Magic is alive and well

There is no rhyme or reason to my Mother's mind. At times it is perfection, you can sit and discuss art and literature, culture and politics and forget that she sits in a wheelchair, post stroke and needs assistance to complete the most mundane daily tasks. Other times, it is muddled, foggy and stumbles like a drunken man on a winding road. She is a master social grand dame, she can see it in my your eyes, when she is not making sense, that's when she will quickly course correct, mid stumble, and it will seem like a simple bump in the road, rather than someone one who can't even see the road on occasion. There are things she can't disguise, the flat affect that is typical of a post stroke victim, coupled with a robotic laugh, which in the beginning is disconcerting, but gradually become the best comedic tool in history, she is the perfect "straight man." Being an innocuous older lady allows her to launch zingers with the straightest of faces then pause a few seconds and literally issue the flattest HA-HA-HA you have ever heard. It is truly hysterical, she has learned this and has become our little class clown, sometimes even beating me to the punch line. Yes, she has taken over my role in our family as the funny one, and in this she revels.

She is at her best when it is just us, her family, she is her true self, no one making small talk with her, if her mind wanders and her eyes fix in the distance, it's ok. The other day as we sat at lunch, my nephew, brought a magic trick to the table, as we talked over coffee. He made his way around the table and showed us one by one, we laughed, and ooh and awwwed at his trick. He is not so young to think he is fooling us, but we were all accomplices in the fantasy. He finally made it to my mother and showed her the trick. My Mother's face at that moment was priceless, she was amazed, astounded by his trick, her eyes widened and her mouth came to a perfect O. She looked up at me and asked me had I seen this!?! Yes, Mama, I answered, as I watched her, realizing what was going on. Then she turned to my nephew and asked how had he learned  Magic. She didn't mean a trick, she wanted to know how he knew MAGIC, real magic. Everyone smiled and my nephew laughed and that was that. 

I have been thinking about that moment over and over. I think of my children's faces on Christmas morning, when they were little and the magic of Santa was still a possibility in their lives. There are very few moment in life that have true magic in them. Then I think of my Mother in her late 70's and the joy on her face at that moment. Magic is alive and well for my Mother still and that warms my heart.

I'm a Nut

Yes, I know this to be true, I am a NUTTER. Here is what I have been thinking about for days and is so annoying me that I am bringing myself to write a post about it.  So, apparently all I need to get over my "writer's block" and I use the word writer very loosely.  As a fully bilingual person (English/Spanish) when I am watching a TV Show or Movie that has a Latin Character and they require this character to speak Spanish and they open their mouths and talk and I go "WHAT?!?" 

How about I have to put subtitles on because I can not understand what the character is saying in Spanish, yeah that bad.

Case in point: Breaking Bad, my goodness do I love this show, really I do, but would it kill them to have someone on staff to correct a few of their crazy Latin offenses?

When they introduced the Fast Food Restaurant "Los Pollos Hermanos" I cringed, it is so grammatically atrocious, it makes no sense in Spanish, but let's move on to Gus Fring. Gus Fring is the owner of Los Pollos Hermanos and is supposed to be a Chilean who lived in Mexico for many years. Don't get me wrong I love GianCarlo Esposito, he is an amazing actor, but he can't speak Spanish, and it's painfully obvious. Unless at some point in the series they state Gus is really from Curacao and secretly speaks Dutch, therefore explaining why his Spanish is so atrocious, it's not working. So when he is sitting there talking to the guys from the Mexican Cartel how come they pretend that they can understand is Spanish?!?

Just so you know that I am not only beating up on Gus, let's move on the Don Eladio, played by Steven Bauer (aka Rocky Echeveria) so I must admit, I love me some Steven Bauer, back in the day he reminded me of my hot ass hubs, he is looking a little worse for wear, but is hands down a good actor. Now, here they cast Steven as Don Eladio, the head of a Mexican Cartel in Juarez. Steven Bauer is Cuban-American and speaks Spanish perfectly, with a Cuban Accent! So when he says "Por FavoL" is is clear he is not Mexican. Steven, I blame you, not the casting director, I will coach you on dialects any time babe!

So, if you are not a Spanish speaker all this sounds like crazy talk....I know, I know, but imagine the TV Show lost, on this show we had characters from Australia, London, Scotland and America (East Coast and a Southerner.) Now imagine you are watching the show and the guy from the South talks like an Australian, the Australian talks with a cockney accent and the Scottish guy has the dialect of a guy from Jersey. Exactly, you would go WTF!

So Hollywood, I beg of you, do your homework, pay attention to detail, I am sure there is no shortage of bilingual actors and with the bilingual population growing exponentially, you should take notice.

Call 9-1-1

There is one constant in my life, and that is my need to pee frequently. This constant results in a routine: I pull my car into the garage, turn it off, jump out, run in the house, go straight to my bathroom and plop down to pee. Now, this is usually accompanied by the dogs jumping up and running into the bathroom to lick my face as I sit on the toilet. Or if I actually close the door, they promptly bust it open, then lick my face or fight over who gets to lick my face first.

Last week, this all happened, but as I sat on the toilet, the dogs did not show up. Then as I reached for the toilet paper......someone had changed the roll! Someone had been in my bathroom, used the toilet, taken the empty toilet paper roll off the holder, put it in the trash and put a fresh roll of TP on the holder. I froze. I had tossed my purse on my bed and my cell phone was in it. OH.EM.GEE, there was an intruder in my house. I needed to call 911, and didn't have my phone. I covered my mouth and whisper screamed in to my hands....Someone cal 911!

Wait...what? How did I know there was an intruder? Oh, excuse me, you must not have sons or be married to a man....SOMEONE CHANGED THE ROLL OF TP, and it was not me. Just then the dogs barged in to the bathroom, hmmmmm, maybe the intruder had already left. I whispered in Lulu's ear, she's the smart one "go get help girl, GO" As I mouthed GO, she just licked my teeth and wagged her tail. Duke was splayed on the floor licking his empty nut-sack, per usual.

Aw, HELL, I have to do everything in this damn house. I quickly wiped, and armed myself with the plunger, room to room I went, no one was in the house. Nothing was missing, except the entire contents of the pantry, but that is usual around here.

To this day the mystery has not been solved, I like to think it's a Fairy, a toilet roll Fairy. Kind of like the guy who wears inline skates and put quarters in people parking meters....I may never know.

My teen son in a hoodie

This is my teen son, in a hoodie. My baby, my sweetie pie, the apple of my eye. We live in Florida, and I worry, as all Mom's of Teens do. I worry he is texting while driving, I worry he might have unprotected sex, I worry he struggles in school, I worry he might get in a fight with another boy, I worry adults no longer see him as the child he truly still is, regardless of the man's body he inhabits. I worry, I worry, I worry, as  Mother's, this is what we do. These past weeks my heart has been broken over the news regarding Trayvon Martin. We are locals, we live and love Orlando and are outraged over the loss of this child's loss. What is worst of all, is that of all my worries, I know in my heart, my baby in his hoodie is not viewed as a "thug" a threat, a punk a suspect. He is viewed as a "white" kid in a hoodie and I know I will never experience the anguish families with sons of color are feeling all over the country after seeing what has happened to Trayvon.  Lastly, I can only hope to never experience the pain Sabrina Fulton is feeling now. My thoughts go out to his family and my outrage goes out to Sanford PD.

Smells like Douche

So I have started couponing like it's my job, mostly because I don't have a job, and well saving money I don't even have is a "good thing." Without getting into how using coupons work, you sometimes buy or get (for free) things you don't need or use. I either use them or donate them, this is what a local coupon guru has taught me and she is AWESOME!  If you are in Orlando, check out her blog, and go to a free coupon class http://www.couponersunited.com/ , her name is Mary and she is my hero!

The other day there was a deal that included toothpaste, toothbrushes, mouth wash and you got a FREE Summer Eve personal feminine wash (strange combo.)  This is a product I have never used or bought, in fact, I don't even use deodorant *GASP* don't worry I have taken a poll and no one has ever said I smell. It's a genetic thing, my father and one of my sister's don't use it either, and while my sister smells, my Dad does not...ha-ha she does not, but I know she reads this. So I came home with this cuca soap, put it in my shower and instantly forgot about it.

My sons have a perfectly good bathroom, with a fully functioning shower, but are for some reason compelled to use mine. The other day I was in the shower and decided to use the Summer's Eve ocean breeze cuca cleaner, and lo and behold it was empty! Just the same as the empty cereal box is placed back in the pantry- EMPTY!

All day every day, I tell my kids to stop calling each other "DOUCHE" but apparently I have been wrong, because they obviously been walking around smelling like Summer's Eve- what douches!

** If you would like to take part in my scientific poll and come sniff my arm pits, let me know. The compensation? DUH! Smelling my pit!

How did you find me?!?

This is how people have gotten to my blog via search engines, I think some may have actually been looking for me, others, may have been looking for who the HELL knows what!

1. Sex for fat old daddys from turky.com
2. Fat Chick
3. Former Fat Chick
4. Hairy Tongue
5. Dirty Chat Roulette
6. Fat Ass Mommas
7. Side Show Bob
8. Tahitian Bikin Wax
9. Don Bailey
10. Fat Chat Roulette

Number one really really scares me!

Who is looking for me? Top Countries who read my blog.

1. Unites States
2. Russia
3. Australia
4. Saudia Arabia
5. Egypt
6. Germany 
7. United Kingdom
8. Sweden 
9. Japan
10. State of the Vatican City

Number 10 really really scares me!

How Pumpkin Pie is really made...

I have never made a Pumpkin Pie....HELL, I have NEVER made a PIE!

This is my philosophy:

I am good at many, many things:

• dancing


• drinking vodka & tonic


• gossiping


• being funny


• trimming stinky squirming boy's toe nails


• whacking the right child in the back seat, while driving one handed and never taking my eyes off the road


• applying make up and face painting (for the chilrens) - they are not the same thing!


• Inspecting stinky boys after "baths" (includes but is not limited to: did you use soap? did you scrub with the wash cloth? did you put shampoo in your hair? Come here, let me sniff you)

I will have you know, that the above mentioned are just a few of my many talents. Don't get me wrong, I can cook.  As far as I can tell there is not a one starving person in my house (specially not me) and I make a sit down family dinner at least 4 nights a week. However, I do not pretend to be a professional, and it would be insulting to the true professional cooks, chef's and pastry people out there, that I purport that my cooking could compare to theirs, seriously they make a living at it!
So back to the topic, I have never made a Pumpkin Pie, imagine my surprise, when my girlfriend sent me this e-mail explaining how exactly Pumpkin Pies are made:



I think we will have Pecan pie at my house this year!

Still looking for a Turkey recipe?

With the Thanksgiving and Christmas holidays coming up fast, I thought this might be a helpful hint.

Here is a turkey recipe that also includes the use of popcorn as a stuffing -- imagine that. When I found this recipe, I thought it was perfect for people like me, who just are not sure how to tell when poultry is thoroughly cooked, but not dried out. Give this a try.

8 - 15 lb. turkey
1 cup melted butter
1 cup stuffing (Pepperidge Farm is Good.)
1 cup uncooked popcorn (ORVILLE REDENBACHER'S LOW FAT) Salt/pepper to taste

Preheat oven to 350 degrees. Brush turkey well with melted butter salt, and pepper. Fill cavity with stuffing and popcorn.

Place in baking pan with the neck end toward the back of the oven.

Listen for the popping sounds.

When the turkey's ass blows the oven door open and the bird flies across the room, it's done.

And, you thought I didn't cook...

Oprah and my boobs

If you have read this Blog you already know that my life is structured around the all mighty OOOOOOOOOOPRAAAAH (that's how I shout it out all sing songy like she does!) In fact, I am sure I lost my job during the last year of her show because I was meant to see her every day and not on DVR. I used to get her magazine (but it's so expensive, I no longer do) and read it cover to cover and try everything she loves. This is how I hurt my back trying that stupid Bikrahm Yoga, thanks to an article in her magazine! The list of things I have done in my life influenced by Oprah is extensive, and I have one more to add!

Remember the show where they gave everyone in the audience a Bra fitting and everyone was wearing the wrong size? Yeah, that. A couple of months ago I had an unused gift card from Dillards, that my middle sister gave me for my Birthday, so nice. I am not a big shopper, for years I worked for Mall Management and it takes a lot to get me in the Mall. After months of the gift card sitting in my wallet, and weeks of feeling like my bra didn't fit right I decided to go to Dillards and get a proper bra fitting.

I walked into the store, found the Lingerie Dept. and found an adorable young lady that had a name tag that said "Are you wearing the right size?" I told her I needed a fitting and we went straight back to the fitting rooms. She asked what size bra are you wearing? My reply? "I've been wearing a 38C for years!" At this point I was fully dressed she looked me right in the eye and said "Ma'am I'll tell you this much, you are NOT a C cup."

She asked me to take my top off and she pulled out her measuring tape, wrapped it around me a few times and announced: Let me pull a few bras and I will be back, let's find your size first and then we will choose what style you like.

OK....I stood there topless in my jeans and sandals in the dressing room, awkwardly starring at my self in a three way mirror under harsh fluorescent lights, thinking to myself- this was NOT a good idea, DAMN you middle sister!

She bounces back in holding a few options and says lets try this first it's a 36F. GASP! WHAT?!?  If it wasn't for the fact that I was topless I would have shoved her out of the way and ran out of the dressing room! She saw my face and said "Just try it on, we will work from there" I can see myself right now screaming and running topless through Dillards...hee-hee

I put it on, in a weird way she told me to and it was too big, but really by only a little. Next size, 36 E, Thank goodness, still a little big.

Finally we settled on a 36DDD, even though she insists that the E fit better. I inform her I am on a DIET and I am SURE my boobs will be shrinking very soon, Thank you very much and GOOD DAY!

I leave the store with my super expensive over the shoulder boulder holder- literally boulders, apparently my boobs are so much more GINORMOUS than I even knew. I called all my girlfriends because I was freaking out, to which one of their response was "OH, yeah, Porn Star BABY!" I was not amused.

The rest of the day I was thinking to myself, Damn you Oprah, you were right I was wearing the wrong bra size. But, how could I have been so off? What if I am wearing the wrong shoe size? It would be like trying to squeeze my size 9 feet into a size 6?! I was 3 cup sizes off. NO COMPRENDO.

I challenge you all to go get fit at a Department Store (not that sham of a store Victoria's Secret) and tell me, are you wearing the wrong size? I just really want to know if any of you are even more clueless about your bresticles than I am. Go, now, and get back to me.

Top 3 Words used in your home

So for some reason (probably because I am lame and have no job or anything to do) I have been thinking of the 3 most common used words in my home.

• I love you
• Honey, I'm home
• Be back later
• See you later
• Woman, feed me
• Walk the dogs
• Best Mom ever!
• Not even, bro!
• Shut your mouth
• Please stop talking
• Leave me alone
• I'm so hungry
• There's NO food!

All of these phrases are used incessantly in my home, not really, just the bad ones, not the nice ones. But, if I'm being honest this is what is most frequently yelled in my home:

GOOGLE THAT SHIT!

It is the correct response to all the following questions:

• What time's the movie?
• Is it going to rain?
• Mom is this a rash?
• Mom is this ring worm?
• Mom what's wrong with the dog?
• Mom who play that song?
• Honey, do I need to pack a jacket for my trip?
• How do I get there?
• When does Christmas break start?
• How do you spell...
• What is that book...
• Remember that movie, with that guy about that thing....

This list could go on and on and on but I find that all the never ending, persisting, incessant questions and queries from my kids and husband and almost anyone else in my life require only one answer:

GOOGLE THAT SHIT!

What do you think the top 3 words used in your home?

Spanx, not for the faint hearted

Most of you know, I grew up in Latin America and they take the whole panty girdle (what Spanx used to be called) to a while other level. I'm talking about female body armor, bounce a dime off your ass, dime flies across the room takes someone eye out level.

I started wearing these garments when I was 14, and I tell you I had the whole collection, head to toe. In fact I can honestly say my virginity was preserved far more by these undergarments, than my poor judgment.

As an adult I still love the company of these undergarments. However I must warn you, they are not for everyone.

Here are a few examples of my worst experiences in my love/hate relationship with Spanx.

I LOVE how they make me look in my clothes.

I hate how expensive they are.

I hate how long it takes my fat ass to wiggle into one.

I hate that my hubs once walked in on me trying to pull them up and he says he is scarred for LIFE.

I hate that no matter how carful you are, you always feel like someone can see them under your skirt when you sit down or go up steps, and how UN-sexy is that?

I hate that if you go dancing and have a few (OK, like 10) drinks and go to the ladies room, there is ZERO chance you are getting those suckers back up.

Or you can text your Hubs and tell him to come to the bathroom to help you, but your drunk so you text the wrong person "Come here and help me get my panties up, fucker!"

Yeah, I especially hate that one.

I hate that every time I wear them I can't stop thinking about how sausage is made.

I hate that that particular mental image makes me hungry for some kielbasa w/ sauerkraut.

I hate that one of the contraptions was SO like an Iron Maiden that I cut a "pee hole" in the crotch for the purpose of not having to text some random person from a bathroom for help.

And then the pice of crap ran like a bad pair of panty hose, when it cost me a small fortune.

Why not buy one with snaps in the crotch you ask? Yeah, been there- worn those, when you you make any sudden mov they SNAP open, disastrous.

What's a girl to do, beside get a body transplant? Keep wearing those suckers.

Fat and Sad

Fat and sad, such a lovely combination! I have a bum thyroid, actually I have some nasty nodules which keep growing....

Just so you know how it works, Dr.'s will start you on the lowest possible amount of medication, wait 8 weeks re-test you and see if it works or if you need a higher dose.

This is how it went for me.

.25 mg for 8 weeks, 1 weeks blood work, 1 more week to see the doc "oh, it's still low" which was about +5 lbs for me.

.50 mg for 8 weeks, 1 weeks blood work, 1 more week to see the doc "oh, it's still low" which was about +5 lbs for me.

.75 mg for 8 weeks, 1 weeks blood work, 1 more week to see the doc "oh, it's still low" which was about +5 lbs for me.

100 mg for 8 weeks, 1 weeks blood work, 1 more week to see the doc "oh, it's still low" which was about +5 lbs for me.

112 mg for 8 weeks, 1 weeks blood work, 1 more week to see the doc "oh, it's still low" which was about +5 lbs for me.

125 mg for 8 weeks, 1 weeks blood work, 1 more week to see the doc "oh, it's still low" which was about +5 lbs for me.

You do the MATH...over 1 year and 30 lbs...so now when it finally seemed to be working, when BAM the nodules grew.

The Doctor asked me if I am having any of the symptoms below:

Symptoms of Hypothyroidism

• Fatigue
• Weakness
• Weight gain or increased difficulty losing weight
• Coarse, dry hair
• Dry, rough pale skin
• Hair loss
• Cold intolerance (you can't tolerate cold temperatures like those around you)
• Muscle cramps and frequent muscle aches
• Constipation
• Depression
• Irritability
• Memory loss
• Abnormal menstrual cycles
• Decreased libido

Now as you may know I have been unemployed since January so, yes, I am irritable, depressed, I'm pale since being depressed prevents me from leaving the house, I eat all day and watch TV in bed, so yeah I've gained weight....

So yeah, I'm FAT and SAD, but I am not sure if it's because I cant get a job or because my thyroid is a pice of crap that does not work!

Now get this....they want to biopsy and remove the nodules, so if I ever DO get an interview I get to go with a big purple angry ribbon scar across my neck (I scar keloid)

I can imagine the HR person right now, hmmm candidate number one or the lady that looks like her throat got slit?

Why I need a JOB

So I have been unemployed since January 1st of this year. To say it sucks is so beyond an understatement, it redonkculous.

So I have come up with a few reasons why I really, really need a job.

1. I NEED money! I was never a stay at home Mom (could not afford to be) Never worked to pay off my charge cards or as a "fun" thing to do. I worked because I have always needed the money, still do.
2. Being unemployed at the same time I went from having 3 boys at home to only having 1 boy at home is the most depressing thing ever. Suffering empty nest syndrome and unemployment at the same time is shitty. My one remaining son goes to school full time, has a job, works out everyday and has a car, which means I see him twice a month, usually the day before he gets paid and is broke.
3. I have started watching HSN & QVC. I am days away from ordering a GenieBra, an ABRocker, and that shit Cindy Crawford uses on her face.
4. I can recite word for word every episode of Ice Loves Coco and I seriously love her.
5. My husband comes home for lunch every day becasue he wants to make sure I have not gone crazy, got out of bed, and actually took a shower.
6. Since I have no children to care for or dot on, I have become unnaturally obsessed with my dogs. Seriously, I am sure if I could breastfeed my puppy, I probably would, and well even I know that is JUST WRONG.
7. All I do all day long is EAT.
8. As much as I know the job market sucks, blah, blah, blah, sending 100 resumes out and not getting a single call back makes me feel like a BIG Loser, and not in a good way like the stupid weight loss show.
9. Sitting at home all day only makes me see how much my house sucks. I need new appliances, need new counter tops, need to remodel my bathroom, etc, etc, etc
10. Being unemployed gives me writers block.

Dear Casey Anthony- a letter from a Teen Mom

Dear Casey,

I don't like you. I don't understand anything about you. You see, I too was a teen Mom. In fact I was younger than you were when you had Caley. I was doubly stupid, because when my baby was 6 months old, I was already pregnant with my second baby.

I was in a bad marriage, so broke my children were on State provided medical insurance, we couldn't even afford to go to McDonald's, this is in NO WAY an exaggeration. My husband worked two jobs, he was gone six days a week from 2pm to 8am, I worked full time. On the one day we had a day off, we got to ride around in a car with no a/c (in Florida) and try and find something free to do.

I lived in a city with zero support system, no friends, no family, no one. On a good day, I would drop both my babies off at day care by 7:30 am and on my way to work I would fantasize about running away. Leaving and never coming back. On a bad day I thought about killing myself. I did never think of hurting them. I loved my children, still do. I am also truthful enough to accept that I resented my children, I often looked at them and knew I would have been so much better off without them. I can honestly say, I do not wish teen motherhood on my worst enemy.

I look at you and you lived at home with your parents who dotted on you and your child. They provided so much, that you didn't even have a job to support your daughter. You did what you wanted when you wanted, in my eyes you had it easy. Do I understand wanting to go out and party? Hell yes, I watched on jealously as my friends went off to college and partied their brains out hooking up with hot guys, while I was pregnant and changing diapers. It sucked.

What I cant get over is that all you had to do was get in your car and drive away. Your parents would have so obviously raised your child, and you would have been free to live your "bella vita" life.

In December of last year my house was broken into, in the middle of the day I came home to a burglarized home and could not find my dog Lulu. As I called 911, while running up and down the street screaming her name, I was sobbing and hysterical. I now laugh about this, since I found my dog, but in that moment I was devastated. I sounded like Nancy Kerrigan when they whacked her leg "WWWWHHHHHHHHYYYYYY, WHHHHYYYYY, why would they take my dog!" I can only hope the 911 operator was a pet owner so that she understand how heart broken I was.

When the not guilty verdict came down, I was so upset I did not speak the rest of the day. If you knew me, this fact alone would frighten you. I was so upset and all I could think about was that 911 call when I thought my dog as missing or hurt, the pain I felt, the devastation and heart break and how that was about MY DOG. My Dog, let alone a child. I just can't understand.

Sincerely,

FFC

P.S. Please don't procreate.

Dear Brian, I'm sorry

If you know me or have read my blog- you know I am out numbered. I live with my uber macho husband, my step son and my two sons, so when we got a dog, I put my foot down and we got a girl. Her name is Little Lulu and she is the daughter I never had, which I know sounds weird, but I'm 38 and my youngest is 18. I am teetering on the Empty Nest cliff- so it either act crazy about a dog or have a baby. You do the math.

We have been going back and forth over breeding Lulu since we got her, and she recently had her 3rd heat (not pretty, we fixed her a few days ago.) Unlike the other times she was in heat, she started to act very strangely, trying to hump everything, crying and all over the place emotionally (go figure.)

Of course the Hubs reaction? DO SOMETHING! You're a woman, help her.

I call the vet and explain (they know me very well in that office.) His advice? Get her a stuffed animal and let her take out some of her sexual needs on it. I SWEAR that is what he said.

Where am I going to find a giant teddy bear? And them I remembered something one of the mens I live with had in his room.

I run through the house flinging the doors open, looking for my solution. Found it! Grab it and yell at my son- I am confiscating this for Lulu and run out.

It was like a first date, I sat Brian down on a chair in the family room and let her walk by and check him out.

Second date- I move him to the floor and let her get a closer look and sniff.

Third Date- She looks at me and I give her the go ahead, the thumbs up, the YOU GO GIRL!

She drags Brain to her bed and BAM! Goes at it!

As we watch on as a family ( I know weird) there is giggling, red faces and cringing on my behalf.

Son #3 yells "DOGGIE STYLE!" Son #2 chimes in "Mom, Lulu is 69'ing poor Brain" Technically they were right.

That's it! The Hubs puts his foot down and makes us all leave the room and giver her some privacy, after all she is his little girl.

So Brian, I am sorry Lulu hit it and quit it.

Proof of the Crazy

The set up:

I was a young teenage girl, skinny with flowing straight light colored hair (white girl hair,) I was also bullied and tortured in school. Why? Because I was a genius! A math and science geek! If you haven't figured it out, this was a dream. Any who...I devised a plan for revenge- it involved stealing chemical warfare and dynamite. What? Yeah I know... then on a school field trip, to some caves (how convenient.) I dump the chemicals and blow up the mouth of the cave- therefore trapping and killing everyone inside! Violent much?

Now for the spy portion- I was also supposed to be in the cave- so I needed a new identity. I cut my hair super short and donned some boy jeans and a plaid shirt- an voila, I was a boy, very much like in Hilary Swank "Boys Don't Cry".

The hot part of the dream- Part of my new identity is being James Franco's male roommate- however we are really lovers *SCORE* We were so happy while it lasted!

The nightmare portion- I come home early to find my man James Franco making out with a voluptuous tall Latina- Sophia Vergara type- oh the horror! In true soap opera style I yell over and over "what does she have that I don't have"

Freaky portion- She whips open her wrap dress and has some big ole hairy man junk! AHHHHH! That's what she had that I didn't have.

Just then Lulu wakens me to go pipi at 3am- I was happy she did so-Back to sleep

Lucid dream- my true talent- when I go back to sleep- the penis having Sophia Vergara is gone- James Franco and I are happily married and Lulu has just had puppies!

Yes, best dream ever.

3 wise men?

Today is Three Kings Day, the day the Magi arrived or the Epiphany, having lived in Latin America and having worked for a Catholic School, I have celebrated this day many times over.

However, this year, I sit at home watching Hoda and Kathie Lee, looking for a new job on-line (yeah, because there ARE tons of jobs out there) and waiting for the Alarm company to show up and install an alarm system, in my recently burglarized home.

I have not blogged in a long time, I have a bad case of the BLAH'S and if you know me, well, sometimes my BLAH's are rather severe.

I will be catching up with you all soon, and telling you all about the horrible, hysterical things that have been going on in my life.

But for today, 3 kings day I leave you with this greeting card that my friend and neighbor Mary (the coolest Senior Citizen I know!) sent me:

When Men bake

If my husband could or would bake, I am sure this is what the final product would look like:

For one exception- they would be HUGE, as we all know: My Man likes BIG BUTTS and arroz con pollo thighs....

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...