I used to try hard to be that perfect wife (although Hubby may beg to differ), the perfect mom, the perfect employee, the perfect owner of this body, and a good citizen.
It was so cute that I thought those things were actually achievable. But as I’ve gotten older, I’ve realized none of these perfect people exist.
The perfect wife doesn’t exist – based on what I’ve heard men talk about, that’s actually an impossibility, considering we are generally out of commission for a week every month, and it’s illegal to marry your mother. Those socks aren’t picking themselves up off the floor, My Love.
The perfect mom doesn’t exist either. I tried (briefly) to be the organic mom, but I just don’t have the patience, I shave my legs and I don’t wear Jerusalem Cruisers every day. So Daughter #2 lived off of Nestle Quik in the womb. As a parent in a world where kids have porn at their fingertips, I’ve tried to tell my kids the right amount of information, but not too much: “No, I will not tell you the worst things I did in middle school,” was me being protective of all of us, but telling them “Tea-bagging is…” may not have been the best move. Nope – not perfect.
I also tried to get the fam to church so the kids can at least make an informed decision when they are old enough. But like many people with kids in sports and crazy schedules we fell off the wagon. We used to go at least once a month and felt pretty self-righteous by 11:30 am on those Sundays; then we became “C&E Christians,” only going on the BIG DAYS. Now we’re pretty much just “W&F Christians” – Weddings and Funerals.
Yeah…so not perfect there either. That actually might be a C- or a D.
As an employee, I’m probably a B- (if only that brain-to-mouth filter actually worked).
I even try to be good to my body, but let’s face it – you’d have to have the discipline of the Dalai Lama to turn down all the yummy treats that float by every day. Plus, that whole middle-aged bike tire that recently wrapped itself around my waist has made that goal frustrating. Why starve myself if it’s just going to hang around my waist like a boa constrictor that’s too lazy to finish me off?
Yeah, I’ve become pretty comfortable with the fact that life is a lot like school – C’s get degrees.
Don’t get me wrong – I’m grateful for those of you who are A and B achievers in life – you make my “C” life possible and comfortable. So, here’s my pledge: I’ll try not to always be that kid sitting in the back of the classroom, flicking spit balls at people and making drip noises with my cheeks while you all run the world. I’ll try to pay attention and contribute, even when I’m not called upon.
I might even get my own recycling bin.
Filed under: Misc. Humor, Posts | Tags: brain, brains, business, condoms, health, marketing, mindful thinking, news, politics, pregnancy, relationships, Science, sex, technology
There is a product not currently available on the market today that I think needs to be developed and implemented: Brain Condoms, or if you want to go all Seinfeld, “Brubbers.”
Brubbers, or brain condoms protect the general public from three things:
- Unwanted Brain Pregnancy. Unwanted brain pregnancy occurs when the person exposed to another person’s un-condomed brain gets impregnated with unwanted thoughts. Biologically, this happens when unprotected brain receptors are inundated by negative phrases (“It’s so brave of you to wear that dress with your body type”), lies (“I did not inhale”) or generally ignorant statements (“Obama is the founder of ISIS”).
- Pre-mature Ejaculation. This occurs when someone speaks before they think things through – which often leads to #1.
- STDs (Stupid Thought Disorders): These are nasty thoughts spoken out loud that can cause pain, an irresistible urge to repeat the same thought over and over again (like scratching an itch), or even make you go crazy. In severe cases, frequent exposure to STDs can cause permanent damage, even sterility (the lack of any individual thought whatsoever).
Of course, Brubbers can come in all colors and sizes, because yes, we all know your brain is a magnum, the gold circle coin of gray matter.
But using Brubbers isn’t foolproof, any more than using an actual Happy Hat is. Brubbers can break, or if not used correctly, they can come off entirely, and no one wants to go fishing for a broken Brubber in that cesspool of thinking surrounding us these days. Just imagine the filth you’d be wading in: Alternative Facts, random and useless trivia, Honey Boo Boo, Kardashian Tweets, Ryan Lochte, AKA Twitter rants, etc.
And folks, the pull-out method doesn’t work here, either. Simply trying to avoid these three issues by avoiding people or walking away from a stupid conversation is not enough. You must protect yourself, your family, and your loved ones. But there is hope! Used along with Brubbers, STDs and unwanted thoughts can be even more effectively avoided by using Brainicides. Brainicides come in different forms and help destroy the negative thoughts, deflect lies and other ignorant statements. Some examples of useful Brainicides:
- Education
- Strong friendships grounded in love, positivity and loyalty
- Strong, positive family relationships
- Exercise
- Limited exposure to social media
So take precautions, people. Any day now you should be seeing Brubbers in school bathrooms (no matter what sex you are), during interviews after any natural disaster that happens in the South, and especially at political conventions and press conferences. Use one – protect yourself.
Filed under: Food/Drink, Middle Age, Misc. Humor, Spring Break, Travel | Tags: college, cruise, gym, health, men, physical, royal caribbean, Spring Break, travel
Lots of people have asked me if there was any eye candy on the spring break cruise we took, which apparently had most of the University of Georgia on it. I hesitate to say yes, because a) the “men” were the same age as my daughters and b) eye candy is only fun in this situation for someone my age as long as you have your headphones on. As soon as you actually hear the eye candy speak, it’s all over – it’s like getting what you thought was a caramel chocolate out of the candy box, and it ends up having that nasty pink creamy stuff inside.
But while I waited at the back of the pool crowd (see photo above) for the waiter to bring my next boat drink, I did notice that there are essentially 5 main male college bods:
- The football player who will eventually be a real estate broker or work in his Dad’s car dealership. This guy has already peaked – in fact, he may have peaked in high school but is riding the wave until the bitter end. His bulky size is beginning to go or will go to fat as soon as he stops working out in the gym, although he may re-acquaint himself with his neck when that happens. He always enters the belly flop contest and does the beer yell while dancing like Uncle Kracker. He also has some of the worst sunburn because he doesn’t have a girlfriend, and guys generally just aren’t that helpful to each other with sunscreen application.
- Dad-Bod. This guy has already achieved that settled look that usually comes after baby #1. You can already see what he’s going to look at when he’s 40. He’s wearing the pastel button-down shirt (probably unbuttoned) and a university hat. But he is someone who might be able to hold a conversation, and his sunscreen is evenly applied because he has a girlfriend (or potential girlfriend) who cares.
- The Gym Rat. This guy, no matter how tall or short, spends the same amount of time in the gym that Oprah Winfrey spends telling people how to live their lives better (BTW, I’m still annoyed that one of Oprah’s “favorite things” was a pair of slippers for $300, as if we’re supposed to be able to afford them – bitch, please). He has perfected the flex-and-scan, which involves – you guessed it – flexing his pecs and abs and scanning beneath his $200 sunglasses to see who noticed. This is usually followed by a smirk if he’s spotted a fan, or a frown if he hasn’t.
- The Head of the Back (a-la Michael Anthony Hall in 16 Candles). These leaders of the non-Ken Doll contingent tend to lurk around the outskirts of the big crowds, drinking as much as the rest (or more), but never quite make it to the inner circle. They may not spend as much time in the gym or in the girls’ dorms as the other guys, but they have an amazing assortment of professional sports-related clothing to choose from, such as baseball and basketball jerseys. Sunburn? See Bod #1.
- Baseball player bod. These guys aren’t necessarily baseball players – they just have that naturally athletic look to them, without all the gym work. They either are already in the military (hence the look), they’ll work 20-hour days on Wall Street, or they will climb some other corporate ladder quickly with their combination of looks and charm (and probably smarts as well) – unless they go the opposite direction and do something interesting/noble like joining the Peace Corp or becoming a Wilderness adventure leader in the Rockies. Their sunscreen is applied evenly by pretty much anyone they ask.
At the risk of being accused of body-shaming, these are generalizations only. I don’t know these people and haven’t spoken to them except to ask them to please aim their vomit down the stairs and not down my front (just kidding). And no, I’m not going to talk about the girls’ body types because…I’m not stupid.
And yes, I was jealous of them for a bit, but then I had a revelation:
College kids don’t have cash, and pool wait staff like cash. A lot.
Grownups have cash.
So, we grownups grabbed some chairs first thing in the morning while the partiers were still sleeping, and camped out all day enjoying the partiers’ annoyed looks. We tipped the wait staff each time they took our orders. Soon we didn’t even have to ask – they just brought. No standing in line amongst the sweaty, rum-breathing hoards, vying for the bartenders’ attention among the belly button rings and thongs. Just drinks on a tray when we needed them.
It’s good to be a grown up.
Filed under: Food/Drink, Middle Age, Misc. Humor | Tags: 80's, bars, cover bands, dance, Dancing, dating, Dirty Dancing, drinking, Enzos, guys, Johnny castle, Middles, rail drinks, Roadhouse
There are very few things scarier than a bar full of horny, sweating 40–60-year-olds. Unlike college kids and 25-year-olds who are up front about what they’re doing there – drinking and trying to get laid, Middle-Agers (a.k.a. Middles) try very hard NOT to look like that’s what they’re doing. Oh, some put it all out there, with their backless turtlenecks (not a good look on anyone over 30), or the open-necked shirts showing off all that non-millennial chest hair. But for the most part, when you look around a bar full of Middles, its full of copious amounts of eye liner and hairspray, missing wedding rings, annoyed spouses who hate dancing, and lingering (but squinting) glances that border on being creepy because Middles don’t realize they are old enough now to look like rapists and pedophiles.
A couple of weekends ago we were invited to go see a great local 80’s cover band at one of the bars in our area, located in a Food Kitty parking lot. Usually the music there is geared towards the older crowd (think Carolina beach music), and when we go, we are the youngest by at least 15 years. This time, there were Middles like us happily re-living their high school and college years, but with better drinks and an Uber app on their phones.
While there are a few differences between going to bars in your 20’s and bars as a Middle, there are still the same bar guys – they’re just a little older:
Roadhouse is either an ex-Frat Guy or a Redneck just out looking to start shit. He looks like he reads Maxim and goes to the gym more than he reads social cues. Roadhouse is the guy who will start a fight with the smaller guy in your vicinity by looking your way and saying things like, “This guy bothering you?” or giving the guy a shove and saying “The F*&K did you say?” The beauty of being a Middle is that this is no longer impressive. In reality, it means I’m probably going to get a drink spilled on me, and frankly, I’m not drinking rail drinks anymore, so that’s going to piss me off.
About 15 minutes after the band started up, Johnny Castle (Patrick Swayze’s character from Dirty dancing) started dancing…or at least some guy in his mid-50s who thinks he looks like Patrick Swayze. Johnny Castle sports a form-fitting black vest (no short underneath) and skin-tight black pants, and a black fedora on his shaven, balding head. And, he is clearly on the hunt. Johnny Castle spends the entire evening gyrating, twisting and generally trying to grind on anything female that moves. He thinks the empty circle of space around him that appeared while he put on his Michael Jackson moves was created out of sheer awe, not from fear that he might grab one of usand pull us in for a Dirty Dancing grind.
Several feet away from Johnny Castle is Colonel Sanders. At least 70 years old, Colonel Sanders is also on the hunt, lurking around the edge of the dancers, looking like an old Rutger Hauer (see above reference to pedophiles). An 80’s cover band event it really isn’t his scene, but the alternative of watching pat Sajack is too depressing for him. He eventually either finds someone age-appropriate or hangs out with the bar owner in the corner looking cynical and hopeful at the same time.
Of course, no matter what bar you go to or what age the patrons are, there are the Wall Props. These guys don’t like dancing and are usually too drunk to do more than hold up the wall near the bathroom and hit on women as they wait in line. They might slur and try to cop a feel, but they’re easy to slide past. But ladies, if you want a free drink – that’s your guy. No expectations on either side – he’s just happy to be there.
And last, every bar containing Middles has “married-guy-on-the-prowl.” This guy looks harmless, but has the suspicious white skin band around his wedding finger where he just took his ring off. His posse of married guy friends are sheepishly drinking craft beers in the background, having given up on deterring him from his mission: to hook up with someone other than his wife. Usually this guy is from out of town, but sometimes he is stupid enough to go poaching in the local forest – inevitably he will be caught by his wife’s network of friends, and the drama that ensues is fodder for suburban cookouts for weeks to come.
And like any good night at a bar with a band, there were groupies, a fight, a guy who stood like a stone doing the head nod while his girlfriend twisted and swayed around him, and at least three couples who left in a huff.
So, after two bourbons and three straight hours of dancing, I had somethings confirmed:
- Rail drinks are not my friend – I’m better than that now
- I still suck at dancing – Hubby’s got the moves, not me, but the beauty of being a Middle is I don’t care anymore;
- The White Man’s Overbite is alive and well
- I’m grateful I have Hubby to go home with – the Middles’ dating pool desperately needs some chlorine; and
- Blister in the Sun is still crazy-fun to bounce in a circle to, like one of the characters in A Charlie brown Christmas!
Filed under: Exercise, Food/Drink, Middle Age, Misc. Humor, Posts, Travel | Tags: Cats, dogs, drinking, Exercise, health, hiking, Middle-Age, Outlander, resolutions, Scotland, travel, yoga
(Not that any of you should even remotely care what my resolutions are this year, I thought maybe you could use some ideas.)
Dear Self –
Learn to pay in cash – not only will you save money, but the super-annoying “Remove Card” buzzer when using the debit card will no longer send you over the edge in Food Kitty
Do yoga in the living room – just because it humiliates you that Sting’s 
wife is 63 years old and can twist herself like a pretzel is no excuse for you not doing her yoga DVD that you spent $20 on
Sleep more – that means stop playing Candy Crush in bed – you’re the only person on the planet who’s still doing it
Stop playing games on phone…except at stop lights…and while watching tv…and while waiting for the fam to go anywhere…and while Hubby’s driving…
Write more family-friendly blogs
Start anonymous blog page so you can write about the fam
Save money for hiking trip in Scotland (a.k.a. satisfy Outlander fetish)
Run a 10k
Run a 5k
Walk every day
Walk once a week
Hike once a month to train for hiking trip in Scotland
Drink only on weekends…or when out socially…or after a really, really crappy day at work…or when the cats pee in the house…or when the recipe requires wine…
Stop cooking with recipes requiring wine
Be nicer to the dogs
Be nicer to the cats
Subourbon Mom 