the pink nightie

sometimes it's said of a kid that "they're in a hurry to grow up." i think i was kind of like that, except i wanted to skip the journey and zing straight to adulthood. i wanted to zoom from 7 to 20 in no time flat. i longed to hang out with the adults and listen to the things they said. i wanted to hear the gossip and absorb all the information that i thought i was old enough to understand.

when i was about twelve, i started being allowed to shop around the mall with a trustworthy friend while one of our parents wandered around the mall apart from us. i thought that was about the coolest thing ever. i had a little bit of money because i always babysat, pet sat, raked yards, cleaned the house, washed the car. anything to get some moolah into my pink, pleather wallet.

i liked to buy my own clothes when i was with my friends because then i didn't have to listen to my parents' opinions about them. of course i thought i was a mature woman with my own income, so surely i was old enough to pick out my own attire. however, my parents, being conservative, had other ideas. they didn't mind if i bought my own stuff, but they didn't hesitate to shuttle me right back to the mall to return my purchases if they didn't fall in line with the standards that had been set for me.

it didn't take me long to learn how to get things that were acceptable to both my parents and myself so as to avoid the embarrassment of having to return things. it was awful to be asked by the associate doing the return, "reason you're returning this today?" and having to answer with my eyes averted, "my dad said it looked slutty."

there was one time though, where i decided that i didn't care what they thought. i was going to buy any old thing i pleased that was within my budget. i loved silky, lacy things, and underwear in particular. i was browsing through a department store's lingerie department. i meandered out of the bras and through the girdle region. before i knew it, i found myself in the land of sexy teddies. the things surrounding me were so beautiful and elegant. they were pleasing to the eyes and the fingertips and i longed to own one of my very own. i wanted to put it on and wear it under my clothes. i wasn't entirely sure what the intended purpose of such clothing items was, but i knew i had to have one.

i couldn't afford most of the lacy pretties, but i found a sale rack with some lovely little things. there was one pale pink, fake silk number with a scalloped lace neckline and skinny little straps. i held it there in the j.c. penny's and debated with myself. what would i ever do with this? did i really want to spend all the money i had allotted for clothes on something that i could never show to anyone? i put it back and started to walk away, but it called out to me in a gentle, whispery voice. it promised that i'd feel beautiful when i wore it. it assured me that no child had ever owned an item of such elegance.

i hesitated for only a moment longer before i snatched it up, hugged it to myself and rushed to the counter to pay. an elderly saleswoman waited at the desk to ring up the next customer. i tried to control the trembling in my hands as i set it down. she raised an eyebrow in clear disapproval. her look plainly stated that in her book, i wasn't even old enough to wear makeup, let alone buy a sexy nightie that would no doubt be put to shameful and unladylike uses.

in response to her disdain, i determined to be as womanly as possible. i puffed out my chest to show off my new breasts. i raised an eyebrow of my own and looked her right in the eye, just daring her to question my morals or maturity. i knew of no laws forbidding twelve year olds to purchase underwear and i was ready to state that for all to hear if she dared to so much as cluck her tongue in criticism.

when the transaction was complete, i walked sedately away, shoulders back, head held high, not letting on that my heart was pounding in terror and excitement. my friend was giggling and elbowing me in the ribs, but i held onto my mature facade until we were out of sight of the store.

we immediately raced into a bathroom where i threw away the bag and receipt and stuffed the beautiful silk treasure into the bottom of my purse. i couldn't risk getting spotted by my parent while carrying a bag that i wasn't willing to explain.

when i got home with my negligee, i held it up and twirled around in front of my mirror. i imagined wearing it to sleep or to church under my conservative dress. but somehow, i could never get up the nerve to put it on. i held it and petted it, i even ripped off the tags, but after each time that i admired it, i tucked it away in the bottom of my toy box full of stuffed animals to prevent it from being discovered.

after a few months of keeping the nightie in hiding, my guilt was becoming unbearable. i had figured out the reason that women bought such things and i knew i wasn't ready for sex. it no longer pleased me to look at it and now i sort of understood that the snap-crotch wasn't there to make going to the bathroom easier. i couldn't even think of it without feeling a twist in my gut, knowing that i shouldn't own it. i thought about throwing it away, but couldn't bear the idea of letting something so pretty go in the garbage. i had no friends who were old enough or slutty enough to be wearing such a thing for a boy or man, so i couldn't give it to any of them.

that left me with only one option that i could think of. i had to give it to my mom. i knew that if she'd caught me with it, she would immediately think that i was trashier than i was. at that point, i hadn't even kissed a boy, so i didn't want her to think that i was that kind of girl.

mother's day was approaching, so i decided to give it to my mom as a gift. i would act like it was a recent purchase and always intended for her.

i called her into my room that afternoon and handed her a plastic bag containing the slinky garment. i told her that i didn't give it to her in front of the rest of the family because i didn't want to embarrass her. i tried to play it cool. woman to woman. as if it was the most natural thing in the world for a child to give her mother a piece of sexy lingerie for mother's day.

she looked at the nightie. she looked at me. she narrowed her eyes, but i maintained what i perceived to be my air of mature innocence.

i suspect it was badly wrinkled from being crammed into my toy box for months and maybe even a little dirty or frayed from being petted by my childish fingers so many times.

i told this story to my mom the other day, hoping to hear her end of it. she didn't really remember at first, but then she ran up to her room and dug around in the bottom drawer of her dresser. she pulled an old plastic bag out and slipped the very negligee in question out of the bag and into my hand.

my eyes widened. i couldn't believe it still existed. i petted the cheap silk for a moment and then dropped it like i'd been shocked. i looked at her with a horrified expression and asked if she'd ever worn it for its intended purpose. she laughed and assured me that it had never been worn and she gave it back to me.

that night, i took it home. i told my husband of 14 years the story and pulled the little nightie out of my purse...

let's just say that even after 25 years, this little number is still hot. 

it smells faintly of raspberries

there are times when life feels unfair. there are no good reasons and yet, things happen anyway. we can't control them, they're just a part of life that we have to learn to deal with. like periods. especially for children. and by children, i mean girl-children. and by girl-children, i do not mean brooke. thankfully that's a bridge we haven't had to cross yet.

but many girls start when they're way too young to be having to deal with such things. take myself, for instance. i started at the ripe old age of eleven. i was one of those kids who looked on the event with joyous anticipation. i couldn't get that thing kick started fast enough and once i did start, i told pretty much everyone. it was like it was my birthday and i thought everyone should know and maybe there would be presents and cake.

i thought it made me the most mature and fabulous girl in my group of friends. i offered unsolicited advice to other girls about how it felt and how it should be dealt with and what the drawbacks were. though, in my mind at that time, there were hardly any. long list of pros, not so many cons.

one time, a few months after aunt flo made her maiden voyage into my underwear, i had a friend at my house for a sleepover. she asked about my mysterious period and i proudly boasted that i was having it right then. i was lying. it hadn't been back for a second showing, but i didn't want anyone to know. i felt like my period was a sham, mocking me and my imagined womanliness.

i decided that i would need to prove to her that i really was advanced in the underpants, so i slapped a pad into my undies and would occasionally yank at my rear gear to show her how uncomfortable my new lot in life was. such a martyr. then i decided that it wasn't enough just to wear it, because what would happen if my friend somehow discovered that it was unsullied? i scouted around the house in search of something i could use to mimic blood that wouldn't be dangerous to my girl-parts.

i settled on a bottle of purpley roll-on bath soap that belonged to my little sisters. it came in a bottle like roll-on deodorant, but it was bright colored and fun for kids in the bathtub. i figured it would meet my fake period requirements quite nicely, so i rolled out a storm of soap into my pad and pulled my pants up.

shortly after, i coerced my friend into going to the bathroom with me. i'm sure it didn't take much since we regularly shared bathroom time back then and didn't think a thing about peeing in front of each other. i made sure she caught a glimpse of my "used" pad while i was yanking it out and wrapping it up into a ball with half a roll of toilet paper.

i felt rather pleased with myself for my clever manipulation of her senses. it was like i was a stager, changing reality for another person. only looking back now, i realize that while i thought i was smart, i probably scared her. she probably went home thinking about how she really didn't want to get her own period because that menstrual blood isn't like regular blood. it's purple and foamy, like toxic waste. but on the up-side, it smells faintly of raspberries.

the poopy tent

for the first nine years of our marriage, chris and i had only one bathroom. we lived in several different houses, but always with just one bathroom. when we were newlyweds, it initially seemed like no big deal. i'd never lived with any man to whom i wasn't related and they certainly weren't going to invade my privacy in the bathroom. in my growing up house, doors were kept closed and knocking was strictly enforced.

this was not the case once i was married. suddenly there was an open door policy for the most part unless pooping was underway. but there came a time when eventually, even the poops had to be interrupted by the other partner. if i was down to the wire on time before i had to leave for work and the man was in the bathroom dropping a man-sized load, i had no choice but to brave the stench-o-rama that was my bathroom in order to get myself ready to go.

it was very difficult to stand in front of the sink slapping my makeup onto my face as fast as i could (there was no other acceptable mirror/lighting place in the house) while fanning the door with one foot to keep the air circulating and the stink to a minimum. meanwhile my new husband was sitting 17 inches to my left with his pants around his ankles and a magazine on his lap as he pooped just as care-freely as if he were completely alone. he'd sometimes turn and smile serenely at me and tell me he loved me.

even worse than chris pooping next to me, was when i needed to go, but he was in the bathroom shaving or brushing his hairs or whatever men do in the bathroom. i was mortified. i couldn't bear the thought of my beloved seeing my delicate self taking a dump, particularly while he was close enough to reach out and pat me while i did so. i would turn my face and scowl toward the shower so that he couldn't see me. i'd close my eyes and imagine i was alone or stare at the shower curtain, blushing at the shame of my predicament.

one day while staring at the curtain and trying unsuccessfully to rush the man out, i was contemplating how to go about wiping in a sneaky fashion. and let me tell you, it can't be done. you just can't hide the necessary motions from a person who is that close to your body, especially when they're amused by your discomfort. then the thought popped into my head that i could pull the shower curtain around my body and form a sort of shelter to block myself from the nearby viewer's prying eyes.

surely, it looked very silly to see a toilet with a big flowery shower curtain-covered lump perched on it, but it provided the much needed illusion of privacy. from that moment on, the poopy tent became the standard for any time one of us needed to go while the other was occupying that space. and the cat loved to join us in there for our stinky camping adventures.

sometimes i miss our early days of being married, with fewer responsibilities and the freedom to sleep in, but i never, ever miss having only one bathroom. 

these are a few of my least favorite things

i suddenly got the urge to write my own version of the song "these are a few of my favorite things" from the sound of music today. but i couldn't just write about my favorite things because that's too sweet and nice. so i wrote it about my least favorite things.

here are the lyrics in case you didn't catch them.


hobos and hairballs and elephant seals
unflying kites and potato peels
having to listen as yo gabba sings
these are a few of my least favorite things


meatloaf and hot dogs and slow draining sinks
cleaning the litter pan, oh how it stinks
butt juicing cat that makes my nose sting
these are a few of my least favorite things


greasy hair, pit stink, and hot dumpster juice
stepping in slime that's pooped out by a goose
plunging the toilet, the sights that it brings
these are a few of my least favorite things


when the zit pops,
when the kids cry,
when i'm feeling sad.
i simply remember my least favorite things
and then i keep feeling bad.

and i think brooke did a great job as my backup dancer through the video.

if you need anything...

you know how people like to say, "if you need anything, let me know"? and they always say it with a gentle smile, perhaps with a compassionate nod of the head. they sound like they mean it, but do you think they really do? and does anyone ever take someone up on one of those open ended offers of help?

i would like to propose that we start making specific requests whenever someone is kind enough to make one of those statements. we should make our needs known to our kind hearted well wishers.

next time you're at church and a polite lady with a southern accent asks how you're doing, tell the truth. tell her that you've been feeling pretty crummy lately and more tired than you usually admit. tell her that the bags under your eyes look like football makeup, but thank the kind Lord for some concealer so you can show your face in public. she'll likely pat your hand and say something like, "if there's anything i can do to help, you just let me know." generally we'd thank her and go on our cranky way, but not this time. the truth has started flowing and we're on a new path now.

this time you need to say, "well, since you asked.... i sure could use some help with the kids. is there a time next week when you might be able to keep them? what days are good for you?" or perhaps you don't have kids. so instead you might say, "i sure do hate grocery shopping and since you offered, would you mind picking some things up for me? here's my list and i don't like generics."

next time you walk into a store and an artificially perky sales associate greets you and asks if she can help you with anything, the answer is yes. you should pick out an armload of stuff that looks like it might be good, preferably in at least 2 sizes each because you need to be prepared. she'll help you carry it. she offered, right? then i think you should invite her into the dressing room with you. it's always great to get a second opinion, plus since she's available, you should have her hang up all your rejects and return them to the proper racks.



when you're at the bank, making a deposit or withdrawal, the teller always ends it with, "is there anything else i can do for you today?" i think that's the right time to turn your back to him and point to that pesky spot between your shoulder blades and tell him about the itch you just can't seem to reach. you might clumsily demonstrate with the chained down counter pen how you can't ever seem to contort your arms enough to get it really well. ask him to please scratch it for you. if he doesn't make a solid effort the first time, you should lift up the back of your shirt and ask him to please not be shy because this itchy mamajama's been bugging you all day.

when next you go out to eat at one of those restaurants where they leave you with a little treat at the end, like a little cookie or a mint, watch closely. you want to be paying attention when your server pulls it out of her apron pocket and places it on the table or check. right before she walks away, she'll always ask, "is there anything else i can get for you?" that's your cue to say, "actually, i'd like a mint that you haven't been carrying around for a few hours in your apron. because (and here is where you pick it up and mush it flat between your fingers) i have an issue with eating snacks that have been melted by your pubic heat."


and with that my friends, i leave you with the hope that you'll make your needs known. don't be shy, don't hold back. they offer, you accept. the world will be a better place for us all.

bible study gas x2

several years ago we moved to chattanooga because we felt like God was leading us there to start a post modern church. it seemed a bit odd since there are already so many churches in that town, but we clearly believed that we were following God's leading by going there. very shortly after we arrived, we found a few other people who shared our vision & they were already meeting at some one's house on a regular basis for a bible study & some worship time.

we were finally able to work out the details for us to be able to attend one of the meetings (we needed child care because brooke was only 1 at the time & it wasn't convenient for her to be there) where we met the group, mostly for the first time. it was pretty exciting for us to be meeting these people since we really felt like this was the beginning of a big new life change for us & these people were likely to be a part of it. we wanted to make a good impression so that they'd want us to be a part of their group.

we arrived at this big, fancy house & found about 10 or so people there already hanging out & eating. there was a big spread of food & they were kind enough to have some veggie dishes since they knew i was a vegetarian. i was touched that they'd do that since most of the time when i go to a dinner like that i end up eating chips & dip as my meal because it's the only thing without meat. i happily piled 2 spicy black bean burgers onto my plate & proceeded to chow down.

after the meal, the lights were turned down & we all sat in chairs in a circle in their fancy living room. we had some nice music & a short bible study about foot washing. then someone busted out a big bowl & some soap & water & we were instructed that we'd each be washing the feet of the person to the right of us. chris & i were not sitting next to each other. i was between 2 other men, both close to my dad's age & virtual strangers to me. i started to feel really nervous. this was WAY outside my comfort zone! the only feet i'd ever washed besides my own were my sweet little baby's feet & i imagined they were a far cry from the feet of the man beside me!

now, to increase my discomfort, my stomach started churning, a little at first & then more & more until i could audibly hear it rumbling. i swear, i felt like it was echoing off the dimly lit walls & surely everyone could tell it was coming from me. the washing started a couple people away from me & went in the opposite direction, so i had a little bit of free time while everyone sat quietly & respectfully & waited their turn to have clean feet. i whispered to someone next to me for directions to the bathroom & was pointed to a door directly behind us. i went in there & realized that there was no way in the world i could release the massive build up of gas that was smashing around in my guts without everyone in the next room hearing me. i nearly cried! i couldn't figure out how to fart silently (as i'd learned once before when i tried to plug it with my finger & only managed to fart a very loud, high pitched whistle. but that's another story) and i dared not to even drop my pants out of fear of the coming explosion. so i waited a moment, did the obligatory hand washing & walked back to my chair, doing my own personal rendition of "dead woman walking."

slowly, timed dragged past. i think these people must have been enjoying the process because they certainly took their time about it! inside my head i was screaming, "come on folks, this isn't the time for a full on pedicure & massage, let's move it along!" but outwardly i sat silently with everyone else & prayed that they couldn't hear my painfully gut wrenching gurgles.

finally, the man next to me kneeled down & started washing my feet. in the best of circumstances i wouldn't have liked this. the symbolism of it went completely over my head and all i could think about was how desperately i didn't want to blow a blast of gas at this strange man as he rubbed between my toes. don't think about the tickle! don't think about the awkwardness! focus solely on anal clenching!

ok, i got through my washing, but i still had to manage to wash the dude on the other side of me! so in a rush, i got down on the floor & plunked his feet into the bowl. i wanted to go at turbo speed, but i quickly realized that being in a squatting position, putting pressure onto my stomach & leaning forward required a whole new level of sphincter control. oh my gosh! i felt sure that a noxious cloud of greenish-black smoke & foul stench was going to torpedo out of my backside at any second if i didn't hurry up & get this job done! it had to have been the least thorough washing to have ever occurred. i didn't care. let them think i wasn't a thorough bather or had a phobia of feet. whatever they wanted to think, so long as they didn't know that more than anything in the world i wanted to fart out the 96 million pounds of pressure that had built up in my guts.

when the washing was finished, i attempted to say my goodbyes as quickly as i possibly could without being totally rude. i still wanted these people to like me. i used the "baby at home w/ a sitter" excuse & ran for the door w/ chris right behind me. i did the clench & waddle out the door at the fastest speed i could manage till i got to the car. chris pulled away from the curb & we both started rolling down our windows simultaneously. we looked at each other & started laughing hysterically as we farted ourselves silly in the car, because all the while i was suffering in there, i didn't realize that he was suffering from the same affliction! he'd had the bean burgers too!

ever since then, we've dubbed that feeling "bible study gas" & we both know it's time to clear the room or roll down the windows when one of us catches a case of it.

bugaboo

when i was single and about 20, i had a guy friend who was cute. actually, i had a lot of guy friends who were cute, but this story is only about one of them. we didn't know each other well, but we had several mutual friends and often hung out in the same group of people. he was nicer than most of the guys i knew and never seemed like he was trying to be cool or impress anyone with his "game".

we kind of checked each other out for a while and eventually he asked me out. i was glad that he did and happily said yes. i think we went out for dinner or a movie and then afterwards, we went to a little ice cream shop. we were having fun, but i wasn't feeling like there was a romantic connection between us. it felt like going out with a friend or maybe my cousin.

while we were eating ice cream and laughing, i noticed that he was looking at my boobs. then he wasn't laughing or smiling anymore. he was staring very intently at my deep cleavage and didn't seem to be listening to what i was saying. i stopped talking & just stared at him, wondering what was going on.

then he reached out his hand & started slowly reaching toward me. and not just reaching toward me, but reaching toward my chest. this was completely out of character for him, especially since we were on a first date & sitting in a public shop surrounded by families. i just watched him, almost mesmerized by the oddity of it.

then he suddenly SLAPPED me, right on the top of my left boob! my jaw dropped, my eyes popped and i was speechless. that's when he looked up at my face & noticed the shock and he started stammering. he finally managed to explain that there had been a bug crawling down my shirt from my collarbone, heading into the crack of my boobs and he'd managed to slap it away before it made contact with skin.

he turned red in the face and i burst out laughing because of how crazy it had all been for a minute there. we didn't have a second date, but stayed friends, and i still like to tell his wife that story sometimes.

date bag

a couple nights ago i was out with chris, celebrating my birthday & feeling pretty cute for a change. i may have just turned 36, but with proper makeup application & kind lighting, my face isn't so bad. you may have noticed my new picture there on the right & it's one i took of myself while we were in the car on the way out to eat. i had to get it before my makeup started to melt off or my hair had a chance to go flat or i was in the vicinity of food which would, no doubt, be spilled on my ample bosom. i've concluded that if you don't take your own picture on those days when you feel kinda pretty, then all the pictures you'll have of yourself will be stupid ones from too far away or too close up or from a down-low kid view that gets way too many of the neck rolls.

but maybe i should confess that i've just learned how to use the "re-touch" tool on picasa (free photo editing program) and i kinda did a touch up on my face in a few spots. ever since i learned how to use it, i've been removing zits, weird tooth color, neck fat, chest wrinkles, shiny face spots, my neck mole. the list of ways that i can improve myself in pictures is endless & i have great fun seeing the years, fat & ugly melt away with a few clicks in the right places.

i'm having an internal debate with myself as to whether i should post the before & the after to let you see the magic that is photo editing and re-touching. hmmm....

oh heck, now that i've admitted to doing it, of course i have to show both pictures.

saturday, chris & i left brooke with my parents overnight so that we could have whatever kind of date night we wanted & we went a bunch of different places, eating, drinking, movie watching, shopping. we had a good time & i decided after we were mostly done going & doing that i wanted to see if i could find a little pouch sort of thing to go in the new purse my sister just gave me. the only thing still open was walmart and there was one close by (aren't they always nearby? they're everywhere now.) so away we sauntered to wallie world.

i found the perfect little bag that would fit just the few little things i needed to contain, like tums, tylenol and toothpaste. i got it to the register & the young cashier girl rang it up & said, "ooo, this came up as a 'date bag', for when you go on your dates." i glanced quickly at chris and then said to her, "don't tell my husband, but i need it for when i'm going out. it's the perfect size for my lip gloss, rubbers and some fresh panties." 

that girl's mouth dropped open and she stared at me like great scandal had just been committed. it was awesome.

hoots ahoy

we're living back in the city where we lived when brooke was born, nearly 9 years ago now & we've been wandering around, seeing the sites & reacquainting ourselves with the lay of the land. today as we drove up to a huge outlet mall, i had a flashback to a trip we made there when brooke was only a couple weeks old and we were taking her to the mall for the first time.

it was a weekend and the mall was crowded, like it always is. i was on a mission to find a couple more nursing bras because i only had two & neither of them fit well.

*note to my male readers: i realize you are of the wiener persuasion, so i ran this story past my husband first to see if it was too gross or TMI (who am i kidding, i still would have posted it, but i just wanted to see if the mens would likely be distressed by it.) and he told me it was okay & not too icky or sexy for my manly readers. let's carry on now, shall we?

i tried to wake my sleepy little dumpling head baby up so that she'd chow down on my feed bags before i went bra shopping. for any of you who haven't nursed kids, you might not realize that nursing boobs are similar to water balloons and when the baby eats, they deflate somewhat & get softer. when some time has passed since a feeding, they get very full & hard and often painful because they're containing a few ounces of milk that's just waiting for a hungry baby to gobble it up.

i knew that brooke should eat before we went into the mall so that i'd be able to shrink the breasticles down a bit before i started trying on bras. alas, brooke had other ideas. she was a hardcore fan of napping back then & there wasn't much i could do to wake her up when she was in one of her serious comas of slumber. i stripped her down to her diaper and held her in front of the A/C vents, but still no luck. no amount of jiggling, tickling or noise could rouse her, not even when i aimed my teat & shot her in the face with a stream of milk like a dairy bazooka.

i didn't have all day to mess with the babe, so i tucked my milk balloon back into my crappy nursing bra & headed into the mall. i hunted around for a while before locating the little boutique where they sold a decent selection of bras, including those of the nursing flap variety. i selected a couple different styles in a couple different sizes, left brooke in the stroller with her daddy & headed into the dressing room in hopes of finding something that would fit.

it wasn't until i got into the fitting room and stripped off my shirt that i realized just how full my jugs were. this did not bode well for trying on bras since the lady lumps were already in pain. but i had a task to be completed & not being one to shirk my responsibilities, i proceeded as planned.

i quickly peeled off my uncomfortable bra, but no sooner did i get it off than my cans exploded like a double headed sprinkler. liquid was shooting in all directions, coating the mirror, walls and carpet with hot milk. nips are tricky little buggers because they don't have just one exit hole for all that dairy delight, they have lots of holes coming from the various milk ducts within the breast, so it was completely out of control for a couple seconds before i figured out what i could use to clamp them down and absorb that excess milk.

i was still an inexperienced first time mommy, so i didn't have enough supplies with me in my purse and i'd left the diaper bag with chris & brooke who had left the store. once i'd filled up the little breast pads i was wearing & the couple stray tissues i dredged up from the depths of my purse, i was at a loss for what to do next. i stood there with my hands clamped over my boobs, milk running down my stomach almost in a panic trying to figure out what my next move should be.

i'm embarrassed to admit that i decided the best course of action at that juncture was for me to just lean forward and let them spray until the pressure decreased enough that they weren't free flowing any more. so there they hung, like 2 punching bags with multiple little jets leaving warm milky puddles in the carpet. i was sick with the shame of my act and at the same time tremendously relieved to get some of that irritating liquid out of there. i was bent at the waste, hair hanging down, my cheeks flushed red, but a little smile on my face at the relief i felt to have the pressure in my chest relieved.

i didn't know how to apologize to the sales staff or explain what had happened in that dressing room. i also didn't know how to get out of the store without potential leakage all over my shirt even after i thought my nips were mostly done leaking. so i stuffed my old, wet bra into my purse & then put on 2 of the bras that i'd brought in to try on. i ripped off the tags and took them to the counter to pay for them and didn't provide the woman with any information as to why i was at the register with 2 tags, but no bras in sight.

after that, i hightailed it out of the store, collected my little family & went home. i never told that whole story to anybody before today, but sometimes it's good to come clean. and if you were one of the employees of that store, i'm very, very sorry for my actions that day. and i hope you were able to get the smell out of that rug eventually.

pablo's been picnapped

my mom & i have a lot of fun together. she's one of those delightful humans who thinks i'm pretty funny sometimes, so of course that just encourages me to do and say even wackier things. i know it's been a really good day for mom & i when one of us wets our pants.

i don't know how many of you remember my little post about my beloved pablo, the metal tooth picker, but he's become something of a family legend since i fell in love with him about a year ago. you can go HERE to read of my twisted, but devoted and on-going love affair with pablo.

yesterday when i was visiting my parents house, i inadvertently left pablo at their house. i didn't realize it until i was home & munching popcorn last night. i nearly had a panic attack, but then found my spare picker, which was sufficient, but not as satisfyingly pointy as pablo.

early this morning i got a text from my mom's number. it said,
 "I've got Pablo.Leve$5 million in small unmarkd bills behine the dumster at red lobstr b4 midnite tamorro.After I have cownted the $ we will negoshiate his retrn."

after i had a giant, unexpected early morning guffaw, i texted back,
"oh my gosh, that's hilarious! i realized i left my sweet sweet pablo behind. i could flog myself."

but mom wasn't done yet.
"this aint no jock lady. Pay up or he dis."

me, "please, please don't hurt my beloved! i can't live without him. I'll pay!"

mom/gangsta, "hes safe here 4 now but he gets no food. hes a winer so you bedder hurry up becuse i hat the sownd of his wining and i mite looz my pashints with him."

me, "what will you do to him if he whines?"

mom/gangsta, "Start fileing his point til he shuts the heck up."

me, "oh no, not the point! that's his best feature and he has body image issues. i'll give you some publicity if you want, just leave his point intact. i'll blog about you & send out your message. anything you want!"

mom/gangsta, "Tell evrybuddy the mony is being donaded to chairity. And tell them i mene bisness. This littel winer is geting on my last nerv so herry up."

mom/gangsta again cuz i was slow in replying, "I jist had sumbuddy offr to take him off my hands for $1 million today. Now you hav til 11:59 tonite to pay or luze."

me, "i'll pay but only if his point is whole and sharp. don't rough him up!"

mom/gangsta, "He shut up wen i tuchd the file to his winy littel tip. Now hese just quivring like a cowerd. I hate thees jobs."

me, "most guys would shut up if you put a file on their tip. Pablo's no dummy."

mom/gangsta, "Wimp. Jelyfish. Keesh."

me, "you picnappers are all alike. uneducated thugs just looking to ruin someone else's life with your casual disregard for the things others hold dear."

and so ended the ridiculous pablo saga. or maybe it's not over yet. i'll go over tomorrow to attempt to ransom my precious pablo and i'm hoping he hasn't been damaged. maybe i'll find him in a tiny, locked box with file marks around the edges & nary a hole through which to breathe.

sperm donation for father's day

i don't usually like to write a post that follows perfectly with whatever holiday we're sitting on, but this is a story that seems to be perfect for father's day. i've been thinking about writing it for ages & it finally seems like the right time.

this was us during the time this story took place.

when chris & i had been married for about 2 years we sort of decided that we were ready for kids. and by that i mean, i was frantically craving babies and he was thinking about how he liked the way our life was, but was willing to consider that maybe a baby wouldn't ruin everything. we "tried" for a few months with no offspringy results, so i went to see a doctor to see if there was something wrong with my girly bits.

as it turned out, there were some problems in me, but the doc thought we could overcome them with drugs. that didn't end up working, but before they would take the next step with me it was decided by the medical powers that be that chris needed to go through some testing of his own.

most of you probably have a mental picture of how that goes for men from seeing movies or sitcoms where some guy goes to a sperm bank donation center and provides his deposit after viewing some choice pictures or videos in a little sterile room.

that was not what happened.

we were told that they provide an easier way for the men to "deposit" by allowing a sterile cup to be taken home, filled up and returned to the clinic within 30 minutes of filling. that sounds nice, but we lived a minimum of 30 minutes from the clinic & that was barring any traffic delays. and if it took longer than 30, the process would have had to be repeated with a new cup.

we thought about that for a time, trying to figure out a way for chris to be able to do his duty and still get the cup to the clinic on time. hmmm... we had no friends who lived closer to the clinic (plus, that might be a bit much to ask of a friend). maybe we could drive part way there and pull over on the side of the highway for a car quickie. but that might contaminate the specimen as well as get us arrested. we could attempt to collect the deposit in the back of the parking lot right before our appointment time, but that didn't sound like a good plan because again, there was the risk of getting caught by security when doing such things in a public location. and i'm sure that my giggling at the situation would have been a "downer" which would not have been a good thing in that situation.

the appointment was at 8am, which is truly a stupid time for such an appointment. i mean, what man is feeling spermy and deposity at that hour of the morning? we finally decided that we would need to drive to the clinic a little bit earlier than our appointment, go into the building & find a bathroom where we could take care of business & still get the cup turned in on time.

we arrived and found a bathroom, but it was right in the lobby of this medical building. and there was no family/handicap bathroom into which we could go together in order to make it a team effort at collecting the juice of fate. so into the men's room he went, with a look of grim determination on his face. he was going to have to go it alone. no wife. no pictures. no videos. no sexy nurses. just a public bathroom stall. at 7:45am.

i waited outside the bathroom for about 20 minutes. i paced and wrung my hands, glad that there weren't many people around to give me the hairy eyeball for loitering outside the men's room.

he finally came out & plopped the little cup into my hand, lid screwed on tight. i stared at that wad as if my fate lay within it. i was trying to be like a fortune teller with tea leaves, but i was a sperm reader with a plastic cup. i checked it out from different angles, held it up to the light & then stuffed into my purse and headed for the office door where we would turn in our offering and then wait a few days, hoping for good news.

the news, in the end, was really bad. they said that with our combined issues, we had about a zero percent chance of conceiving the old fashioned way & would need to go straight to in-vitro and even then the odds weren't in our favor. we didn't have the money for such things. so i started reading about ways to naturally increase your fertility with no drugs or doctors & low & behold, it worked. we've only got the one, but she's a good one and she came about the old fashioned way after all. it took about a year of careful observation of cycles and days where booty duty was a high priority even if we weren't in the mood. but the end result was worth it.

and that is my father's day story.

the taco bell drive-thru

today brooke & i made an unplanned stop at a playground on the way home from church, which was fine & lovely & great, except for 3 little things. one, she was wearing flip flops & warmish clothes. two, we had no sunblock. three, i didn't have any drinks because we'd already chugged them during church. those last 2 didn't seem like such a big deal initially, but since it's 85 and full sun today, it got a bit hot & possibly burny out there.

after an hour of full-on play mode (her, not me, i was texting & listening to an audio book in the shade) she was red faced and panting from exhaustion & dehydration. we stopped by a sonic on the way home for a slushie that i thought would be a fun treat since she's had all of about 2 previously in her 8 years, but we sat in the drive-thru waiting, for nearly 20 minutes! and while i was sitting there, i remembered another day, many years when i got stuck in a drive-thru. . .



faces edited for privacy. LOL!



picture this, if you will, i was at an amusement park with several of my very best friends. it was christian music fest and we'd had a full day of loud music & too many rides in the hot sun, but it was ok, cuz we were about 18 and just having fun. it was dark by the time we left & as we were leaving, there was a sudden down-pour. it was one of those kinds of rains where you can't possibly stay dryish without an umbrella, no matter how fast you run to your car or put your purse over your head. we got soaked, like we'd just jumped in a pool, so we figured we'd just have some fun with it & be glad that we weren't hot anymore. we splashed in puddles and kicked water at each other for a while, but eventually decided it was time to head out. we'd arrived in several different cars; i was driving my parents' big conversion van with my 3 closest girlfriends. the 4 of us were so close, we even went to sears & had portraits done together once & that's who you see here. i'm the one with the bowl-cut in the front.

we hopped our sopping wet selves into the big daddy van and promptly decided that we didn't want to ride the 45 minutes home in our water-logged jeans. so all four of us stripped off our pants & chucked them into a heap on the floor of the van & giggled ourselves silly that we'd just left christian music day & were now cruising down the highway in wet t-shirts and panties with no pants. it seemed positively scandalous and hilarious and i probably failed to keep it between the lines because of all the laughing and spewing of jokes.

we decided that we were hungry needed to make a stop at taco bell. we didn't care to try to cram ourselves back into our soaked jeans, so we opted for the drive-thru and figured that was safe since my van sat up so high that the window worker wouldn't be able to see in too much. we placed our huge order and were waiting behind a couple of other cars. it was a rather long wait, but we were having a grand old time, being young & stupid.

that's when we heard it. a knock on the passenger side window of the van. we all turned, wide-eyed, to see a guy's face pressed up against the glass, leering in at us. he was grinning and asking us if we wanted to go to a party with him and his friends. he may also have suggested that we just let him into the van & we could have a party right there. we squealed in fright and made sure all the locks were smashed down tight and yelled at him through the closed window to go away & no we did not care to party with him in the van or anywhere else. it was scary because we were totally stuck in that drive-thru lane with a building to one side, a huge hedge of bushes on the other, and cars in front & back of us.

after some shrieking from us, the dude reluctantly wandered off and we finally got our food & got out of there. i'm sure we made quite a sight with our matted down hair, soaking wet shirts & mountain of pants on the floor. that's one of those stories that makes me smile every time i remember it and one that went down in the history books in that group of conservative friends as the craziest thing to ever happen at taco bell.

at least i won the race

i wrote a story a year ago as part of a longer post & i thought i'd cut it out, re-work it & re-post for those of you who haven't been here since the beginning.

when i was 14, i had a good friend named patti who i spent a lot of time with. sometimes i'd spend the night at her house & since her parents were somewhat less vigilant than my own, we could get away with things there that i'd never have been able to pull off at my own house. for instance, we used to go outside at night.

we generally didn't do anything other than maybe go for a walk around the neighborhood. one night we went for a walk around midnight in our bathing suits and a carload of guys drove up & stopped. they inched up close to us & asked where we were going. we were trying to be cool, so we said nowhere, we were just hanging out. cue the giggles and flirty eye contact. the boys spewed testosterone and made some macho chit chat and asked why we were in our bathing suits. they wanted to know if there was a pool nearby where we could all go swimming together. i blurted out that no, there was no pool, we'd just been playing in the hose and sprinkler earlier in the evening.

it was like one of those moments in a movie where the soundtrack is playing along nicely, then someone says the wrong thing & you hear the loud screech of the record scratching & then there's silence. the boys busted out laughing & sped off into the night. oops. i guess playing in the sprinkler may have marked us as the foolish children that we were, rather than the sophisticated women we were attempting to portray.

one night we got bored of walking circles around her block and decided to spice things up. we were out in our pajamas in the backyard, sitting on her little sister's swing set & we came up with a plan to race through a few backyards in a big loop & whoever made it back first was the winner. the catch was that we were going to take off our pants before we started running. we still had on shirts & undies, so it was only a half streak, but it certainly felt sandalous at the time. we got to our "starting line," peeled off our jammie pants, and took off running. i gained the lead pretty quickly and was feeling rather pleased with myself since running's really not my thing. patti couldn't stop giggling, so she wasn't moving very fast. i was afraid that the giggling might draw the attention of the neighbors whose yards we were running through, and i certainly didn't want to get caught running in my undies, so i was silent & determined.

i had a pretty good lead going, when out of nowhere, i tripped over a dog chain that i hadn't seen in the dark. with a guttural "oomph," i fell flat onto my belly in a full sprawl that knocked the air out of me. my face banged the ground & i had grass stuck to my tooth, but i popped right back up & kept hauling ass because by then, patty wasn't just giggling, she was laughing hysterically. i was terrified of getting busted, plus, i really wanted to win and i was afraid she'd take advantage of my unanticipated tumble. i sprinted to the finish line like a champ, with plenty of time to spare. but once i was there i realized the stupid hilarity of the moment & stood there with my bruised chin & grassy tooth & i wet myself in the grass in my minnie mouse t-shirt and days of the week undies.

betcha can't guess what i wore on my head

tonight i stumbled across the show "say yes to the dress" which, in case you don't know, is a reality show where they film women coming into a bridal shop with their family and friends & trying to find the perfect wedding gown. there's lots of drama and a whole lot of white fluff.

it made me think back to 13 years ago when i was planning my wedding. chris was in school and working as many hours as he could, so we didn't see very much of each other. i'd moved back home to save money, so i was spending a lot of time with my mom as we worked through all the arrangements. i never wanted to have a big wedding. i wasn't a girl who dreamed of it all her life. i'd always sort of thought that i'd run off & elope one day, but i was talked into having a wedding after all.

i did NOT want a big, fluffy dress. i didn't want beads, sequins, sparkles or glitz. i didn't want to go totally hillbilly & get married in denim either. i wanted something simple and smallish that i could afford to pay for myself. my parents paid for the wedding stuff, but i wanted to pay for anything i wore on my body, so it needed to be reasonably priced.

it was hard to find just the right dress in any of the bridal shops because they were all too fancy for me, but i finally found one in a department store. actually, it was in the prom section, but whatever. it was long & white & had a small train, so i can't imagine anyone wearing it for a prom.

once the dress was decided upon, i needed to figure out what to do on my head. hair up or down? veil? tiara? nothing? these are important decisions when you'll be looking at the pictures of that moment for the rest of your life. we looked at a lot of different veils and headpieces, but i wasn't really sure i even wanted one and they cost between $60 and $200 bucks. my mom is very crafty and has done a lot of sewing, so she convinced me that we should consider making our own veil.

we found a portion of veily material at michaels craft store. it was longer than i'd thought i would like, but seemed pretty enough. however, it still needed to be attached to something. we bought a string of fake pearls & took our goodies home to play with them & see if we could make something good enough to wear down the aisle.

we cut a piece of cardboard into a sort of long, ovalish shape, figuring we could hook the veil onto the bottom of it. we cut a piece of lining out of one of my little sisters' dress-up dresses that was white & silky to cover the cardboard. we thought we'd string the little pearls around the outer edge to make it look prettier, but it still needed something to make the cardboard piece thicker & look less like a silk covered slice of cardboard.

we thought about it & tried a few things & then suddenly, there was a light bulb moment. that piece of cardboard was exactly the same size and shape as a maxi-pad! mom ran for the nearest box of pads & while the 2 of us laughed ourselves into pants-piddling hysteria, we wrapped that hunk of cardboard with a couple of pads. it was totally convenient, they were already sticky on the one side, ready to stick right down and stay in place. flexible, with wings! we wrapped them in the strip of chopped out and ironed dress-up silk and then hot glued it all in place. we sewed the pearls around the edge and when it was done, no one would have ever known that i was walking down the aisle to marry my beloved with a couple of maxi-pads stuck on my head.

and i've got to be honest, this is one of the best memories i have of my wedding. i can't even think of it without getting a fresh giggle. 

dressing room drama

tonight i remembered a story that i heard from my aunt back when i was a teenager. it was one of those great, embarrassing moment stories that just brings a smile to my face, so i asked her write it for me so i could post it here for you guys. thanks, aunt joan! i love you.

 

Back in my 30s, it was a big deal to go pick out a party dress for the big Christmas party that my employer put on every year. So, my husband (at that time) and I headed out to a local clothing store in Georgia after church, to find me a dress. I found several dresses to try on, and headed to the dressing room to start the fun. There was a line at the dressing room of about 4 people ahead of me. As we stood there waiting, a couple more lined up behind me to get a dressing room.

 

I finally got my turn at the very first dressing room. This room could easily be seen from the doorway where everyone was waiting in line to try on their "finds." I proceeded to strip off my clothes, leaving nothing on but my pantyhose and my bra. That was really all that was needed to try on party dresses! Keep in mind that the whole point of "pantyhose" is to not have to wear panties under them so that you have no lines showing through your clothes from panties. As I began to take one of the dresses off the hanger I noticed that there was something odd about the hem of the dress, so I knelt down to see if I could fix it. Of course, I didn't notice that the dressing room I was in was one of those that doesn't go all the way to the floor. My husband kept saying, "Joan, Joan, Joan!" and I kept saying, "I'll be out in a minute." "Quit talking to me", "I'm trying on dresses!" So, he finally gave up and left me to my foolishness.

 

When I finally came out of the dressing room, I got a cheer, a bunch of clapping, and my husband telling me that everyone could see my bare butt while I was down on the floor in my pantyhose. Needless to say, that was the last time I think I ever wore pantyhose, or used the very front dressing room located by the door. Unfortunately, it didn't change my normal urge to ignore my husband as he was trying to tell me something while I was deeply engrossed in something else.

trouble-making mouth

i swear, some days my mouth must be mad at me because it says the stupidest things!

example number 1.

yesterday my landlord came over to change our air filter. he does this every month & as he's young and friendly, we always chat for a few minutes while he's here. normally he uses the cheap, skinny filters, but this time he brought over a new kind that's thicker & supposed to do a better job. the only trouble was, with the new filter, getting it crammed into the small space was proving to be a bit challenging for him since it's way up high & awkward to access.

i was watching him struggle & then i said, "it's a lot harder to get it in when it's stiff, isn't it?"

he snickered. my brain kicked in. holy crap, i can't believe i just said that to this guy! i need to backtrack! i need to make it less awful! i need to say something about how the old floppy ones were easier to work with. NO, that will make it worse. say something about stiff, not stiff was what you meant to suggest. NO, don't say stiff again!

say nothing. don't make eye contact. go stand in the corner and don't speak anymore. your mouth cannot be trusted. he let himself out quietly while i banged my head into the cupboard, my cheeks flushed with humiliation.

example number 2.
today i went to the grocery store. they had a buy 1, get one free on cantaloupes, so of course, i bought 2. when my groceries were being bagged at check-out, the bagger accidentally put the bag with the cantaloupes into the cart of the man at the next register.

the other customer caught it & returned my bag of fruit, at which time i said, "thanks for noticing. otherwise i'd have gotten home and wouldn't have been able to find my melons."

yeah, my mouth is a troublemaker.

mommy fail

i was just reading a post by kristy, at pampers and pinot, about her son turning 3 and how as we hit each kid birthday, we relive the birth of our kid. and she's right, i totally do that every year on brooke's birthday. but another thing i always remember every year on her birthday is her second birthday party. her first birthday came right at the same time as we were moving from one state to another & our lives were in chaos and transition, so we didn't do much to celebrate. it's not like she knew, anyway, so it kind of floated on past with little recognition.

for her second birthday, i wanted to make up for the first one & have a big to-do for brooke. most of our friends didn't have kids and we were working with a small church where she was kind of the mascot for the whole group since she was the only tyke around. i invited all our friends over (no family because none lives near us) and we were expecting a house full of adult guests and fun.

shortly before the people were expected to arrive, i was scrambling around, trying to finish getting everything ready. i was cleaning frantically, fixing food, keeping the birthday girl happy and occupied all the while trying to get myself presentable in hopes that i wouldn't appear as sweaty & disheveled as i was feeling. i ran into the kitchen & stopped cold when i saw something drip out of the ceiling. then it dripped again and within a matter of just a few minutes, several more leaks had sprung from the ceiling and i was setting up bowls and buckets around the floor to try to keep it from forming a lake all over my freshly mopped linoleum.

my husband and one of his friends who had just arrived were trying to figure out what was causing the leak. they found the water heater in the attic and that it wasn't just leaking, it was pouring out. they couldn't find any way to shut it off & they were getting pretty soggy and disheveled themselves, in the attic in tennessee in the middle of summer, as they struggled to find a way to stop the flow. our landlord was out of town and unreachable. we called the water company & after some time on hold, since it was, of course a weekend, they went out to the hole in the ground for access to the main water supply and attempted to shut off the water to the whole house. but, naturally, it hadn't been used in many years and the thing was rusted stiff and couldn't be turned.

back in the house, i was on the verge of total overload because portions of the sheet rock were starting to crumble and tumble right out of my ceiling and splatter on the counters and floor around me and there was water pouring like a waterfall through the light fixture. i was pretty sure that death by electrocution was in the very near future for myself, or one of my beloveds.

eventually, they did get the water turned off. not before our guests arrived, but for them, it wasn't nearly as stressful as it was for me. they helped me mop & clean up the giant, wet mess that was my kitchen, while salvaging as much food as possible. someone showed up with a couple bottles of wine & i promptly claimed one and guzzled it rapido. i hadn't had much in the way of alcohol in several years, at that point, so it went straight to my head. before long, i was feeling all happy and silly and loud, and was about to start on a new bottle of wine when one of the pastor's wives took my cup away. she told me i didn't get to have any more wine until i'd had some food and waited for a bit to make sure that i really still wanted to drink more.

of course, by the time i'd eaten & calmed down for a bit, i realized that i was already more than drunk enough and should have had about half a bottle less than i'd already consumed. i don't remember very much about the party, other than how fun it was.

eventually, it was very late and my little early-to-bed girl needed to be tucked in, in spite of how many people were still at our house. tucking the girlie was my job, so i carried on with the bedtime routine- brushing her teeth, dressing her into her jammies, duct taping her diaper around her body so that she wouldn't peel it off & pee up her bed in the night, reading her little picture books to her, singing "Jesus loves me." the whole ordeal was distressing for me to be executing while heavily intoxicated, but singing "Jesus loves me" in a drunken, pathetic way to my sweet little toddler on her birthday was entirely too much for me. during that song, i told God, hopefully not out loud, that i would never again get drunk when my child was around. i didn't want brooke to remember her childhood and think of her tacky mommy singing her drunkenly to sleep at night.

the wind was out of my sails at that point and i was glad i hadn't had that extra plastic cup full of wine, after all. and to this day, more than 6 years later, i've never even come close to having that much to drink again, even if brooke wasn't around. i guess my days of drinking are over. now where's my dr pepper?

flatulence

about a month ago i participated in a battle of the blogs at tracy's place, it's an average life, where i was given the topic of flatulence & the postion of pro. tracy is over the blogging business and has resigned. since this post never made it on my own site, i decided to post it here today. i've got a post in my head that i'm working on, but it may still not be ready for a couple more days, so if you haven't already read this one, and you're not grossed out by tooting, here you go.

i've been assigned the task of being a fart advocate. creating fervor for flatulence. giving props to the poots. and sadly, this is not much of a stretch for me.

i decided to take this business seriously, so i did some research: ie, i asked on my facebook status if anyone had any gassy wisdom they'd like to share with me. thankfully most of my friends are low class, so i got some positive feedback.

as it turns out, according to nurses nationwide, farting is something that is beneficial for your health. when i had surgery to remove a human from my body (aka c-section) i was told that i couldn't go home until i farted. clearly, there must be something very valuable about the removal of gas from the ass if holding it means you're held hostage in the hospital. the nurses cheered & clapped when i blasted a big one 2 days after birth. never had i been so proud of my ability to cut the cheese.

this brings me to a suggestion for all of us, when it comes to selecting a mate. in other species, the male and female choose the suitor who is most desirable, physically. they want the largest or strongest or in the case of the lion, the ladies pick the dude with the darkest mane. they want to know that their mate is healthy and will likely produce offspring with alpha potential.

forget sexy legs or piercing bedroom eyes, i think we should start evaluating each possible mate based on health & vitality. one sure sign of heartiness and a diet high in fiber is the quality & quantity of toots.

imagine, if you will, a bar filled with speed daters. there are 40 people in the room, all looking for a love to last through the ages. they've all suffered from heartache and squandered dreams in the past, but this time, they're determined not to make the same mistakes. this time, they all came prepared. they've filled up on garbanzo beans and broccoli, brussel sprouts and asparagus & they're ready to find their mates. each person spends 2 minutes with the other mating candidates. their goal is to impress and be impressed. they skip past the small talk, who cares about jobs or astrological signs? she coyly raises her eyebrow as she raises her butt cheek, allowing for the optimal amount of noise and smell enhancement. she waves her hand seductively to waft the smell his way & then smiles and lowers her chin to gaze at him through her lashes while he takes it all in. he smiles and nods approvingly, then turns his back to her and arches his back. he lets forth with a bellow from below, turning his head to look over his shoulder, not wanting to miss her reaction to his power. he winks at her, then leans across the table toward her to whisper something in her ear. one word was all it took. "cabbage."

a love connection was made that night and one couple left together, awash in gastrointestinal bliss.

this, my friends, is a fairy tale with a happy ending. and one that can be yours if only you'll put your best toot forward.

what kind of bees make milk?

i like to have a little fun when i'm writing sometimes, by recounting the moments when stupid or embarrassing things happen to me. most of you have probably figured that out by now. i also love hearing the stupid or embarrassing stories that have happened to others. especially when those stories come from people who normally don't share or volunteer such things because they have dignity & class and generally don't stoop to the level of revealing their shamefully hilarious events. what, for most people, would be something to tuck away & try to forget, i relish every awful detail & try to remember it clearly so i can tell or write the story later.

one of the funny, embarrassing things that has happened to me many times in the course of my adult life is that i tend to drop things into my cleavage. i know, i know, if i wore shirts with higher necklines, that wouldn't be such an issue, but sometimes, a girl's got to show off her assets a little bit, especially when out on a date with the husband. and turtlenecks just aren't very sexy.

i dropped a big blob of ice cream down there in a restaurant once & had to try to wipe it out without flashing anyone. and i drop pieces of popcorn down there all the time when we go to the movies. i've had bits of chips fall while at social gatherings or queso drips when we're dining on mexican fare.

but my favorite story on that topic happened one day when i was taking communion in church & managed to drop almost a whole wafer straight down between the girls. at first i thought i'd just leave it there & fish it out later, but alas, it must have broken on its journey into the abyss because suddenly i felt the scratching & irritating from a nasty little broken edge & i knew it had to come out. for some reason it didn't occurr to me to go into the bathroom to deal with this. looking back that seems pretty obvious, but at the time, all i could think was "should i go in from the top or the bottom?" i attempted a discreet dig from above, but by that point, it was too low down. so then i tried to slowly maneuvre my hand up my shirt all the while singing along with the congregation & trying to keep a neutral face so i wouldn't give away that i was getting to second base with myself. i did finally manage to free myself from that scratchy lil morsel, but then what to do with it? i didn't want to eat it after it had been hanging with the meat balloons, but they don't serve napkins w/ communion. so i settled for putting it into my pocket, only to be reminded of the incident when i found the remants in the laundry a few days later.

i got an email from a friend today, telling me that she dropped a slice of cheese down between the ta-tas while fixing dinner today & that was my inspiration for this post. i'd love to hear from any of you who've had one of these hilariously unfortunate events. share with me, if you will, a time when your boobs ate the keys to the car you just finished test driving. or your girls were unwilling food storage containers. or you lost your cell phone & then found it under your left hooter. whatever your story, i'd love to hear it!

where did we meet?

you know how on facebook, sometimes people will write in their status, "tell me how we met each other and then make this your status so i can return the favor." i always thought that was kind of stupid because aren't we supposed to already know how we met our friends and family members? and if you tell me how we met, why do i then need to tell you how we met? will the stories be different?

tonight i saw a different take on it, and it was an idea i had to borrow. it says to leave a message telling how we met, but make it a lie. i added that the more creative & amusing the answers, the more cool points one would receive. you know, from God, or whoever's in charge of cool points.

i got some great responses that actually made me laugh.
" We really bonded in that state facility after our frontal lobotomies. I think the shock therapy was really beneficial for you, but the ice water immersion really didn't help me much long term. Hope you're doing well - I still don't like wearing my helmet, but at least my sitter has started letting me use scissors on craft projects!"

i had one from one of my blog friends, creatingme, who had clearly read my last post.
"I was the nurse tech at your first mammogram. Nice tush!"

i apparently met one former church friend at a gay bar where she was checking me out & i also give a mean prison tat. i was taught by monks in the mountains and got breast implants with my aunt where she questioned my judgement since she seemed to think that DD was big enough. silly, silly woman. bigger is always better.

i had a great one from my brother.
"Almost can't even remember those early years in the orphanage anymore... I mostly just remember it was so overcrowded... But I will never forget the pillow fights! That was the only time we boys were allowed to interact with you girls for any length of time. Your plan to convince Ms. Wadsworth to alter your birth certificate to match my last name in order to get Mom and Dad to adopt us both and get you out of there was devious, but brilliant! Love ya, "sis". "

and a naughty one from my friend who i've never met face to face. she's a frisky one, this girl!
"Sherilin and I used to date before I had my sex change... she inspired me to switch teams... haven't regretted it yet. Although some days I feel "clueless" as a woman, and I get" Blue" missing being "Steve." Least Sherilin can't send me to the doghouse anymore.Cause she liked it Ruff,ruff,ruff. :P"

and another friend who loves to mock me when i get a little too excited about the raccoons & possums who come up on my deck to eat the food that i put out for them (shut up, i like them) wrote,
"The great raccoon expedition '90.....I was completely enthralled by your lecture "Befriending Earth's Creatures". Later, while you were talking with the raccoons brought in for exhibit, I approached you about their diets and how important it is......fast friends we were.....fast friends for sure!"

now, i know many of you bloggers out there are wonderfully creative and hilarious and i'm wanting to play this game with you too.  feed me a big, fat load of crap and tell me about our imaginary meeting. the wackier, the better! i would like to make the best commenters guest authors on my page in the near future, if you're up for it, so bring it on!