True Story: The best picture EVER taken of me was my first grade class picture.
If I have to date again in the future (Can’t Imagine that I will ever want to), should I post that photo on my online dating profiles?
True Story: I was adorable then. The end result? Eh, iffy.
True Story: My husband had an affair with a Vampire.
That’s right. A real life Vampire. I have mentioned this female version of half-life in previous posts. But didn’t want to blog about it right off the bat, because this is a humor blog. And although, infidelity is hilarious, I didn’t want my blog to be a bitch fest.
True Story: In light of recent events, it may become one…
Naaaa… If anything has saved me in my troubled times, it has been my sense of humor. I don’t plan on giving up on that now.
I call her a Vampire for these simple (self-explanatory if you know her) reasons:
1) She’s pale. Seriously.
2) She walked among us without revealing her true nature.
3) She slipped in my house in the dark while I was sleeping to be with my husband, and hid this in the daylight.
She was my friend AND colleague. Yes. You don’t have to say it. I have re-evaluated my choices in friends.
True Story: When I started this post, over a week ago in honor of my 4th wedding anniversary, the title of it made sense. My marriage survived the affair, and we were patching it up. Despite stressful times we appeared to be stronger than ever.
In the last few days, Pump has decided to give up on our marriage.
True Story: The flowers have been ripped out of the ground like weeds.
Don’t fret. The chaos of my ever-changing true life stories will continue…
True Story: Breast Milk is Funny. Here are 3 reasons why.
1) I once transported coolers full of a good friend’s breast milk 6 hours across state lines. I was praying to get pulled over so I could explain.
2) Pump thought lactating women were soooooooo sexy. Notice the use of the word thought.
Example:
Me: Look at that woman?
Pump: Why, is she lactating? Awesome.
Then… I got pregnant. All of the sudden moody, lactating women weren’t sexy anymore.
Pump: Uh, your leaking… Gross…
Me: I’m lactating. Isn’t it hot?
Pump: No. That’s G Monkey’s food.
True Story: Since the birth of our son, almost 3 years ago, I have not heard the phrase Is she lactating once. I used to hear it on a daily basis.
3) Picture this: Big important meeting. Discussing the purchase of millions of dollars worth of real estate. I’m on fire. I’ve got this group of men in the palm of my hand. They think I’m smart. This young woman knows what she’s talking about…
Enter: Wet spot, spreading across my shirt in the breast area. It gets to about 6 inches in diameter before one of the very embarrassed men says something to me.
True Story: Give me a frigging break.
True Story: I made chocolate chip muffins the other day.
They were the bomb.com! They were so good, I ate 2 and wanted more.
Pump texted me on his way to work: These F_ _ _ing Rock!
And G Monkey loved them so much he raised a muffin filled hand as high as he could in the air with chocolate all over his face and praised God for them.
True Story: I’m not kidding. That good. They were from a box.
True Story: It makes my life better.
True Story: I recycled yesterday’s underwear.
True Story: It’s a toss-up.
What’s better for me???
1 menthol ciggy butt after dinner?
or 1 bowl of chocolate mint ice cream after dinner?
I’ll take any & all advice.
True Story: It’s an ULTRA LIGHT…
True Story: I am a great Reminder. Just ask my husband.
I will leave the vacuum in the middle of a room for a week to remind me to vacuum that particular room.
I will tell Pump twice, email, text and phone call for good measure to remind him to do something. If he would get back on Facebook I would write it on his wall so all his “friends” could remind him too.
I’m a good labeler as well. I will scribble a note “Dirty” on the counter above the dishwasher so I don’t drink out of a crusty cup. I can’t remember if the dishes are clean or dirty due to mass quantities of wine, lack of sleep, brain overload, from “hold me pweese Mommy”, Facebook, real estate calls, emails, texts, blogs, “Can we have sex”, and other daily disturbances.
I HAVE to label medicine, especially generic prescription creams & ointments, or I might, in the middle of the night, put the Retin A on the wrong part. And that sounds like a BIG mistake.
True Side Note: My Dermatologist has 5 kids and baby soft skin. He told me I could buy Retin A over-the-counter in Mexico for $20. Girls trip???
I am looking for different revenue streams if anyone needs me to be a human daily reminder. Just comment your husband’s cell phone number below. $20 a pop. Think of the tubes of Retin A I could buy.
True Story: I’ve worn a Dickie. As in a Dickie Turtleneck… Yep.
My Mom gave us everything we needed, but not everything we wanted. Which, I suppose is what most of us try to do.
Whatever brand everyone was wearing, she would buy us the off-brand. I suppose I am thankful for this today, as I am currently not materialistic or a clothes-hound. If win the Lotto tomorrow we’ll re-evaluate that statement
However, this could be a little embarrassing during the teenage years when having everything your friends did,was like the most important thing in the WORLD, you know? Ye-ah… Like, ev-ah…
I don’t know if you remember, but somewhere around 1987, leather bomber jackets were in style. At least in small town Alabama, they were.
All my friends had one and I wanted one too. Mom took me to Wal-Mart to look at some pleather bullshit. I was like, “Mom, it has to be a REAL leather jacket, GOSH”!
Mom: I’m not paying $200 for a leather jacket.
True Story: One of my Mom’s famous lines is, “I’m not buying you another stitch’!
I’ve heard it like 5 trillion times. Never gets old, hmm.
So, after begging for a leather jacket for what I think is a reasonable amount of time (6 months), I am expecting to get one for Christmas. I am just sure of it!
I am also picking up on little hints from My mom in the weeks leading up to Christmas that Santa might be skinning a cow at that time. (My intuition was not very strong then).
True Story: I like surprises… Good ones.
True Side Note: I hate surprise drop-in visits. Do you?
I’m always naked or … naked. Call first people.
The reason I bring up surprises is I really like to open any and all gifts that are given to me WITHOUT knowing what is inside of them prior to the opening.
I like everyone to be real quiet, and watch me open my gift. I’m very good at being the guest of honor at my own baby shower or birthday party.
Well, this particular Christmas Season, I let a friend convince me that it was cool to open your gifts late at night while your parents were sleeping, see what you were getting, then wrap them back just as they were. She was REALLY good at it. Me? Not so much. Not too crafty.
So, one night, about a week before Christmas, circa. 1987, my friends, A & P, were spending the night. I told them how this girl had taught me how to open the gifts up. The 3 of us decided we should check out my goodies.
We picked out the large “clothing” box that HAD to be my leather jacket. It was the only one that fit the bill.
We gingerly peel the tape back and slide the paper off. I start to get excited and look around to make sure no adult is coming.
How will I disguise my knowing excitement Christmas morning when I already know what’s coming??? OOHHH!
We lift the white lid off the box…
A gorgeous, worn, brown leather KICK ASS bomber jacket…
No. 12 stacked Dickies in a multitude of colors and a black paten, leather clock purse.
True Story: Curiosity embarrassed the S _ _ T out of the stupid cat.
True Story: My aunt used to say about me when I was a wee bit younger, “Ashley’s going to be a dancer. We just don’t know what kind”.
In the 10th grade I was seeing a fella. I went to his house one afternoon. His Mom went to get him out of his room or wake him up… I guess he wasn’t expecting my visit or he was off doing teenage boy things.
Anywho, they had their radio on and the J.Geils Band’s, “Angel is a Centerfold” came on. What would you have done?
I started dancing. It’s a GOOD song.
Enter: Boy and his Mother.
Me: Standing on one of their den chairs… Rocking out!!!
Guess what??? They joined me for the rest of the song.
True Story: I’m glad I had a son. Like Chris Rock says, if I had a daughter, I would have to work hard to keep her off the pole.
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True Story 