True Story











{September 18, 2010}   I got a wild hair…

True Story:  I cut my own bangs…

I know! Stupid, right?

Just don’t tell my Russian hairdresser…Whom I ADORE, by the way. She’s awesome. She has none of the emotional, dramatic BS that we Americans carry around every day.

I don’t know about you, but there is nothing more relaxing to me than an eyebrow wax.

So one day I’m telling her about my man troubles.

She says:  Uh huh… I know dees men…

Me, eager to hear anyone’s tale:  Yeah, what’s your story?

Hairdresser:  I was married to dis man… (snip snip) …  He love me…  He nice to me…  He give me baby. But…  He no good… He like da women….

Hairdresser:  So… I leave him…

Snip. Snip. Snip.

Hairdresser: Den I marry dis adda man… He sweet… He love me… He do not drink or smoke or hit me… He didn’t like de adda women… But… He is so lazy…

Snip. Snip.

Hairdresser:  So… I leave him.

Snip.

Hairdresser: Den, I move to United States. I meet boyfriend, and he is mean to me and my daughter. So, I leave him too… Now, 4 years, I am without a man, and I am happy. Of course, sometime you want sex, but, you know…

True Story:  You adore her now too, don’t you? While simplifying my life, she also gives great hair cuts.



{August 29, 2010}   I can’t want it

True Story:  G Monkey speaks Back Asswards.

Please say all of these examples in a whiney voice.

Example #1: I want to carry you!

Translation: Pick me up and walk around with me.

Example #2:  Hold you, please.

Translation:  Hold me.

Example #3:  I can’t poopy my potty.

Translation:  I don’t have to go right now.

And my favorite…

G Monkey:  I can’t want it.

Translation:  I don’t want this. Other translation variations:  I am all done. I don’t want anymore. Not what I had in mind, etc…

My Translation for grown women: 

“I can’t want it” could be your response to the following offers:   

Just one more drink?

How about dessert? 

Brad Pitt?

Translation:  I’m not allowed to have it.



{August 11, 2010}   Boogers

True Story:  These words actually came out of my mouth today.

I was driving and G Monkey was in the back seat with his fingers jammed up his nose.

Me:  Uh, uh, baby, no boogies. We’re going to eat lunch.

True Story:  He is often caught taking boogers from his nose and putting them in his mouth. One day I said, ” No Booogies”, and he screamed, “Ah! I want to eat da Boog-ers”!



{August 4, 2010}   Good Lawd!

True Story:  Sorry for not posting much lately. I’ve been busier than a rooster in a hen-house.

I mean! Where does a woman find time to drink and write???

The last 2 weeks:  Company (young-uns all up in my house). Had to pull a Hazmat crew off the oil spill clean up to scrape the pop tarts off the floor.

Showing property everyday. Not complaining but it’s a little hard when G Monkey is out of school. As many of you may know, there are know weekends in real estate (especially in a resort town) so Pump and I are handing him back and forth pending our schedules.

True Story:  One awesome thing is that the director of his school, which starts back in 2 weeks, told me he has to be potty trained to come back.

Awesome! So among all this business I am cleaning poop and pee off the floors all hours of the day. G Monkey tells me he’s afraid to go on the potty because a bear might get him. I told him I would be more worried about crabs, but he didn’t get it. Isn’t this child reading???

Mommy bloggers of the world:  TIPS? Don’t tell me to throw away the diapers. Already did, hence the poop and pee on the floor. I got 2 weeks. Give me your best guru stuff!

Looks like British Pollution might pay up. If they do I’ll be blogging from the Caribbean next week… Naaaaa. I owe more than BP’s got left.

True Story:  More nonsense to follow. Let me catch my breath. Geez…



{August 1, 2010}   Here’s what I know

True Story:  I ain’t got no problems.

If you think about it… If you have your health and your family is healthy… No bitchin allowed.

Peace.



{July 22, 2010}   Housework

True Story:  I ironed the other day.

It was awful. I’m never doing that again.



{July 6, 2010}   I’m just going to say it

True Story:  Spent my first 4th of July alone, except for one almost 3-year-old little fella.

Guess what? It’s awesome. Not bad at all. Kinda like that 1st New Year’s Eve you spend at home not doing anything. You realize… You anin’t missin nuttin.




True Story:  I went to a party the other night.

So, by choice, I have been holed up at my house either by myself or just with my son for the last month. Suffering from a little bit of depression for the first time in my life. Mainly due to an oil spill in the Gulf of Mexico (don’t know if you have heard about it) which has greatly affected my business and income although Fienberg doesn’t understand how; my marriage ending, brokeness, CNN, power bills, dead dolphins, and so on. You get the picture. I have had no desire to go ANYWHERE.

Well, I got invited to a girlfriend’s birthday party. G Monkey was at his Daddy’s for the night and I thought what the heck. I’ll get out of the house, raise a little hell, and not talk or think about oil or anything else horrific.

I should really stop writing here. Hehe.

Let me paint the picture for you:

Some 30-something single gal friends of mine have been hanging out with some pretty cute, early 20-something Navy/Marine boys, that have rented a bachelor pad on the river across the street from the world-famous Honky Tonk, FloraBama Lounge and Package.

I don’t really have to go into any more description here, but why not, it’s fun.

Upon entering the house I hear loud drinking people out on a porch. I see unmade beds with clothes on the floor, toilet lids up and no toilet paper. But the best part is when I get to the living room/kitchen area to find 3 refrigerators. One had been turned into a “Kegerator” with a large pair of boobs drawn on it with  a tap attached to the nipple area of the right boob. Am I taking you back to the old days yet?

Common of men this age, I am not really greeted as I come into the party, just more or less passed in the hallway and nodded to. Then, being the grown, southern woman that I am, and knowing you always show up at a party with one arm longer than the other, I whip out a meat and cheese tray I had picked up on the way.

I Suddenly became the most popular person at the party. One young man says to me, “This is why I like women. They bring food.”

Me:  That’s the only reason you like women?

Young man blushes and walks away.

As I pour my first cup of keg beer from the boob I say to guy next to me, “I wish I had one of these things when I was nursing my son. Would have made it much easier”. He just looks at me like, who invited this one, and walks away. How are breast feeding jokes not funny???

True Side note:  This is a joint Birthday party for my “30-something” friend, and one of these guys. I spit my beer out at one point when I heard one of the lads say, “I was born in ’87”. The 34-year-old birthday girl gave me a quick head-shake and the international neck slashing symbol to keep quiet, about our age. She had told them she was celebrating her 28th, which still almost let’s them in on our PUMA status. (Pumas being slightly younger than Cougars).

True Story:  I’ve played drinking games since I was knee-high to a grass hopper… It’s just been a few years.

Slap the cup is what this new game I learned is called. It’s amazingly fun… And I only lost twice.

If you know anything about drinking games then you know losing, is not a good thing. It usually means you have to drink that BIG glass of beer in the center of the table. Well…

A couple of hours, including  fun, debating conversations about whether the sky was falling or not, later I excused myself from the young man I was debating with to go to the ladies room (nasty boy bathroom).

After going potty, and not used to drinking lots of keg beer in short amounts of time anymore, I thought… I’ll just lie down on this bed right here for just a “few minutes”.

4 Hours later, a sweet young couple, cute little blond girl and her tall boyfriend, wake me up.

Tall guy:  Excuse me, Ma’am.

Me:  Huh?

Girl:  Hey, you probably need to wake up.

Tall guy:  Yeah, listen, sorry to wake you, but this is Josh’s bed… And well, the bar is about to close across the street… And well, he’s going to be coming back here… Um,  most likely with a girl… And…

Now having had time to sit up and pull my brain together.

Me:  Oh, understood. Sorry. Didn’t realize I’d been asleep so long.

I get up, find my purse and sunglasses, grab a coca cola out of one of the refrigerators (can’t believe there was a coke) and take off.

True Story:  I’m not very cool.



{June 19, 2010}   How to get a Boyfriend

True Story:  In 5th Grade when Miss Pris moved to town and stole my boyfriend, I did 3 back hand-springs in a row outside of school in front of everyone to win him back.

It worked.

Ladies:  Listen up!




True Story:  So I’m starring down an oil slick, bankruptcy, divorce, single mom-hood, and then my sinuses decide to turn into the Great wall of China and block all flow.

Truth is, I don’t get sick that often. I know everyone says that (we are all in denial), but I was raised in a household where antibiotic was a bad word, and you only got them if you could prove infection.

I have always had bad allergies and sinusitis… So truly, when I am sick, it is usually a sinus infection.

Those of you sufferers know that untreated, they can last 6 weeks or more. I’ll admit I’ve had a few more since I have had a preschooler.

Along with all my other madness, our health insurance has lapsed.

I couldn’t take my sinuses any longer and got referred to a “cheap doctor”, back ally madness (not really).

I’m new, so she is taking my history.

Dr:  Tobacco?

Me:  Didn’t used to.

Dr:  What do you mean?

Me:  Well, I’m a little stressed lately. Might be partaking in a ciggy at the end of the night.

Dr:  Everyone is stressed right now. (She’s thinking economy).

Me:  Yeah…

Dr:  Alcohol?

Me:  Yep.

Dr:  How often?

Me:  Every night.

Dr:  Every night?

Me:  Yep.

Dr:  You might want to keep an eye on that so it doesn’t get out of control.

Me:  Where were you when I was 13?

True Story:  I realize that cigarettes & alcohol contribute to a sleepless night.

This was a BIG green monster that no amount of rest, exercise or fruit was going to cure. It was a BIOTIC that needed an ANTI.



et cetera