Now Hear This!

When my son was born, the nurse said the words that I would remember all of my motherhood life.

‘Mommy’s and Daddy’s do things differently.... And that’s okay.’

Truer words were never spoken.

Son: I don’t want to go to school anymore. A kid in school keeps pushing and hitting me”

Mom: Did you tell him to stop?

Dad: Did you punch him in the face?

Mom: You have to speak up for yourself

Dad: You have to punch him in the face.

Mom: Did you tell the teacher?

Dad: Did you punch him in the face?

Mom: I’ll go in tomorrow with you and talk to the principal

Dad: I’ll go punch his father in the face.

Wife: You can’t teach him to go around punching kids in the face.

Husband: So you want him to get punched in the face? All he has to do is punch a kid once and nobody will ever bother him again.

I know that sometimes a dad’s voice is needed and sometime’s a mom’s...and sometimes an analyst's. But the question is not who’s voice can be the loudest but which is the right one at the time?

Who’s voice do you or your child hear?

You all do hear the voices don't you...?

My Monthly Blog

I do my best blogging in the shower.

Or, during sex, depending upon how much fancy juice I have consumed prior.

And sometimes, during certain times of the month, I can even blog on the couch while watching TV with my husband as he interjects comments in between the shows.

“Wow, check out how long her hair is.”

What the hell is wrong with my hair? I knew I should have never cut my hair. Why didn't you tell me not to cut my hair dammit!

“Look at that gymnast go. Not an ounce of fat on her I bet”

So now I’m a cow?

“Must be nice to have all that money”

What, you should have married for money instead of love. Is that what you’re saying??

“Keep playing the lottery babe, you never know.”

Why, so the first thing you can buy is a suitcase? ...THAT'S IT!

“So what do you want to watch honey?”

“&*%^&$##!!@@@()***^%@!!!!”

“&*%^&$##!!@@@()***^%@!!!!”

“&*%^&$##!!@@@()***^%@!!!!”

"!!!!!!*****RRRRRRRRROOOOAAAAAR******!!!!!!"

“WTF? Are you crazy?!”

I know.

You should see me blog in supermarkets.

(-:

Are You In The Moooooog?

How Many O’s in Moooooog?

6!

There are six!

I know, I know sometimes we write five…sometimes we write…seven…. but after much questioning and doubt after each time I typed it, I finally just counted.

Don’t give me ten years to figure something out.

So the question of the day is…Have you met Mooooog35 of Mental Poo?

No?

You’re kidding me right?

Well then, let me be the first person you thank today for passing you on to an online manic genius.

I’d take you all over and introduce you myself but I have nobody to bloggy sit.

Damn internet getting me all knocked up and crap.

But I can’t even stand for even one of my bloggy friends to miss out on him! I love you all way too much!

What does Moooooog35 stand for anyway?

I might have missed the whole making of Moooooog35 video. I don’t remember ever seeing it. But then again, I don’t remember Thursday so…

In my head, this is what his name stands for:

M – Midget man of steel (duh)

1^st O – Oh mother of Jesus (not you moooooog), I can’t believe he just said that.

2^nd O – OMG he just said it again!

3^rd O – Okay, there’s that laughing wet spot again. Damn him!

4^th O – Only he could get away with this

5^th O – One visit is never enough -(that’s what she said)

6^th O – Oh yeah, EZ Pass to Hell for laughing at his insanity

G – Go check him out!

35 - Times he’s gotten away with written murder??? I don’t know and I think it has to be way more than that but go anyway.

I’m a little disappointed that HBO has not picked him up for some random thing or another (don’t worry, I have a letter out to them) but a more funny, insane and addictive blogger you will not find on this internet!

****This post was an unpaid, sexually or otherwise, message to all bloggers. Not responsible for any loss of eyesight, bowel functions, finger commenting dexterity or future/ pending lawsuits associated with said blogger…okay, so I might be a little responsible but I’m taking him down with me.

Okay. Now go and let me know whatcha think k? (-:

That's MRS. Kravitz to You

I’m nosy.

Yes I am.

Don’t believe me?

I make my husband go through open houses on the weekends pretending that we are first-time-home-buyers just to look inside.

I can not resist a good open house!

The signs lure me in like a Cullen.

Still don't believe?

Okay, what about the fact that I'll go through someone's blog like an online medicine cabinet?

Or that I've been known to answer to the name of Mrs. Crane when in a restaurant within earshot of other tables?

Not enough? Well then, I'm sorry to report that there's more...

The term "mind your own business" often translates itself to me as "shut the hell up crab monkey and while you're at it, go shave your ass"

Oh and I’ve never met an open window that I didn’t like.

Now doesn’t that prove it?

I know!

What the hell's wrong with me?

I’m not a stalker or peeping tom or anything…only because there are laws and confining penalties for such things…

But I do have this crazy and insatiable need to know.

And man would I love to be invisible on command!

Going in and out- anywhere- at anytime- as much as I please?

It would be like real life human TV all the time!

….Nosy Ass Reality TV....

All the time...

Imagine?

So I’m sick. Sue me. Marry me off to a cousin. Whatever.

Then we can televise it and watch it back.

I'm sure someone out there is nosy enough like me and will want to see it!

Want to? (-:

Hello Oprah?

“UGGGHHHH!!! That’s disgusting!” I screech at my husband.

“Wha?” He casually drawls out while pulling up his pants “All men do it”.

I’ve told my husband a million times not to exaggerate.

That being said, I think he has Manopause.

It’s true.

The last-straw symptom of this horrible male disease is charging out of the bathroom like Superman out of a phone booth and proudly announcing the size of his latest turd –

...right down to the last micro-inch as if discovering the cure for world hunger.

And when he just stands there after this enlightening proclamation waiting for applause for his Man-Potty….well, sorry to say, you know he’s doomed.

Drilling down to the root of this elusive ailment, I have concluded that some of the other more prominent Manopause warning symptoms can be Watch How I Can Fart And Pick My Nose Anywhere I Want or Ass Scratching Is My Favorite New Thing to Do in Public.

He has never suffered like this before.

I’m worried.

Should I call the doctor????

What if it gets worse?

I’ve been charting these various symptoms over the last few months and I am now convinced that Manopause can be the only diagnosis.

Think Fox would be interested?

It could be news.

Well, in any event, I feel much better giving it a name because the alternative is well...having to clap for Man Potty.

He’s sick.

So I need to help him.

Anyone have a cure?

What's In Your Wallet?

I think that it is important to remember that every asshole is somebody’s child.

Somebody’s sweet little darling, honey bunny, poopy doopy….Asshole.

And in everyone’s defense, I’m sure that their parents did not intend on raising a big fat asshole.

‘Ah honey, isn’t he sweet? What a big strong asshole he’ll grow up to be one day’.

‘If we save enough money, maybe he can go to Asshole College’

‘Yes girls, that’s my son, isn’t he an asshole? Yup, just like his father.’

No, I will not fight with someone’s baby asshole.

I refuse.

Even if they are in their forties, hold my job in their hands and might or might not be erectiley dysfunctional.

It goes against the rules of the Non-Asshole Association that I work so hard to remain an integral part of.

I'm not getting my card revoked because of some random asshole!

But….. put me in a room loaded with assholes….

Well then I might have to tell them to take their card and shove …

Ahem….

Excuse me.

No.

I will not fight with s someone’s sweet little baby darling asshole.

Not today anyway (-:

So how do you hold on to your card?