Filed under: Parenting, Posts | Tags: adulthood, driving, family, humor, kids, Marriage, Middle-Age, mom, parenting, south, southern, subourbonmom, teenagers, teens
Wow–times have changed in our house. The conversations have moved from questions like, “Mommy, are unicorns real?” to “Mom, did you ever smoke weed when you were in high school?”
That question alone has sent many a parent into a tailspin. Add to that the following recent family conversations, and you begin to see why bourbon’s calming effects are…welcome.
Yesterday, my newly-minted driver, Daughter #1, went to Whole Foods after soccer practice and got some chocolate milk for herself and her sister. After deciding it tasted good at first, like butter or melted ice cream, apparently it wasn’t so hot at the finish.
Daughter #2: “It tasted kind of like udders.”
Hubby: “How do you know what udders taste like?”
Me (to myself…): Oh no…
Daughter #2: “I harken back to my youth.”
An actual, recent road trip conversation:
On a road trip in the car, Hubby decided to pass the time (briefly–he learns quickly) by beating out the rhythm of a song on the top of my exposed thigh.
Me: “Just so you know, it’s really not cool to play the drums on your wife’s thigh fat.”
Daughter #1 (in the backseat): “I know! He does it to me too!”
Hubby (to Daughter #1): “Yeah, but yours is all muscle. It makes a different sound.”
Me: GLARE
And finally, after Daughter #2 owned up to lying to one of her teachers last year, Daughter #1 couldn’t stand it:
Daughter #1: Mom, you laughed when Daughter #2 told her teacher she had a disease so she could wear her short shorts to school, but you got mad when I told my teacher I couldn’t turn in my homework because the printer was broken when it wasn’t. That’s so not fair!
Daughter #2: It wasn’t a total lie–I was still getting tested.*
Me: There’s a big difference between lying about not doing your homework and wearing shorts that are too far above the knee, when you’re legs are a mile long.
Daughter #1: (Sighs…) I guess either way you’re going to end up a hooker.
Hubby: True, true.
*(Daughter #2 does not have a disease. She’s fine!)
Filed under: Food/Drink, Middle Age, Misc. Humor | Tags: adulthood, Ben & Jerry's, capitalism, Food, free markets, health, humor, ice cream, Marriage, nutrition, shopping, subourbonmom
I’ve got a serious issue with Ben & Jerry’s. Twenty-five years ago, Hubby and I spent a lot of our college dating time riding around in the shuttle he drove for extra money, eating Ben & Jerry’s Coffee Heath Bar Crunch. This year, on our 20th anniversary, Hubby went out for some Coffee Heath Bar Crunch, and came home with…Ben & Jerry’s Coffee Toffee Crunch.
It was NASTY.
We Googled why they changed, and apparently they were feeling guilty about the state of America’s health, and of developing country’s economies, so they changed to a healthy version from a free trade country.
Um, news flash, Ben & Jerry’s: if I’m eating Coffee Heath Bar Crunch, chances are I’m not too worried about my health. And just for you capitalists out there, Ben & Jerry are missing a major point: if it tastes nasty (and it does), people won’t buy it. Then you’re not helping anybody.
Hubby sent a nasty-gram to B&J, and they kindly sent us some coupons. But what we really want is our flavor back–so please, Ben & Jerry, stop researching ways to make “Fish Food” flavor out of salmon for those good omega-3s, and bring my Coffee Heath Bar Crunch back.
Filed under: Middle Age, Misc. Humor, Posts | Tags: adulthood, death, family, humor, Middle-Age, news, obituaries, subourbonmom
One of my favorite things to do is read the obituaries. Not because I morbidly enjoy hearing that people have died, but because trying to get a sense of who someone was in 100 words or less is a fascinating exercise. Most of the time, obits are pretty boring, with endless lists of surviving relatives, no cause of death, and lists of clubs or activities trying to convey the dignity of the person who passed.
I want my obit to read like my life really is—a little weird, a lot of fun, and without a lot of dignity. I think all obits should be required to have two things:
- Cause of death. This might be painful in some circumstances, but the fact is, if you leave us to our imaginations, we are pretty much guaranteed to think of something far worse than what really happened. Even suicide can be addressed delicately, such as “took his own life.” I‘ve been told the NY Post does this, and it makes people more sympathetic.
Why is knowing the cause of death important? Because if the person died young I want to know why, and if there is something I could be protecting my children from; or, if the deceased died from something like pancreatic cancer, is there an increase in pancreatic cancer deaths in my area? Should I be concerned? If the person died from old age, were they in an “old peoples’ sanctuary?” (description courtesy of Daughter #1) Which one? I might want to go there–or not.
- At least two interesting facts about the person, and I don’t mean “Johnny served in the military for twenty years.” I mean something personal, like “Johnny could have drunk Gerald Ford under the table, if they’d ever met,” or “Sally was known for her bravery in wearing horizontal stripes.”
I’m so tired of reading a who’s who directory of Rotary Clubs and philanthropic giving. Tell me what would have made me want to get to know the person. Did he play practical jokes on people? Did she like modern art? Did she like to ride ATVs with her hair on fire? People like me want to know.
And that’s probably why obits are what they are–because people like me want to know.
Filed under: Posts | Tags: adulthood, aging. Time Magazine, alternative power, cancer, cosmetics, crop dusting, Farts, flatulance, gas, humor, Middle-Age, news new study, subourbonmom
Time Magazine recently had an article in which some medical researchers from the University of Exeter in England claimed that smelling farts may prevent cancer. (http://time.com/2976464/rotten-eggs-hydrogen-sulfide-mitochondria/?iid=ent-article-recirc)
That’s right, smelling farts may prevent cancer.
According to the article, hydrogen sulfide gas (a.k.a. Air Bagels) in small doses may prevent damage to cells’ mitochondria. If I remember correctly from a dozen flash card studying episodes during the Daughters’ biology classes, mitochondria:
- Look like small blobs inside a bigger blob, and
- Control cell growth and death.
So let’s get this straight–mitochondria control when cells grow and die, two things that feature heavily in the aging process and cancer. Then, what I’m hearing these people say is that smelling a Ghost Turd will make me younger and prevent cancer.
Huh. The fountain of youth and a miracle drug all in one! And even better, we can make it ourselves, without destroying the environment. Who would’ve predicted the world could be so cool?
So how can we harness this incredibly funny gift from nature? The movie Water World, comes to mind–they had a ship full of pigs making methane gas to use as a power source. Couldn’t we do that with hydrogen sulfide? I can see it now—a whole new dystopian world where the class system revolves around those who make a good Bean Burp and those who don’t.
Flatulence would become a commodity to be traded or exploited—much like our athletes are now. Let’s call those excessively gaseous folks “Bombers.” As long as a Bomber is a good producer, he is treated like a hero, nourished and cared for while the “product” is extracted and used for the betterment of humanity. When a Bomber is no longer useful, he is retired.
In a world of kindness, Bombers would also receive the same benefits from the gas as those lucky enough to afford it–living longer and looking younger. However, since the world generally is not good and kind when it comes to producers and consumers, I suspect the very few (i.e. the rich) would benefit from the masses (the Bombers), who would most likely be herded into holding pens and left to their own smelly devices. Beans, broccoli and other fibrous vegetables would become high commodities, leaving the meat industry to fall off….hmmm…would this also help with Global Warming?
So, as with all of our recent scientific breakthroughs, we are once again faced with the dilemma—is it morally right to go down this road? Do we dare start exploring the true benefits of the Backdoor Breeze? Are we ethically developed enough to handle this technology?
And more importantly, what would happen to the annoying yet fun art of “crop dusting?”
(Urban Dictionary Definition for Crop Dusting: “Surreptitiously farting while passing through a cube farm, then enjoying the sounds of dismay and disgust.”)
Filed under: Middle Age, Parenting, Posts, Travel | Tags: adulthood, cars, driving, family, humor, kids, Middle-Age, mom, parenting, parents, road rage, rules of the road, subourbonmom, teenagers, teens, traffic, travel, turn signals
Driving around with brand new teenage drivers, or soon-to-be-drivers can be like hanging out with an alcoholic at a party who’s just gotten back on the wagon. There is an enormous amount of self-righteousness packed into one place.
“Mom, you’re going over the speed limit.”
“Mom, the light turned green. Put your phone down.”
“Mom, I think that policeman is trying to wave you over….mom? Mom? Why have your eyes gone black??”
One of my biggest driving pet peeves is people who don’t use turn signals, especially at stoplights. FYI People—they are not optional or just a courtesy! They are required by law!
I can’t tell you how many drivers have seen me yelling and gesturing (with my windows safely up) as they paused in the middle of the intersection, looking bewildered as everyone waits for them to go straight because they forgot to put their turn signal on.
Daughter #1, our newest licensed driver, is now beginning to understand my frustration, and has come up with some of her own creative descriptions of these drivers, none of which can be printed here.
Daughter #2 however, has more fun pointing out the times when I myself forget to use my signal (as if!), or when, according to her, I wait to long to use it. The other day, we were getting ready to turn onto our street when apparently I didn’t use my signal until too late.
Daughter #1: “You didn’t use your signal, Mom.”
Me: “Yes, I did.”
Daughter #2: “Well, you waited long enough.”
Me: “Don’t mess with me today. It’s too hot.”
Daughter #2: “Why? What are you gonna do?”
Me: “Just–don’t. It’s not worth it.”
Long pause…
Daughter #2: “It’s worth it a little bit.”
Sigh……so please, in the interests of keeping people safe, and because playing chicken in the middle of an intersection isn’t cool, use your turn signals. IN the words of one of my youth group leaders back in the day, WWJD?
Subourbon Mom 