My Beloved Husband

So I make fun of him at times (all the time.) On occasion I rag on him (constantly.) I have even been known to close my eyes, bob my head and make the noise the adults in the Peanuts cartoons make (endlessly) when he is trying to bitch at me, I mean talk to me. Let me not leave out that when he is talking to me from the other room I respond "yes dear" while giving him the middle finger salute, I kid, I kid: Honey, if you are reading this- I NEVER do that. Really.

However, I really do love that man- as much as I threaten to hit him over the head with a HUGE frying pan one day (soon.) He is so sweet and loving. So I decided to tell you 3 things I love about him, so you don't think that I married him for his looks, because we all know the MAN is a DAMN FINE PIECE OF ASS.

1. He tries to keep the lights and noise to a minimum when he goes to work every morning (early) so Lulu and I can sleep as long as we like. He makes sure we are tucked in before he leaves.
2. On cold mornings, he runs the space heater in the bathroom, so that when I wake up and get in the shower the bathroom is nice and toasty.
3. He sincerely loves my butt, is enthralled by it, mesmerized- no mater HOW BIG it gets.

Ladies and gays- that is a GOOD man.

You may ask yourself, why does he LOVE her? Because- Mama let's him have his toys.
Mama also has a great insurance policy on him, since the man rides sans helmet.

Need a MAN TRAINER

OK, so here is the thing, this dog is super cute, right? When I watch this video all I can think of is- why the F*ck can't my kids or husband do any of these tricks?!? Maybe I need to get more dogs, hire a trainer and live happily ever after!

Halloween Safety Alert!

Remember when your mother told you never to take Candy from Strangers?

This is who she was talking about!



HAPPY HALLOWEEN!!!

HOT ASIAN CHICK!

OK, the title is totally a ploy to get traffic here-

No, but really I met a Super hot Asian woman! On Friday, I went to this Woman's group that focuses on connecting professional, ambitious, influential women. I totally had them fooled thinking I was one of them- you know professional, influential, yeah right!!

Moving along, while there I meet this woman- she looks like that Judge on the dancing show, this one:


I mean she is just adorable. Wait- we talk, she is hilarious- a few more minutes and she moves from the 1 glass of white wine that came with lunch- sits at the bar and orders a Martini- I think I blacked out for a minute- that she is a vodka LOVER, like me! Get this: she is a plastic surgeon. Really, a very smart, reputable, semi famous Plastic Surgeon.

She is married to a plastic surgeon as well, and they love dogs. I may become a TV produce next week and pitch them as a new reality show- no really, finally I could get MY 15 minutes of fame.

You know what she says to me?"People ask me if I am a nail tech all the time!"and busts out laughing-this is how funny she is.

My sister knows her, so when I get home my sis and I chat about the luncheon and how awesome it was (she was not able to go, well, because she sucks and would not drive up from Miami) She finally asks: So, did you meet Dr. Liu (not her real name.)

My response? OH MY GOD! I love her, if I was one of those aliens form that movie about POD People (Invasion of the Body Snatchers), I would TOTALLY choose HER to take over her human body!

Yeah- took it a little into the weird zone there.

Wait, just had an idea- maybe we could do a Reality TV show, where her husband and she just basically operate on me from head to toe- so much so that not even the HUBS would recognize me!

If any of you readers know MY doctor Liu, you better not steal this show idea form me!

Ass crack of dawn

Why am I nodding off at 8pm tonight? Friday night? I should at a Happy Hour living it up. Instead of boozing I am almost snoozing. Why? Well I got up at the ass crack of dawn, only one thing could make me rise at 6am, and that would be one of my baby boys.

Today was Senior Toga day and I sent my baby off to school looking like this
Welcome to the Toga GUN SHOW bitches!
All HAIL to the King!

Baby of the Family

The school secretary stood at the door whispering to my teacher, there were a few words exchanged and some nods. I was told to collect all my things; I was going home for the day. As I walked down the hall with this grown up I hardly knew, there was silence, I was too afraid to ask what was going on. My assumption was I was in trouble, but as the consummate bad seed and ring leader, there was a myriad of deeds left undiscovered for which I could be in trouble for. I knew enough to keep my mouth shut.

When she saw I was not going to ask any questions, she simply stated: A driver has been sent to take you home; your sister will be going with you. I walked to the bottom of the hill where the car would be, just outside the gates of the school. My sister and her best friend were both there waiting for the car. They were in the 9^th grade and infinitely cooler than anyone I knew. My sister’s book bag was on the floor between her blue Nike tennis shoes, and her friends arm was wrapped around her shoulder. Their heads were resting on each other and when I came near and they turned towards me, their eyes were red and damp; they had been crying. I knew it was really bad, and perhaps I was not in trouble at all. Only my sister and I got in the car, her friend stayed behind and waved to us as we disappeared down the steep hill, the only thing my sister said was that Mom and Dad would talk to me when we got home. I don’t remember much else, only my parents sitting all three of us down on their bed and telling us Mom had a brain tumor. They did not know if it was benign or malignant or if they could remove it, blah,blah blah…a whole bunch of stuff that went over a kid who was still in Elementary school’s head. They were leaving to New York tomorrow, relatives would be taking turns coming to stay with us, and Mom’s friends would keep an eye on us. They had no idea how long they would be gone.

Of course, my Mother needed to get her hair done that afternoon because she was going to ride an airplane the next day (I know, insane.) She let me tag along to the Salon, I sat on the chair next to her while they cut, set, dried, teased and combed out her hair. During that whole time she talked non-stop to her hair dresser, as he lovingly listened, and that’s how I learned to the whole story of my mother’s tumor. He wore tight jeans and Italian loafers with no socks, his hair was shoulder length and look so soft, it would bounce when he would nod his head in agreement with my Mother, I knew if I inhaled while he did this, I might get a whiff of his hair. I felt like an intruder in an intimate ritual my mother was having with her gay hair dresser. I tried hard to sit still and be quite, lest they remember I was sitting there and banish me to the lobby with the HOLA (Spain’s Hello) Magazines that were yellowed with age and spoke of European royalty that were non-existent in my life.

Both my sister’s were in high school and I was sure they were given a lot more information than I was and as the baby of the family you get used to being “protected” from certain truths. A common complaint amount the youngest children in a family. The other day I was thinking of this and had the sudden realization that perhaps my Mother understood that I needed to know what was going on with her and this was her roundabout way of letting me in on the big secrets of her sickness.

to be continued....the poor Granma's who had to stay with us, menopause should NOT feel like a brain tumor and how I learned to drive at 11.

The Big O

No not Orgasm, not Obama....OPRAH.

I like Oprah, I got the magazine for a year and then drove my self crazy trying to do all the crap in it, like Bikram Yoga (yeah, that was moronic of me) any who....

If I happen to be home, I'll watch it, but it's not like I am crazy about the show.

The HUBS on the other hand can't stand the show. It's not so much that he hates Oprah, he thinks she's OK, it's the women in the audience he can't stand.

He told me one day he was watching it and she gave something away and the women went APE SHIT! Crying, screaming, jumping up and down, hugging each other. It really freaked him out. He said it was like mass hysteria. He has always been afraid of women in groups of 5 or more. He says women have been in grained to be repressed their whole lives, so when they get in a pack (even worse if alcohol is involved) they got NUTSO! I usually ignore these theories of his.

By the way, he was not talking about the time she gave a car away, he admitted he would have wet himself if he had been in the audience. He said it was like a Ipod or some crap that mostly people already have, in no way life altering.

In honor of the HUBS, his awesomeness and our 20th wedding anniversary which was 2 weeks ago and I didn't even get him a card (yet he still got me 1 and FLOWERS.) I present to you this awesome BLOG of moslty crazy women (I use this term crazy, lovingly since I am the Queen of all crazies)

Faces of the Last Season of Oprah

Enjoy babies, enjoy...

I have a DREAM

I have a dream- it might sound crazy to you, but to me it is Nirvana, Shangri-la, Kismet, in other words- the SHIZNIT!

I would be a stay at home Mom, to my current kids, 18 & 19.

I would have a cleaning lady, who WOULD do windows, iron and love my dog and her incessant shedding, oh, and she would be at my house ever day, and unlike Brit-Brit's cry baby bodyguard, would NOT freak out if she saw me naked (she would have to restrain herself, 'cause I'm not into that.)

The Hubs would still work, giving me at least 8 hours a day to read, watch TV, nap, chat on the phone and fart around on the internet. I would NOT need to go to the gym, because in this dream- I am basically Sofia Vergara with much less of an accent, but all o' the Latina Flavor.

Oh yeah, I can EAT what ever the HELL I want and look perfect.

My hair is A-MAH-Zing!

My boobs, forget it, no need for a bra, ever- perfection.

Everyone loves me (that is nothing new)

I still live in my regular house, but- I have new bathrooms and a new kitchen.

I would also have a new patio/pool area with a fire pit and a cabana, OK, OK, OK, a cabana/pool boy- but you can make him gay- he's only to look at! OH! He could be an ex masseur! oh, I like that.

Wait! I could drink cocktails all damn day long and it wouldn't be bad for me, oh and I would need some besities to be able to lounge around with me. YES! and a big ole cool car we could drive to lunch in and annoy the crap out of people with our cackling and occasional snorts!

OK, readers, figure out how you can make this happen for and get back to me- chop-chop, I'm counting on you!

I must keep the same HUBS, so no bumping him off in your plan, I happen to like him and I got 20 years of training in that one, a large investment of time, I tell you!

The Hubs version of Drunken Debauchery night

That is what the Hubs started calling last week's GNO- Drunken Debauchery night.

So here is his version of the night.

He arrived home at 7:30 pm to find there was already 1 friend in the house and 1 bottle of wine open. He walked in with a bag of Publix fried chicken (his favorite thing in the whole world.) He said "hi" left the bags in the kitchen and went to hide in his room. His plan was to wait until everyone left, so he could then devour his said friend chicken in peace.

He grew angrier and angrier as time went by. He was starving and all he could here was more women arriving, more screaming and laughing, he says we laugh like this: QUA-QUA-QUA-QUA- shriek! Like a giant chicken, crossed with a goose, with a witches cackle. I can not disagree.

We finally left at 9:30. He had to pick one of the son's up from work at 11:30pm, so he decided it was pointless to go to bed, since I had said I would be home by midnight. Midnight came and went, and he of course was worried (he is fatalist.) He made a decision that he would NOT call or text me, so I could have fun on my GNO. So when we stumpled in at 2:00 am he was relieved, but had not slept a wink in his worry mode. He was not happy when 4 of us came back to the house, everyone needed a glass of water, to use the bathroom and get thier stories straight before they went home, I kid, I kid. He says there was more QUA-QUA-QUA'ing and doors opening and shutting over and over.

When I finally made it to bed, I promptly feel asleep, he claims I passed out. I say pish-posh. He then says later, he said to me: Move the dog, she is digging in to my back. To which my response was: ALERT!

Move the dog!- again FFC- ALERT!

Please just wiggle to dog over- FFC- ALERT!

He gave up. My question was, why did you wake me up to move the dog? Why didn't you roll over and move her yourself. he had no answer for that question.

At 4am, when he says he had not slept a wink he got up and asked where I had sleeping pills, he needed one.

My response- In the GPS.

He was frustrated and asked again- Not the GPS, where are your sleeping pills.

My response- OMG, in the GPS!

He tried a new approach and asked me in Spanish. To which he say's my response was very angry (I'm scarier in Spanish) - I ALREADY TOLD YOU IN THE &@^@^@!!* GPS!

At that point he gave up and I am assuming he fell asleep.

The hubs version of Girls Night out- ALERT! (don;t ask, I have no idea!)

Texts from last night

I am sure many of you have heard or even visited the site- texts from last night. It is basically a compilation of texts that college kids, 20 somethings, singles send each other in an inebriated state. Yeah, I know, not that funny when you are 38, have kids, are married and have every other responsibility there is to have in the world.

Well, not really funny until last night. Last night you ask? Yes, last night was a GNO (for those you don't speak the lingo- Girls Night Out) Well, since I have been on this killer diet and not had a drink in forever, my plan was to have 2 cocktails and tuna tataki at dinner, that was it.

Suffice to say- THAT DIDN'T HAPPEN! The plan was to meet at my house at 7 and all go from there. Some people were late (I blame the night on them) 2 bottles of wine were polished off before we even left the house at 9:30. There were 5 of us and 1 was the designated driver, you do the math. I had 1 drink with dinner, but by that point I had already texted my GF (who was working) "I'm wated" that's drunky for wasted. Her response- YESSSSSSS! That's how we roll.

We then went to the bar across the street, it was packed, the music sucked and it was full of weird men and young bimbos. We had an awesome time. At some point we, started texting one of the girls husbands.

A lot of "we're totally wasted MOFO" and a little "get ready for ur horny wife f*cker" that sort of intellectual banter, I am so famous for. He of course, replied all sorts of silliness to us and egged us on, most of which I CAN NOT put here!

The funny lies in 2 particular texts.

first at 1:15 to the GF's hubs (and I have no idea why this phrase was sent) "your wife loves my hoohaa"

second text was sent by the also inebriated GF all on her own "ur bitch be krzy" which makes no sense at all because she was talking about herself at that point. However, she did NOT send it to her husband, she sent it to someone who has the same fist name as her husband. Someone I work with, some one who is married- yeah, married to a woman that does not particularly like me.

Same name guy from worked called me this morning and I had to explain- how is it that the kids say- EPIC FAIL!!! Thankfully he laughed, and was smart enough to see my story was true (really hard to believe- me drinking!? never!) As far as his wife- wateve.

When the GF finally got home and rolled into bed, waking her hubs to the promised drunk wife hornyness, he asked:

What is a HOOHA?

Bwa-hahahaha- her reply- is a *meow* stupid. you know the word, I don't use it, that why I say hooha.

Introducing Snazzy Napper!

Ladies and Blog readers, I present to you to most insane item since the Snuggie for your dog!

The Snazzy Napper! You are supposed to tie this thing that looks like a blanket with a hole for your nose around your head to sleep privately in public. I personally have no problem zonking out anywhere, mouth open, head bobbing, drool a flowing, I just don't give a shit. I do however carry a pretty pink silk sleep mask with me on flights, mostly to look cute. Now there are small ones and then large ones that look like a tent for men and a burka for women. WHAT SORT OF FREAK would wear that in public? Wait....what sort of freak would wear that in their bedroom? Don't answer...freaks.

What the boys think about Twilight

When I say the boys, I mean the 22 year old, the 19 year old and the 18 year- oh yeah, and especially the HUBS...

How my BLOG = $2000

The day my husband left town and took my car, his car decided to SCREW ME OVER. As I left my office at 5:40pm in the 104 degree heat. I insert the "key" the kind that are square electric things and push in (this usually starts the car.) Nothing. Try again. ZIP. Again. ZERO. Again. ZILCH. One last time. NADA.

I try to pull the key out- the car won't let it go. I pull, I pry, I use a pen from my purse to try and use it as a lever to pop it out (I am totally crafty like that.) NOTHING.

I leave the key in the car I go up to my office (everyone is gone by that time) I Google key stuck car won't start with the model of the car. All these suggestions come up, I read them, I go down and try them all. Wiggle the wheel, hit the brake and push the shift button 3 times. NO WORKY. I call the roadside assistance, they will be here in an hour. I have to be there when they show up- super long story short I get home at 9pm. Not fun.

Oh wait, the awesome news is that the car is JUST out of warranty. I call the dealer the next day. They call me back at 5pm on Friday to say it will be $1500, something about 2 computers in the steering column, but they are going to give me a loaner to help me out. I pick up the loaner on Saturday, and tell them to fix the car, I mean really, what other option is there?

They call me Tuesday, still not fixed, but, some other computer thingy is screwed up and it's another $500. OK, fix it. Wednesday morning I call the car manufacturer-speak to a customer service rep and tell her the whole story, including how much we paid for that car (an obscene amount) and then I drop 2 very interesting tid bits

1. I goggled steering wheel problems with the car year and model (tons of complaints) and there was even someone soliciting info for a class action lawsuit. Go figure.
2. I am a "blogger" and I truly understand the power of on-line complaining and how 1 unhappy customer can have a domino effect, blah, blah, blah.

She asked me to give her 1 day and she would call me back and let me know if and what she could do for me. Fair enough.

She calls back Thursday, she does not have an answer yet, asks for 1 more day. Fine. I had been a sweetheart until this point, but boy was I ready to get down and dirty over this one.

By the way, the car was still not ready yet. She calls me Friday afternoon and tells me they will cover EVERYTHING. Not some, not half- EVERYTHING! I was blown away.

For a moment I thought of keeping this INFO to myself and pocketing the $2000- how would my husband ever know? I could have bought something extravagant, like diamond earrings and tell them the were FAKE, if he ever asked! bwa-hahaha- but then I didn't, I am such a good wife.

The car was finally ready on Tuesday, after 13 days. When I picked it up and returned the FREE loaner, the tech told me: Ma'am I am not sure what you said, but I have NEVER seen them pick up the tab for anyone!

Hurray for me, hurray for my blog, hurray from smart mama power!

Need $500?

Could you use $500 worth of new clothes?

Check out my new post on how!

Show me the MONEY!

Hodge Podge

So I have been super lazy- it may be the heat, it may be because it's summer or more likely because well, I'm lazy in general, so sorry for not posting.

The HUBS is out of town for almost 2 weeks! Crazy! I thought I was going to be living it up and have girls night out EVERY night...He left on Wednesday evening so far this is all the exciting stuff I have done:

Wednesday: Watched a DVD- Hachi: A Dog's Tale (stars Richard Gere) OK, if you are SICK and want to torture yourself, cry and make your stomach hurt as well as rip you heart out- then this is a must see flick for you! If not, send it to someone you HATE sit back and giggle.

Thursday: Was using the HUBS car, as he left mine in Miami (where he left from on his trip) when I tried to leave work, his car would not start and it wouldn;t let the key come out (it was stuck in the ignition.) Called road side assistance, waited 1.5 hours, got a ride home.

Friday: Still no car. Took oldest son's car to the movie with youngest son and friends: watched Despicable me. It was hilarious-son kept on telling met o keep it down- he is totally embarrassed by my cackling!

Saturday: Got a ride to car dealer and they gave me a loaner- yeah, because my car is out of warranty and they are charging me $1500 to fix it. Isn't that so sweet of them?

So, my goodness, there has been so much exciting and adventure- I can barely stand it...oh yeah, did I mention the water heater broke? Yeah, I am ignoring it and taking very short showers (at least is like 110 degrees outside so that water is not that cold) It took the 18 year old 4 days to notice we had no hot water. Guess what that means...yep, he hadn't bathed for 4 days....ewwwwwwwwwww, boys.

However I have sleeping at least 10 hours a day! haha, that is wonderful and I also have been watching all the TV shows I want to watch but the HUBS hates:

You're cut off!
Discovery Health- Half Ton Mom, Dad, Teen, etc
Discovery Health- Baby's Story
Snapped!
Cheaters
Teen Mom
At least 8 hours straight of HGTV
Another 8 of the Food Network

Oh, not to mention all the movies!

The Women
Grey Gardens
InkHeart (that one was stupid)
Cop Out (ok, my son made me watch this. Hello! Tracy Morgan is hysterical!)
Temple Grandin (amazing)

Do not fret all is not lost- I am currently trying to recruit anyone in going with me to a drag queen show on Saturday and luring a gay aquaintance over (who I wish to make my official gay) for Horror Movie Night marathon...I will let you know how it goes.

On another note, I went to but gas in the stupid rental and saw this:


Who the HELL do they think they are marketing to? Really!? Ladies, do you "power up" with a GIANT ASS SODA? When you think of yourself as a "super mom" do you envision giant round boobies and a down to there neckline? Do those giant ass soda's make your biceps hard? What is going on here?

Summer Blockbuster?

OK, so guess who did this very lame fake poster all by herself?! That's right, MOI!

Girl, I got some skills! In other news, you don't even want to know what I think Mel Gibson deserves as punishment. Let's just say it involves lashes and rusty nails...no, no, no! I kid, I kid!

PHD in IBA- inner bad ass

I found this picture on-line a few months ago- I had to save it. Unfortunately I did not save where I got it from so I could credit it them (sorry!)

I just felt the need to save it. I was not sure why it resonated so much with me.

I think now I do- I am this Panda.

How you say? Really a Panda?

Yes- I look cute and furry- fluffy and chubby- sweet and doe eyed. However, very few people know my inner bad ass.

I am lethal and not nice, at all.

The other day I was having a conversation with The Hubs, playing out a situation- and becasue this blog is no longer anonymous I won't get into details, but it went like this:

Me: They do not want me on their bad side, hence they will play nice. They know it is in their best interest to keep me somewhat happy. The don't want to paint me into a corner, it will get ugly.

The HUBS: Honey, they have NO idea about your bad side.

Just then I saw the Panda.

I never pick a fight, I am non-confrontational in all aspects of my life, direct but non-confrontational. I do however have one deadly trait- I don't get involved unless I can go for the jugular and finish it. If I need to, I do not hesitate and I got for that jugular- I don't hold back.

There fore I am that Panda- huge inner bad ass- HUGE- I would say as big as my fat ass!

My baby is LEGAL!

So today is the first day that everyone in my household is over 18 (except Lulu, she is 14 in dog years.)

Yesterday my baby, my youngest son, turned 18.

It is so strange, I can remember the day he was born like it was yesterday. He was a planned c-section, I was a high risk pregnancy- I have a mitral valve prolapse and my first son had been an emergency c-section- which I guess made me high risk. I was 20, which now seems like a child to me.

My pregnancy was healthy, if stressful, I had already had a baby, was a newly wed and now had ANOTHER unexpected pregnancy- we moved to the States on Valentines day 1992, Stevie was born in July.

As his birth was planned, the doctor offered to schedule the c-section for the 4th of July, that year it was a Saturday. HELL NO! I wanted to see the fireworks! Besides my husband HAD to work on the 4th. That 4th of July I walked all the monuments in DC, stayed on the mall for the fireworks then took the subway home, something I now view as complete INSANITY as I was going to give birth in 2 days.

Sunday I rested during the day, and looked forward to a night with my husband. My husband worked nights, in fact he worked 2 jobs 4-12, then 12- 8am. Since we were having a baby on Monday, he had Sunday night off. We had a nice dinner at home, even thou my cooking skills at that point were truly atrocious, it was nice to be together. I was a treat to go to bed at the same time, but we didn't get any sleep! ha-ha I know my kids have no interest in this blog, but we had sex, lots of sex that night.

We were at the hospital at 5am- Stevie was born at about 7am. We were there alone, we had no friends, no family- we only had my parents and they stayed home to take care of our 15 month old son. My husband was 24, he was not in his own country and had limited English (which was worse when he was nervous.) I was knocked out by the anesthesia (something I hate, since I clearly remember seeing Alex the moment he was born and crying I was so happy to see him.)

My youngest son was born with polysyndactyly- on his hands and feet. He had extra digits, fused fingers and toes (with bone, tissure and blood vessels) and webbing. My husband was told as far as congenital birth defects presented themselves, his polysyndactyly was severe and was found in many complex and sometimes lethal groups of anomalies or syndromes. I at the time was out cold. I can honestly tell you that moment affected the rest of his life- the feeling of helplessness. His congenital birth defects- were all physical- it turned out to NOT be part of any syndrome- of which Down's was bantered about. Do you know how long genetic testing on medicaid took to get results, let alone see a specialist? Six months. Six months we held our breath.

The moment I saw Stevie, I knew he was going to be fine. I may have been girlish naivety or it may have been a mother's intuition, or more likely a survival mode. By the time he was in the 1st grade Steve had 7 surgeries, most before he was 2. At one point he had simultaneous surgery on all extremities, with an IV in his neck, he was tied to a crib in the hospital- it was gut wrenching. They had taken skin grafts from his pelvic area for his fingers and toes- For skin grafts to take, you have to be immobile. How do you immobilize an 10 month old baby? You put casts on him from finger tip to shoulder, elbow bent, from tip toe to upper thigh, knee bent. The fist few crucial days, you tie him to a hospital crib, lest his finger tips rip out the IV in his neck. AS I write this, I can tell you I honestly forgot how bad it was. Except that time, I was on the burn victim unit, because of space constraints. DC children burn unit- if you ever want to feel lucky in life- go there. If you ever think your kid is a pain- go see a child being treated for burns- you will see what PAIN is. the older he got the worse the surgeries were- when your baby can tell you he is so much pain and ask why over and over, you just want to die.

This post could go on forever- every surgery could be a book- I never think about it- once in a while someone who doesn't know our history will ask me about Stevie's scars and I will tell them about it. And it seems so foreign to me- such a past life. I forget how much my child has suffered- truly suffered. As a toddler, he would see anyone in a white coat, let's say an optometrist at the Mall and he would scream and run the other way! It has been easy to spoil him and treat him like the baby, even though he is only 15 months younger than my first born. When I tell people, after they ask- they always say- you were so young, wow- I admire all you did- you're amazing- to which my answer is mostly certainly- What other option did I have? Run away? Not care for my child? Not fight tooth and nail with every fucking Insurance company we ever had? Oh yeah, once we got insurance, because I was pregnant when I can to the US and could get Insurance- he was born uninsured. Not battle doctors, nurses and pharmacies to make sure my son got what he needed? Was it an option to go to bed and cover my head with a pillow and never come out? My friend laughed the other day and she said- yes! Some people do!

This was taken last night- my little trooper turned 18

I have a plan

I have a plan- a new one. The one where I was going to be a stay at home Mom didn't really fly with the HUBS. I think it was the fact the my youngest son turns 18 next week. I considered having another child just to get out of having to keep going to work at an office, but my uterus had major problems with that possibility.

I then came up with with Plan B- I was going to breed our furry baby Lulu and then I could be a stay at home furry momma- well, that didn't go over too well either.

I am now moving on the Plan C- It hit me while visiting my niece. She is 13, adorable and we get along just great. I have inside info that her Father is over protective and doesn't want to send her far away to College- so I hatched the perfect plan!

We will use some of his land in the mountains and start an alpaca farm! He will be our investor (since I will be like an old auntie watching over my niece and in turn keeping her close to home) I will be happy since I won't have to go to an office anymore and she is thrilled since I sent her the picture below and let's face it- that alpaca is freaking adorable! We will breed dogs, and have sheep for wool only, goats for cheese only, and milk cows. We won't kill any animals and all are goods will be the bestest in the world because they will come for the happiest farm animals on the planet (this is how I mostly sold it to my niece)


There is one kink in my plan that I have yet to figure out- what do I do with the HUBS and my kids?

Do the Robot

I have found the perfect dance instructor for the HUBS- as you can all imagine I am a DANCING QUEEN! He on the other hand tries all sorts of dances: salsa, merengue, free style and they all look like the ROBOT DANCE, unintentionally of course, except when he is trying to do the robot dance and then it SUPER ROBOTIC. Oh yeah, he wear a size 13 shoe and once stepped on me so hard my toe nail fell off!

I like this dance instructor, he has rhythm, grace and above all he has THE MOVES, plus I figure I can pay him in binkies and bottles!

Wax on, Wax off

Remember the summer of 1984- it was so hot and sticky and you escaped the heat to a cool movie theater only to discover Ralph Macchio in the Karate Kid, he was your dream boy. Little did you know he was really like 32 years old!

We all fell in love with him the moment he had to get in his Mom's beat up station wagon to pick up his date. What I also remember about that movie was it teaching me indiretly what "whack off" means. HUH?! Yeah, you heard me. Soon after the movie boys in school were making jokes about "wax on, whack off" Well, there you go, how I learned that boys masturbated.

On Sunday night I was watching the MTV Movie awards with my baby, who by the way turns 18 in July *nooooooooo* The show was littered with commercials for the upcoming new and improved Karate Kid. In one of the commercials Jackie Chan, is teaching the kid the equivalent of "wax on"only he says: Jacket on.

wha-wha-WHAT?!?! I turn to my son and make my "goofy teenage boy" to him "If it is Jacket on, does that mean the next move is- JACKET OFF?!" with a slight hand gesture (I know, it's horrifying to find out I am that Mom!) He looks at me- brings his hand to his face and groans, but laughs at the same time- MOM! hahaha...jacket it off!

He pretends I'm not funny and tells me how unfunny I am all the time, but let's face it: I KNOW I AM FUNNY! bua-hahaha, how do I know? I crack myself UP all the DAMN time!

Dr's Orders

Remember how that silly doctor told me I had to wear orthopedic shoes, the kind that look like these:

This is what came up when I typed in Google- fashionable woman's orthopedic shoes...I swear to all that is HOLY- some nut thinks these are HIGH FASHION, well tie me up and call me Sarah Jessica Parker, I don't think so.

So step 2 to satisfy my curiosity- was to type in to Google- woman's orthopedic shoes (let's leave fashion out of the equation) Look what came up-

O.K. I get where they are talking fashion...

Saturday was my son's High School graduation, this day is meant for CELEBRATION (even more so for the parents) So we had a nice dinner, with yummy pomegranate martini's. Then went home, joined by an old friend in town, and had some very, very good sipping Tequila (lots o' Tequila) and then we went out. What to wear, what to wear....Orthopedic shoes?

I think NOT- these are the babies I pulled out of my closet, I had a hard time buckling them and all, due to all the tequila consumed, but I got them on my piggies and away we went.



As long as there is alcohol to be consumed, I will NOT be wearing UGLY shoes out on a Saturday night...I must confess there was much crying, moaning and groaning, as well as rubbing of the tootsies on Sunday.

The DOCTOR can suck it- suck my BIG FAT TOE!

New Fashion Find!

Let's start at this...my toe has been hurting. I mean really hurting. So much I was in pain every time I had to push the clutch in to shift gears in my car. Yeah, I drive a stick shift, you know I am a bad ass.

Anyway, it is my second toe the one next to my big toe on my left foot. I ignored it for a long time, but then it started to feel funny, like pins and needles and spread to my big toe. My assistant said that's never damage, that scared me and I went to a podiatrist.

Guess what I have!? Capsulitis of the Second Toe! It's when your second toe is deformed and longer than the your big toe and causes your weight to unevenly distribute itself on you second toe instead of the big one. And having that caused:
Morton’s neuroma- nerve damage!

He then shove a GINORMOUS needle in my second toe with a shot of cotizone and told me to:

• no more flip flop
• no more bare feet
• no more high heels

You need to buy orthopedic shoes. AHHHHHHH! I have been in a deep depresion and that is why I have not posted! Remember me, the woman with 5 pairs od pink high heels, and 6 pairs of red ones. The woman with shoes hidden in crates in the garage, under the bed and the attic.

I am happy to announce I have finally found a pair of orthopedic shoes I can be happy wearing: BEHOLD!
Pierced for the freak in me!

The best part of all is that they go perfectly with the the tittay scarf I got for Christmas!!!

Bad Man, bad bad man

I am sure you have seen this video by now. I, for one have been watching it all week. I even told the HUBS about it while we were walking on the boardwalk eating ice cream on Madeira Beach, he just looked at me crazy, as usual. Why do I love this video so much? You know this has to be this DJ's wife. It makes me think of when you go into the bathroom before bed and when you come out "someone" is in their underwear doing a little dance thinking they are funny and gonna get some. That is the look on that woman's face. Complete and utter resignation that she is married to HIM.

English Mangler

English Mangler should be my new nickname for the HUBS.

Please LORD, never let him read or hear about this post.

The HUBS did not speak any English until the day his parents shipped him off to Military Academy in Marion, Alabama. Via Greyhound bus from his brother's place in Gainesville, Florida (he was a student at UF.) You want to hear his Greyhound stories about his travels though North Florida, Georgia and Alabama, but that's another post. He did not speak a LICK of English and resorted to nodding his head ALOT at the Military Academy.

If you ask him about his experience in Marion he will say: The whites hated the blacks, and the blacks hated the whites, the only one thing they could agree upon was that they ALL hated the 1 spic! This always cracks me up, well because imagining my husband at 17 not understanding a word of English, getting demerits left and right for not following directions (because perhaps he didn't understand the language?!) and having to march in the rain as punishment is evil and makes me laugh. Why? Because as the HUBS says all the time: I am an Evil Bitch, and he's right.

So long story short, English is obviously not his first language, he has a think accent and has trouble with his tenses to this very day. How think of an accent? Just the other day his client wrote the CEO of my HUBS company and very nice letter, saying the HUBS is awesome, amazing, wonderful and reminds him of the GREAT Ricardo Montalban! buawahaha, we rolled around laughing on the bed for a good ten minutes over that one. HE really is super cute, the HUBS, oh, and Ricardo Montalban was too. OMG, don't know who Ricardo Montalban is? The dude from Fantasy Island, Kahn from the Star Trek movies, the Grampa from Spy Kids, what are you 12?

Moving on, the HUBS loves, I mean is obsessed with American sayings. You know, like: Apple doesn't fall far from the tree. That sort of thing. So whenever he hears one, he memorizes it and just throws it into a random conversation (acting all proud of himself)

However, he is forever EFFING them up.

Examples:

The cat is out of the Hat! (no honey, the cat is out of the bag)

A bull in a Chinese shop! (what? you mean a bull in a china shop)

The ones he actually memorizes correctly, just sound weird. His favorite by far are the following, which he uses all the time:

not the sharpest tool in the shed
not the brightest crayon in the box
not the sharpest knife in the drawer
not the sharpest tack in the box

or

The lights are on but no one is home
Doesn't have both oars in the water
A few sandwiches short of a picnic basket
Not playing with a full deck
Not the brightest star in the constellation

Which in other words: HE LOVES saying how dumb people are! Sometimes I think he just says these things to hear himself say them, the opportunity has risen in the conversation, I don't think it is about the poor sap about which the conversation is about! I blame his boss who is a Southerner and every other sentence has some new saying for the HUBS to learn.

Kids Movies

I know some of you won't believe me when I say this. I miss animated movies. I miss looking forward to the release of an animated movie with my kids. Something we would all get excited about and go to the movies a Sunday morning to avoid the long lines. I don't miss the fact that I didn't see an R rated movie for eons...or that sometimes the HUBS and I would take turns going to the movies alone, just to see a movie we didn't want to miss in theaters. Nothing like being a fat girl going to a theater alone holding a tub of popcorn to make you feel like a GINORMOUS loser.

We still go to the movies together every once in a while, like we went to go see "Hot Tub Time Machine" for one of the Hairy's 19th B-day. I know, wildly inappropriate movie to see with you rkids, what can I say: we ARE that Family. Yes, I am that Mom.

In my defense, I objected loudly and profusely when the HUBS decide we should go see Scary Movie. He bitched and moaned, how everyone at work had seen it and it wasn't that bad and it was a comedy and I was a fuddy duddy, so I caved, even though it was rated R. Well, about 10 minutes into the movie when the one guy puts his penis in a hole in the wall of the bathroom stall and starts slapping the second guy in the face with it, he too decided it was inappropriate.

What did he do? Oh, the HUBS, he bolted up and almost ran out the theater. Leaving me alone with the two boys, to walk out slowly holding their hands and shushing the "but, why are we leaving?" So the whole theater could witness my bad parenting. Scary Movie was released in 2000, so they were 9 & 8, wow, that was a good idea HUBS!

A while later we took them to see "The Ring." Really, how bad could it be? It was rated PG 13, we justified, they were 11 & 13. How bad was it? Both the HUBS and I had nightmares about that movies. I am sure my youngest was scarred for life. In fact to this day he refuses to watch scary movies (of which the rest of the family is fanatics of) No one can remember if it was because of this or was even before. In my defense, he didn't even like Goosebumps. Case in point we all went to see "Paranormal Activity" except the baby (now 17) he bailed. Which is a good thing, because I almost pooped my pants that movie was so scary!

All was lost when I promised to take the oldest to see Wedding Crashers with his bestie, they were both 14, for some reason, I was convinced the movie was rated PG-13, not a problem. At the last minute the youngest (had just turned 13) decided to come along. When we got to the Theater, I realized it was rated R. I hemmed and hawed and caved to the pressure of 3 boys. My logic was: how bad can it be? If they get the jokes, it's because they already have been exposed to what is being presented. Thinking most of the humor would go right over my baby's head. Boy, was I wrong! He laughed the hardest. He laughed so hard he cried, fell out the chair and almost couldn't breath! I spent most of the movie looking at his reactions, in the scene where the adorable Isla Fischer gives Vince Vaughn a "handy" under the table, he laughed so hard he actually smacked himself across the face! It was then I knew there would be no more Disney movies in our future.

The kids had seen Up! at friends houses and kept on talking about how good it was. Then they would add, Mom, don't watch it, it's too sad. Knowing what a big cry baby I am. A couple of times the said how much the character of the older man made them think of Grampa. Well, I finally saw Up! and yes, I cried my eyes out, my heart hurt thinking about my Dad and the days when it really was touch and go for my Mom. How he felt everything crashing down around him. But, I laughed and smiled too. I wanted to reach out and squish the boyscout and wished I would have a voice box for my Lulu. Who I am sure would yell "Squirrel" every 2 seconds, along with lizard and bird. The kids gave me Wall-E for Christmas and watched it with me as part of the gift. Up! was mother's day. We have started a new tradition, so I can hold on to my babies as long as I can.

Speaking of Up! check this out: HE LIVES!!!

It's all Oprah's fault

Months and months ago I saw a sweepstakes on-line, it was an Oprah sweepstakes and the prize was: you and 3 friends got a weekend getaway to New York with Oprah! I mean really, it was an awesome giveaway. I thought to myself, you're lucky! Remember that one time you won 50 wings at Hooters! So, I decided I would enter. Now I'm no retard, but I somehow ended up with a subscription to Oprah magazine, you see those harpies at Harpo played the little switeroo on me. I entered the sweepstakes, oh let me tell you right now, I DID NOT win, and in the process of entering, somehow signed up for O Magazine.

A couple of months go by and I get the first issue...and since the magazine is like $10 an issue, I read that bitch COVER TO COVER. I can't complain too much, as it is an amazing magazine. I actually enjoy reading the articles and feel zero guilt, unlike after I waste an hour devouring US Weekly. I read every issue, make some of the recipes, share with my girls about what I read in it, etc....then in one issue there is an article about Bikrham Yoga. Here is the link to the article- Yoga Challenge

I read the article and was suckered in. I was in bad shape, but no where near the basket case that wrote the article. Isn't it great when we find someone we perceive to be worse of than ourselves! Such fun. So I found a Bikrham Yoga Studio in my area, I called and got some information and decided to go check it out.

Now here is the dumb ass move of the century: I told THE HUBS about it! DUH- So, we go together and do the class, and that's why I am stuck going for 6 months. It's horrible, awful. I mean really, you feel like throwing up, pooping, passing out and wish for death the last 30 minutes. My brain is out of control the whole class, I have to bite my tongue to no blurt out sarcastic quips to the teachers instructions and and the end of class when the teacher says: Namaste and all the sweaty half dead students lying on the floor reply-"namaste" it takes every ounce of my being not to SHOUT back: NAMASTE BITCHES! I have yet to develop the BALLS to wear my Namaste, Bitches! t-shirt to the Yoga Studio- if you have no idea what I am referring to with the whole Namaste, Bitches! click here

There is one pose called "wind removing pose" and some one farts, with out fail every class, and I am expected to not bust out laughing?!?

The very first class I took the teacher approached me during a simple pose, when you place your forehead to your knee while standing. Well this is not so hard unless you have giant boobs, in which case they are seriously in the way. Believe me I tried moving them to the left, moving them to the right, separating them and bringing my head between the two- um, yeah, wasn't even going to happen. So this 5'10, 80 pound hippy dippy instructor walks over to me and says in her yoga voice (you know what I'm talking about)- This is a compression pose, your forehead must touch your knee. I look up at her, she is wearing yoga shorts and a bikini top, she has NO breasts. I smile and grab my boobies, - I have two very large obstacles, which are in the way. She's cute about it and says she wished she had that problem. In my head I yell: REALLY?! Want a GIANT ASS as well?

More to com eon the Bikram Yoga Torture and how I am paying them a CRAP load of money to sweat, suffer and try to not pass gas (audibly, at least) for at least 3 times a week.

What Sandra Bullock should do

I am sure many of you out there are like me and have been thinking about Sandra Bullock non-stop. No? Not really, well, wateves.

I have. Just the same as I thought about Elin for days and days. Why? Hell if I know! I think about everything all the time non-stop, random and unrelated to me. Sometimes I actually have things to do that are pertinent to my life and I don"t do them because I am busy thinking of things that are absolutely irrelevant to me.

Any who!? Moving along, I feel bad for Sandra in a way I would feel bad if it happened to my girlfriends. Like I want to get drunk with her and go egg Jesse James house or worse, much much worse.

I felt so bad for her because, really she had no choice. She had to get a divorce. Unlike Elin, she has a career which is very visible. I mean really if she stayed married, she would have to account to be being married to a Nazi (as some people claim) at every press junket for the rest of her life. Her husband's poor choices would affect her career, all this on top of the complete humiliation of the cheating from her scum spouse in the public eye forever and ever.

But now that I have come to terms with Sandy's (were tight like that) situation and when I saw the cover with her gorgeous little boy, I felt like she is going to be OK.

She will trudge through this and have her precious baby and here is the kicker....

When she is good and ready, she needs to call her old boyfriend up: RYAN GOSLING and get a little cougar lovin.....because really who couldn't use a little more HOT CANADIAN in their lives...

And in honor of that hot hunk of man- Ryan Gosling- and my mental revelation: What Sandy needs is some HOT COUGAR LOVE- check out this hilarious blog-
Fuck YEAH! Ryan Gosling!

A REAL Alien

When the kids were younger, my husband had yet to become an American Citizen. Mostly because it was a pain and expensive, and we were lazy.

So he had what is called a "Green Card" on this card there was his picture and it said: Legal Alien Resident on the top of it.

The year Men in Black came out in the movies, the boys were obsessed with it. The had the video and watched it all the time.

That Christmas, we all went to visit my parents in Guatemala, this meant we had our passports and my husband had to bring his green card to get back in the States.

The usual drill when we are in Guatemala is dump the kids on my parents, go out and party with all our high school buds. Well, they must have been bored at Granma and Grampa's, and as usual the oldest came up with some mischief.

Upon our arrival at my parents house, the youngest did not want to come anywhere near his Father. Did'nt want to touch him, look at him, be in the same room with him.

Hours went by and he would'nt budge. He finally confesses to me the following:

I know Daddy is an Alien.

WOW! What do you say to that? Where the HELL did that come from?

Of course I laughed (which I probably shouldn't have since he was crying and looked scared shitless)- No he isn't! That's silly- I responded.

Alex (his older brother) said you would deny it. I know it's true. I saw the paper!

WHAT?!?-

The little bugger ran out the room and ran back with the HUBS green card in his hand.

HE pushed it in to my face- YOU SEE!!! A-L-I-E-N

That's when I rolled off the bed I was laughing so hard.

It finally took Grampa's word and explanation to convince my youngest son that his father was not one of these guys:

I mean really, if he was an Alien, he would defenitly be this GUY:

Dear Arizona,

What does an Illegal Alien look like?

Brown, Mexican, poor? Is that who they are referring to when the say illegal Immigrants?

I heard the law referred to as "Breathing while Hispanic" it the new crime.

What does Hispanic even mean? *the word means you a descendant of a country in which Spanish is spoken or see wiki: A person residing in the United States, Latin America or worldwide of Spanish ancestry.

WOW, that's a shit load of people to fuck with Arizona.

While English is my first language and I have no accent, my husband's is thick, he's lucky, he looks "white" so his accent is often mistaken for Austrian (don't ask.)

If on vacation in Arizona should we make sure we are not "too tan" before going? Avoid getting in a pick up truck? Wearing shabby clothes or visiting 7-11? We certainly would make sure we didn't speak in Spanish, and we would be sure to carry our American Passports with us at all times, just to be safe.

Yes, I know Arizona, you pay big $$ to school illegal kids and big $$ for all the illegal health care.

How much is all the boycotting going to cost Arizona?

Being Latino simply can not a reasonable reason for a Police Officer to ask that you prove citizenship.

What does Latino look like?

Everyone in the pictures above are immigrants from Latin America. We all have made our lives here, married here, had our children here, work here and pay taxes. If I am not mistaken, most of them are now US Citizens. Latinos: we are all shapes, sizes, colors ans shades of hair and skin, I for one, as a HUMAN BEING can not stomach this ridiculous law.

Oh, for shits and giggles I am including a picture of my sisters kids. The are born and bread in Latin America and their English sucks.

Drastic Changes

Lady Godiva decided to cut his hair, all on his own. I was uneasy with the decision, I was not sure how he was going to look with short hair, I had grown very accustomed to his long hair.

He looks so different, so grown up, I miss my baby.

On the bright side, he donated his hair to make a hair piece for children with cancer. He is very sweet like that. For years he has been collecting the tab off soda cans and he claims they donate 5 cents for every tab. I don't know what charity or where he takes them, but he always has zip lock bags with those metal tabs in them.

OK...get ready, here are the before and after pics..TA DA DA DA

Mo's Hairy Legs

I want to state that I'm not a hater, I just don't get it!


Back log, back log...this is how far behind I am with my posting, right after the Oscar's I was going to make fun of Monique's hairy ass legs....but well, it's April now and so irrelevant.

First of all, when my husband fantasizes about wining the LOTTO, he lists all the cars and motorcycles he is going to buy. How he will have a mansion on the water in Florida and a ranch on the West coast (this is for me) and all the gadgets, etc, etc, etc...ME? The day we hit the jackpot I will RUN to the nearest LASER HAIR REMOVAL center and have them BUZZ me from my eyebrows down to my toes!

I hate shaving, waxing plucking. Of course, it doesn't help that I am white as chalk and have hair dark as coal and thick as phone cable, so go figure.

So since I did not post this way back when, I have been thinking about Monique's hairy legs, and I admire her. She has balls! Oh, I go days without shaving, but will leave my house covered in a damn Burka, in 105 Florida heat. No one sees my Chewbaccaness in public!

She just doesn't give a crap! I like that.

Now this girl in the picture below, well I don't know about her, that is a whole different story.