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Mommy’s at the Grocery Store

11 Jan

Dear Universe,

The next time you decide to surprise me with seeing a high school classmate at the store, could you give me a quick heads up so I could, you know, maybe shower and put on some makeup first?

Sure, the person was a checker at the grocery store fourteen years out of high school, but I was such a hot mess, he probably thought I was a hobo.

The Hot Tranny Mess with Twenty Extra Pounds on Her

PS: Fuck, make that FIFTY more pounds on me since high school. But to be fair, if you are 32 years old and still 115 pounds (1) it’s probably not healthy, and (2) I hate you.

Song title: Mommy’s at the Grocery Store by The Sick Lipstick

Heart Breaking

5 Jan

Because every else seems pretty petty after reading this, please share your Internet Love with Jen at Maybe If You Just Relax, who just suffered a horribly tragic loss.

Song title: Heart Breaking by Offer Nissim

Dancing Machine

5 Jan

While I channel my verbal diarrhea in to a roughly coherent form, please enjoy the following video of my daughter preparing for her future in the “entertainment” industry…

Song title: Dancing Machine by The Jackson 5

Close the Door

7 Oct

[/begin rant]

Okay, so this is kind of a random post (shocker!), but what the hell is up with the annoyingly (and dangerously) inattentive parents out there?

Don’t worry, this isn’t some annoying blanket statement judging all parents (I’ll save that for another post). There is a very specific annoying kind of parent that I hate today…

Have you ever been to a childrens museum or play area or preschool where there is door of some sort keeping children in a certain area? Sometimes they are to keep little ones in a play area or, like at Bee’s preschool, the little gate keeps kids from running in to the parking lot.

And have you too noticed the ridiculous parents who completely fail to recognize the purpose (particularly safety-wise) of these doors and just leave them unlatched or, worse, wide open?

It seriously makes me a little bit stabby and a lot bit punchy-in-the-throaty.

One time, at a local childrens museum, not only did a mom/caregiver fail to close the door that was keeping children in a secure toddler area, the woman actually OPENED THE DOOR to let a child (who didn’t belong to her) out of the play area!!

It was such a “What the FUCK?!” moment that I almost confronted the woman, but instead was overtaken with a chronic condition that I am subject to called “I’m-a-total-pussy.”

But let me tell you, I let that woman have it. In my head, that is. And probably in a snarky whisper to whomever I was with at the time.

‘Cuz that’s the way I roll, people.

Am I wrong that this is totally unacceptable behavior? Since when is it okay to just let toddlers you don’t know run amok?

[/end rant]

Song title: Close the Door by Teddy Pendergrass

Pig Charmer

29 Jun

Help me out here, people: Is there something about me that just screams, “That lady needs a bit of meat in her!!”

See, no matter how hard I try to convey to Panera that Mama simply wants an egg and cheese bagel, those tricksy sandwich makers seem to try to slip their meat in every time! Sometimes it’s ham, today is was bacon. I’m pretty sure next week it will be a snout or one of those pig ears from Petco.

Don’t get me wrong. Mama ain’t no vegetarian. But eating little piggies has it’s place and time, neither of which is on my breakfast sandwich.

So is this some suave form of sandwich flirtation? Are the fellas behind the counter really giving me the equivalent of a bagel wink and nudge and saying, “How you doing?” with their slices of pork?

I refuse to believe that my beloved Panera is so incompetent as to not understand “Can I get an egg and cheese bagel sandwich?”, so intense flirtation by pig seems to be the only other option.

Either way, the next time one of those charming, khaki garbed sandwich makers slips a little meat in my bagel (trademark!), I’m just going to scream, “Jesus, guys! I’m MARRIED!” while swinging around my left hand.

Don’t worry, I’ll keep you updated.

Song title: Pig Charmer by Jerry Cantrell


25 Jun

To all of those people “mourning” the first anniversary of Michael Jackson’s death and comparing it to the “loss of a family member”…


…you are turds who have obviously never lost a family member or someone close to you before.


Song title: Speechless by Michael Jackson

The Face of Neglect

22 Jun

Dear Completely Unobservant and Neglectful Mother from Newcastle Beach Park on Thursday,


Seriously, lady. Just wow.

When my sister and I, who by the way were sitting next to the play area in order to keep an eye on our children, first noticed your daughter in one of the toddler swings, we didn’t think much of it.

But we quickly realized that this poor girl, who couldn’t have been over eighteen months old, was just hanging in the swing without anyone pushing her. As we started to wonder who she belonged to, I noticed that other mothers in the area were obviously wondering the same thing.

Your daughter, dangling and frustrated in the toddler swing, called out for you to come save her, but where were you? Sunning yourself? Painting your nails? Apparently whatever you were doing was far more important than making sure your daughter didn’t (1) hurt herself or (2) get fucking abducted by some child molester.

Did you realize that you left her there hanging for somewhere between five and ten minutes? Do you realize that you are fucking lucky that I didn’t call the police on your ass when I was worried that maybe you had forgotten your daughter at the park? Did you see that my sister and I were seconds away from rescuing your sweet little girl ourselves when you ran up, giggling like an idiot, to push your daughter on the swing.

And I really hope you saw the shock and rage in our faces when you pushed your daughter’s swing and then started to walk away again. Are you fucking retarded?!?! The day your sweet little girl gets abducted by some crazy person because you leave her to fend for herself, I will be the first one on the phone to the police to tell them what a horrible parent you are.

I swear to God that if you would’ve left your daughter a second time, you would’ve had to stop at the grocery store on the way home to pick up some Depends because my sister and I would’ve ripped you a new asshole, yo.

I hope for your child’s sake that you realize what a neglectful parent you are and actually start watching your children instead of expecting strangers to do it.

The Woman Glaring and Swearing at You Under her Breathe at the Beach Park

Song title The Face of Neglect by Ghost of a Fallen Age

Random Funk

8 Feb

And by “funk”, I mean “funkiness”. Can I get a what what?! Okay, I’ll stop now…

Since I am bone dry of any sort of creativity at all, I’ve decided to take some time today to tell you all sorts of things that you’ve never needed and/or wanted to know about me.

1. I was, and always will be, a cheerleader.
804611233_l I began cheering when I was like eight years old and continued through high school. In fact, I was CAPTAIN of the cheer squad my senior year of high school. (Okay, co-captain, but captain just sound so much more prestigious…)

Don’t get me wrong, though. I was not popular. No boys ever asked me out and I didn’t even have a date for prom (even though my boyfriend was there…with HIS date. Long story.). So don’t believe all the Taylor Swift and Avril Lavigne bullshit about the cheerleaders being all perfect and having it all. Because it’s bull. shit.

2. I don’t eat blue things.
Blue foods are just not natural. I don’t bother telling me that blueberries are blue because obviously Fruit Namer McJoe is colorblind; they are obviously purple. And gross anyway.

And it’s no use trying to convince me that neon orange Cheetos aren’t natural. Because they are delicious.

My logic just can’t be beat.

3. Do Huggies come in size 12?
This is more about Bee than me, but at just a few months shy of 3 years old, Bee shows absolutely no desire to potty train. Like NONE. And we’ve tried everything: candy incentives, toy incentives, cool musical toilets (which, no fair, right? MY toilet doesn’t sing when I piss…). Her best friend even pees on the potty already and Bee is all, “Good for you. Hey mom? I just shit myself again. Clean it up, kthnxbai.”

I’m just hoping to get her potty trained by high school. Or college.

4. Pay no attention to that man behind the curtain.
Despite my obvious awesomeness, I may be one of the most insecure people I know. Especially when it comes to relationships (friendships, really). I’m constantly wondering if my friends like me or simply just put up with me. Totally healthy, right?

One of my morbid concerns is that when I die, no one will bother to come to my funeral. I’m totally convinced that I’ll just be all gorgeous and floating around, waiting to see who arrives and who is crying the most (I’ll haunt that person the least), but only like five people will show up. So you fuckers have been warned: I will torture your ass from beyond if you don’t come to worship celebrate my life after I croak.

Luckily, I have some friends that not only know all my craziness but love me anyway! For that I am soooo thankful. Love you to the moon and back!

5. Hi. My name is Mama Bee and I’m addicted to the Interwebs. (HI MAMA BEE!)
Seriously. Like if my friends email or Facebook me and I don’t respond within five minutes, they send out search parties. I often get “Is everything okay?!” emails and texts when people don’t hear from me for, gasp, an entire day! I find it hilarious and just a bit disturbing because, yes, I’ve checked Facebook about 54 times already while typing this post.

Okay, that’s all I have for now. If NickJr. doesn’t make me kill myself this morning, I’ll try to come up with something a little more interesting to write about!

Song title: Random Funk by Schnitt Acht

Raw Update

1 Sep

Oh. Em. Gee. people. I have so much stuff fluttering around in my cranium, it’s not even funny. Here’s a quick download of recent events and hopefully I’ll get a chance to blog about all this stuff soon!

- How in God’s Green Earth is it SEPTEMBER already?!?!

- Sissy’s family and ours just spent a whole week in the lovely town of Seaside, Oregon and I am so not ready for my first day back in “the real world”. Ugh.

- The lovely ladies at SITS are going to feature this blog soon! Serious OMG. I know you are probably thinking the same thing as I am, “THIS blog? Are you sure they didn’t make some horrible mistake?!” (PS: You are totally an asshole if you were really thinking that.) Now I have to select my three favorite/best/whatever posts to be featured. How the hell do I do that?! HELP!!

- Guess who’s pregnant?! Yeah, NOT ME. Quoting Pearl, “FFFFFFFFUUUUUUUUUCCCCCCCCCCCKKKKKKKKKKKKKKKK!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!”

- Somewhere in Seaside, Bee got infected with what I can only refer to as “the devil”. I think hanging out with three other fun kids all week got her so wound up that now she is in a perpetual state of hyperactivity. And she has decided that “no” is her favorite word again. Ironically, “Time-out” has now become my favorite word.

Song title: Raw Update by Technotronic

Honestly Speaking

31 Aug

Recently, some drama arose regarding a very old post, which honestly is such old news. I could go in to the sordid, dramatic details but rehashing the hurt feelings from my honest and, if I do say so myself, hilarious words would probably only make things worse at this point.

But it does flow nicely in to a topic that I’ve wanted to post about for a while. That topic is: Honesty.

I think we can all agreed that I can be a little blunt, a little call-’em-as-I-see-’em. But if there is one thing I’ve learned from this whole blogging experience, it’s that the truth shall set you free.

Seriously. I just wrote that. (We can all gag in unison now.)

But fer reals, yo. I don’t think I have felt anything as liberating as being completely truthful, whether the person wants to hear it or not (which, of course has it’s own repercussions).

The first time I experienced the cathartic release of honesty was back in the olden days when I wrote my Losing My Religion post.

Months prior to writing that post, I had become part of a local Bunco group (Shut up. Rolling Dice isn’t just for old ladies anymore! However, momnesia and fatigue plus wine and having to count things is kind of conundrum for me. Too much work. But I digress…). It quickly became very obvious to me that these ladies were not only religious (hi ladies!) but religion played a very large and important role in their lives. To each his/her own, right?

While no one brought up the topic with me directly, I was always on pins and needles waiting for the inevitable, “So which church do you go to?” to which I would be horribly uncomfortable wondering if they would (1) stone me in the public square, or (2) (worse) not invite me back to play with them when I told them that church/organized religion/God/et al is not really my thing (which, in itself is a total understatement).

Months later, after creating this blog as a way to funnel my verbal incontinence and commemorate Bee’s early years in an embarrassing and completely inappropriate manner, I decided that come hell or high water I would out myself and my views on the topic.

And you know what happened?


Well, nothing except that I suddenly was having an exponentially better time at Bunco because you know what? Now they knew the real me. They read the blog (hello, again, ladies!) and suddenly I wasn’t scared that they would gasp and be all “why I never!” if I accidentally dropped an F-bomb during a round (which, I’m guessing that they probably still gasp but just an inward, silent one. Or maybe it’s outward but I’m just too busy laughing at my own jokes to notice. I guess we’ll never know…).

And just the other day, I tried this whole honesty thing out on some friends of mine. Last month or so, when I was really having a hard time with my anxiety and stress and, let’s be honest, emotionally I think I was hanging on by a thread, I had invited a few mommy friends to a local park so the kids could play together. They never responded to my invitation, but it was totally the definition of last minute, so I wasn’t upset.

Since it was on the way (and I’m kind of a stalker…sorry, but we’re being honest, right?), I happened to drive by one of their houses on the way home, only to see that the other mom was there, also. And (SHOCK – how could it be?!?!) I had not been invited.

Now to the normal person (maybe even the “normal” Mama Bee when she’s not having a serious mental breakdown), this probably wouldn’t be a big deal. But for me, then, I was thoroughly convinced that my (1) friends didn’t like me, (2) I was a black sheep outcast because of my cold, barren womb, and (3) basically I was an unlovable, sucky friend who would die alone and friendless. Okay, maybe that third one is exaggerating just a bit, but poor Mr. Bee couldn’t convince me to save his life that my friends actually did like me, etc., etc.

With the help of an understanding (and obviously, much more wise) friend, I was convinced that No, my friends didn’t hate me, and Yes, I was crazy.

Some Xanax and Zoloft later, I confessed my craziness to my friends recently and now it’s just something funny that crazy, unstable Mama Bee did.

And I feel so much better knowing that they know what I was feeling and going through! (Albeit, they probably think I’m a crazy stalker now, but if the shoe fits…)

Of course, you are forced to walk that thin and wobbly line of being honest and the possibility of hurting someone’s feelings. Like do you really tell a friend that they’ve hurt your feelings when it’s too late for anything to be done about it? Do you passive-aggressively tell a friend of a friend in the hope that your feelings will eventually get back to the target without you actually having to confront them yourself? (Not that I would ever dream of doing something like that…)

Or, if you’re like me, you just write about it on your blog.

Song title: Honestly Speaking by DJ Green Lantern