Mama’s Boy my stretch-marked backside!

Mama’s Boy my stretch-marked backside!

It was drilled into me as an impregnated twenty-something that I was so lucky to be having a boy because, well, “every boy is a mama’s boy”.

So they said. They drilled and they lied. We all know how that goes. *obscure current event reference*

Nugget wants nothing more than to pal around with Husfriend. Every second he’s around, he doubles as his shadow. Mom who? Oh that lump of chopped liver over there cooking my dinner, yeah I was the literal fruit of her loins, big effin’ deal. (Because he’s not allowed to drop real F-bombs just yet…earmuffs Grammies)

The dressing and mannerisms and dimples and flirting. Way too much like his father.

In reality, I’m not mad. Pinky-swear.

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No Britches Jig

No Britches Jig

We aren’t all that surprised now are we?

 

Not surprised that A) my productivity level is at a Monday norm of negative fifteen B) Nugget doesn’t have pants on or C) I recorded it.

 

Where is my Mother of the Year Award

 

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The post where I reveal my gnomes’ asshatish motives.

The post where I reveal my gnomes’ asshatish motives.

They are out to get me.

Really, they are. I promise.

Those dirty little bastard gnomes are out to get me.

Or at least they are out to frame me for my personal demise.

An innocent initiative to finally pry the pseudo-melted jelly beans from February out of the glass candy jar on my office desk, results in blood shed. It reveals my beloved gnomes’ covert operation. Operation: Make Jess Pain. Serves me right for trying to clean and organize. But was it fully necessary to go for the wrist?! The wrist that, I now realize more so than ever, rests and rubs on various surfaces 99.998% of my day?! Yes, that one. The one on the right. The one that The Gnomes undoubtedly sharpened the inner lip of that wretched candy jar to lacerate. Ouch you bastards! OUCH!

Me? I’m convinced they have an affinity for harming me with various sharp objects found on the second floor.

I don’t appreciate you making a spectacle of my need to shave atypical body parts either. You know, that toe on my left foot that you possessed the razor to take a chunk from after I successfully removed the bead and braid from its lengthy hairs to shortly after shave bald. That one hurt like a sonuvabitch. No attention need be brought to my finger toes as it is. They are busy knuckle-pelvis thrusting to Ke$ha songs (ashamed) and grabbing blankie-to-floor mishaps to cease Nugget’s epic meltdowns. Also? I prefer not to leave trails of blood for The Vampires to find me. I prefer to lust after real-life men actors who play fantastical dreamy surgeon chief characters who are obviously in lurve with me.

I’m in the market for a gnome whisperer. I love these guys. They are part of my life. Perhaps I’d achieve more REM sleep if I knew they weren’t filling my shampoo bottle with acid while I snoozed.

Who’s next? Diet Coke. (Curse me for speaking such evils of my sweet nectar of life!)

P.S. I had to “Add to dictionary” way too many words in this post.

P.P.S. LiveWriter should just start submitting these “not real” words to Webster Collegiate on my behalf.

P.P.P.S. Hell, if Beyonce can get bootylicious in that, I should be entitled to Husfriend as an addition welcomed with warm, loving, open arms.

P.P.P.P.S. Someone else thinks so.

P.P.P.P.P.S. The end.

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A series of unfortunate events.

A series of unfortunate events.

First hand account of how completely screwed the billing and collections process is in the wicked world of American healthcare.

Exhibit A: (Please note the invoice Due Date)


Exhibit B: (Please note the angry collections tone in this notice)


But…
I present you Exhibit C: (Please note the date of the above presented threatening collections letter)


I kid you not this is surely why people in massive debt due to healthcare expenses never get out of them. I think I burst a vital blood vessel in my forehead from my raging disgust at the seeming incompetence of the person(s) in charge of this account.
Dates. Calendars. Common sense. We’ll go far ladies and gentleman. We’ll. Go. Far.
One of these things is too much like the other. Ehem.

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Wordless Wednesday: Zoom, zoom.

Wordless Wednesday: Zoom, zoom.

Join the Wordless Wednesday fun with Angry Julie Monday!!

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The only thing missing was Jane Lynch in the flesh.

The only thing missing was Jane Lynch in the flesh.

I get an email from a lovely man from a lovely company who offered me the chance to experience the live tour based on a sorta kinda popular TV show that I guess a lot of people enjoy. You may have heard of it. They air it on Fox Tuesdays at 9/8c: Glee? No? Never heard of it? Yeah me neither.


The Glee Live tour kicked off in Phoenix over the weekend. I had the opportunity to enjoy "night" two of the tour stop. Night meaning 11:30am on a Sunday morning in downtown Phoenix. I'm not mad, just not quite a morning person...even at 11:30am. Yes, I am lazy on the weekends. I recruited my sister Shannon to partake of the shenanigans sure to ensue. Good choice because she's never, if only once, seen the show so there weren't any expectations I'd be held responsible if the show turned out to be pure crap on a kabob. Bad choice because she's never, if only once, seen the show so there was a lot of storyline explanation when "show jokes" carried over to the live performance. Or when she started critiquing the overhead music before the show started. For her own safety I lovingly warned that she may want to keep those negative comments to herself because "these freaks have Glee-dar and will kill you instantaneously."


Now, let me take a second to paint a picture of the crowd we had the pleasure of being in the presence of. (whoa, lots of P words in that last sentence...but not those P words...creep). There were middle-aged women to whom Shannon asked, "These women are so old, do they even get the jokes?" Then there were troves of gay men in every direction. Which? I love being around with every fiber of my being. There was a disturbing demographic present though...kids. LOTS of kids. To which I made the blunt statement, not particularly caring about the row of them behind us, "I wouldn't bring my kid to this, it's not a Wiggles concert." Needless to say, the mother of that row of children behind us quickly became livid by, oh, song two, maybe three, when there were bikini tops and suggestive leg humpin/butt popping all up ons the stage.


I was thoroughly entertained for the duration of the show...well...until they took too terribly long to continue through to the encore, which was ill-preceded and anti-climactic. I share because I've been to my fair share of live performances in my day. Not only that, but I'm well versed on the difference between down time that is too long and down time that is dramatic pause. The second half of the show had the too much down time. That's okay, we were their guinea pigs, I understand. I am only trying to be constructive to my readers because, let's be honest, will the producer of Glee Live ever read this very post? Most likely not. Will I lose sleep over it? No, not really. Well the sleep losing will be for the sexy dreams I am busy having of Mark Salling...but that's beside the point.


What really matters is that I went, I saw, I enjoyed, and I'm gracious to the generous people at Rocket XL and Dove for providing me the opportunity to do all those fancy things.


Disclosure: I was provided complimentary tickets to Glee Live in Phoenix, AZ on May 16th by Dove Hair Care. I was not urged or influenced to write a personal review of the performance, nor was I compensated for my attendance.

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Watch it Tiesto, our house beats your house, hands down.

Watch it Tiesto, our house beats your house, hands down.

I should have a headache.

No, I should have a splitting migraine that could very well land me in a mental institution.

Instead, I have the sights and sounds of a home where a toddler dwells. Did I mention the headache?

Between the circa early 90s Casio keyboard whose beats tempo has been jacked up on what appears to be a level pleasing only to a tweaker, a completely age-inappropriate tee-ball toy exclaiming the double you just "got" after the ball flew around the post approximately forty-seven times, and the Wow Wow Wubbzy theme song on constant repeat (thank you Cox OnDemand...really...), I'm surprised I haven't the need to check in somewhere that requires slippers and crack flaunting gowns as the only means of acceptable attire.

At least in this house, Nugget is safe from being beat up by girls. Tempe Marketplace Splash Pad? Now there's a different story...

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I'm bendy, but not bendy enough for this limbo.

I'm bendy, but not bendy enough for this limbo.

Limbo.

Not the fun kind of limbo that includes grass skirts, coconut bras, and pineapple kabobs, but more the kind chock full of The Maybes and It's Highly Possbiles.

A lot of the latter limbo is good stuff sprinkled with some stressful stuff...IF it happens.

"IF" brings the limbo and this limbo is a whole slue of suckitude unmatchable by any other level of suckity suck that could ever exist.

Seriously.

This IF leaves things that need to be figured out yesterday, on hold until tomorrow, all the while drowning in what we can't tend to today.

I have tons of chocolate and even went so far as to purchase a case of Diet Coke yesterday.

I think I'll be okay as long as yesterday shuts the hell up and tomorrow hurries its ass up. Yah. That's the ticket.

P.S. I'm pretty sure the universe is sick and tired of my whining, but damn do I feel leagues better than I did 5 minutes ago. Sorta.

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No one asked, but I'm sharing anyway.

No one asked, but I'm sharing anyway.

I wasn't asked by anyone special to contribute to a master post chock full of awesome bloggers, but I'm sharing with you what I "want" for International Totally Excusable to be A Pampered Lazy Bones Day...more commonly referred to as "Mother's Day".

1. Sushi. Husfriend doesn't consume animals that swam before they made their way onto the table, so sea life rarely graces my palate. 
2. Snuggles. I like to snuggle with my Nugget and now that he's two years and a handful of months old, apparently mom already has cooties crawling ALL over her. No place for a sweet toddler to curl up.
3. Sweets. This. This has already been handled without any type of prior urging on my behalf. Which? Is pretty remarkable. Husfriend: he's learning. He's learning that the simple things make me the happiest sappiest female this side of the Mississippi. He brought me cookies and Ollie Cakes from Urban Cookies in CenPho.
4. Something-else-that-starts-with-an-S-but-isn't-the-most-appropriate-thing-to-ask-for-on-my-blog-because-the-someone-who-can-fill-this-order-doesn't-read-my-blog-but-his-mother-does-so-now-I-will-be-mortified-over-here-in-the-corner-as-I-rock-in-the-fetal-position. Pretty sure that explains it pretty well. Move along.

Mother's Day is like your bonus birthday. 'Cept I'm more apt to make a week long celebration of my birthday than of Mom's Day because, well, there are diapers to be changed, crumbs to be vacuumed, underpants to be folded, and food to be prepared. And you want to know what? I'm totally okay with that.

Happy Madre's Day to all my hot mamas out there!!

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Phoenix Mom's Nite Out

Phoenix Mom's Nite Out

Last night I had the pleasure of helping and partaking of the festivities that came along with the Phoenix Mom's Nite Out. Kelly did an amazing job cultivating an audience to attend and the box lugging that came along with the phenomenal sponsors who donated an over-abundance of chocolate, snack cakes, My Little Ponies, discounts, yummy lip balm, meals, this-and-thats.

The staff at The Capital Grille were amazeballs beyond believe. Pumping us mamas full of wine and goodies like crab and lobster cakes, bruschetta, tuna sushi cucumber awesomeness (which, is probably what they should change the menu to read as such), kobe sliders, and spicy calamari, something Karis and Steph from Scottsdale Moms Blog discovered can not be consumed daintily or very feminine-like. We shared that discovery with the interwebs during the live stream as broadcast on MomTV.

Food aside, which we all know is a difficult thing for yours truly to do in any environment, the overall event was fun beyond words. Connecting local Phoenix Metro moms to discover that we all yearn to let loose sometimes, having the means to do so is sometimes difficult with the whole, "We Are Superwomen!" thing going on.

Lynne said it best, "We're the six largest city in the country, but sometimes it feels like there's only four of us."

Thanks for everyone who joined us for food, fun, and lots of laughs even with Totally-Not-Barbara Bush peering over our shoulders and the unintentional boob flaunting at the webcam station.

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Cinco de Drinko

Cinco de Drinko

Although I have not (yet) indulged in any beverage that includes tequila today, I've celebrated the day by being stuffy, paper-pusher, snappity-snap dragon mama face head.

Which? Is probably not quite the appropriate spirit to display on this holiday laden hump day.

I also have a badrillion and one things to share about Phoenix Bloggy Bootcamp, but, my chicken scratch scraps of paper flitting around the house with content points are not coming together into a coherent post as well as I'd like for them to be coming together. *sigh*

Everyone is pretty and I'm hoping the tequila fairy leaves a bottle of Patron under my pillow tonight.

That is to say, unless I leave one there first...

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