Oh, and I wore a bra.

Image compliments of SpicyLingerieStore.com

Now, this was the costume that apparently caused all the havoc on Saturday. Again, NOT ME in this photo. Plus, I wore a red tutu, instead of this skirt, and paired it with red fish nets and white go-go boots. But you get the idea, right?

Image compliments of SpicyLingerieStore.com

 

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Best Date Night Ever: Halloween Horror Nights

Halloween 2009; My Fancy Nancy with HER Fancy Nancy. I made this costume up, btw, using dress up clothes we had on hand.

Let’s just establish from the git-go that Halloween is my favorite holiday. Save the Turkeys, let Santa retire and put the Easter Bunny on permanent hiatus as far as I’m concerned….but don’t mess around with Halloween. I blame my mama for my ridiculous obsession with this holiday. She was a seamstress, and possessed a burning passion for creating garments for people to dress up in. Sure, she made normal clothes too….but DAMN….THAT WOMAN KNEW HOW TO PUT TOGETHER A COSTUME LIKE NOBODY’S BUSINESS. One year I was a clown (okay, I’m still a clown), then I was a hobo, the next I was Tweety Bird and when I was in junior high she really stepped up the game….by tea-dyeing about 5 yards of muslin, ripping it into strips and wrapping my entire body up ‘like a mummy”. Of course, I couldn’t piss for several hours, but the costume was effing fantastic. It wasn’t just my mother though. My brothers and sisters got into it too. Although I am the baby of the family by 12 years, they continued to carry on like complete wing nuts every Halloween, perhaps for my benefit, but I really suspect it was for their own enjoyment. One such year, when I was maybe 8 or so, my brother rented a studio grade gorilla costume, and teamed up with my sister, who worked for a local vet in town, known for his love of exotic pets. Dr. Young was also known for being a bit on the eccentric side, and subject to doing things most folks would not dare. Keep in mind, I grew up in a really small town. With that in mind, you can imagine how hilarious it was when my brother, dressed as King Kong decided it would be fun to have my sister and the other vet-tech she worked with drive him around town while he was standing up, appearing to be chained in the bed of Dr.Young’s pickup truck. They drove all over the freaking city…up around the courthouse square…through neighborhoods. EVERYWHERE. Each time they would approach a group of middle or high school aged trick-or-treaters (not little kids, mind you) they would slow down, and my brother would pound his chest and roar, then act like he was ‘breaking free from the chains’ and jump out of the truck into the group of kids. The kids would scream and scatter, understandably….probably wearing dirty underwear. Good times….for the times. Today, he would likely have been shot. Halloween was also a time to go TP yards, shoot random strangers with water guns filled with chocolate syrup, or worse….egg houses. I can remember participating in this kind of prankster activity when I was 6. I thought it was cool, because I was with my 18-year-old sister and her friends. Little did I know, it was also criminal. Thanks, Bug. Anyway, you get the point. These are my people, and Halloween is a big deal.  So it’s only fitting that I carry on family tradition, right? No…I don’t take my kids egging or TP’ing, but we do dress up….elaborately. The picture below is from last year, just before they left to beg for candy from our strangers neighbors:

a tiger, a witch and….a punk rocker?

Ironically though, as much as I LOVE dressing my kids up and going all out, that’s not my favorite part of Halloween anymore. Nope. My favorite part is Halloween season date night with The Man. Oh, get your mind out of the gutter. It doesn’t involve kinky sex or role-playing with costumes. We go to Universal’s Halloween Horror Nights every year….without The Beans. For obvious reasons: they are too young. Although, after this past summer, and our participation in the filming of the book trailer for the zombie novel “100 Days of Death”, they might enjoy it now….lol. But I digress. Last year’s annual Halloween Date Night was definitely one for the history books. Even better than the year we ate ‘herbal brownies’ before going in, and were totally paranoid the entire night, thinking the Texas Chainsaws were real. I mean what kind of asshats do THAT? Yeah, us. What can I say…it was our rookie year, and somebody else brought the treats. Anyway….back to Halloween 2011. It started out pretty normal. Except for the fact that we waited until the last-minute to buy our tickets, and missed out on the coveted ‘Front of the Line’ passes, which are worth every extra penny they cost, btw, which is why they SELL OUT. So, there was a fair amount of bitching at the beginning of the night. Still, we were excited, because one of the mazes was ‘Scream 4’ and The Man had just finished mixing the post-sound for it, and wore his crew t-shirt on our date. Very appropriate, attire I thought, although he paired it with some jeans that had a small hole near the pocket in the back. To be fair, I pointed out the hole before we left, and suggested he change his pants, but he ignored me, naturally. Turned out, the tee-shirt was a conversation piece that set the night in motion, and wearing those holey jeans happened to be a stellar decision as well. We were on the escalator going to the lower level, and happened to strike up a conversation with a couple of ladies in front of us, when they inquired about The Man’s shirt. See? Great wardrobe choice. As luck would have it, they were staff make-up artists going from maze to maze checking on the actors and doing touch-ups as needed. We remarked about missing out on the front of the line passes, and how brutally long the lines were, and they offered to take us with them through the maze they were headed for. They got to cut the line, because they worked there, and we just happened to be at the right place at the right time. Now, let me tell you….despite the fact that he works on movies for a living, and knows it’s all costumes, make-up and sound….the characters at HHN scare the crap out of The Man. Every effing year. Me…not so much, as I have nerves of steel. Nonetheless, we truck along with our new BFF’s, and head into ‘Alice Cooper’. Little did we know one of the girls was dating the guy who worked the door to the maze, and she called ahead and told him to have the actors pay special attention to us. And holy shit snacks, did they ever take those instructions seriously. Within the first few minutes of being in the maze, one of the characters jumped out practically on top of us, The Man fell back into me (because I always make him go in first & use him as a shield), scrambled to get away, almost ditched me and did his dead level best to run like hell through the remainder of the maze, with our 2 escorts laughing hysterically. I was laughing too, of course, because when my husband gets spooked, it’s the best show on Earth. But oh…the fun didn’t stop there. Once we got to ‘safety’ outside the maze, I noticed that in the scuffle, the tiny little hole in the back of The Man’s jeans had grown by epic proportions…..

yes. it's exactly what it looks like

yes. it’s exactly what it looks like

Yes, ladies and gentlemen….The Man busted the ass out of his jeans trying to get away from a ‘monster’. And I wet mine laughing at him. Best. Date Night. EVER. Universal Halloween Horror Nights 2011. Needless to say, the girls got such delight in watching The Man get the shit scared out of him in the first maze, they took us with them through every single one, even with The Man’s underwear showing. So we essentially got the Front of the Line Passes…..for free. Sometimes, we live a charmed life when it comes to shit like that. Hoping we get that lucky again this year 🙂

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DAY-UM. What a week.

YEEEEESSSSSS!

YEEEEESSSSSS!

My apologies for being away so long, but…

DAY-UM! I’ve had a week. Let’s recap, shall we?

Last Saturday started with CAKE FOR BREAKFAST, in honor of Sweet Pea’s 6th birthday. Would love to take credit for this genius tradition, but all the credit goes to my high school friend Sarah and her sweet family. Seemed like such a fantastic way to start a birthday, that we hijacked it from them. We’ve been at it for 2 full years now 🙂 Every birthday starts with cake. Even the ones that fall on school days. The Beans’ teachers just love me for this I bet. After cake and presents, we headed out to spend a gift card she received and to lunch at her favorite chain restaurant, California Pizza Kitchen, where I was compelled to perform a stupid human trick I learned in college while watching Mr. Wizard, when I should have been studying for finals. It involves counter-balancing two forks atop two toothpicks stuck in a salt shaker. More than a few dollars have been made by hustling unsuspecting people guys at bars who swear it can’t be done. Whatever, suckers. Not only can it be done, my daughters marvel at my ability to do it, thus earning me a spot in the “Cool Mom Hall of Fame”.

Stupid human trick. Try it. I dare you.

Stupid human trick. Try it. I dare you.

After lunch, the family headed downtown to the Flower Mart to gather the necessary supplies for this…

A gift of flowers for my MIL

A gift of flowers for my MIL

I must admit, I am beginning to really enjoy this new creative outlet I’ve stumbled upon with floral artistry. You might say it’s growing on me. LOL. Check out my first crack at it here. Both arrangements were well received. Thank God. As both were for very important occasions 🙂

The rest of Saturday went off without a hitch. It wasn’t until Sunday morning–Mother’s Day–when things got a bit chaotic. What? You aren’t surprised that MD in my house would be crazy? Yeah. Me either. Actually though, ITCHY is a better description.

After being awakened by the smell of a vanilla latte fresh from Starbucks delivered to my bedside, I was showered with homemade cards and presents, followed by hugs from all three girls who’d slept, snuggled around me, in my bed, all night long. This is an important detail to remember, because the next thing I did was discover that Sweet Pea had head lice, while washing her very long, blonde hair. On Mother’s Day.

I plan. God laughs; deciding to remind me what being a mama is really all about: exterminating unwelcome pests that have invaded my special day by hitching a ride from school, hanging on to the strands of my child’s hair. WTF? Adding insult to injury, it’s the second time since November, which was the first time EVER. For nine years we escaped, and then BAM…it finally happened. We got inducted into The Lice Club. I went ballistic. Not only did I treat all 3 small heads of hair in the house, spending a minimum of 3 hours sectioning/combing with the fine-toothed metal comb until their scalps were raw, I also replaced all the pillows, brushes, and hair accessories. I opted for the toxic shit called RID over the “natural remedies” because I wanted the pesky little fuckers dead, and couldn’t be sure that something eco-friendly would indeed do the trick. In addition, I sprayed down the sofas and mattresses, put the cushions out in the sun for 24 hours, bathed our dogs in medicated shampoo, and bagged up every stuffed animal they had ever touched for two whole weeks. Oh, did I forget to mention I also stripped all the linens from every bed and washed them along with The Beans’ backpacks on the sanitary cycle which uses extra hot water and takes 2 hours? Yep. Did that. Treated hubby and myself as well. To say I went off the rails the first time, is an understatement. The Man was ready to divorce me. Or kill me. Or both. Seriously.

Can you envision the horrified look on his face when I screamed “Mother Effer!! Sweet Pea has head lice again!” at an ear-splitting volume from the shower Sunday morning? Mother’s Day 2012 did not get off to a very promising start. And considering last year’s tragedy, I am now entertaining thoughts of dumping it from our slate of celebrations altogether.

Suffice to say, I repeated the eradication scenario and we were again, lice-free by Monday morning. However, I notified the school and kept Butter Bean and Sweet Pea home until their classes had been checked by the school nurse. Miraculously, Sugar Bean didn’t have it, so she went back on Monday. When Tuesday morning rolled around, imagine my surprise to see the same family who had it last time waiting to be head-checked in the school office again. Coincidence? Yeah, right. My girls never had it until being in class with this sibling pair. One in Kinder, the other in second grade. It was all I could do not to punch their mama square in the face, right there in front of the principal. Was my anger misplaced? Maybe. Am I headed to Hell in a chartered hand-basket? Probably. But so-help-me-God, nothing irritates me more than mamas who clearly don’t take the due diligence necessary to prevent recurrent lice on the heads of their young, who inevitably transmit the parasites to everyone who comes in contact with them at school. Feral children! Even chimpanzees “nit-pick” and groom their offspring. And before you go all “well maybe your kids were responsible”–don’t. Because the first time it happened, I assumed The Beans were the source, as they had just begun gymnastics at a new facility. However, if you read the post just before this one, you’ll know they haven’t been to the gym in 3 weeks. Nor have they had any playdates. So there. Honestly, as expensive as it is to treat the pests—$200 minimum, each time, when you have girls with long hair, because it’s not like you can shave their heads and start over, you know—you would think that alone would be motivation enough for periodic checks throughout the school year. Since mine got it in November, I have checked on a weekly basis. That’s how I found it the second time!! Maybe I should send her a bill for the cost of treatment. Whaddaya think?

Okay. Okay. I’ll get off my soapbox, because the rest of Mother’s Day was very pleasant, spent relaxing at a bbq at the home of the wonderful lady responsible for laboring The Man into the world and raising him to be the awesome hunk he is. So there. All was not lost to the freaking lice.

Let’s cut to Wednesday. Open House at school. Sugar Bean had to present her country report, complete with a food item representative of her chosen land. She studied New Zealand, which was fantastic considering one of my dear friends lives there and was able to provide us with lots of information, including the idea for me to make a Pavlova Cake. Since I only bake once a year…rum cakes at Christmas time… it was a bit daunting. All turned out fine and dandy, with this as the finished dessert:

a New Zealand Pavlova cake

a New Zealand Pavlova cake

Apparently it was tasty. The plate was literally scraped clean. I plan to make another for the family soon, so I can see what all the devouring was about 🙂

In addition to Sugar Bean’s country report, Butter Bean  had to do a project for display based on a Caldecott Award Winning book. She chose “I Know an Old Woman Who Swallowed a Fly”. Together, we made this dyorama, which I thought would surely win an award for my precious second-grader. It didn’t. A lap-top made out of paper won. I’m not bitter. Promise.

Anyway, judge for yourself.

Secretly, I love making shit like this. But don't tell anybody.

Secretly, I love making shit like this. But don’t tell anybody.

Yesterday was rather unremarkable stacked up against the early part of the week. In the morning, I went to be fitted for my bridesmaid’s dress which I will be wearing at the wedding of my niece, Meaghan, in September. Took The Beans for fro-yo after school, like usual. Two Thursdays ago, this very funny thing happened on the way to fro-yo, which, ironically is also about Meaghan. I also did some laundry. Gained some new Twitter followers. No unexpected surprises though. In fact, the only thing I can remember about it is that Lexi died on the season finale of Grey’s Anatomy. That really sucked. I was mad…for about 10 minutes. Then I turned off the tv and went to sleep. Nothing like when I found out GCB got cancelled. Loved that dang show! As Nicole Richie Tweeted earlier in the week, “We need to figure out who needs to bone who to keep GCB on the air.” Right on, girl. RIGHT ON!

And now it’s Friday. Well, actually Saturday. Which means I need to get my ass in bed, because boy do I have a helluva weekend full of events planned for the family, starting at 10 am tomorrow morning, and carrying straight through until 6pm Sunday evening.

Yes, there will be posts. And pictures.

Probably not ’til Monday though.

Nite y’all 🙂

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