Beat The Heat and Husband Meat

Well, it's taken until the END of May, but I finally got some Husband Meat in 2014. You would think being together for 10 years, having his children, cleaning his house, laundering his clothing, I could get his meat anytime I like. If you think that, you're adorable. He works far away, doesn't get home until late, and weekends have been crazy busy, so it took this long for him to finally give it up and grill me a steak. 

I know, right? What are you saving it for?? I should have put grilling steak into my pre-nup. Or looked into a pre-nup. Or whatever. Except at that time he wasn't the expert he has since become. He has Jedi mastered grilling steak. I will have to do a whole separate post about that because SERIOUSLY. Major Thankfuls please report to my tastebuds.
Neither of these are my spouse. At this time.
from kikisrandomness.blogspot.com
I'm thankful for this short work week. Well, for the husband anyway, Moms don't need any shorter weeks or time off because our 'work' doesn't feel like work at all. 
hahahaha sorry, I couldn't resist. 
Wouldn't it suck if I was really like that? 
Let's be THANKFUL I'm not.

Even though this was a short week, here I am thankfuly typing out what will be my THIRD post in a week, like a line worker in a word factory. Lizzi and her #YesAll movement inspired me to remember what an amazing role model my grandmother was/is. I shouldn't need reminding but that's why we invented computers so have a seat. Then I popped my FTSF cherry and linked up to Finish the Sentence Friday talking about Bathing Suit season! Which sort of relates to my post about my grandmother, so great timing thankfully.

Speaking of thankful, this is part of the now YEAR-OLD Birthday Spank-ful edition of the Ten Things of Thankful. Click *here* to saddle up and ride this delightful rodeo.
ooohhh shiny! HAPPY BIRTHDAY
Summer is finally here, I haven't looked at a calendar in awhile but:
sunscreen EVERY day? Oooohhh
It's over 80 degrees, 
It hasn't snowed for 2 whole weeks!
I have a slight sunburn and 
My sister's pool is open, so F.U. Vitamin D deficiency.

A lot of moms complain about summer with the kids out of school, but for me summer was a much-needed major life vacation. So thankful to have this one whole year break in between my first-born graduating high school last year and my middle child starting preschool this fall, and that sounds SUPER weird but that's how the reality show of my life played out. Thankful.

Homework took hours some nights with my son, it was a constant struggle, so summer was the life. I liked it as much as Olaf thought he would in Disney's Frozen. 
If you haven't seen it, this is the best scene. I'm not a musical fan, but this was the best part of the movie. This is a snowman singing about how great summer must be.
From Disney's World of Color
So after our typical 2 weeks of Spring, it's almost 90 degrees and time to beat the heat with homemade popsicles, yogurt pops, frozen fruit and Summer drinks. I haven't posted a drink recipe in awhile, lately I've been in "just add vodka" mode. 
from SouthernLiving.com
This recipe originally said to add "cherry drink mix" (barf) to white cranberry juice, which I'm sure is delicious. If you like that kind of thing. I like to combine at least 2 juices, and then add water and ice. Kind of like that kid who puts ALL THE SODA in one cup at a restaurant. 

Except juice is better than soda to me. It's also good to take any juice and add lemon or lime juice, and/or maybe a shot of carbonated lemon-lime soda (we make our own soda because I'm CHEAP) and again, for maximum results when not operating heavy machinery: 
Just add vodka. 
Or rum, or whatever you prefer.

These 'fancy' ice cubes with blueberries, or grapes or whatever is on sale, are an easy summer thing that cool us off, keep us drinking water and make my family think I know what I'm doing. 
from inkspiredmusings.blogspot.com
We have an ice maker for the first time ever, but I dropped a whole buck on an ice tray to add fruit to our ice. I know, fancy schmancy, we drink it with our pinkies out. 

You can make these ahead of time and then just throw them right in to your water bottes, 
sippy cups, 
wine glasses, 
beer steins, 
coffee mug o' whiskey, whatever you got goin on. Stay hydrated, that's totally a thing health nuts say.

If wine is your thing, here's a pretty easy-looking recipe (4 ingredients) for Wine Slush with Watermelon:

If you're looking for something stronger, and/or a good belly laugh, here's a recipe for The Simpson's "Flaming Homer" 
(later called The Flaming Moe)
from that hysterical episode of The Simpson's. This blogger swears she actually lit it on fire with Bacardi 151 and then drank it
I swear. 
Click it to check it, if I'm lyin I'm dyin:

That has to be 10(thousand) and if not I'm calling it on word count alone. To quote my grade school yearbook:
"School is a bummer, have a great Summer!"


Tis The Season: FTSF

I've been meaning to link up to FTSF for quite awhile, but as Marsha Brady would vaguely say to poor Charlie, something suddenly came up.
THIS is what suddenly came up.
from bitterharpy.blogspot.com
I usually see the prompt when it's too late. Not literally, the links are open but by then I've hopped myself into TToT and I never feel like I have enough time to hop everywhere I want to be. Like the opposite of Visa, mine is the AmEx card of blogs. I'm only maybe HALF the places I want to be. 
And then I have this rambling tangent problem, so everything takes 10 x's as long as it should. What was I talking about? OH YEAH.

FTSF or Finish The Sentence Friday. Click there to link up. You read the prompt and share your thoughts. 

The prompt is: 
"It's bathing suit season, and to prepare I..."

This is how I immediately finished that sentence on 5/17 when I saw it:
"...made hot chocolate and dug out a sweatshirt, because Friday (5/16) in Chicago we had SNOW."

There's more to it than that, though. 

Like how it WILL very soon be 90 degrees and I will be in my sister's pool in a bathing suit. 

This used to be a busy time for me in years past.

It was a time of trying to find just the right suit...
from archive.wusa9.com
...but for some reason the Amish don't have an online site to order these. 

Like dealing with death, I suffered several stages.

I tried making my own finagling fanciful fabrics...
This couch looks great by the pool, a little heavy at the beach.
...overcoming optical Illusions...
from moillusions.com
....mastering misdirection...
Hair beard. It's gonna be the next big thing.
from newauthors.wordpress.com
...sensationalizing the setback of skin exposure, from sensuality to skin cancer...
"Your epidermis is showing. I think."
from trendyink.net
...fanning the flames of fandom over Stevie Nicks.
My gypsy ALWAYS wears a fringed shawl.
from potlikker.wordpad.com
These are surprisingly time consuming and ineffective. Over time I realized I didn't need to go through all these various stages. Also they're exhausting.

I just needed to have a bunch of children to give myself some perspective. They make me so tired I have no time to worry about bathing suit season. 

Added bonus: My teenager stresses me out so much I've mastered the ancient art of daydrinking. That is a link if you would like some help with this proven relaxation technique. 

I should be a licensed technician. You would be surprised how many problems just fade away.

It also helps that my 2 yr old wants me to hold her the entire time she's awake, like the world's most adorable tumor. No one is looking at my bathing suit body when my kids are around, everyone is too busy guarding their wallets and open drinks. 

More importantly, I will not teach my young girls to be ashamed of their outer appearance, however that may turn out to be. I will not let them grow up and act like so many men and women, like the media want us to believe, that they have to look any certain way, or they're not worthy of love and respect. Nothing could be further from the truth. 

I will however, don my olde timey tankini bathing suit ala Three Stooges which covers everything but my cankles. It's comfortable. For me, that's what it's all about. Being comfy.

I spent a ton of dough on this bathing suit. I cringed at how much it cost, but that was at least 5 years ago and it's still in pretty good shape. Some things are worth the price, and that's coming from a lifetime cheapskate!

As far as worrying about bathing suit season, I learned a long time ago that life is too long for me to worry about trivial things like extra weight, working out all the time, or eating kale. PASS. None of that will make me any more happy. 


Real Role Model. Inspired By #YesAll

This post was inspired by an amazing post by an amazing writer, Lizzi Rogers of Considerings blog called #YesAllWomen...Now What? You can click that title to be taken to that post, and I will link it again at the end of this, which was inspired by the #YesAllWomen movement you may have seen trending. Her post explains that, and so much more.

My post is just one tiny part of her bigger picture. The thought that anyone and everyone is worthy of love and respect, regardless of outer appearance. I started this post a long time ago, intending to post it this past weekend on my Grandmother's birthday, but never did get to finish and publish it. 

I felt it needed more attention, editing, better writing. It does, but more important than my writer's fragile ego is the message this post holds. 

No matter how much we think we already know that "Beauty is Skin Deep" and "Don't Judge a Book By It's Cover" is cliche, we keep missing the message when it comes to our children. We say one thing, we do another. I still see people, mostly women, saying negative things about themselves, what they're eating, and making excuses. I wish we could just stop this.

The biggest change I have made over the last 4.3 years of having a daughter is how I look at, and talk about, myself. That's where it starts. Children do as you do, not just as you say. I have never been a vain person. I was the first to make a self-deprecating joke about myself, especially my weight. Unacceptable. I have 2 beautiful sisters, and I always referred to myself as things like "the Fat One." I mean it's okay, I'm also The Funny One.

If I thought of one of my beautifully curvy daughters saying that about themselves, I might cry. Shameful. 

I used to hate to take or display photos of myself. I hated wearing bathing suits, partially dreaded the warmer weather, the whole Negative 9 yards. It doesn't matter why, or what my problem was or is, I needed to get over it. I need to be a better example for my daughters, for everyone's children everywhere. The outside package isn't everything, it's what is inside that makes us who we are. It is what we DO that defines us as people. 

We're all different sizes, it doesn't matter how or why, we are who we are. We are all children of the universe, we all deserve love and respect. I believe it, and I finally started living it. We take lots of pictures every day, no matter if our hair is brushed, or I don't have makeup on. We don't worry about those things. We have fun, we do things, we learn.
The idea of this picture would have mortified me years ago.

I don't let anything about my appearance bother me. Maybe some day I will be more active, maybe not. 

That's not what is important. 

Taking care of my family, being a positive role model, overcoming our challenges, teaching them about true happiness, this is what matters. I've overcome so many challenges, become a better person, made more of myself than I ever imagined. If someone else I loved looked past this to let any outside appearance change their opinion of themselves it would break my heart. 

I started this post about my strong, smart grandmother, one of the most amazing and beautiful women I have ever seen, and it's time to finish, publish and share it. 

She had many challenges, but she didn't let them stop her. She took care of her family, by herself after her husband died young, in a time when women didn't work. She went back to school, got a good job, and did what she had to do. She never once felt like less of a person for not fitting into some picture of how a modern woman was supposed to look. She never needed any excuse. THAT is a role model.

She lived a long healthy life, she was what our society called "morbidly obese," according to some BMI model that I don't understand or give any damns about. What that formula doesn't calculate is how size doesn't necessarily equal healthy.

Body Mass Index doesn't explain how or why my father, who was always perfectly thin, the perfect BMI, had major cardiac and circulatory issues most of his life. My skinny father always had high blood pressure, hypertension, and underwent many surgeries, by-passes, procedures, medical treatments to deal with his health issues. 

BMI can never calculate the overall healthy of a person. 

It can't calculate how my grandmother lived every bit of her 92 years with no heart disease, diabetes or any other major illness or health threats.
How she walked and remained active all of her life.
How she ate REAL food: Butter, meat, cake.
How the first thing she did every morning was put real cream in her real coffee, and eat real cookies so she could take her vitamins.
How she was so independent, strong and amazing.
This is the face of BEAUTY
How she was the life of the party, she got up, danced, sang, told dirty jokes and lived her life.
She loved "Ball and the Jack."
This is what a FUN person looks like.
She never hid herself or felt ashamed of her body, she never told anyone not to take her picture. Oh HELL no.
THIS is how a loving mother looks
She could call you up, give you a list of (sometimes real) reasons why she can't possibly take the bus to get groceries like everyone else. She might buy you lunch, she might kick your ass at Scrabble, she might tell you an inappropriate joke. She gave us a REAL, life-sized strong woman role model. 
THIS is a healthy, modern woman.
When my mother and I got our first tattoos on Venice Beach, she told us she had a tattoo.
My mom and I looked at each other. 
Who knew?
She said "I'll show you," and proceeded to pull down her sans-a-belt stretch pants, girdle that she rarely left home without, and showed us her proud, tiger-striped Mother's stretch-marked stomach.

We picked up our jaws and looked. Didn't see anything.

We looked up at her, she looked down and said,
"What? Where is it?" she looked around,
"I had a little mouse right here," and pointed to her lower stomach, just above the lady garden, then added:
"Where's the mouse? My p*ssy must have eaten it."

Yes, she really said itShe was 75 at that time. I obviously never forgot it.

The point is she let us know by example never to be ashamed of who you are. To laugh, have fun, eat the damn cake.

My grandmother did talk about how some of her girlfriends were always "on a diet" and trying every new thing from 
diet pills (dangerous) to 
margarine (gross) to 
cantaloupe diets (ineffective)
all with little or no success. 

She watched as those around her would temporarily lose weight dieting, only to gain more weight back as soon as their crazy diet phase ended. She watched them go up and down in their weight, think unhealthy thoughts about themselves and ultimately make their situation worse. 

She read Totie Fields, laughed about how disgusting melba toast was, and had coffeecake when she wanted to. She played cards, did her own paperwork in her 90's, filled out crossword puzzles IN PEN, she faced her fears, didn't take life too seriously and just took care of herself. 

She overcame struggles that most people couldn't even understand. She wasn't bogged down with trivial vapid concerns, she took control of her life and kicked it's ass. 

This is who I wanted my girls to become, and I realized I need to become this person first. We're learning together, learning from mistakes and trying to have fun along the way. It's what my grandmother would want. It's what I want. 

Florence. Queen of our family, Giver of no Damns.

To read what Lizzi Rogers of Considerings blog has to say about #YesAllWomen...Now What? click that title to be taken to that post. Enjoy.


Glitter On My Taco Makes Me Thankful

Some people have Sunshine on their Shoulders, this week found me with rogue glitter on my taco. Hey man, it happens.
Those TINY DOTS are glitter
I should clarify this is the BASE of a taco, tortilla shell and some struggling sliced cheese because I didn't have any to shred. That happens, too. A lot. My phone doesn't photograph glitter well, sorry. I'm not even trying to have that Showgirls Package from T-Mobile right now.

I should also clarify why I was glittered. I received a package from the amazing Zoe Byrd of Rewritten-Redo blog. I'll be visiting her neck o' the woods, so she wanted to send me a walking guide. And a lap dance apparently, so she made it raaaain. Glitter. I filmed my opening of the package but, caution: It's SUPER exciting. Ask your doctor if your heart can stand the excitement.   
I closed that part up with candy pretty fast, kids are sugar crackheads. They did love the straw glasses, but it took some convincing to get them to try them on. Then Lola kept giving up before the water arrived at the destination gate. 

It was 86 degrees and 99% humidity that day. On my forehead especially. 

And my arms, so the glitter hung around, wouldn't leave, moved in, set up tents, had babies that were automatically naturalized citizens and applied for green cards. I'm still finding it all over Comfytown.
It's the most excitement I've had in quite awhile, so it's totally worth it. 
TINY DOTS of glitter

I'm looking forward to reading these books, learning about the rich history of Boston. History classes are wasted on teenagers, they're sooo stupid. Gawd. 

I'm Super Sized Thankful I get to finally visit this city, thanks to glomming on to my husband's business trip and transferring credit card points. So thankful for credit card points, we buy gas and whatnot with the American Express, pay it off (usually....okay, sometimes) and use the points for stuff like this because my patronis is Suzie Orzman. 

Thankful 2.0 to take any vacation of any kind before I fly over the Cuckoo's Nest with Nurse Ratchet. My vacation To Do list contains mostly: 
Sleeping in, 
taking siestas, 
meditating (which is a fancy way of saying laying around,) 
trying to score free meals,
and seeing whichever things from these books I can fit in between naps.

This post is part of the Ten Things of Thankful hop. Click here to join in and tell us what you're thankful for. Other than that stimulating video.

The internet provided a peek at a creature from Star Wars VII this week and I wagged my nerd tail hard. It's not all CGI, it's a good old Jim Henson-looking puppet! 
I already love him. CAN WE KEEP HIM? from nerdist.com
That's one of the many things I loved about the original series over the newer series. Give me puppet Yoda over that Matrix-ey smaller cartoonish blur. All that computer-generated frick and frack makes me want to shake my wrinkled fist at the big screen and yell: 
"Turn that racket down you whippersnappers!" 

That's worth more than 10, but also this glorious season of warming weather, leaves coming back to the trees...
...my kids being able to take their shoes off allatime again...
and OF COURSE for this 3-day weekend remembering the brave men and women who have made the ultimate sacrifice to defend our freedom, which we all know isn't free. I put some thoughts together about that yesterday, with a recipe for Red, White and Blue Sangria. Thank you whoever pinned that joy juice into the world.



Memorial Day QUICKIE

It's Memorial Day weekend, and you know what that means.

Patriotic recipes, drinks and crafts involving red, white and blue Mason jars, barbecues, and if social media is to be believed, also something about the military. 
From Betsy Ross' Pinterest, (Danielle Holub)
OF COURSE there are tons of Home Improvement sales, because we JUST paid for new doors, so naturally we will find them on sale for much less. I'm immediately putting all sales papers into the recycle bin just to be safe.

A Facebook-esque overly emotional 
"Happy Birthday" 
to our recliner chairs, which we purchased on mad sale 4 years ago Memorial Day weekend. We love you!
(Yes, this is how annoying you sound when you post to your dog or your baby, btw. 
Someone needed to say it.) 
::The More You Know:: *shooting star*

The other reason for Memorial Day? 

Why to kick off the season of wearing white again.

Wait, there's more to this day? 

Holidays are hard.

Have a great weekend, I hope you don't have to drive in crazy traffic. Or drive at all, and you can just relax and enjoy beers sent from the Universe!


The Day The Universe Sent Me A Beer

I used to never believe in anything spiritual or karmic gobbeldy gleek, but sometimes there is just no other explanation for the weird things that go down at the hoedown at the showdown.

This weekend was another busy one, our old house is slowly decomposing and we're forced to fix certain things (okay, have other people who know what they're doing fix things) and replace things one chunk of cash at a time. 

The next most obvious project are the old, creepy doors. They're seasoned, and starting to look perfect. Perfect for the set of shooting the movie Saw 37. 
They no longer say: "Welcome." 
They creepily whisper through a white mask: 
"I want to play a game."

I mean, cool by me, I would always prefer Comfytown to look haunted. That should keep burglars (and neighbors) at bay.

The BETTER front door
More important than their bad image is their bad attitude

Our doors are not about that Opening and Closing life anymore. They're so Over It, they can't even. They just want to retire and hang out in Florida, never closing, just blowing back and forth slowly and maybe detouring the occasional alligator. 

The back door is made of the wood of some kind of rare sponge tree apparently. When it's wet, or even humid outside it Hulks up with some kind of awkward door boner, and doesn't want to fit in the door jam. 
Need a door for a haunted house?

I really have to manipulate it, with my hip about 7 times to get it closed. This is sounding like the worst porn ever, and it's visually even worse than it sounds. What I lack in muscle I make up for in bulk weight and can usually wrastle it closed, but it's not pleasant. 

Then some days I can't open it, because dead weight doesn't work that way, and we have to use the front door and pretend the back door doesn't exist. We're Beyonce and the back door is Solange beating on Jay-Z in an elevator. Nothin' to see here.

NBD, right? We had looked into replacing doors, you can always find a discontinued model or some other long-story clearance door that looks fine for a couple bills. Plus installation, sure. 

We're not even trying to be heroes and pretend we can make that work. If you think all doors are a standard size, and should be easily interchangeable to keep us all sane, you're thinking is correct. Also if you ever run for King of the World you HAVE my vote, but you're also adorable and naive to the ways of the construction world....and dead wrong. 

Long story, over a year and approximately 288 trips to various home improvement and hardware stores later, we finally went to the right place to order, they had to come out and "inspect and measure the area." This is code for Find More Shit To Charge For.

This is like when you go for an oil change and Johnny Jumpsuit tells you in his most serious voice that Maurice (my former car) also really needs:
An air filter, and 
some kind of Sumnorother belt, and 
you really should replace that Schmeezer Valve before it causes your certain, painful and untimely death. 

And of course everything holding up and surrounding our doors is rotting on BOTH of our door frames.
What do you mean? It only needs a coat of paint. Just hang the discounted door, would ya?
Boring story short (TOO LATE) we're ending up at over $2,000 for the cheapest doors we could find. If nothing goes wrong, that is, which is not typically how our stories unfold.

We took care of the final (please gods everywhere, let it be the final trip) details of ordering the doors, now we wait for the installation nightmares to happen, flawlessly I'm sure. That was Sunday morning. While we were at Home Depot, we decided to get some flowers and such for the grounds. You know who else had that idea on the first warm weekend of Spring? THE ENTIRE WORLD.
from dailyfinance.com
Kind of like this picture above, but add giant orange carts filled with whining older kids, crying younger kids, and people who bitch at you if you don't just magically know to get out of their way, and then as soon as they're in front of you, come to a dead stop and just decide THIS is the spot they need to take a Pit break and not move.

In fact, if you think you're ready to be a home owner, here's a good test. 

Go to Home Depot on the first warm weekend of the year, and see what happens. If you, your sanity and/or your relationship with your significant other (if you're in a relationship, which you don't need to be to be a homeowner) are still in tact after that trip, you're ready. If you want to run screaming from this madness, find the nearest bar or liquor store and just forget you ever had the idea to fix or spruce up your castle, you might just want to keep renting. And that is fine, let me tell you. There is no shame to that game.

I miss the hell out of my tiny little condo. I had to pay an association fee, but you know what came with that? ALL landscaping and exterior repairs. Worth every damn penny to someone who has no clues about these mysteries of the universe.

When it comes to our landscaping, it's slowly getting worse every year. When we first moved here, there were beautiful flowers everywhere, not a weed to be found, and some things we could not identify planted neatly in rows, some sort of Secret Garden. Yeah that small creature and weed magnet of a garden got immediately ripped out and replaced with grass. 

We managed to mess up the grass, too, though. Now our yard suffers from male pattern baldness, we could open a Dandelion Winery, and the flowers ... we now get about FOUR tulips that come up in random places around the yard. 

We can never keep up with all the weeds, weird beetles, bugs and whatnot, but we do try to plant some already-bloomed flowers in the Spring to detract the eye from the bad spots. Kind of like how I would always have huge high bangs to draw the eye away from my chins and inability to wear even the most simple makeup. 
It was the 80s, dude. AquaNet was mandatory.
See what I mean? Almost anywhere you look, all you see is bangs. 

So I looked through our cluttered garage for the planters we use and re-use. Our garage is like that one closet in old sitcoms, where everything came piling out, covering the person who opened the door. After some time, I worked my way back and found the POTS, but couldn't find the hanging mechanisms that snap to the top. They probably have some perfectly logical name, but I have no idea what that is. 

What also would be perfectly logical would be to store those hanging mechanisms right by where the pots are stored, right? They go together like peanut butter and banana daiquiris. You would think when you put them away, you put them away at the same time. Together. 

But time, clutter and teenagers separated the happy couples. I ain't even mad though, because I had to go to the farthest nether region of the garage to find where the hanging parts had fallen, and guess what else I found?

I guess if you read the title of this, you could probably guess, and this game sucks so I'll just tell you: 
A beer. 
Some old, forgotten bottle of Miller Lite from some party that either I threw, or maybe even the teenager and his friends might know something about, since I don't really see myself forgetting or neglecting a beer at any point of my life. Either way, that stale lukewarm, gods know how long it's been in there beer was like a pot of gold at the end of a rain cloud. I'm sure I looked like Gollum clutching his Precious, from the look of .... mmm wonder, on my husband's face watching me chug that old thing. Hell yes, I drank it.
Whatever I suck at graphics.
Gollum pic from imgarcade.com
Hey, judge away but we never buy beer anymore. It's not in the budget, it's more calories than I can justify lately, and teenagers

The very definition of Irony is not being able to buy beer because you have teenagers, when they're one of the biggest reasons you need beer. It's also cruel and unusual punishment to ask a person to do yard work for hours without pay or beer. 

That stale, probably frozen-unfrozen-refrozen 10 times old beer was the best beer I've had in a long time. I don't want to think about how it got there. 

Maybe my dead alkie old man sent it somehow, to make up for all of his many pranks and asshattery over the years. 

Mayhaps the Universe just knew it has been over-serving me Bullspit Pie for months, and I needed a break? Let's just go with that.

Thanks, Universe, I needed that.

There were a few other times when I wasn't sure what I was going to and magically I found myself with just what I needed. I'll write about those another time, this is long enough. Have you had an experience like that?


Fanny Paddles and Firenado

Something I saw reminded me of the Fanny Paddles we had hanging all over the house (even in the garage) as a kid. It never dawned on me to wonder WHY we had these, I mean we had 5 bratty kids, and my father was a huge brat. I just figured people gave a gross of these to my parents every time they had another child. They were well used.
Found on Etsy, all sold out! 
I posted it to my mom's FB wall and she explained:
"They were made at the company we worked for. Dads dept printed the label and my dept glued it on the paddle."
It's strange, and now quite pleasant, for me to think of my parets as young, working together, or any time they actually got along. I don't remember a time in my life when they didn't fight. They always had separate bedrooms as far back as I can remember. Obviously there were plenty of times they got along (they had 5 kids,) but my brain doesn't seem to remember that far back. 
Anyone else remember Fanny Paddles?

This week I wrote a guest post, that's a link if you want a laugh at teenagers' expense. I don't normally do guest posts, because of reasons, but it went fairly well. I wrote about REAL crappenings in my life, my least favorite subject, whatever you call what my son is going through. Thankfully the situation isn't getting any worse, we're doing things. I wrote some things about how I'm motivating my teen. People came, read and commented. I felt like a real blogger. For a couple days anyway.

Speaking of REAL bloggers, this is part of a new age movement to turn all the garbage the week has thrown at you into Ten Things of Thankful. Click hErE to join in.
I'm totally thankful I found this HEEEELARIOUS video of someone talking about my fave Game of Thrones character, Tyrion. I'm Chico, Tyrion is The Man. If you're not caught up on the show, there are SPOILERS so you may want to sit this one out. Also if you don't like SWEARS or HILARIOUS knee-slapping laughter with a side order of madcrazy joy and happiness, then you shouldn't watch...or read anything on this blog.
I know, right? I LOVE HER. I watched this 3 times.
"....if you don't watch Game of Thrones, I don't know what in the criminey F^*# is goin on with your life...and your strength of character." 
"Tyr-EEE-ON is the Mutha-F__in' truth."
I'm subscribed, send me all the issues/videos of her talking every minute of every day.

I had some medical tests, all the results are in and the bad news is: I'm going to live longer. 
I mean I am going to live longer, kidding about the real actual bad news, which is not going to shock anyone: 
I need to live a more healthy life. 

I know, I can hardly believe it either. You should have seen how shocked I pretended to be. An Oscar-worthy performance, but I didn't submit my performance to the academy. If they snub Leo, they'll snub me too. Jerks.

They sent me a list of (*audible gasp*) low-cholesterol foods, and suggested...*fanning myself* exercise. Seriously. Can you imagine? That goes against everything I stand for, and the whole philosophy behind Comfytown. My shelf life will be considerably dicey until I get my cholesterol down a little, and activity level up. So I do apologize in advance for all the swearing and bad moods you might see posted in the near future from me.
Oh Twitter, I can tell you anything. Mostly b/c my tweets are almost all ignored.
Thankfully I give zero sh|ts about fitness, muscles, thinness, fitting into sexy (hahaha I can't even) clothes ever again, so I don't need to go on an all-kale diet. Have I told you lately how much I freaking HATE kale? A LOT. I would rather eat a live spider. I don't need to EVER hire a personal trainer (I'd rather you just kill me) I only need to eat lower cholesterol foods, and increase my activity level from my current
from melissamcclone.com

"Coma Patient
to at least
"Elderly Physical Therapy Patient." 

For starters anyway. 

Don't worry, I won't be posting obnoxious workout selfies and movitational vomit. Maybe just funny 'action' selfies, walking while tweeting and/or holding a beer. Come ON, I need some motivation.

I'm thankful to the moon and back for my 20 yr old basement treadmill, that's twen-ty, not two, the longevity secret is hardly using it. I can't afford a gym membership right now, and our weather is bi-polar: either South Pole or North Pole.

It took me from 9:00am until almost 3:00pm to log a whopping total of 30 minutes on the treadmill on Friday. If you have small kids, you know. 
The view behind me on the treadmill, BOTH kids wouldn't stop playing and throwing toys onto the treadmill

Unless you can also afford a gym membership, and/or daycare, nannies, or are some super-human workout obsessed goddess like Maria Kang. 

This is the poetry you're missing if you don't follow my Instagram

I was thinking about Maria after this week when Michael Jackson's Xscape album dropped. Yes, in case you're wondering Michael Jackson DID die 5 years ago. He hasn't let that stop the music.

I don't know if you remember Maria Kang, she's the "Fit Mom" that pissed off millions of regular moms with her photo of herself and her ripped abs straddling her 3 kids with her (obnoxious) motivational message: 
"What's Your Excuse?" 
I don't have issue with her, I can ignore a LOT of obnoxiousness, but I was so ready to Kickbox Ultimate Fight her to the Death this week. Or at least tell stupid jokes with her in them.
Even more entertaining are the comments below this video on YouTube, a sneak peek at the recently dropped album.
Some actually commented "This is so fake, Michael Jackson is dead." True, but he's still putting out never-heard-before music. He still proves: There is no such thing as bad PR.

A new Godzilla movie is out, and I'm so thankful people keep making these crazy movies. I don't care if they're campy or corny, bring it. I've never been a fan of reality anyway.
from cnn.com

Action movies are my favorite, and I especially love all things fantasy, comic book, and super over-the-top crazy characters. THIS GUY looks amazing. I cannot WAIT to see this!

In 2-3 years when it comes to our $2 video store.

Speaking of our crazy weather, Friday morning Chicagoland had SNOW in certain areas and in the forecast, causing my entire Facebook feed to be put on suicide watch. 

Snow in May sucks, but at least we don't have wildfires, like they're currently having in San Diego. 

And we will probably never have a Firenado. 

You guessed it, that is the combination of Fire + Tornado.
When I saw the word "Firenado" I immediately thought, that has to be media hyperbole, it can't be REAL. Oh, it's real. Ground-level wind can carry flames UP INTO THE air like the devil's projectile vomit. Only in California could you have tornado-like winds without enough rain to put out the fire, because God hates California especially. You could not pay me enough to be a fireman there, can you imagine seeing this? 

You graduate the Fire Academy, it's your first gig, you're all excited and gussied up in your fireman costume, you arrive at the scene to see THIS?! A TORNADO of freaking fire? Oh no, sir, no thank you. I quit. I'll be talking to Flow from Progressive about selling insurance in a safe, boring cubicle under florescent lighting if anyone needs me, thanks. Peace out, homies.

This might be awesome in a horror movie, but in real life? This is terrifying. I hope no one is badly injured, and the air quality is not as bad as they expecting, with winds changing from over sea to over the land. 

I'll just be over here quietly shivering in ComfyTown SHUTting all of my UPs about a little snow.  

This has to be 10 things. Probably more like 30. Sorry. 
from revjohnhill.org
This bird reminds me of my Aunt Mernie's bird, Jonathon, who used to wolf whistle, cat call, imitate people on the phone and say rando cray things like 
"Wanna pizza bagel?" 
That sounds a lot more funny in a bird voice.