Mullet Watch 2011- It's back, baby!

I was beginning to think the mullet was extinct until my friend, Mary Beth, sent me this photo taken on a tour bus in Savannah, Georgia. It is great to see that the mullet is alive, well, and apparently thriving while on vacation. Thank you, Mary Beth. You have renewed my faith in the American spirit.

Luke/Brantley-isms: Double Your Pleasure, Double My Pain

Today as I was applying my makeup in the bathroom, I noticed Luke watching me intently. "Whatcha doin?" he asked.
"I'm putting on makeup."
"Oh Mommy, your makeup makes me sooo happy!"
Brantley was taking care of some business in the potty room, and overheard our conversation. His voice echoed, "It makes me happy too, Luke."
I had heard enough. "Ok thank you, everybody. I'm so glad you're all happy about my makeup.  Now leave me alone."
How did I ever get ready before, without being showered with such complements?

Luke/Brantley-isms: Double Your Pleasure, Double My Pain

Today as I was applying my makeup in the bathroom, I noticed Luke watching me intently. "Whatcha doin?" he asked.
"I'm putting on makeup."
"Oh Mommy, your makeup makes me sooo happy!"
Brantley was taking care of some business in the potty room, and overheard our conversation. His voice echoed, "It makes me happy too, Luke."
I had heard enough. "Ok thank you, everybody. I'm so glad you're all happy about my makeup.  Now leave me alone."
How did I ever get ready before, without being showered with such complements?

Don't Wake the Kraken

This is NOT a newsflash, but parenting isn't always full of heart warming, pride-swelling moments, and as Luke approaches three, those moments are becoming less frequent. They aren't gone all together, but rather, sprinkled amidst a sea of embarrassing, and often frustrating moments.
One of these moments occurred yesterday while shopping for groceries in Publix (where shopping used to be a pleasure). Luke was in bad need of a nap (as was I, but you didn't see me losing my shit over it) and cried loudly the entire time we were there. I blocked out the sound and focused on the task at hand- light brown versus dark brown sugar. What's the friggin' difference? A few seconds later I realized that someone was standing nearby and having to listen to my kid wailing because his cookie did not have sprinkles.
"Sorry," I said to her.
"Oh don't you apologize to me," she said. "I have two boys that age. That's nothing but white noise, honey. Just block it out. Do NOT let him get to you!"
I felt reinvigorated by the words of this stranger genius. I then picked up, both light and dark brown sugar and walked away. Luke may have still been crying, but all I could hear was Bon Jovi singing, "You live for the fight when that's all that you've got."
So during last night's dinner party when he locked us all out of the house, I almost enjoyed the walk around the house to the garage door. I sang "Living on a Prayer" aloud as I entered the garage door code, and foiled his plans of domination.

Weiner-Gate UPDATE!!

I normally only wear politics on my Twitter sleeve, but the latest pseudo scandal by Congressman Anthony Weiner, and his Twit pic heard round the world, is just too good to pass up. So many puns, so little time. Where do I start?

In case you’ve been living in a cave, the social media and news world has been in an uproar over a lewd, bun length, photo being sent to one of the congressman’s Twitter followers. This has left Mr. Weiner in quite a pickle (wink). Congressman Weiner has been unable to say whether the photo is of him or not. “Seems like a reasonable claim to me,” said T.R. Wingwang, inventor of the revolutionary weiner cam. “I’ve been photographing crotch for years. After a while, they all begin to look alike.”

Congressman Weiner has insisted time and time again that he has been the victim of a prank, and I would have to completely agree. He was, most definitely, pranked by his parents the day he was born, when they allowed the word “weiner” to be written on his birth certificate.  From that day on, their son was destined to exist amongst a sea of weiner jokes and teasing.

So it is without shame, that I provide the following crude puns.

This Weiner is in hot water.

It may be spelled W-E-I-N-E-R, but it’s pronounced “schlong.”

My Congressman has a first name, and it’s not O-S-C-A-R.

His republican competition is surely not as stiff.

Whether the photo in question is of the congressman or not, I would like to personally thank him for the heaping help of fodder this pickle has produced.

UPDATE:
Tiger Woods, I mean Congressman Anthony Weiner came clean (read: was backed into a corner) yesterday when he held a press conference and admitted, wait for it...that the weiner in question belonged to him! Gasp!! And, that's not all. Hold on to your briefs for this one, but there is even talk of more X-rated pictures.

What is this world coming to when a decent, married man can't send a few lewd photos over the internet, and have phone sex from his congressional office? I'm sure no one could live up to a higher standard.

Luke-isms

I only made one blog post last week, but I had good reason. Brantley was out of town for five days, and well, life got in the way. It can honestly say I don't know how single moms do it. In addition to my regular mom related duties, I was left with Brantley's laundry chores. Because he's a good man, Brantley took over all laundry related tasks about a year ago. It's a very good thing because matching socks makes me want to kill myself. However, five days is a long time to go without washing clothes, so I broke down and did it ( I'm a really good person).

As it turned out, I wasn't the only one with chores to do. The cleaning ladies came on Thursday. They come about every two weeks, and I must say, it's magnificent. No one, however, is ever more excited about it than Luke. He follows them around while asking them questions they can't quite understand, or pointing out things he likes in his Thomas the Train catalog. They think it's cute at first, but after being asked, "Wadies, wadies, whatcha doin?" about forty times it becomes a little taxing.  I do my best to isolate him in one room of the house while they're cleaning, so they can avoid him and work in peace.

One of the ladies is British, and cute as a button. She could honestly say, "dog turd," and I'd think it was the most charming thing I'd ever heard. She was in the bonus room when Luke escaped his quarantine and ran to talk to her. In his most polite voice he asked, "Wady, whatcha doin' in dat room?" She smiled and, in her sweet Brit accent, responded, "I'm folding your blanket."

Luke answered back, "I can't unnerstand you. Hey Mom, I cant unnerstand her. What's dat one saying?"

"Umm, she said she's folding the blanket, Luke. It's time to go to the store," I lied.

"You go, Mom. I stay here with the wadies."

"I don't think so."

Hope you have a safe and happy Memorial Day!!

Dear National Geographic,

Dear National Geographic magazine,

I regret to inform you that I must cancel my subscription. It would appear that I am not mature enough to read your publication, after all. However, with pictures like these, what do you freaking want from me? (Please forgive the image quality. It was the best I could do with my camera phone, and while sitting on the commode.)

All I could think after seeing this was, "Bears Gone Wild."

This is called a Mishmash fish, and it has the most jacked up grill I have ever seen. Not even my oral surgeon could fix this. I'm not sure what country it is from, because unlike my Playboy subscription, I 

only buy National Geographic for the pictures. 

Really? I mean, really? From here on out I will be referring to all penises as sea cucumbers.

...and I only made it to page 52 before Luke heard me laughing and started banging on the door.

Stand-up Comedy Night Cancelled

I'm sorry to anyone this may inconvenience, however, tomorrow night's Adult Comedy Night at Mama's Java has been postponed. So sorry for the unavoidable short notice. As soon as it is rescheduled you will be the first to know. I have a ten minute set raring to go.

A Brantley, and a Luke-ism: Double Your Pleasure

Last night Brantley was continuously not following my orders. It was almost as if he was exercising free will.

Me- "Look, if you want to ride my gravy train, then you're going to have to follow my rules."
Brantley- "And what gravy would we be talking about?"
Me- (I pointed to a paycheck on my dresser.) "That gravy. Booya."
Brantley- "That's not even a giblet."

Later on, Brantley took the front off of Luke's crib to transition into the big boy bed he's about to be getting. We've tried this before and were met with resistance, but I digress. In celebration of this milestone Luke decided to wake up at 5:30 this morning and scream my name until I staggered into his bedroom. He took one look at me and asked, "Mom, is you ashamed? Is you ashamed, Mom?"
I mustered the energy to speak only by imagining a cup of coffee in my hand. "No, Luke, I'm not ashamed. But, it's not even 6am. Give me time."

Date Night

Brantley and I had a date night on Friday. We went to the movies to see Bridesmaids, which was hilarious, and when the movie let out it was pouring down raining. Like a perfect gentleman, Brantley set out to retrieve the car so he could pick me up at the door and I wouldn't have to get wet. (I don't believe in umbrellas, but that's a story for another time.) He pulled up to the sidewalk in front of the theater, reached across the passenger seat, and flung the door open. "Get in!" he shouted, but I didn't...because it wasn't me. A few feet away from me stood a girl wearing an outfit similar to mine, who most likely thought she was about to fall victim to the laziest kidnapper of all time.
I stood watching all of this from afar and, after he realized his error, he pulled up to where I was standing. "Was she not interested?" I asked. "Negative," he responded, "But you'll do."
It was a truly romantic evening.