Turning Over a New Leaf

BIG ANNOUNCEMENT!!!!

As of today, this blog is going to be moving over to my own URL address!  I am so happy and proud to present to you the new nuckingfutsmama.com!  Please visit me over there for lots of nucking futty fun as well as a giveaway later this week!  Be sure to bookmark the new site so that you don’t miss a beat!  Peace and love to all of my FABULOUS readers!

XOXO

Things I’ve Learned This Week

** A splinter in your bra does not make for happy boobs.

** The inventor of summer camp deserves the Nobel Peace Prize.

** There’s a reason for that whole “dog chewing the slippers” stereotype.  Just ask my Uggs.

** Single parents are the hardest working people on the planet.

** “The Today Show” REALLY needs to stop showing that woman who was mauled by a chimpanzee, especially at breakfast time.  Ick.

** My children plot their shits to occur at precisely the time I begin to eat a meal.

** Tortilla chips and yogurt do not make for a very satisfying dinner.

** Boxing is a rockin’ good time of a workout.

** Digging through a bin of thongs that are on sale gives me the willies.

** If there is a spider web, I will be sure to walk straight into it.

** I need a massaging chair in my family room.

** If it smells like poop, it probably IS poop.

** A full roll of Scotch tape does not stand a chance in this house.

** I can’t help it — I’m still intrigued by the weirdness that was Michael Jackson.

** My kids wanna party like rock stars at approximately 8:55 p.m. every frickin’ night.

** Our pet fish is trying to commit suicide.

** I would NEVER wait in line for hours for ANYTHING, much less a damn cellphone.

** My husband knows what’s good for him — he chose ME over technology!

** Withholding sex works like a charm.

** “Toy Story 3” is one of the best movies I’ve seen in a really long time.

** Mornings?  Can suck it.

** Despite what I might think, God does not give me more than I can handle.

<< WHAT DID YOU LEARN THIS WEEK????? >>

Sometimes KIDS Know Best

I realize that I’ve pretty much done nothing but moan and groan over the past two weeks with the hubby being out of town for so frickin’ long.  Can I help it, though, if my fairy godmother decided to go off on a bender and that the shadow of doom chose to make my household its bitch?  No, unfortunately, I cannot.  Surprisingly, however, there HAVE been two small incidents that brought about a much-needed smile across my tired, weary face.  When you’re at the end of your very frayed rope, little things mean a lot.

A couple of nights ago during bath time when I was on the verge of running off to join the circus, my son must have somehow sensed my desperation.  The dog had just chewed up my favorite slippers, the dirty laundry looked like Mount Kilimanjaro, and I had refereed more than my fair share of fights for the day.  So when I saw that my daughter had then turned the tub into a damn wave pool, I had no other choice but to begin my transformation into Mean Mommy.  My lid was just about to flip when I felt a little pair of arms envelop me from behind like a warm blanket.  I glanced over my shoulder to see my amazingly perceptive little guy smiling sweetly at me as if to say that everything was gonna be alright.  Just that teensy tiny little hug was all I needed to get me through the rest of that long day.

And maybe it’s a twin thing because my daughter, too, must have had a feeling that Mama was at her breaking point.  It was after yet another nerve-racking afternoon that she holed herself up with some paper and crayons and forbade me from entering the room.  She claimed that she was working on a surprise for me that was “super duper top secret.”  I grumbled about the wreck of a mess that had taken over the kitchen and struggled to keep my heavy eyelids open.  All I wanted to do was to crawl into bed and forget about all the madness of my frickin’ world.  And that’s exactly the point that my angelic little girl presented me with this:

I “fink” it was just what I needed to snap me out of my funk.

Kids really are amazing, aren’t they?!

Bad Dog

I gotta tell ya that it was pretty darned nice to have a small little break from the demon dog over this past weekend.  Luckily, our neighbors are always more than willing to have him stay with them when we go out of town.  For some reason that I have yet to determine, they seem to absolutely love the big, furry bastard.  They’ve owned many an Airedale in their time, so I suppose they’re used to all the shit-eating trouble these dogs tend to find themselves in.  And the beast is happier than a stay-at-home-mom at happy hour when he gets to shack up with the neighbors, too.  Perhaps, then, that’s why he’s decided to raise all kinds of hell now that he’s been forced back onto his own home turf.

From the moment the pooch stepped through the door, he’s made it his mission in life to annoy the absolute crap out of me.  Seriously, I didn’t think it was possible for a dog to bark this freaking much.  A leaf blows on a tree, and he has a damn hissy fit.  A fly buzzes by the window, and he goes flippin’ apeshit.  Can you really blame me then for fantasizing about all the things I could do with a good roll of duct tape?

The barking is one thing, but the chewing is a whole other issue.  And he decided to really go for the gusto too.  The ball-less wonder has taken it upon himself to chew the ever-loving shit out of my favorite pair of Ugg slippers.  We’re talkin’ down to the inner makings of the sole kind of chewing.  He also tore into one of the hubby’s beloved Cubs hats, too.  I’m sure that will make for a really nice welcome home present for him later this week when he finally returns.

I can’t tell you how many times I’ve thought about marching the dog right on over to the neighbor’s front doorstep over the past couple of days.  He knows just how to get under your skin and make you want to trade him in for some firewood.  That is…until you see him all curled up like this:

And your cold steal heart can’t help but melt just a lil’ bit…..

A Miracle on Wheels

For our family road trips to be uneventful, it would take nothing less than a damn miracle on earth.  Seriously, put the Nucking Futs Family in a car, and you’ve got yourself some serious drama on wheels.  And I guaran-frickin’-tee you that you that by the time you reach your final destination, you will be reaching for a bottle of something strong and potent to erase the memory of it all.

So this past weekend, I packed the kids up for a long weekend at the grandparents’ house in Indiana.  And let me just tell ya that the trip down there was enough to make me never want to step foot in a car with my offspring ever again.  There was an accidental pooing in the pants, car sickness that resulted in some nasty lateral cookie tossing, and a shit-ton of unnecessary road construction to add to the excitement of it all.  And just when I was ready to hurl myself from the driver’s seat right onto the endless pavement that lay before me?  A ginormously large strip of rubber decided to extricate itself from the luggage rack on top of the car.

Yeah, and believe me, a flapping piece of rubber and 70 miles per hour do NOT go together very well.  I honestly thought the damn thing was gonna bust out the window on my daughter’s side of the car.  It scared the living shit out of me.  I had no choice but to pull into a rest stop (which, by the way, also scares the living beejesus out of me) to try and rectify the situation.  I used my Hee-woman strength to yank the whole flipping piece right off the top of the car so that we could finally get to where the hell we needed to go.  I was never so glad to see my parents’ driveway when we pulled into it later that evening, and I even contemplated shipping all my belongings down there forever just to avoid making the inevitable return trip home.

Much to my surprise, however, the trip home was a lot less uneventful than I had expected.  There were no unforeseen dukes or unanticipated pukes, and I somehow managed to get by with only making three stops the whole way back.  I had to pinch myself to see if I was, in fact, just dreaming the whole thing up.  When my eyes finally focused on the big buildings of downtown, though, I realized that for once, I just so happened to have luck on my side.  I think my kids were in an altered state of mind, as well, since it never even occurred to my son until six hours into the trip to ask, “Where are we going?”  I didn’t even know how to answer him because I was a little afraid about God’s plan for our journey’s end.  You see, we aren’t really used to dull moments in our family.  I sort of anticipated a bolt of lightning to strike us down right there on I-94.  Amazingly, though, we arrived home safely, in one piece and without killing each other.  I guess miracles really can happen.

Hair Today, Gone Tomorrow

My husband says I’m a marketer’s dream.  (Guess it’s a good thing I married someone in advertising then, huh?)  I’m a total impulse buyer and can be so easily swayed by the so-called “promises” of a product.  Perhaps that’s why I was swept right up into the whole hoopla of the Keratin hair straightening craze.  (And by the way, to my guy readers?  Please don’t necessarily feel like you have to do an about-face on this very “girly” blog post — I may or may not include talk of beer and strippers later on, so hang tight.)

Since I have naturally wavy hair that takes FOR-FREAKING-EVER to blowdry straight, my hairdresser thought I’d be the perfect candidate for this “amazing” Keratin treatment that takes the major wave and frizz out of the hair, thereby making it much easier to style.  After several months of hemming and hawing about it, she finally talked me into doing it.  So, given that it costs a hefty $350, I then finagled my husband into getting it for my birthday in April.

**boobs, beer, strippers, boobs, beer, strippers** (had to throw that in there for the guy readers….)

     At first, I L-O-V-E-D the results.  I could whip my hair into shape like I was frickin’ Ken Paves.  No more everyday ponytails for this chicky!  I was lettin’ it down on a daily basis because my hair and I had finally grown to like each other again.  We were like newlyweds, and I just couldn’t keep my hands off it.  However, as with most marriages, the honeymoon period was very short-lived.  Not even two and a half months after forking over all that dough and the damn thing was all but gone from my frickin’ hair.  Talk about a buzz kill!

**boobs, beer strippers, boobs, beer, strippers** (You still with me, guy readers??  Come on, now, stick with me!)

     And as if that wasn’t bad enough, I also began to lose ridiculous amounts of hair each time I actually shampooed.  Thank the Lord that I have a shit-ton of hair to begin with or else I’d most definitely look like Telly Savalas by now — who loves ya kid?  Seriously, we’re talkin’ about SCARY amounts of hair left in the drain.  Makes me wonder just what in the crap kind of chemicals have been caked on my friggin’ hair.

     Needless to say, I will NOT be going for Round 2 of the Keratin treatment.  In my honest opinion, it was a total freakin’ waste of money.  And yes, I’m sending out a big “Sorry, Honey” to my husband for throwing away his hard-earned Benjamins on something that was so fleeting.  Perhaps he would’ve been more rewarded spending his money on boobs, beer & strippers???

Things I’ve Learned This Week

** Summer break is the equivalent of a homefront civil war.

** August is a REALLY long way away.

** Babysitters make everything better.

** If I had a penis, it would be a “ginormous” one, according to my son anyway.

** BP sure must like the taste of feet in their mouth.

** It’s not easy to shit out Scotch tape.  Just ask the dog.

** Sand & ass bombs are not a good combination.

** My life involves entirely too much shit (literally).

** Cheese fries may very well be the nastiest food on the planet — I can’t even look at them, much less ever eat ’em.

** Skin cancer has scared the living beejesus out of me.

** The lights in our basement playroom were on for 3 straight days, 24/7.  Sorry, Mother Earth.

** Starbucks REALLY needs to start delivering to me first thing in the morning.

** Kids have WAY too much energy.

** Everything, and I do mean EVERYTHING, always goes wrong when the hubby has a business trip.

** My husband is going to bring me a fabulous present from Paris (did you hear that, Honey??!!)

** Sadly, smiling seems to have gone out of style.

** I should wear a fancier thong if I’m gonna flash a crowded street of cars.

** If you’re seven, swim evaluations are called “swim evacuations“.

** My personal assistant REALLY needs to come back from vacation.  Oh wait, that’s right, I don’t HAVE a personal assistant.

** The kids’ bathroom was attacked by toothpaste.

** I believe I set a record number of “fucks” said within a seven-day period.

** There’s a mafia of mosquitoes out to get me.

** I cannot do it all.

** Despite what I might think, God does not give me more than I can handle.

<< WHAT DID YOU LEARN THIS WEEK???? >>

A Shitty Day At The Beach

Yesterday was a day when I needed much more than just an IV of caffeine.  Hell, what I needed was more like a damn IV of margaritas!  Cause yesterday?  Well, yesterday was pretty freaking sucky.  Any time that sandy poo is part of a trip to the beach is a day that I’d rather just forget altogether.

When you see your child running toward you through the sand with brown water running down her leg, you can pretty much bet your ass that you’re about to have yourself a wreck of a mess on your hands.  Do you know how well sand and poo go together?  Yeah, they don’t.  Like, at all.  I won’t go into all the nitty gritty details, since I care deeply about the welfare of my readers, but trust me, it was nothing short of a gag-inducing experience, without a doubt.  By the time I finished cleaning up the crime scene, I wanted to either go home and call it a day or hit the nearest bar stool and go to mother effin’ town.  I played the “Good Mama” card, though, put aside my feelings of nausea and bitterness, and let my daughter enjoy some more fun in the sun with her friends.  Cause that’s how I roll, people.  That did not, however, stop my eyes from shooting extra pointy daggers toward those few lucky bitches who were peacefully reading their magazines in their beach chairs as their offspring played off in the distance.  I mean really, bitches, take your perfect little parenting techniques and shove ’em up straight up your tranquil little asses, ok?

So, given the state of my afternoon, you can probably imagine, then, how well a tweeted picture of my husband’s view of the Eiffel Tower went over at the end of the day.  He’s in one of the most awesome cities on earth (for business, but STILL!), while I’m stuck here scraping shit out from underneath my fingernails.  A little off-balance, wouldn’t ya say?  I forewarned him that further awesome photography shots would most likely result in the loss of someone’s balls.  I think he got the picture.  So, here’s hopin’ that today is a little less “shitty” than yesterday….

The Furniture Salesman

Have u met my family room sofa?  You know, that one whose piping is poking out the edges, whose cushions are covered with water stains and whose edges are all frayed along the skirt?  Yes, I’m talking about the one that’s too shitty to even be considered for a fraternity house.  Let me refresh your memory:

Pretty freaking attractive, eh?  And I’m sure you noticed that goatdog has oh-so-strategically placed himself right in the middle of the hunk o’ junk.  So, what’s a person to do?  The way I saw it, I had but two choices.  I could either:  a.) roll in a dozen kegs and throw a big-ass toga party or b.) bite the bullet and go furniture shopping.  And as tempting as option a.) sounded, I decided to go with option b.)

Now I don’t know about you, but I liken furniture stores to car dealerships.  The salesmen are all strategically placed at the entrance ready to pounce on the next unsuspecting customer who strolls through the front door.  It’s truly a total and complete crapshoot as to what type of salesman you’re gonna get, too.  And wouldn’t you know that nine times out of ten, we end up with the biggest doofus of the bunch.  So, naturally, when we began our search for a new sofa over this past weekend, we sure enough ended up with the douche of all douches.

This clueless wonder looked eerily similar to Penn from Penn & Teller.  And I’m sorry, but cracking my ass up at a comedy club is WAY different than trying to redesign my family room.  Call me crazy, but it’s a little hard to take you and your knowledge of “style” seriously when you look like this:

No matter how many times I told this yahoo that I have a French Country-themed home, he continued to pull out everything from Asian-inspired prints to shit I would’ve seen in my eighty-eight year old grandma’s house.  The dude was so unbelievably moronic when it came to listening to his customer’s needs, that he talked more about his damn cat than he did about the right sofa for my family.  I had to grit my teeth so much just to get through the whole process that I was sure I’d need dentures when we finally left the place.

So I ask you — what DO you do in this situation?  Do you ask for another sales associate?  Do you tell the guy that he sucks and wouldn’t even be able to sell a cup of lemonade at a frickin’ lemonade stand?  Or do you do what I do and simply go to another store altogether?

** What IS the protocol for obnoxiously annoying salesman???? **

Did I Say That?

There are many phrases that instantaneously fly out of my mouth at this point in my life that I never ever thought I’d hear.  And yeah, I blame it ALL on parenting.  Cause kids?  They just constantly do weird shit.  Here are just a few of the ridiculous words that I’ve uttered over the past several years:

“Get that pea out of your nose!”

“Mommy’s boobs are not horns.”

“Don’t shoot your sister.”

“Please keep your hands out of your pants when you’re in the outfield.”

“Don’t pick your nose.”

“You won’t have any friends if you eat your boogers.”

“Do not ride the dog.”

” Shoes go on your feet, not the kitchen table.”

“Go to sleep or you’ll be short forever.”

“Plastic bags don’t go on your head.”

“Please don’t put your socks in the flower pots.”

“We do not eat bananas when we’re taking a poo.”

“Do not wear Mommy’s bra on your head.”

“No, rocks do NOT belong in the bathtub.”

“It’s not polite to spit at the neighbors.”

“Yes, you have to wear pants to the birthday party.”

“Mommy will go to jail if you don’t go to school.”

“Do not eat your toothpaste.”

“M&M’s are not a breakfast food.”

“We color on the paper, not on the wall.”

“Dead cicadas do not go in Mommy’s purse.”

“Do not suck on nickels.”

** WHAT ARE SOME OF THE CRAZY WORDS THAT HAVE COME OUT OF YOUR MOUTH???? **