Naked Christmas Party

I feel like there's a common theme developing on Shit I Don't Tell Most People.
Beyond the obvious theme -that this really is shit I don't tell in polite company (polite 'company' excludes most of my friends, of course), there is another theme that keeps popping up.

And I think that theme is nudity. Or better yet, nakedness. Yes, that's it.

Nudity is very clinical. Something you need to wear while at your annual girl-parts exam or half of what you forced to be during childbirth. 

Nakedness, on the other hand, is dirty. Skeevy. 
Often it's sexy.

Often it is not.

And these are the times I seem to like to talk about the most. I cannot begin to imagine why.

But anyway, this all brings me to the story of: How Our Annual Christmas Party Became a Naked Christmas Party. 

(*I would now like the reader to imagine the voice of the Burl Ive's pedophilic-looking snowman from the old, stop-motion-animated, Rudolph the Rednosed Reindeer television special)

The Founder of FKC

It began like any other Christmas party, many, many years ago....

Waay too much cake, candy, home-made hummus that tastes like watered-down cardboard and a "fun" gift exchange (the kind where you all take numbers then have the choice of opening a gift or stealing a gift that has already been opened by someone else) that went on for hours. 

No joke. Hours. Because the thing was, it was not a White Elephant gift exchange- for some reason, most of us at the party actually prided ourselves on bringing a cool gift. Everyone there actually wanted to have that gift that nobody could live without. The gift that kept getting stolen again and again.

But even though most of us scored cool gifts, the constant gift-swiping made the gift exchange go on too long and ultimately kill everyone's buzz.

So new rules were in order. One year the Tall Guy and I hosted the party and we made a list of rules that included that any coveted gift could only be stolen a total of three times. This helped tremendously but still, by this time, we'd been getting together with the same group of friends for  maybe five years, and the party was getting a bit stale. 

It was around 2001 and most of the couples in my group of friends had small kids as well as most of their irrational lifestyle choices, behaviors and drug use were well behind them. My theory is that within the boundaries of the hum-drum life of raising kids and paying mortgages, getting to bed early and taking our vitamins.

We all were well and truly bored with our happy, drama-free lives and so that's when things took an unexpected turn.

The annual Xmas Party became the XXX-Mas Party when new rules were created in order to prevent the gift exchange from going on too long. If someone tried to steal your gift, you could effectively "block" that steal by removing an article of clothing. And if the person that tried to steal the gift to begin with, still wanted the gift in question, he or she could take off a piece of their clothing in order to 'block' the initial 'block'.

And thus, the 'Strip-Off' was born.

The first person naked would get to keep the gift.

The Tall Guy and I missed the first time the nakedness happened because we happened to be living overseas at the time. However, soon after the new year we were blessed with blurred photographic evidence that arrived in a package at our apartment in South Korea. We had sent a gift package to be given away at the party with various Korean nicknaks, including a small, purple poloroid camera. Some of the 1 inch x 1 1/2 inch photos taken that night were included in the package (that also contained some other stuff that I've completely forgotten about). 

Several pictures showed one of numerous different (male) party-goers, each about to collapse in laughter, while wearing a sock.

One sock.
Not on his foot.

So it began twelve years ago as a few guys stripping down to one sock or in later years, proudly showing off a 'Man-gina' and has since evolved (de-volved??) to either gender stripping down to nothing at all. No more socks for the guys or standing coyly behind a towel used as a shield for some of the women. The "NO PHOTOS!!!" rule has turned into a "NO POSTING YOUR PHOTOS ON FACEBOOK" rule that everybody follows. 

It now known as The Naked Christmas party. Or the XXXmas Party, take your pick. 

Although I'm pretty modest, I think the premise and each and every Strip-Off is absolutely hilarious. I have tried to explain this to my non-Naked friends but they don't get it. And they usually look at me kinda funny. And when I think about it- I don't really get it either.

I'd like to say it's because it's a super-sexy turn-on, but it's not. Much of the time it's a hairy, forty-year old dude that is dropping trou'. And if you were unlucky enough to be sitting next to him before the Strip-Off began, there's an excellent chance you will have the worst seat in the house when that hairy guy bends down, pushing his boxers to his ankles. Please use your imagination to picture your view...

And even the Strip-Off's that may begin as sexy, usually wind up being silly- like the time a couple guys both got naked at the exact same moment. The 'Judge' (the party hostess, who has never taken off even a scarf) decided that a foot race in sub-freezing temperatures would be needed to determine the true winner.

A naked foot race.
Around to the end of the block and back.

Or the year that one of the ladies had just gotten fake boobs installed and was eager to show them off. The men at the party were more than happy to enjoy, if not totally promote each and every possible Strip-Off opportunity by stealing gifts that they didn't even want (like a fondue set or nice serving dishes). It wasn't long before New Boobs was naked and then decided to goofily demonstrate a Shake Weight while topless. It is a vision that is now burned into my memory as it was probably more funny than sexy.

And now that Christmas is done and The Naked Christmas Party is over for another year, I am relieved once again.

Now I have eleven months to find a strip-worthy gift and worry a little bit less about cellulite or having matching bra and panties clean and folded in my dresser. I will not deny or confirm whether or not I've ever won a strip off, but I will say that I do own a very nice, over-sized matching tea cup set.

Shit Mouth

Some random and surprising shit that has wound up in my mouth since becoming a parent.


Humble Pie- For all the times I vowed that I wouldn't let parenthood change me. Though some things (that perhaps should have) have not changed. 

I still call people (including my children), "Dude" more often than anyone my age should. 

I still make inappropriate jokes whenever possible and laugh at them myself.

I still think Doc Martens and Levi's are cool- even if they're not (please don't tell me if they're not). 

I can now stand to be around children and not be driven totally crazy. 

And the biggest change- I have begun to like the color pink and I don't become enraged when I think about princesses.

Shit- Or lack there of, actually...Since becoming a parent and leaving my job at the city zoo, I have not once gotten the poop or pee of undomesticated animals in my mouth. Poop and pee from my undomesticated children on me? Oh yeah, all the time. 

Neither have I been bitten by a lemur, jumped on by a teenage squirrel monkey, scratched by a toucan or farted on by a Watusi cow. Bitten, jumped, scratched and farted on by the two-legged undomesticated ones in my house? All. The. Time.

Ass of Dog- The Overloving Staffy, Matilda needs to be a part of every magical parenting moment that occurs in the house. Everyday the dog is with me or Tall Guy while reading the kids stories at bed time, putting kids in time-out or just playing with the tow-legged undomesticated ones. Once while laying on the floor on my back, my two-year old Cave Girl was riding up and down on my legs. It was at this point that the dog decided she needed to be involved and that she must sit on my face. Yes, I ate dog ass.

400 Bags of Potato Chips- I'd like to blame this on hormones but it's probably much more complicated than that. I have become obsessed with the salty goodness of cheap potato chips and could easily put away an entire bag every night (though I always force myself to stop at a half bag). Now you know why I (must) go to the gym 5 times a week.

Countless gallons of Costco brand vodka- Many of us go through a 'drinking phase' after turning 21. Unlike most non-alcoholics, I have gone through countless 'drinking phases'. 

When the Tall Guy and I moved to Asia to teach English when we were in our late 20s we both went through another drinking phase that lasted nearly a year. Upon return to the U.S. I found that late-night drinking got in the way of my early morning runs so it was an easy choice to quit (running. Ha! Kidding! I totally didn't drink for a few years there).

Now in my forties with little opportunity or energy or money to go out on the town, I'm going through my third drinking phase. At least I'm hoping it's just a phase...Since discovering that I am basically immune to hang-overs as long as I stick to a medium quality, clear booze, I am still able to run, swim or bike without issue the next day. In fact, in the process of starting a Runing Mom's Drinking Club right now. 

We're calling it Run-DMC- they're still cool, right? 

Don't tell me if they're not.

Currently accepting applications to participate in Run-DMC. Send a note listing of your favorite drink, best mile time and the worst thing you've ever had in your mouth. Tape this list on a 1.75 liter bottle of Costco brand vodka and leave it on my doorstep and I will get in touch with you as soon as possible.


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This post has been brought to you by the letters T and T. They stand for Theme Thursday. Click on the button thingy and check out what a small group of wacky women like to have in their mouths....

Shit I've Lied to My Four Year About Old This Week

Regarding songs we listen to while driving to Christ is Our Lord Preschool:

"Locked Out of Heaven" by Bruno Mars

Firstborn: Mom, what is he saying?
Me: Uh, he's saying he feels really sad when the girl is not there anymore. Like if I locked you out of your toy room.
Firstborn: Yeah, but what's he saaying? (song playing at the part where Bruno Mars sings, "'Cause your sex takes me to paradise.."
Me: ??
Firstborn: Mooom??
Me: Um, he's saying that her text takes him to paradise because she sends him really nice text messages.
Firstborn: (now singing) 'Cause your text takes me to paradise, 'cause your text takes me to paradise!
Me: Hey, Firstborn? Uh, let's not sing this song at school, ok? Or at Grandma's house.


"Dear God" by XTC

Firstborn: Mom? What's this song about?
Me: Uh, this guy is talking to God. Like praying.
Firstborn: Why is he talking to God? 
Me: Well, some people do that
Firstborn: Why does he say he doesn't believe in God?
Me: Um, well, see, some people don't believe in God, see. In fact, some people believe in all different kinds of Gods. Or no God at all.
Firstborn: (laughing) That's silly. 
Me: Well...(staring to sweat a little) not to some people...
Firstborn: Yes there is. I knoow there's such thing as God. You believe in God, right?
Me: Um....Well, to be honest, I'm not totally convinced.
Firstborn: Yes there is.
Me: Yeah, I'm not totally sure.
Firstborn: Well, I believe in Him.
Me: That's fine, honey. Everybody has a different way of thinking about a lot of different things in this world and that's ok.
Firstborn: (not really interested in conversation at this point) Yeah, ok.
Me: Hey, Firstborn? Uh, let's not talk about this at preschool, ok? Or at Grandma's house, either.

"Whistle" by Flo Rida

Firstborn: Mom? What's this song about?
Me: Um, it's about a guy and his whistle, I think.
Firstborn: What's he saying?
Me: I guess he is, uh, telling his friend how to, uh, use it, I guess.
Firstborn: Oh.
Me: Hey, Firstborn? This is one of those songs that we don't sing at school, ok? Or at Grandma's house. And maybe let's not tell Dad about it either, ok?

Everybody's Smiling, Sunshine Day!

So, um, wow.
Thank you Ms. Clever and Ms. Monkey, as of yesterday morning I was awarded the Sunshine Award  by TWO awesome bloggers, at Something Clever 2.0 and Three Monkeys and a Martini.

The Sunshine Award is passed down from blogger to blogger like a chain letter or pyramid scheme except nobody dies if it doesn't get passed (Yaaay!) or makes a shitload of money if it does (Booo!). Recipients of this prestigious award all posses that "drop of golden sun"-like attitude towards life. Clearly, I have received the nominations in error. 

However, I am still honored because,two cool bloggers think I'm cute. And yet, really- Me? Sunshine? Clearly you both must still be buzzed from whatever you drank/popped last night. Or conversely, both Clever and Monkey have gone off their meds. Maybe a combination of all three.

Anyhow, as usual, along with great honor comes great responsibility. And as honored recipient, I am required to answer some questions before I pass the award along to some other worthy bloggers. 

Follow along, as I am now tasked with answering some not-so-sunshiney questions that I found somewhat disturbing. As usual, reader discretion is advised.

Name  A Girl Named Sue

Day Telephone 867-530 niiiiiiiiyyyne

Age at first menstruation About 27 years earlier than it should have been

What treatment do you use for cramps? I complain more than usual while Tall Guy feigns sympathy and pretends he has not heard it every 28 days for the past 15 years

Any PMS symptoms?  If so, describe: Yes. My moods become very erratic and I lose my patience easily with kids, dog and husband. I've been told it's difficult to recognize the difference between this particular time of the month and other time of the month with me

Ever Pregnant? With emotion? All the time, when I am knocked up. Or watching Knocked Up while being knocked up

Any breast problems? Definitely. The problem is they are a little floopier than I'd like

Do you examine your breasts regularly? Yes, once I put on a jog bra because then they are super sweet

Have you had sex with (Check all that apply) Men Women There are men and women applying to have sex with me? Is this a part of the award too?? I am loving this award!

If you use contraception, what form(s) do you use? I find that not having sex works great at keeping my uterus free of babies

Do you wish to continue with this method? No. I like having sex. In fact I love having sex- especially with my husband- Do you have a pill that will clean my house, take care of my kids and make me well rested? I think they call it a Spanish Fly or something. Please get back to me on that. Stat!

Are you taking any medications? No. And yes, the medical community is still scratching their heads in wonderment about this

Do you smoke? After a few drinks I think I am smoking hot. Does that count? I also think I am 27

How much alcohol do you drink each week? I will take the fifth on that. A fifth of Costco brand vodka, thank you very much. Oh, weekly? About a case of that, actually

Have you taken “recreational” drugs? Define "recreational". No, I did not go camping while on drugs. I did go to Disneyland on LSD in college once, does that count?

If yes, which ones? How 'bout we make this easier and I just tell you what I haven't used


Oh shit, you guys-

Turns out the questions above are from the form I have to fill out before my OB-GYN exam next month. My bad.

Well, this makes sense now, here's a complete list of the real questions I was supposed to answer but am now way too tired to do so:

1. What is your favorite Christmas/festive movie?

2. What is your favorite flower?

3. What is your favorite non-alcoholic beverage?

4. What is your passion?

5. What is your favorite time of year?

6. What is your favorite time of day?

7. What is your favorite physical activity?

8. What is your favorite vacation?

And although I totally screwed up the question thing, I will not eff-up handing off The Sunshine Award to five other awesome bloggers. 

Here are the funny-as-shit blogs that are the latest recipients of this prestigious flower-sticker- Sunshine Award! 

You made me (and lots of other lost souls) smile today!

Jackie-Ohhhh
The Artist Formerly Known as Lanna Cottrell
Potentially Crap Blog
Go Merrily!
Life on the SONny Side

Remember, bloggers, if you chose to accept the award, just pass it along to five other bloggers and don't forget to post your complete gynecological history on an upcoming blog.

OR you can answer the real questions listed above just like a normal person, not in need of prescription drugs. Or you can pretend, like the French knights in reference to the holy grail sought by King Arthur (in Monty Python's Holy Grail) that you "already have one" and totally ignore this.

Either way, have a Sunshine(y) Day !

Dear Kids, There's Something Important You Need to Know

There is one thing I would like my beautiful kids to know is that no matter what happens in this world, at the end of the day, my couch is really, really important to me.

The first few couches I lived with after moving out of my Dad's house after college were hand-me-downs or purchased second hand. Please understand that this new, stain-free couch has a special, stain-free place in my heart. I don't expect you to understand this but I expect that you try to help me keep my sanity by adhering to these simple guidelines in regards to my couch and it's blanket-y, pillow-y and ottoman-y accessories.


1) Do not jump on The Couch. Your feet, socks and butt are very stinky and I don't want The Couch to smell like any of them. Plus, the sand collected at the playground flies out of you underpants and socks like a lacerated pinata and into the cushions. Oh, and you might hurt yourself

2) Do not, eat or drink on The Couch. Although we had the forethought to purchase a couch in the darkest shade of brown possible in order to hide the inevitable spills that would occur, I would love it if The Couch NEVER resembles the back seat of my car

3) Do not poo or pee on The Couch. Although a biological spill can be cleaned, it can never be forgotten. And that's part of why I insisted on getting The Couch so soon after having you, my Firstborn. Most people would know better than to get a new couch right after having a baby. Most people didn't have a tripple-accident while using a double-breast pump on their old couch. Use your imagination for an explanation of that one

4) Do not use Couch Blankets to dress up the dog like Lawrence of Arabia. The dog likes to roll in the dirt and eat tortoise poop in the backyard. I would prefer that The Couch does not wind up smelling as gross as the dog often does

"Is there a kid-free family that would like to adopt me?"

5) Do cuddle up with Mom or Dad on The Couch if you're not feeling well and need to sit up all night long because you are too sick to sleep in bed. Also know that Couch Rules 1-3 are null and void during these times. Eating, drinking, pooping, peeing and dressing up the dog with blankets are all perfectly acceptable if you don't feel so good. At these times we'll let you do whatever makes you feel better. 

Except jump on the couch. Standing firm on that one.

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Don't forget to check out the other posts about what some other bloggers think is important stuff to teach their kids. Click on the Theme Thursday button or go check out http://cloudywithachanceofwine.com/1397-2/ if you want to learn more about us a-holes!

41 is the New 14

Day 1: How My Girls's Weekend Away turned me into a 14 year old boy

• I giggled at and provided sex, fart and poop jokes during a six hour drive across the desert
• My Road Trip Bestie giggled at and provided sex, fart and poop jokes
• No vegetables were eaten
• I ate fast food exclusively and wiped my mouth with my sleeve
• Thought it was funny when a drunk buddy of mine placed his scrotum onto the the phone of a second drunken buddy when the phone was left unattended
• Made a pact with Bestie that some secrets are best kept between friends

Day 2: How Day Two turned me into a 22 year old man

Together, Bestie and I:

• Drank more Skyy vodka and Captain Morgan's than water
• Ate only potato chips and pizza
• Stayed up until 4 am
• Laughed and lauged with old friends about nothing very funny at all
• Don't remember stumbling to bed or passing out on couch
• Did not suffer from a hang over next morning

Day 3: How I know for certain that I still really am, a 41 year old mom

• Never forgot to take multi-vitamin, Calcium and Glucosamine supplements daily
• Only recreational drugs used were from a totally legal Valium prescription 
• Did not  take off clothing or have sex with or in front of friends or strangers
• Brushed and flossed teeth before passing out face-first and fully clothed on couch
• Felt zero shame speaking and making kissing noises on the phone to the two year old while standing in line to see panda bears at San Diego Zoo
• Felt some shame while visiting a zoo without kids
• Bought two over-priced pink souvenir T-shirts for the kids to throw them off the scent
• Waited until 2 pm for a 'hair of the dog'
• Marvelled that Road Trip Bestie had hers at 9 am

Sex, Zoos and Churros

It has come to my attention that since having kids, the sex the Tall Guy and I have is not like the sex I had when I was younger. 

I realized this when neither of us could remember when the last time we had sex was. In our lame-ass defense, the weeks without were due in large part to Tall Guy's business/travel schedule and my a-hem, biological schedule, if you know what I mean, ladies.

And to make matters worse a close friend needed some dating advice which reminded me how much has changed in the past four years. My friend was planning a date that included a picnic and a little hanky-panky in the great outdoors. Naturally, she immediately thought to call me for my expert opinion on the best way to plan sex in a place that is public, illegal and/or morally objectionable.

So I mentally tallied up the weirdest places I had sex before having children and provided it below for your perusal.

(*This may or may not be a totally complete list)
(**If you know me and know about another place I had sex, please feel free to mention it in the comments section below)
(***If I had sex with you, thank you, I'm sure I had a good time, please refer to above guidelines)

Weirdest Places I Had Sex Before Having Kids

Floor of a hairdresser's work station 
It was July, it was the only place my boyfriend and I could find that had a lock and no parents (it was his mom's business) and it had no air conditioner. It was so humid it was like having sex in a rain forest. A rain forest covered in hair. A hairy rain forest. 
When we were done we looked like Churros but covered in the hair of strangers, not delicious cinnamon sugar.

A Churro Threesome would be delicious
A hairy two-some, not so much

A Graveyard 
On Halloween night. Don't make me tell the underage-sex-in-a-graveyard story again. 

Oooooooooohhhh.....scaaaaarrry!
Or just plain creepy, anyway

I mean, who hasn't done this, right?

On top of a toolbox
My boyfriend was a mechanic and it was one of those big, Craftsman/Tim the Tool Man type red things on wheels. 

It looks much bigger in person...
 Yep, heard that one before, pal

Can't say why this happened or if it was fun. I can tell you that I got my TruCoat for no additional cost.

Thanks, Mr. Lundegaard!

On top of my 89 Jeep Wrangler while working for Fish and Wildlife
Right after college, the Tall Guy and I each worked as field biologists chasing big or slimey animals up mountains or through streams. We lived in the field, me in a cabin, he in a tent, hundreds of miles apart for weeks at a time. 
One weekend Tall Guy volunteered at my job and helped us capture bears in order to put satellite collars on them. The day he was leaving to go back to his job we realized (after having not seen each other for several weeks already) that our paths would not cross again for another six weeks. 
We made a hasty decision and worked quickly with belts and hiking boots and our Leathermans to get things done before my co-workers showed up at the trail head in their own vehicle. 

If only this multi-purpose tool could talk...

We made ample use of the roll bar.
Use your imagination.

Tuzigoot National Monument
Once again between field jobs, the Tall Guy and I made good use of a rendezvous in the middle of the desert.

I'd like to say that we did it in one of the hundred or so rooms in these amazing ruins but the museum was closed and so we were stuck utilizing the Jeep once again. The hood of it was delightfully frigid as the temperature dropped into the 40s. 

This multi-room pueblo was built by the Sinagua people. It is Spanish for, "without water"
 It was not built  for white people "without sex" but Jeeps most certainly were

Who knew the desert could get so cold at dusk? My ass, that's who knew. It may have been the quickest sex of my life.

In Front of an Exotic Bird Exhibit at a Zoo
Don't ask what zoo because I won't tell you.
I will tell you this, however, since I used to work at a zoo...I know things....
Lots of people have sex at the zoo.

"No" means "No", Smokey! No means No!

And I mean not just the drunk and horny zookeepers.

Upstairs from a Veterinary Office Somewhere in London
A disturbing trend has been discovered. 
Apparently I seek out sex in closed places of business where I am likely to become covered in hair or grease.
Luckily for me (and you, the nauseated reader) it all ended here. Or shall we say, it began?
Fast forward exactly 280 days from this day in London....

On the Eve of My First Born's Due Date
We threw a, "We're Having a Kid Tomorrow So Please Trash Our House for the Last Time for a Long Time Party". I'd like to say that I had been drinking something besides water that night but of course, I hadn't been. I don't remember if the Tall Guy had been but I imagine he needed to be wasted to have sex with me by that point in the pregnancy.

The next morning after I showered I woke the Guy up and we drove to the hospital.
And nothing's been the same since :)


Weirdest Places I Had Sex Since Having Kids

On Top
This was my go-to gig before I was busting-at-the-seams pregnant. I'd kinda forgotten about the fabled, On Top oft spoken about by ladies with fewer years and labial folds until recently. 

So I've been busting this one out a bit lately and the reviews are good. 
It's not just Two Thumb's up I'm getting, if you know what I mean...

Still not in the mood after having kids but hubby's nagging you?
Show him this image immediately
You're welcome.

Now go on- go have sex in a weird place or better yet...

Where is the weirdest place you've had sex (and don't say, the City of Mesa)???

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Don't forget about Theme Thursday!
Check out the link below to see what other blogger's have to say about Sex since Kids....
 http://cloudywithachanceofwine.com/1397-2/)

Sex and Two Vaginas and the City

Sometimes on special nights the Tall Guy and I let our daughters have what we call, with much enthusiasm  "Picnic Dinner!". 

For the kids, Picnic Dinner! means a complete dinner made up of food that are both palatable and easy to eat for little hands (think fish sticks, chicken strips, green beans, knuckle bones, etc). They get to have their Picnic Dinner! while sitting on a blanket in front of the tv watching a movie of their choice.

For the adults, Picnic Dinner! means dinner with few interruptions. In other words, we get to relax in silence (this is where people who do not have children would normally converse).

Tonight I was particularly grumpy due to a hunger-induced migraine and painful knees and was bitching and moaning about how much I hate Winnie the Pooh. 

Born in the 1920s, Pooh may have been the first
to wear a Baby Doll Tee  

I hate his voice, his stupidity, his friends and especially his stupid, too-small shirt. 

It should come as no surprise that Scotty J.,
 both the intellectual and physical equal of Pooh,
was a fan of  ill-fitting  shirts

I usually ignore what little tv my kid's watch because I find it unbelievably annoying 

(see previous post about that nitwit, Franklin) but as we sat and ate dinner I could not ignore the 250 inch television in the living room. And then it suddenly hit me- 

Winnie the Pooh is a children's version of Sex and the City!

Not nearly as glamorous or artfully filmed, Hundred Acre Wood is like a co-star to Winnie the Pooh just as NYC is to Sarah Jessica Parker. And instead of being obsessed with boozing it up, Pooh and his friends are typically gathered at the end of each show around a gigantic vat of honey instead of Appletini's or Cosmo's or gay male friends.

Still not convinced that Darren Star and Alan Milne were kindred spirits?
Read on...

Pooh vs. Carrie
Ok, both are obviously the protagonist and in need of help of some kind. Neither are complete without the rest of their weird gang of friends. Both are obsessed with their midriffs. 

Apparently even outside of the Hundred Acre Wood it
is difficult to find shirts that will cover the 'rumbly in your tumbly'

Eeyore vs. Miranda
Both tend to be the stick in the mud (or honey) and neither knows how to accessorize  That bow on Eeyore's ass does not count.

Don't like empowered women like Miranda Hobbes??
Well, FORK YOU!

And neither do those earrings.

Piglet vs. Charlotte
Always cheerful and upbeat, both these feminine and perky people prefer pink.

"I just want to be a wife and a Mother", said  Charlotte

"I just want to be a husband and somebody's 'other' Dad", said Piglet 

The Kangaroo (Kanga) vs. Samantha
Kangaroo's have a bicornuate uterus which is practically like having two vaginas. 
Enough said.

What do you mean, she gets TWO vaginas?? 

.*Spoiler alert*
We won't be forced to get to see another Sex and the City movie sequel until Kim Cattrall finagles a second vagina written into her contract.

Rats!

Shit I've Accomplished This Week

After a very busy two weeks attending to my injured and needy knees and mother, I have finally found myself back at the laptop. 

Despite missing blogging about really important things, I feel good about my absence in the blogosphere thanks in no small part to how totally f*cking awesome I am because of all the other shit I got done. 

Don't feel intimidated when you read the list of all the awesome shit I got done- you can always shoot for next week and aim low as I like to do.

• Put away most of clothing from the spare bedroom/laundry expo room downstairs so my my mom could spend the week with us.
• Found new home for "spirited" puppy that helped break my 70 year-old-mom's wrist while on a walk
• Did physical therapy for my knees every other day
• Thought about swimming as a low-impact alternative to jogging or aerobics several times
• Blogged about swimming once
• Took a two hour nap 
• Almost had friends over for a barbecue (they had to cancel at last minute)
• Did not clean or stress about not cleaning prior to barbecue
• Did not get wasted in front of friend in 12 step program
• Got kid up from nap, as suggested by the Tall Guy, so she wouldn't be up all night tonight
• I GOT LAID!

Just to make you feel better about not doing half the shit I did, here's a list of the things I did but perhaps need improvement on

• Piled rest of clothing from spare room on various horizontal surfaces in the house or on closet floors
• Pawned off annoying puppy on very good friends 
• Lied in my blog about how often I did PT for my knees the past two weeks
• Actually went swimming as a low-impact alternative to jogging or aerobics once
• Yelled, "CANDY!" from downstairs in order to get kid up from nap quickly
• Psst- totally do not mention to the Tall Guy that I got laid last night- he may start to become suspicious

So what the hell did you get done this week that you are proud, ashamed of or lied about? 

Teeeell me- you can post it anonymously and it would almost be like going to church!

(See that? You can now add "Went to church" to your own Shit I've Accomplished This Week as well as your Shit I've Lied About This Week list)

The Empty Wheelchair

It's been a long, hot summer and this week the weather is cool enough so that I'm no longer in danger of dehydrating before leaving the driveway for an afternoon run. Despite the nearly overwhelming desire to hit the dirt trail just 100 yards from my house, I'm trying to be smart and reduce the high-impact stuff until my knees are on the mend.

After a tough 40 minutes on the elliptical with nothing but Hoda and Kathy Lee to watch on the gym's tv while I elliptesized (oh, hell yeah, I'm making that a verb) and listen to music, I limped to the locker room to change. Knees and ego still aching from last week's diagnosis of "bone on bone" in the right knee and what I'm going to call, Oldageitis in my left, I suited up for an uninspired swim.

As usual, I forgot to shave and so I peeked out of the locker room to see if there was anyone else doing laps and how embarrassed I should be in case anyone noticed my 'situation'. The pool was still- it's surface like an aqua-blue pane of glass. Relieved, I flip-flopped to the edge of the pool where I stood and tucked my recently dyed hair into a very unflattering swim cap. 

There was an empty wheel chair sitting at the edge of the pool. I thought it was weird and the only explanation I could come up with was that someone had left it there and that this person must be nearby and would come back to get it. 

It is this thought process that clearly demonstrates the obvious- that raising children has riddled my brain with gaping holes that obstruct my ability to think in any logical manner whatsoever.

Then from the far end of the pool, I hear a mans voice ask, "So, are you swimming a mile these days?"

I realized it was the owner of the wheel chair. 

He was walking the pool's perimeter at a pace so slow that his movements left no discernible wake in the water.

His name is John and every few laps or so when I'd stop to catch my breath (yes, that's either how very, very fast I swim or that's how taxing swimming is for me), John and I would chat for a minute or two. 

John smiled as he spoke about some of his accomplishments. Twenty-five years earlier he had been a quadriplegic but eventually he was able to learn how to use the left side of his body and he still hadn't given up the hope that he would one day leave his wheelchair behind. Two years earlier, after turning 50 and after much pool training, he had been able to walk 40 feet without assistance. 

But like me, injuries had set John back and he had to change his workout routine. Unlike me, John didn't seem to feel sorry for himself and I did not hear him complain once about his struggles at the gym or the challenges he must face on a daily basis.

So, I shut up and swam. 

I swam twice as long as I had planned while chatting with John. After forty minutes, he finished the last 20 or so meters and was back where he left the wheelchair that had confused me so.

His goal was to go from his current one lap around the pool perimeter to four laps and eventually out of his wheel chair. 

My goal is to appreciate what I can do, stop complaining about my minor aches and pains, to never give up on my goals and never, ever forget about my swim with John.

Knee Jerk Reaction

I thought I hurt my knee doing squats and lunges at the gym the other day.

But as it turns out, I actually just got old.

The exam and xrays confirm that I have no acute injury, just wear n' tear typical of a very active, a-hem, person of a certain age. So the bad news is that no matter how often I go to the gym or how many miles I can run, these activities cannot stop my knees or all my other parts from aging. Grrr....

High on pain meds in the middle of the day, I've begun to think of all the dangerous poorly planned dumb things I've done in my life and my career and I came up with the following:

Tracking and tranquelizing black bear in the wild as a Game and Fish intern - No injury
Lifting Gigantasaurus baby out of crib multiply times daily for 18 months - Torn rotator cuff

Running 5 marathons with less than optimum "long runs" while training - No injury

Running 6th marathon in new (tight) shoes - Stress fracture of metatarsal (broke foot)

Jumping into arms of friend standing waste-high at the bar pool in Mexico in order to demonstrate a pivotal scene in Dirty Dancing - Bruise on bottom of foot

Upping my workouts to two hours daily, 4 days a week in order to continue to eat and drink as many potato chips and diet tonic and vodkas as I want and then finding out the pain in my knee is not a torn ACL but just worn down cartilage - Enormously bruised ego

*Sigh*

Getting Freaky in a Graveyard

This is going to sound really bad. 

I had sex in a graveyard.

Once.

When I was 17.

It sounds a lot worse than it really was. The idea of it, that is, not the sex itself. The sex was not bad, I'd say mediocre, at best.

To begin with, the act was performed with a boy that I was in love with and who had been my boyfriend for over a year. We had a mutually respectful relationship and we were looking for another way to connect. 
And also, new places to screw and not get caught by our parents.

And in my defense, it was a pet cemetery.

Even as a child, I had always loved the scare you could get watching a good horror movie. I was only five  when my parents took me to see a double feature that included Jaws and The Omen. I was wearing my pajamas and clutching a stuffed animal as I watched a giant, fake shark terrorize a New England beach from the back seat of our fake-wood paneled station wagon. 

To this day I cannot imagine why my parents thought it was a good idea to take me to see two of the scariest movies ever made. Strangely, it didn't freak me out, rather, it just made me really like horror movies. And surprisingly, there is no long-term psychological or emotional damage to me in spite of this early trauma (that we know of). That said, it was probably not the best parenting decision my folks made prior to their divorce a few years later.

By the time I'd reached high school, as far as I was concerned, there were no more good scary movies being made. They were too unrealistic, lacked imagination and the plots and dialog were always too stupid to believe. I was in need of a good scare and decided that my friends and I should visit a graveyard not too far from where we lived. Reluctantly, they agreed.

Maybe to insure that at least one person wouldn't back out at the last minute, I told my boyfriend that I wanted to 'do it' while we were there. Because that would be reeeally fucking weird scary.

He enthusiastically agreed. Not so much because he wanted to get laid in a cemetery- he just wanted to get laid. Anywhere.

It was around ten o'clock when the six of us arrived and parked behind the middle school across the street. We killed a couple of hours drinking, smoking and telling ghost stories before we all had the courage to leave the bleachers and head in the direction of the pet cemetery. We crossed the street and climbed over a short, chain-link fence that surrounded the cemetery. Out of fear all six of us walked in a tight cluster holding hands. We covered our mouths between muffled giggles and whispering, "BOO!"to each other, in hopes that the living neighbors whose houses surrounded the yard, wouldn't hear us.

It was nearly midnight and the slight breeze made it chillier than usual. The graveyard was small- maybe two acres and it was not maintained at all. The ground was hard-packed, desert dirt with occasional ground squirrel holes and dried up weeds littering the property. Most of the pet plots had nothing but crooked wooden crosses, the sun having baked off much of their white paint. There were no names that we could see on the first few grave markers we came across.

Real picture of our Spooky Neighborhood Graveyard in the daylight
(add your own creepy soundtrack here- I suggest wind whistling
or the sound of your kids opening up the squeaky cabinet
where you keep your home-made porn collection)

Under the guise of playing hide-and-go-seek, I grabbed my boyfriend's hand and we shuffled off giggling, knowing what we were about to do would be both silly and scary. We found a small area of concrete where there stood a tall flagpole at the back of the cemetery. We argued briefly about who would be on the bottom and thus, be forced to lay bare-bottomed on the cold concrete. Although it was dark and we knew our friends couldn't see us from across the cemetery, we also knew we would be unable to see any one of them approaching if they happened to come looking for us. 

We fumbled with belts and buttons and zippers and were in the middle of (fill in the blank with an illegal, underage activity of your preference ) _________ when we heard one of our friends call out. 

We were dressed and on our feet quickly, running in the direction of the cry. We found everyone  motionless and staring at one of the few, non-wooden headstones.

And it was not a dog.
Or cat.
Or bird.

It was a person. And though I cannot remember the name or the dates, I remember it was a young person, a kid. A kid that had died and was buried there nearly 100 years earlier. And we looked at the headstone next to it, and the one next to that one and the one next to that one. It was an entire family.

We were literally stunned into silence and I was mortified by my earlier actions. How disrespectful we had been. And how embarrassed I was for my behavior. And for having sex in front of ghosts. We thought we were screwing in front of labradoodles.

What a Zombie Labradoodle would look if he watched me have sex and
he also happened to be dressed up as a  Siberian Husky
( Zombie dogs always dress up on Halloween )

Ghosts saw me naked.

Someone wisely suggested we "get the hell out of here" and so we did.

Artist rendering of what our exit may have looked like the night we got freaky in a graveyard 

We spent the rest of the night hanging out behind the middle school and reliving the evening we spent among ghosts. 

I have not thought about that night in many years, I guess because it wasn't as scary or significant as I had hoped it was going to be. 

But just to be safe, my daughters will never be taken to a horror movie double-feature before the age of six and instead will be brought up on a steady diet of Disney, Pixar and Dreamworks. 

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Didja know it's Theme Thursday?
Check out what other bloggers have to say about Halloween by clicking on the links below....

Something Clever 2.0  

Cloudy With a Chance of Wine 

The Next Step 

a calibama state of mind 

Your Life Tour Guide 

Each week you'll have the opportunity to see what the same five whackos have to say about the same subject. Believe me, it will explain a lot.

Enjoy!