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 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.
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
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.
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.
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.
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!