Camping Expedition Gone Thuggishly Wrong

I took my kids on their very first camping trip a few weeks ago.  It’s sad that this is their first and there are several lame reasons for that, but what’s important is that they finally got to do it.  It was a last minute trip so we ended up going somewhere close.  Barkcamp.  Never again.  This story is crazy.  I took with me my 2 younger brothers, my younger sister and my 3 kiddos.  We got all the necessary stuff (basically what you need for s'mores) and headed out.  We set up camp, cooked hotdogs and s’mores and hobo pies, sat around the campfire, peed in the woods (cause the outhouses are siiick!), and did all the typical camp stuff.  After dark at about 10:30 another group showed up and set up camp right next to us.  We couldn’t really see them all in the dark but you could tell by listening to them that they were quite a trashy group and this was probably going to be a problem.  They set up camp and I noticed they had brought a little boy with them…about 4 years old.  This kid was so bad.  No matter what they said to him he would cuss them out.  I am in no way exaggerating, I have 6 witnesses.  This kids mouth was outta control!  If they offered him a marshmallow he would yell out, “F*** YOU, YA A**! (His version includes the actual cuss words)  One lady, apparently his mother kept chasing him and cussing back at him, he’d cuss at her and so on.  This was non-stop, literally.  She threatened to leave several times.  Which means she walked towards the parking lot ~aka right next to our tent~ and would scream at him to get in the car.  She was waking up those of us that were sleeping.  She had less common sense than the 4 year old.  At one point she got him in the car, started it, turned her headlights on (right at us), and threatened to leave while he cussed her out.  She gave up and finally shut her car off and let the kid back out.  At this point it’s 3:30 am, he takes off and literally runs a circle through the entire campsite yelling F*** YOU at his mom.  I could even hear people in the distance yelling at them to shut their kid up.  Originally, I was going to keep my mouth shut because I didn’t want to have to pack up in the middle of the night and leave during the kids first camping trip, but I was getting more and more pissed as the night went on.  At that moment the kid actually fell asleep and the rest of the night was peaceful.  So I drifted off to sleep chuckling to myself at the thought of a short story I decided to write them.  When I woke up the next morning I immediately remembered this note I wanted to write to make myself laugh about the whole situation.  I grabbed a notepad and pen and went to work on my short story.  I entitled it, “and you thought kids didn’t come with a manual.” By Jess Blake  Page 1:  Parenting 101: The only rule you need to know: Beat that kids ass!  If I had to spend another hellish night camping next to you I would also include the short story “camping etiquette for a**holes”  The End.  Well, they had 2 tents and I had no idea how many people were there and who was in which tent so the only logical place to leave the note was under the windshield wiper of the car with it’s headlights on us the night before.  So I stuck it there.  We started packing up because we wanted to go kayaking and no way in hell were we leaving our stuff next to these people.  After we cooked sausage and scrambled eggs and toast our “neighbors” started to wake up.  They looked how I imagined.: Big ole’ women and skinny dudes with pony tails.  Hey, I don’t mean to profile, but it is what it is.  So the mom heads to her car and finds the note.  She reads it, walks right past me and passes it around to everyone else.  I find this hilarious.  They all read it and nobody says a word!  That surprised me, but whatever.  About an hour passes, we are packing up and this dude shows up out of nowhere to their campsite.  I’m terrible with height/weight descriptions but I’d say he was over 6 foot tall…bout 250.  He reads the short story and grumbled around about it for a few minutes.  Then he walks closer to our campsite (yet stands far away) and asks who Jess Blake is.  Obviously I claim that and the short story.  He was pissed that I had the word a**holes in my short story.  I told him I’d heard worse out of his 4 year olds mouth til 3:30 in the morning and that I thought my story was funny.  He didn’t like that and became irate.  As soon as he started yelling and cussing one of the ladies thought she would get brave.  She turned towards our campsite, that’s is just turned, didn’t come close or anything and started yelling that her "kid didn’t need his a** beat", over and over.  I told her I wasn’t even gonna argue with her and to turn around.  Meanwhile huge dude over here is yelling out every cuss word he knows.  Nobody cares dude.  First of all you’re ignorant.  Secondly, we can barely hear you from where you’re standing tough guy… and lastly any kind of man who tries to act hard when put up against a 5’2” GIRL is a wussbag!  Go home.  So he walks away and his woman goes to “the general store” to tell on me.  Haha.  She comes back, nothing came of it I guess.  So sad.  But they all sit over at their campsite indirectly talking trash to us.  By that I mean they yelled out things amongst each other which were meant for us to hear but in such a non-threatening and standoffish way that they wouldn’t have to actually back up anything they said.  The following is a list of some of the hilarious things I heard them saying and laughed out loud about:

“I got a temper!  Noble county police know it!  Belmont county knows it! Marshall county knows it! Ohio county knows it!” (and so on)

“If you wanna fight…show up!”

Obviously directed towards my short story, which was perfectly written and contained no misspellings or grammar mistakes whatsoever, “Ya need to learn how to write with your adequate ass!”  I laughed when I heard this and said to everybody, “either he wants me to write the short story WITH my nice butt, or he doesn’t like my story but I have a nice butt.”  Hahaha!  What a moron.  

The funniest thing he kept yelling out was “THUG MOTIVATION!”  ~I’m not sure exactly what that means, I think it just made him feel good.  But…1: dude, you’re white.  2: you have man boobs.  3: In no way shape or form are you acting like a true gangsta’ right now or I would have seen a gun already.  So calm your tits mister.

THEN, I heard him say, as if he were about to do something that would really bother us, “I’m gonna play my rap music, see if they like that!”  This made me smile.  He walked to his car and turned his stereo up as loud as it would go...bumpin' Rick Ross. (I'm a little out of the loop, so if it's not referred to as "bumpin'" anymore...I'm sure you'll let me know.)  It just so happens.... I love rap!  Also, I know this song ya douche!  Haha!  By this time we are just about ready to go kayaking and our cars are almost packed.  He is by his car which is right next to ours so my brother and I are right next to him.  He didn’t say a word.  Probably because his peeps were over at the campsite and not next to him making him feel brave.  I glared at him the whole time and he wouldn’t say anything.  This also made me laugh.  Since he saw we were leaving he turned off his music.  So I pulled my car right behind his bumper and played my rap just so he would know that his attempts at pissing us off were laughable, like his boobs. 

Then we left and made a stop at the "general store".   The biggun’ that went to tell on me showed the clerk my short story earlier.  The clerk told me she thought my story was funny, and that their little group were “those kind of people”.  We told her the true version of the story so she had to call camp security to get rid of them.  I’m not sure if I’ll be writing any more short stories (at least... not with the kids present).  I thought it was funny, but I guess some people can’t take a joke! 

I just want to add that just because I do hilarious things like write funny stories to stupid people, I am not trying to come off as a badass, this is my version of the story, and while it is truthful, I'm guessing that if Mr. SpongeBoob Thugpants were to tell it, it would sound a lot more like he "won" or something.  So I'm letting it be known that I definitely would have had my ass handed to me if that big dude wanted to actually fight me.  Cause even though I know my punches would have been much cleaner than his, he was still really big. (Like his boobs).  I'm serious.  He had me covered.  He was bigger in all of the following areas:  height, weight and boobs.  He also won the screaming match... (I didn't actually participate in the screaming match cause he was really loud and ignorant to the point that I knew he wouldn't hear me anyways, so I just laughed at him.)  I should also give all those other people credit too!  They are, after all, the ones that called the big dude to come to the campsite to handle their stand off with the small girl.  I considered calling my (bigger and better) reinforcements in as well, but I have this rule where I handle my own business and don't need to call in back-up.  Also, I really don't give a crap.  And in closing, THUG MOTIVATION!!!

"The Rapist" x 2

     Story 1:  As you may know I’m finishing up an internship at a Physical Therapy Clinic in Washington.  (This isn’t funny, but you need a little back story to understand where I’m coming from.)  Since I’m going to school for PT assisting I have to do this 6 week internship this summer.  Of course it’s full time and of course I don’t get paid. (8 days left and I’m done!  Wooohoo!)  This means I’m still doing all of my regular “single mom gotta make money” jobs.  So I’m working 70-80 hours a week.  Because I still have to take care of my kiddos and my house most of my days start at 5am and end between midnight and 2am, do the math…3-5 hours of sleep a night.  Not good.  I’m not bragging, many other people have to do the same thing and probably a lot longer than 6 weeks too.   All I’m saying is I’m mad tired, which excuses anything dumb I’ve done. 

I don’t think I’ve ever been truly embarrassed about anything in my life… until this morning.  I went to work and stood at the counter where the daily schedules are laying out.  The clinic I work at has several Physical Therapists so there are 5 teams consisting of a PT, a PT Assistant and an Aide.  I’m on the orange team.  I look over everyone’s schedules when I notice something crazy.  I stare at one of the schedules and decide that another team must be playing a joke on another, got in the computer system and labeled their schedule “THERAPISTS”.  I’m guessing you read this correctly, but how I saw it, in my sleep deprived, near passing out condition, was “THE RAPISTS”.  I stand there and I am really surprised by this.  A PT from a different team walks up to the counter, a PT that I haven’t even spoken with yet during my internship   and I say, “did you see this??!!”  He looked for a moment and says, “ohhh, yeah, they don’t have a very busy schedule today.”  I said, “NO! Look! Someone put THE RAPISTS on there!!” (I pointed at the word for him since clearly he was blind or something.)  He said, “Therapists?”  I looked for a moment then it hit me.  I’m immediately hysterical.  I’m laughing so hard I’m crying.  He looked at me like it was some kind of joke and said, “ARE YOU SERIOUS??”  I laughed harder, cried more and ran off down a hallway and around a corner to hide basically.  After about a full minute I walk back out.  He is still standing there.  The second he saw me he yelled out, “ARE YOU SERIOUS??”  This makes me laugh /cry all over again.  I looked like a complete ass in front of this dude!  Everybody got a laugh out of this and made sure to remind me of it all day long.  A fellow student on internship walked by, pretended he was paging somebody on the PA system, “the rapist room 2, the rapist to room 2.”  I’m an idiot.

     Story 2:  This story has a back story as well.  One I won’t go to into great detail with.  Long story short, there is a sex offender in my neighborhood.  I have known this for years and made my kids aware of it and up to this point he has stayed to himself.  Within the past month he has been messing around my neighbor’s house.  The next house on my road.  To the extent that he was arrested and held for a week on stalking charges (scary, sure).  So I have stepped up my game.  A month ago I would have told you I’m a badass and if somebody ever tried to come at me or my kids I would eff their day up.  This is true, but this dude is a lot bigger than me so if I’m being realistic I should probably realize that while I would gouge eyes, kick nuts and break him off with a mean throatpunch, I’ll still probably lose the fight in the end.  If you know me you are going to give me credit for even admitting this, cause you know… I gotta be a tough guy all the time.  So I talk to everybody I know and come up with a great plan of action.  First I head to my dads house.  I tell him we are going gun shopping.  My step brother Caleb tells me he has a 380 that would be good for me and takes me out to shoot it.  I’ve never fired a gun.  Well, except a BB gun, which hardly qualifies and also does NOT stop a raccoon.  But that’s another story in itself.  But I did alright with the shooting.  Caleb got out a paper plate and drew a target on it, which I never hit, but I did hit the plate every time…from uhhhh 20 feet away.  At this point I proudly declare that I’m going to try out for “Top Shot ~ Point Blank”.  The point blank edition of this show doesn’t exist yet, but I’m positive I’m a shoe in.  Also, I find out that I love shooting guns and can’t wait to go shoot bigger and better ones!  Guns are awesome and I’ve only tried the little bitch gun!  Can you imagine how much fun I could have with a big boy gun?!?  Somebody mentioned to me that if I shoot the dude he has to be actually INSIDE my house or I could get in trouble.  OHAHAHA!…silly people.  If there is a pervert on my porch or anywhere on my property I will most definitely be shooting him with a quickness.  My dad warned me that if I kill the guy I might have a hard time dealing with the feelings I’d have afterwards.  I disagree, this dude should have already been killed in my opinion.  (I know my dad agrees, he’s just looking out for me) But I didn’t stop with just a gun.  I bought motion detecting flood lights for the outside of the house and of course made sure the house is on lockdown.  I also got these awesome pull string alarms which are kind of like fire crackers that you can tie to windows or doors and they make an 80 decibel popping sound when moved.  I have an air horn and now sleep with my car keys to set off my car alarm if somebody comes in the house.  I have notified neighbors to keep their eyes open and call the po-po if my car alarm goes off.  I also heard that wasp and hornet spray is better than mace and shoots up to 27 feet, best believe I stocked up on that.  I also ordered a stun gun.  This perv has given me a reason to waste money on a stun gun!  I can’t wait to get this in the mail and stun my friends.  I’m a good friend.  On top of all these things I want to reiterate that I am not scared and I am definitely going to put up a crazy type “small girl” fight if anybody tries to roll up on what’s mine.  Let this be a warning.  This has been cutting into my 3-5 hours of sleep a night so that’s a little irritating, but if I have to investigate every little sound and stare at my kids all night to ensure their safety then that’s what I’m going to do!

Ballin' a station wagon...as promised

I should begin this blog with the story about how I acquired the station wagon.  I owned a Honda Passport.  It was mauve which is the worst color on the planet ~the reason I think this is because I used to know this crazy lady who insisted on everything mauve.  She even spray painted the $3 mini blinds hung in her trailer with a rose stencil and mauve paint, it's just weird.  I tried to tell her that her decorative taste was sub-par and geriatric, she didn't budge.  Whatever crazy woman, go get yourself some cats and leave me out of it.
So back to my Passport.  I put around 700 miles a week on that thing between school and work, so I checked my fluids EVERY single weekend.  I was making sure that thing would last til I graduated so I didn't have to buy something else.  It was a pretty good car aside from the gas consumption.  So one day I'm driving home from school, about 25 minutes from home my car starts making a clicking sound.  I'm in the fast lane, doin 85-90 as is customary for me, so I get into the slow lane real quick and my car shuts off so I pull over.  It won't start.  I sit there long enough for the engine to cool so I can check all the fluids and see if I can fix the problem myself before I have to get outside assistance.  Let me interject just to say that if you're a dude and you're reading this and you find this offensive in some way, a girl who checks her own fluids etc., should not make you question your manhood.  Girls are not born with some car/brain retardation.  We are capable.  Think of it this way: if we can master the art of pouring fluids into our car without a funnel then the pancakes you expect us to make you in the morning will be poured with the utmost accuracy, and when we get you a drink after a long days work cause you're too lazy to "fetch" it yourself it will be poured perfectly as well. If you get offended it's probably because you can't check your own fluids and THAT should make you question your manhood. (also: changing a tire, windshield wiper installation, changing your headlights, putting air in your tires, and pumping your own gas...in fact if you can't pump gas I'm not sure how you are serving any purpose on this planet and you should go find a cave in the wilderness and stay there and hope to God that you can muster up the courage to kill your own food so you don't die.)  Back to the story...roadside..I pop my hood and get it open about 6 inches and I already know what happened.  APPARENTLY the last time I checked my fluids I left the oil cap on the battery instead of recapping the oil.  (probably due to the fact that Nate was running around my driveway with a dirty funnel in his mouth, which made me decide that his life may be more important, I'll thank him for creating a diversion later.)  So my motor was locked up, and not being worth the money it would take to fix it, I was going to have to start car shopping.  I called my Dad and as usual he came to the rescue with his trailer to tow my SUV to his house.  (I am not one of those people who runs to Daddy for everything, I handle mine, but if I'm in a bind, and have done everything I could to get myself out of it, I know he's there to help.)  So we drive to his house and since I still have school and work the rest of the week he is going to let me borrow one of his cars.  Most of my first choices are not street legal and only used for drag racing so he offers up his old station wagon.  It's actually a cool car, but a station wagon is not my style.  I smiled at him and he says, "embarrassing?"  I said, "beggars can't be chosers!"  ....So he said I could borrow his truck.  If you know me you know that I am a huge, gigantic, enormous truck HATER.  But it was better than a station wagon so I was happy.  I'm busy with life for the next couple of days and then I get a phone call from my Dad.  He says, "I know your busy so I went ahead and got you a car."  I was ecstatic!  First of all I didn't have a ton of money for a new car and I didn't want a car payment, secondly whatever beater I could afford wouldn't have gotten me far.  He said, "Yeah, it's a Ford Taurus......station wagon."  Crap.  I don't want to seem ungrateful in any way whatsoever, but if I'm going to be honest then I have to admit that I felt a little bit like he should have bought me a cane and a walker to go along with it.  But hey, I'm not one to care too much what people think and a station wagon will hold all 3 of my kids, my work ladder and other work items so it will suit me.  And as far as function goes it has served me well and is probably exactly what I needed.  Top that with the fact that it was free and who am I to complain!  However, for the purposes of this blog I will give you some examples of why I did and still believe station wagons are horrible.
It has crossed my mind that Dad doesn't want any dudes checking me out.  Dad 1 Jess 0.  That surely won't happen.  I have been hit on at red lights more times than I can count.  Not once in a station wagon.  One time there was a car next to me on the interstate for a solid 2 minutes, I was thinking why doesn't this A-hole pass me already, so I look over and this dudes smiling and waving...I was thinking, as I usually do, what does this dude think is gonna happen right now?  We are in seperate cars, doing 70mph with somewhere to be.  Does he think I'm gonna pull over and jump his bones?  What is the point here, he can't even get my number?  So, as is customary for me, I flip him off.  You might say I should be flattered and treat people better.  Uhhh, no.  Clearly this douche is already thinking farther ahead than he should be because he wouldn't waste his time to get my attention unless he thought I might flash him or something.  There's not 1 dude on this planet who will waste his time getting my attention on the highway JUST so I know he thinks I'm pretty.  Not 1.  Therefore, he deserved my middle finger.  Well, that didn't work.  So then I pointed to the CHILD in my back seat.  He shrugged and pointed to the child in his back seat.  At this point I had to laugh, we were friends again and he drove off.  Do you think this will ever happen to me in a station wagon?  The answer is no.  Nobody even looks cause they judge a book by the car it drives and assume I'm an old lady. 
If you drive a wagon, you get no respect.  I still do my usual 85-90 on the interstate and I have people swerve around me and cut me off like I'm in their way or something.  Just riding behind a station wagon annoys people.  I guess nobody thinks it's okay for an old person to be ahead of them, or be driving faster than them.  They get pissed.  Some guy almost cut me off when he went to pull out of a side street I was driving by so I had to slam my brakes. He cussed me out!  He looked all crazy and was bashing his steering wheel and acting like a lunatic.  My kids were like, "Ma!  Did you see that guy?!  He was acting all crazy and it wasn't even your fault!"  Also, my kids are excellent lip readers.  You should only buy a station wagon if you hate respect.    
I have gotten compliments on my new ride, but not from anyone under the age of 60.  For example, I went to a cleaning job that I do once a month.  The man of the house, who is pushing 70, tells me he really likes my new car and grabs the phone and walks away.  This is a good thing because  I sometimes feel like my life is a sitcom and when he said that to me all I wanted to do was laugh.  Of course he would like my car, it's probably the same one that's parked in his garage.   A few minutes later his wife walks in breathing all heavy and tells me she was out for a walk and her husband called her to tell her about my new car so she hurried home to check it out.  Seriously, who does this happen to?!?
This car has posed one last problem for me.  It hates rap music.  I love rap music.  I can't turn the bass up at all or it sounds like butt and even turned up to full volume I can still hear my kids. (the music is supposed to drown the kids out..duh)  To top it all off I feel completely weird listening to Biggie Smalls in this pimp ride of mine so I turn my music down at all red lights and in residential neighborhoods.
There you have it....ballin' a station wagon.  Thanks for reading!

I'm so thirsty today!

Sooo..my first blog in about a year and a half!  I read through my old blogs..and my life has changed a lot since my last blog.  I’ll get a blog going to update you on life as it is now…but while you wait here’s a little bit of my day today…

Before you start reading, you should know that initially this was intended to be an email for McDonalds, then I changed my mind cause when you email them, they only allow 1000 characters and I do what I want.

Visit to McDonalds:  Let me start by telling you about what led to my visit.  I was hungry.  You see I woke up at 5:30am and got myself ready for a long day of work and 3 kids ready for a day at their Aunt's house.  At 7am the kids are dropped off and I'm headed to job #1 at the physical therapy clinic.  I stop at good ole' McDonalds on my way, sit in the drive thru for 10 minutes and the drive thru girl hands me my large sweet tea, no straw.  I wait longer for a straw and my hash brown.  Which is handed to me in a bag, which I assume my straw is in.  I go to pull out.  I have to stop because there is a pedestrian crossing my path.  It’s the guy who ordered ahead of me.  As he passes my car he looks at me and says, “you better check your bag, their forgetful!”  He was clearly pissed.  (I don’t blame him, you go through the drive thru to avoid getting out of your car, duh) I didn’t check, I figure you can’t really screw up a hash brown.  I get on the interstate.  I discover I was wrong about the hash brown and I still had no straw.  The hash brown was burnt and hollow and came with pieces of other hash browns that were burnt as well. You know, kind of like Long John Silvers gives you little crispies, only these crispies I got weren’t going anywhere near my mouth.  So I roll down my window and toss the hash brown.  I do this for one reason only.  I hate birds and was willing to sacrifice my $1.06 to kill one, which in turn makes me feel a little better about the fact that I would be starving until lunch.  So I pick up my strawless tea.  No need to remove the lid because it popped off as soon as I touched it cause that’s what these awesome new lids those cheap donkeys are using do.  I take a drink.  Mmmm extra sugar, yay!  I wanted to drink syrup for breakfast, how did you know?  I thought about tossing that out the window too, but I decided to keep America beautiful and focus on ways to boycott McDonalds.  So as previously mentioned I was hungry and didn’t get a lunch today.  BONUS!! (aside from 3 tic-tacs).  After I leave job #1, it’s off to job #2 ~cleaning someone’s house.  I am the sweatiest chic ever and dehydrated from no drink aside from the swig of sugar that morning.  Off to job #3, still hungry.  I clean house #2.  I’m sweatier than I was, it’s 4pm, still hungry and still thirsty.   Job #4 cleaning windows.  Nothing says “you’re going to die soon” like 90 degree weather and a 24 foot ladder on an empty stomach.  It’s 6pm, still hungry, still thirsty, have to pick up my kids.  On the way I decide to put some chap stick on.  I take the cap off and white fluid flies all over my car.  My chap stick melted in the heat. That’s the second time this month.  I’m home at 7.  I chug nearly a half gallon of water so I might live.  I give my kids edible food because my name is Mom and not McDonalds.  I let them play outside while I unload said ladder and a multitude of other work items I had in my car.  I clean up their mess, start some laundry and realize I’m still hungry.  At this point I’m too tired to think about cooking something so I decide that I should go to the car wash and vacuum my car and go to Wendy’s for my dinner.  I get in the line at Wendy’s, which is wrapped around the place.  I wait.  I pull out, thankfully I still had that option.  Once you get closer you’re trapped by a curb and can’t leave, so I felt lucky that I was smart enough to escape that nightmare.  Subway is next door, I’m totally going there.  I go to pull in when some girl who can’t drive throws it in reverse and nearly takes me out as I start pulling in.  I bob and weave like the expert driver that I am and narrowly escape a car accident which would have undoubtedly led to a fist fight and an arrest. Subway’s out.  Oh boy one option left…McDonalds!  Here we go.  I sit in the drive-thru, which has 2 lanes.  I’m at the speaker, ready to order, but they take 4 cars at the other speaker before I am waited on.  Them- “can I take your order?”  Me- “yes, can I have a #1 with a large sweet tea and a stra~” (interrupted by) Them- “A NUMBER ONE AND WHAT?”  Really? Me- “a large sweet tea and a strawberry banana smoothie”  (interrupted by) Them- “Is that all?”  Me- “uhhh can you change that medium sweet tea to the large one I ordered?” Them- “WHAT?”  Me- “yeah.” I pull around.  Wait like 8-9 minutes.  I pay.  Wait like 5-6 minutes.  I’m at the window.  My bag of food is just sitting there.  I shut my car off, clearly this is going to take a while.  After 4 minutes of letting my food sit there some skank hands me my number 1 and a medium tea.  I ask for large for 2 reasons.  1: I’m super thirsty. 2: It fits in my cars drink holder.  Thank you morons.  Drive-thru skank tells me I am waiting on my smoothie.  Clearly genius.  I see them messing with the machine and I know that’s not good.  They hand it to me, I ball out.  The smoothie is gross looking, like water,  McDonald’s has balls of steel handing me some shit like that.  I’ve been working in 90 degree weather all day, I know I’m out of daiquiri mix at my house, that was the next best thing.  I give it to Dana, that kid will drink anything.  I get home.  I open my big mac.  McDonalds’ balls just got bigger.  There is a straight up finger sized hole through the top bun, the meat is all chopped up like they couldn’t get it off the grill, no onions and the only lettuce was a piece of the hard gross lettuce from the center.  Yum.  I gave it to Dana, that kid will eat anything.  I went to drink my MEDIUM tea.  I took 2 sips, the tea was gone.  It’s just a cup full of ice.  Awesome.  I go to the fridge and chug some more water.  I’m still thirsty and I’m still hungry but I don’t care anymore.  I’ll try eating again tomorrow. 

 Nate is next to me relentlessly asking, “swing me around, swing me around”.  I’m thinking about doing it, but 2 things are stopping me.  A: He’ll keep asking for more. B:  I’ll pass out from malnutrition.  I think it’s bedtime for these kids.

 I just remembered that I left my step ladder and some used up paper towels on the front lawn of cleaning job #2.  That’s professional.    

Going to try to get back to blogging again y’all!  My next one might be titled, “balling a station wagon” ha!

Where's my mute button???

     It's been a while!  Life is just too busy sometimes!  Reminds me of an article going around facebook lately.  A lady wrote to a paper asking a question about how stay at home moms are so busy.  Quite frankly the lady was a condescending wench.  I wish that question came with a name, cause I'd like to meet her in a dark alley one night.  I get so angry when the job I do is regarded as less than any other job because it doesn't come with a paycheck.  I know I am super lucky to be able to stay home with my kids, but that doesn't mean that I don't want to work or that I haven't sacrificed.  What I do is work.  Raising children isn't sitting on a couch watching TV all day.  It's a lot of work, thought, effort, analyzing and patience.  I'm responsible for teaching 3 kids how to be independent and self-sufficient, how to read, write, work hard, be good people, with good morals and values, show them what the important things in life are, how to treat people, not to argue...the list goes on.  It's all day every day.  Some people just consider you lucky and lazy.  I would love to go back to work.  I sacrifice that to stay home with the kids.  My household would benefit from a second income just like anybody else's would.  There are plenty of things I don't have because of that decision.  But you do what you can for your kids.  We have found a way to do it, but it isn't easy.  You have to take the good with the bad.  Everybody in this world has a job to do.  The guy who sits at a desk all day may not always work as hard as a construction worker, but I don't judge him.  It takes all kinds to make the world go round...and no job is more important than another.  The daycare lady could raise my kids and get more credit than me, just because she's paid to do it!  It's the same thing people!  On the same note, I know quite a few working mothers and I see how hard that can be too.  They deserve all the credit in the world.  They have to do most of the same things I do plus another job outside of the house, and they miss their kids too.  And it's just as much of a sacrifice for them because they work for their kids just like I stay home for mine.  Whether they need the second income or they are single moms, they sacrifice being with their kids to provide for them.  At any rate, to each their own and condescending idiots can keep their opinions to themselves!!

    Now that I got that rant out of the way, time for next one!  I have been relentlessly HARASSED about box tops since school started.  Day in and day out my kids are up my butt with "buy more stuff with box tops,  we NEED MORE box tops!"  I have been patient, today was the last straw.  As they were getting ready for school it started again.  ~Mom, we need you to cut these box tops now, did you buy more gogurt yet?  I started yelling.  "That's IT!  If I hear one more word about box tops -EVER, I'll end your life!  You will never SEE another fruit roll up, you'll forget what yogurt tastes like..I won't even take you to the store!"  That shut them up, and then when they came home from school I experienced a short lived moment of joy like no other.  They told me that the school contest for box tops was over now.  I was so happy.  UNTIL I saw the prize Lexi's class won for collecting the most.

I couldn't believe it.  Noisemakers.  Are you kidding me?  I had to hear them whine about collecting these things for 2 month's and this is the thanks I get.  I thought maybe Lexi's teacher had some sort of personal vendetta against me, but she can't hate every parent in the class.  After about 2 hours of hearing this thing non stop I gave Lexi a look from hell.  My plan was to break it after she went to bed, I think she knew, because she hid it.  This may sound like terrible parenting to you.  Go ahead and think that.  Leave me your name, I'll be sure to mail one to your kid when Christmas rolls around.
     I was eavesdropping on Dana singing this evening.    And I quote, " It's not that good of a life, not that good of a life, until you have Burger King for breakfast."  I thought to myself, well isn't that terrific.  If she thinks life's bad now, wait until she has to work at Burger King.
    
     Nate refuses to say Mama, and not because he can't either.  He does it to torture me.  He thinks it's funny.  He will say Dada for hours, here is a short video so you can see for yourself.  Also, you'll want to watch cause he's so stinkin cute!

If his foot looked dirty, it was a shadow.  Trust me, because MY kids are always impeccably clean.  ;)

     It amazes me how easily your kids can make you look like an idiot.  Lexi put Steeler's tattoo's on her face a couple weeks ago, they were on upside down.  It was a Sunday and I wasn't going to make them scrub the crap off of their faces just for school, so they went to school with them on Monday.  Lexi's teacher, who happened to graduate with my husband, asked her why they were upside down.  Lex told her it's because her Dad did it, and he doesn't know what he's doing.  HAHA!  A girlfriend of mine had her son pull his pants down and show a cashier his business when he was about 2.  One day when the girls were little (Lexi 2, Dana 1)  I was babysitting April's son Kaden(also 1).  I spied on them from the hallway as they played on their Little Tykes slide.  They were taking turns and being good.  Lexi was growing impatient because it took the little kids longer to get up the stairs, and I watched in disbelief (followed by tons of laughing) as she said, "Hur-ry up, fuckersssss!"  I laughed in the hall for several minutes before I could go in and punish her with a straight face.  Like the time at Christmas when she was 3.  Her grandma had wrapped up a package of new underwear with this storybook toy.  It was a stuffed bible guy, that looked like he was wearing a backpack(or what looks like a pillow- to a kid), and inside the backpack was a book.  Lexi tears into the package, and very excitedly yells, "I got undies and a man with a pillow!!"  I about spit out my drink!  She's not allowed to get excited about that until her wedding night.  Most people think I am wishful thinking, but I believe in dictatorship type parenting.  My dad had to catch me sneaking out, so I know to bolt my kids windows and screens shut BEFORE they start sneaking out.  I bet I can still buy a chastity belt on Ebay, and GPS tracker ankle bracelets and at home drug testing are good options also.  Am I taking this too far?  I think not!  (wink wink)  Will my kids hate me?  Most definitely.  Does that mean I'm doing my job?  Yes.  I guess none of us wants our kids doing the things we did, and I know the secret.  NEVER trust your kids.  So that is my plan.  Remember chaperoned dates?  Me either.  But my kids will know what they are.  If you ask my girls today when is an appropriate age to date and get married they will tell you, at least 30.  I have been actively convincing them that arranged marriage is where it's at.  (If they fall for this- I already have 2 boys picked out for them...coming straight out of the Farmer household, where they are being raised to be impeccable husbands and fathers.)  Okay, I joke everybody.... kinda.
  
     I've employed a new form of punishment for Lex and Dana, they hate it.  They have to write whatever they do bad, 25 times.  I've found it's a huge time saver for me, now I don't have to stop what I'm doing to beat butts, or remember to watch the clock so a kid can take their nose off the wall.  If you've read the blog about my little brother, Josh...then you understand why I'm so strict with my kids.  In fact the girls think Josh is one of them.  They don't even realize we're the same age.  Kind of like Dad's.  I'm sure some of you have this problem.  "Dad is soooo great.  Oh!  Dad's home!  Let's have a parade and meet him before he even walks in the house to tell him how much we missed him and how fuuuuun he is!  Dad never gets us in trouble, Dad takes us to the park!  Dad said we could have the gum, we asked him cause we knew you'd say no!  Dad picked us up a special new toy on his way home from work!  Dad always gives us quarters for the gumball machine!  Dad is so cool he can light a fart on fire!"  I guess I'll stop there.  Where's my big ups from the little ones?  Dad's are like kids that can drive.  And they don't know how good they have it.  Today at dinner I said having kids has got to be similar to chinese water torture.  They all looked at me as if to say "You've got some balls sayin that to us".  No, if I had balls, I'd be appreciated and get days off.  But seriously, the repetitiveness is absurd.  I was kicked all through dinner.  Lexi asks so many questions that Jimmy calls her google.  Dana keeps leaning back in her chair, Nate's trying to escape his, which he does..every time.  I multitask more during dinner than one person should.  I cooked the food, how bout you let me eat it?!? 

     In other news, my little brother is having a baby (GO READ THE BLOG~ My little brother I call him Vanilla)  Pray for him and the sweet girl that has to raise what will probably be, the craziest child ever born.  I can't wait though.  I'm pretty excited about it!  So congrats to Josh and Nat! 

     That's all folks...for now!

          
  

School starts!

     This is year one of public school for my kiddos...they went into 2nd and 3rd grade.   I was nervous about everything, including school supplies.  I called my girlfriend April fretting about it.  She burst out laughing when I told her I better add band-aids to the list, cause they might need one.  She reminded me the school nurse handles those types of things. 
     They have been with me virtually non-stop for about 9 years.  They don't have attachment issues at all, but I do.  I don't tell them that, but I hate being away from them!  In fact, I remember when they were younger and wanted to go hang out at my Dad's house.  I called so often to check on them that my Dad stopped answering my phone calls. 
     When the first day of school came, I was crazy.  I imagine it happens to every mom when they ship their kids off to school, especially the first day of kindergarten.  I missed them so much!  I drove myself crazy all day pacing and thinking of all the bad things that could happen.  I did nothing but stare at the clock and feed Nate.  Honestly, the day is a blur to me.  I remember thoughts of Dana sucking her thumb and the class starting a thumb sucker chant.  What if they didn't wipe their butts well enough and smelled like doo-doo?  (they always wipe their butts good at home...I'm just an idiot).  At home they are like crazies with each other and spend half their day wrestling and trying to get each other's clothes off cause they think it's hilarious.  What if they tried to disrobe their new friend on the playground?!?  I was going nuts!  Finally, after lunch, I put Nate in his stroller and took a walk........to the school.  I walked around it, everything seemed to be fine, (duh), and I walked back home.  I am such a jerk.  I am really thankful for great friends who took the time to get hold of me, it really helped get my mind off things a little.
     FINALLY, it was time to get them off the school bus!  I stood there as the bus pulled up and the girls came running, Lexi first, with arms wide open and screaming until she got to me and gave a big hug telling me how awesome school was.  Dana said it was awesome as well.  So, I felt much better and listened for hours as they told me about their day.  Dana told me about a boy that said "kiss+kiss=girrrrrrl"  EVERY time she walked past him. 
     Day 2 came and was much easier on me.  The girls had just as many stories to tell when they came home.  One thing they agreed on was how mean the gym teacher is.  I told them he's just trying to get them going.  Lexi said, "Ma, he is just downright scary and non-motivational!"  I laughed my butt off.   I asked Dana if she has gotten in trouble for talking in class, I know her to well.  She said only a few times.  So I told her she better not talk in class, ever, AT ALL.  She said, "okayyy, okayyy, I'll whisper".  Ugh.  Lexi informed me she had not broken 1 rule, which is totally believable.  I began unpacking their book bags and lunchboxes, and noticed Dana didn't eat.  I asked her why.  She said she had changed her mind and got hot lunch because she wanted pizza.  Guess she has officially made a decision of her own now!
     Today was day #3.  The day started with us getting woke up half an hour early by a ringing phone.  So we got ready and sat around for about 20 minutes until I said it was time to go catch the bus, which stops at our driveway. We walk out the door and the bus is coming!  We run off the porch and dude drives right past us!  I don't know how he didn't see us.  And who misses a bus when they were ready to go 20 minutes early!  I called their Pappy to come and drop them off.  Then sat on the porch with them while we waited, and Lexi burst into tears!  I asked her why she was crying and she said, "This is one of my rules!  Come to class on time, and be prepared!"  I told her to stop crying, it was fine, she probably wouldn't be late, and that is wasn't her fault, it was mine.  She burst out crying again and yelled, "Ohhhhh, That's another rule!  Take responsibility for my own actions!"  I had to laugh, it couldn't be helped!  Hilarious.  They got off the bus and Lexi told me she wasn't finished with her juice box and put it in her book bag, it was dripping everywhere.  We went inside and I cleaned up that mess.  I asked Dana how her lunch was.  That morning she opted for the school lunch, chicken nuggets.  She said she didn't get one.  I was frantic and was like, "Well what did you eat?"  She said she ate the snack I sent with her.  One string cheese and yogurt.  She said she was full.  I explained to her that people were going to think I didn't feed her and never to do that again.   Then she told me her book bag broke, no surprise there.  So we had to go the store for a new one.  It's been eventful, but so far, so good.
     In other news, I bought a box of cereal.  When we got home with it, Lexi saw, that on the back, were cut-out badges for a police officer, which went perfectly with her dress up outfit. She grabbed some scissors and went to town. Later when I went to get some, I took a look and saw the perfect badge shaped cut that was made in the bottom of the cereal bag. So we are now the proud owners of a cereal pour-spout.
     I also bought the girls each a single serve, organic milk.  Dana was drinking hers and going on and on about how good it was.  My response was, "straight from the cows tit!"  Dana asked me what a tit was.  I told her not to say tit, but that it was a boob.  She starts screaming, "EEEEWWWWeeeWWW!"  I said, "Uhhhh, where did you think the milk came from?"  She say, "The cow's butt."  I was like, "So you'd rather have butt milk, then boob milk!?!"  This conversation prompted her to tell me she couldn't wait to go back to school and see someone with a wedgie.  When I asked her why, she said, "So I can tell them their butt looks hungry!"  Haha.

     Lexi had to miss a dentist appointment because Nate was running a fever. When she found out, I could see the anger in her eyes and overheard her telling Dana in a not-so-sweet voice that she had to miss her appointment because "stinkin Nate" was sick. So after I told her to get over it, the girls and I were sitting around looking at pictures, doing some reminiscing, when Dana suddenly points at a picture of herself and says, "That's before Nate was born, when I had a good life!" I was like, "WHAT?!?"

That's all there is time for now folks...but I'll blog again soon!

Super Bubbles

My kids and I do these "Super Bubbles" every year.  It's one of our favorite Summer activities.  I didn't come up with this, but I'm glad somebody did.  I've been doing it since I was a kid.  I thought I'd share the recipe on here, maybe you will try it out.  I know you'll love it!

You can see 2 things happening in this last picture.  1- even I'm having fun, and 2- my house still needs painted...it's a work in progress!

So here's the recipe...it's very cheap and really simple to do!

For the bubbles you will need:

• 1 bottle of dawn dish liquid soap (the plain-old school kind only..the new ones with added crap do not work nearly as well) (costs about $1)
• 1 bottle of glycerin it will probably say skin protectant somewhere on it (found in the pharmacy section--wal-mart is where I get mine)  (costs $3-4)
• water

The basic recipe calls for 1 gallon water, 1 cup dawn, 4 tablespoons glycerin.  I usually end up adding all the dawn and glycerin to my gallon of water, but you can mess around with the recipe.  Just combine these ingredients in a tub of some kind. 

I use a dishpan.  Stir them together gently, creating to many suds kind of ruins what it can do.

As you can see, there is plenty leftover, which I save in an empty jug for the next time.

The next step is making your bubble wands.  There are plenty of ways to do this, you can be creative.  Bend coat hangers, use fly swatters, etc.  I prefer yarn and straws for 2 reasons.  I always have both on hand, and you can make all different sizes.  All you do is cut yarn to any length desired, stick 2 straws on the yarn, then tie the ends of the yarn together. 

Your straws are your handles...dip these in your tub of super bubbles..and have fun!  Oh, and something I haven't tried yet but want to..is adding food coloring.  Enjoy!!!

blog...mythbuster-style!

     'Indecisive women'.  The simple task of picking a restaurant to eat at opened my eyes to the importance of blogging about stereotypes.  You've had the conversation, 'where do you wanna go?'~~ 'I don't care, where do you wanna go?'  This may be old fashioned, but isn't the man supposed to be the leader and the decision maker?  Should this conversation be less about me and more about your level of manliness?  Shouldn't a man be happy with the fact that he can choose to eat whatever his little heart desires?  Maybe we aren't being indecisive.  After all, we "indecisive women" are busy thinking about all the other petty, unimportant things we have to make decisions about.  Like the lives of your 3 children.  I decide what they will be eating for 3 meals a day plus snacks, that's a minimum of 12 feedings in case you lost count.  Then I decide to cook it so they don't starve.  Then I decide to have them brush their teeth so they don't rot out of their mouth.  Then I decide to clothe and groom them so they are clean and less prone to sickness and infection.  I decide to clean the house so everybody has a healthy environment to live in.  I decide teach my children morals and values so they grow up to be all that they can be.  I decide to play with my kids and tell them that I love them so they don't grow up to be serial killers.  I decide to show them how to do chores so they are not lazy down the road.  I decide to teach them things, like how to read, write and add, so they are not illiterate and can function in the world.  I decide to put them to bed at night, so that they can all wake up well rested the next day and prepared to have me make all of their decisions for them, all over again.  All 3 of them.  So I'm thinking, maybe we are just sick of making in excess of 1,000 decisions a day, so when it comes to something like where to eat dinner, I don't care.  I'm just happy I'm not cooking it!!!  P.S.  If you're asking me where to eat, then you don't know either, making you equally indecisive. 
     'Women are weak'.  On the way back from dinner (the establishment I chose, by the way) I told my husband I wanted these little mini Christmas tree things cut down in my front yard.  I asked him to provide a chainsaw for me to do it with.  He chuckled, and not just on the inside, which was his first mistake.  I told him I wasn't an idiot, the things are so small a butter knife could probably do the job.  He laughed again and told me I would need practice before I "just went out there chopping trees down".  I informed him that I wasn't going to go out front acting as if I were a greenhorn, I know how to be careful, and that I could handle it.  He ended the conversation by telling me he would do it.  That means they will be full blown pine trees before they are ever cut down.  That's not how it's going down.  I will get a chainsaw.  I will be cutting the trees down in all my protective gear wearing, blue collar glory.  One thing you should never tell me is that I can't do it.  Then it becomes less of a task and more of a dare.  There are better odds I get killed by some sort of assassin caterpillar out there, than me cutting my own arm off.  My point here is, why do men think women are incapable of things like this?  It's absurd.  I'm almost 5'3", Jimmy has friends smaller than me, (male ones), and I don't see him running to their house to prevent them from mowing their lawns! So clearly it's not a size thing.  Then what is it?  Oh yeah...I'm a chic!  I can't do manual labor!  I don't know what got into me!  I can't wait to see the look on his face when he comes home from work and those trees are gone.  Sweet, sweet, victory.  I birthed 3 people, how's that for manual labor?!?
     'Typical jealous women'.  I have to agree that these do exist, but speaking on behalf of myself and millions of other smart women out there, maybe it isn't jealousy.  I think it's brains.  Just an example, perhaps planning your buddies bachelor party at a strip club sounds like a good idea to a man.  I would never tell my husband not to go because I'm jealous.  Nope, I would tell him he's not going because I am smart.  Those girls want your money and will do what it takes to get it.  Your not staying home because their boobs are showing, your home because your ability to keep your money may be clouded by the fact that their boobs are showing.  Your welcome, now you'll have the money to retire one day!    
     'The wifey's PMS-ing'.  Sometimes, this may be true.  Some ladies do have it bad.  Instead of getting all pissy pants about their bad mood, just be glad it's not you losing bodily fluids all day and having major stomach cramping.  How about, bring them home a sixer and take the kids outside for a few?!  What you don't want to do is accuse your lady of being crabby cause it's that time of the month.  For all you know, she didn't get that promotion, then came home to the kids, to find they had cut her face out of all your wedding pictures to use them for a mommy collage, which they taped to her favorite shirt, and then stapled to the most expensive curtains in the house.  Followed by a food fight, someone cutting their hair off, some vomit, a broken toe, and a round of screaming sword fighting to top it all off.  Be kind, and since life has no rewind, take the load off of her for a little bit, instead of walking in the door talking about how sitting quietly in your air-conditioned car in traffic prevented you from arriving home five minutes sooner.  I'll guarantee she'd take sitting in traffic over another nose bleed session any day.  How about we start telling men to quit PMS-ing when they come home from happy hour talking about how their buddies girl problems are really hard to listen to (over a few beers).
     'Women aren't as smart as men'.  Another one that is true, in some instances.  But there are definitely women out there who are smarter than men.  Like those 'dumb' women who try to tell you it's important to check the fluids in the car and check it for leaks.  That seems dumb until your car overheats and you have a blown head gasket.  I apologize if there is a man reading this and didn't understand what I just said.  For the women, you may know what I'm talking about, if you don't, no worries!  Nobody expects you to know it anyways!  Some women do know a little something.  But I have to say, man's attitude has made it a much simpler existence for us!  If I want to go outside and work on a car, good for me.  If I don't I can just pretend I don't know what's going on, and poof, I'm out of it.  If I get pulled over, I can just pretend I don't know what he means by registration or speedometer, and poof, I'm out of it!  If I don't want to pump my gas or check my own tire pressure, I just say I don't know how, and poof,  If I'd rather sleep than navigate, I pretend I can't read a map, and poof!  The kitchen sink has a leak?  I don't know how to do that either!  Seriously though, men do the same exact thing.  That's why you never see them changing a diaper after they just built a house.  They pretend they can't figure it out, and poof!  We get out of doing way more than men do, which just might prove, we're smarter.  
     Don't take me too seriously here, my point is..men: don't stereotype us!  Haven't you figured it out yet?  We're always right!     Later y'all!  ~Jovial Jess   

Official tester: Ramen Noodle Diet

     Jimmy really likes watching shows he can learn something from.  The stuff on Discovery and The History channel.  I used to like stuff like that too...until I had kids.  Now, if I turn the TV on, I'm hoping for the most mind numbing shows possible.  The last thing I want to do when I get a chance to relax, is think.  So he was watching a show about how whales have figured out an efficient way to kill great white sharks, and may now be the most dangerous thing in the sea.  I hope that's true.  I've always had a fear of sharks.  Don't get me wrong, I am the kind of girl that likes to face her fears.  If I get the chance to swim with sharks...I'll do it.  But I'll definitely be sporting a chain metal suit!

     Even if I'm in a swimming pool, if I realize I'm the only person left, it's a mad dash to get out.  I don't want to be in there by myself!  You never know.  I realize the odds of there being a shark in the pool aren't great, but if somebody had it out for me they could even throw a few piranhas in there.  Which is even scarier, cause I could punch a shark away, but you're not punching a hungry school of piranhas off of you.  My BFF, April,  knows my fear and sent me this pic. 

     I really do wish Jimmy would stop making me watch all these educational programs.  About as much as I wish he would stop farting by me.  Or my milk for that matter.  I mean c'mon.  Milk is a sensitive thing. Nobody wants it if it isn't just right.  If it's a little warm you pour it out.  I feel like if you fart by it, it will go bad.  It sounds reasonable.  So why do people laugh when I start screaming that they have farted and curdled my milk?  April called me the other day to see if I had caught the latest infomercial on TV.  She said they are making blankets now that absorb the odor from a fart.  It's called a marriage saver.  I might buy it. 

     I saw Titanic. so you'll never get me on a cruise ship.  That seems stupid anyways, if I'm going to stay in one place, I can do it for free at home.
      I hate when somebody I'm in the car with spits out the window.  Spit and wind are very unpredictable.  Once it leaves your mouth you have no control over it.  What if that spit flies back in the car and lands on me?!?  I'm not crazy.  I have an example people!  My Dad and brother were going to work one day and Josh spit a hawker out his window and it flew back in and landed on the inside of my Dad's sunglasses, so he was staring right at Josh's hawker!  1. Ewwww  2. Dad was pissed.  If that ever happens to me, run.

     Have you ever woke up and realized you slept on your face wrong?  Sleeping with your ear bent in half.  That crap hurts.  It's only happened to me a couple times, but my ear hurt all day.  I never knew cartilage was so sensitive.  Now I always make sure my ear is flat when I go to bed.  Talk of body parts reminds me of another problem.  Sometimes I get sick, and when I do, I lose a bunch of weight.  When I get down to 100 pounds people start thinking I have an eating disorder.  Can't say I blame them, but I have recently thought out my plan of action.  I will have t-shirts made!  I'll order them to say things like: ~Crackpipe'n it!  ~I poop a lot!  ~Official tester-Ramen Noodle diet!  If people are going to talk, you might as well do it up!
     And while we are mentioning how I look I might as well share this story with you.  My hubby, Jimmy, went out with his buddy one night.  Jimmy tried to drop him off at home at the end of the night but he had drank to the passing out point.  So Jimmy drove home and his friend stayed asleep in our car.  I wake up to a knock on the door about 6am the next morning.  It was his friend.  I opened the door to let him in, and the guy looks at me and yells, "Damn, I thought I looked rough in the morning!"  I laughed so hard, but what an idiot!
     I happened across an interesting website the other day.  It's a payback, revenge kind of site.  Instead of sending flowers, it will send dead ones.  It has stories and ideas of revenge.  Some of them are just wrong, but some are great.  Here's the link if you want to check it out.  It'll provide some laughs. http://www.thepayback.com/revengestories.html
     That's it for now...until next time!   ~Jovial Jess

    

          

    

    

    

  

Got Baby?

     I was looking at my belly flab from having a baby 7 month's ago.  Actually, it's probably just loose skin.  And just in time for pool season!!!  I am so lucky right now!  I have always dreamed of going to the pool with weird gut!  Seriously though, I know you ladies will agree with me, how unfair is this post-baby-body business?!? 
     First, we are blessed with the ever awesome period.  How convenient!  There is no day like the one you leave school early because you think your butt is bleeding.  Only to lock yourself in a bathroom with a mirror between your legs while yelling to your mom, "Which hole is it!?".  If your mom was anything like the lady I had to put up with she'll probably just start laughing at you for asking.  Then the years of running to the bathroom when you don't even have to pee, just to change a tampon, and if your lucky a few minutes later you really will have to pee, then you get to change your tampon again or risk walking around with a wet string in your undies.  I can't forget to mention the obsessive need to find a friend and whisper, "okay, I'm gonna walk in front of you and you tell me if there is anything on my pants".
     What are we blessed with next,  a baby!  Oh, the joys of pregnancy!  Isn't it great?  No period for 9 month's!  Instead you'll find yourself falling asleep on the job, taking naps like your my 80 year old grandpa.  Your heads bobbing while your making dinner, and you quickly realize the best time for a nap is anytime you stop at a red light.  And I say take advantage of it.  Throw it in PARK, and let some annoyed driver's horn wake you up!  Anytime you are fully awake, your stupid.  That baby is sucking the life out of your brain.  You forget everything from putting on your bra to unplugging your curling iron and simple spelling. 
     You'll be peeing more than the family drunk, but you can't drink.  Don't worry though because your husband will be kind enough to drink for the both of you!  Some parts of your body, previously unseen, will be exposed, like the inside of your belly button.  While other parts you could see all the time, like your va-jay, will be nearly impossible to see without some outside resources (like a mirror).  And you WILL get a mirror, cause you'll be grooming the crap out of it.  You'll have a few reasons for doing this.  One, your husband has been made fully aware that these 9 month's should be taken full advantage of, since it's the ONLY time he's going to get near you without protection.  Two, your doctor might be a hottie, so your damn sure gonna tame your beav before you go to an appointment.  Number two will keep you grooming on the regular, you never know when an emergency will land you in his office.  Number 3, your doctor is a chic.  You already know she doesn't like you that much and she's plotting any way possible to force natural child birth on you.  The last thing you want to do is piss her off by leaving a jungle down there for her to sort through.  You don't need the whole run down.  Basically, it's the most uncomfortable 9 month's of your life.      
     Then the day comes when you get to give birth to an actual person.  A WHOLE person.  That just means you better expect whats coming out of there to be huge.  In my case, 8.8, 8.9, and 9.1 pounds.  If you don't know what that feels like, I'm happy for you.  Everybody says it, and it's true, you really do think you're going to die.  My eyes were literally wide open, and I couldn't see!  It was completely black in the room.  THAT is blinding pain.  Not to mention everybody thinks you're a psycho because of your labor behavior.  Word to the wise, if a lady in labor ever asks you for a tissue, you better pass her ~A~ tissue, not the box of tissues... unless you plan on getting that box thrown at your face.  I'm just glad after a couple of month's, everything is back to normal.  IF your doctor knows how to give some proper stitches that is!  If the stitches are bad you end up with the nickname "flappy taint".  Okay, okay...you do get an awesome baby out of the whole deal, so it's all worth it in the end.  But why after you go through all of that do you have all these other things to deal with?  Haven't we been through enough already?  We are left with stretch marks and sagging skin, fat pockets and love handles.  I mean seriously, before I had kids I had 1 ass and 2 legs.  Now I have 2 "asslegs" as I like to refer to it.  My belly button can double as a cereal bowl, and my tummy sticks out farther than my chest.  I guess it doesn't help that the family 'Double D's' didn't get passed down to me, I'm an official member of the IBTC.   I think God had it wrong when he did it this way.  I would have set it up where we could just lay an egg.
    
         

My little brother.....I call him Vanilla

    Prepare to read the funniest blog yet!  Make yourself ready to find out how bad a little brother can really be.  My little brother Josh is 11 months younger than I am.  He was my only sibling until a couple years ago, when my Dad married an awesome gal and I acquired 3 more brothers and a sister.  People always asked us if my bro and I were twins when we were growing up.  Aside from that, there were no similarities between the two of us. 
     It all started almost 27 years ago, when my brother came home from the hospital.  That day I showed my little baby brother who the boss was when I slapped him across the face.  What can I say, I wanted to teach him early.  He spent the next 10 years trying to get his revenge by ripping the heads off of all my barbies and chewing their feet off.  But, for the most part, we actually got along well. 
     He was the orneriest kid I've ever known.  He used to wake up early in the morning and climb the counters in the kitchen and eat all the sugar cubes.  The only reason he was up before the rest of us is because he had a nasty nose-picking habit and every night at my house you would here him picking and my parents screaming at him to stop.  In the evenings you could find him standing by the fence next to our neighbors house.  We grew up in California so all of our neighbors spoke Spanish.  When the people next door would go sit outside to relax, you would hear Josh over there babbling to them like he was talking to them and knew how to speak their language.  How embarrassing!
     Once he started school it was a nightmare.  The kid refused to learn how to tie his shoes!  We were late for school almost everyday while he was forced to sit in our driveway until he tied them.  The big shocker came just a few days into kindergarten when my parents got a call from the school to let them know that Josh had tied his teacher's shoelaces together during reading time on the special carpet.  I couldn't believe it!  He knew how to tie his shoes all along and was doing this on purpose to get out of a few minutes of school! 
     He was in trouble at school everyday.  My dad would have to go pick him up, or the principal would paddle him.  How do you get suspended in kindergarten?  He was so bad!  His teacher would be teaching and realize Josh was missing.  He always found him over in the corner playing with his hot wheels.  Those were all confiscated.  His teacher had more of his hot wheels than he did by the end of the year.  Luckily that teacher had me the previous year so he didn't think my parents were complete idiots.   My first grade teacher got Josh the year after she had me as well.  He had gotten worse over the Summer though.  He actually got suspended more than he was at school that year.  They wouldn't hold him back because nobody wanted him in their class.  When recess was over he would (amazingly enough) tie his shoes together and throw them up on the roof of the school to get out of going back to class.  But not before his teacher caught him peeing on the fence and throwing spit wads on the bathroom ceiling.  She finally had enough and transferred him to the most militant 1st grade teacher ever.  Even she was no match for Josh.  When she told him what to do, he just grabbed his crotch, flipped her off, and said, "Right here lady!".
     Summer time was interesting with him around.  The Summer after first grade in particular.  While he was riding his bike my dog Smokey was chasing him.  I kept pleading with him to be careful but he ended up running my dog's tail over.  Within a week the tail fell off and I had to bury it in the backyard.  We had a little dog tail funeral for it.  My dog looked weird after that. 
     We were always out playing in the desert.  We came across a huge hole in the ground.  Probably 8 foot deep and 8 foot wide.  Immediately we thought we'd hit the jackpot and would have the best fort in town.  Then we saw a huge stash of porn.  I was out of there...quick.  I later found out Josh had hung around.  When one of my parents was putting away his laundry they found a stash of porn in his dresser!  A few days later he got upset about something and said he was running away.  We didn't believe him.  The parents figured he was hiding out in the back of the truck and tried to water hose him out of it.  When that didn't happen they had a look and realized he really was gone.  It took my Dad some time to find him.  He hid in a bush when he saw him coming.   Dad pulled over and went in the bush and came out with Josh in one hand and a teddy bear and a pillowcase full of hot wheels (no pillow) in the other.  I guess when it came down to it, he thought he'd only need his hot wheels to live. 
     I remember we would watch E.T. almost every night.  And every night I would have to walk him to his room, turning every light on along the way, tuck him in, and then shut the lights out when I left.  He was so afraid of that alien! 
     We were riding our bikes down the road one day and Josh turned and flipped off a guy driving past.  The guy followed us home and told on us. 
     Josh wanted to race me to see who was faster.  So we hopped the fence and took off.  I was winning and turned to look at him right as my tail-less dog ran in front of me and tripped me causing me to roll under a car, smacking the exhaust pipe, and breaking my leg and ankle.  At least Josh ran for help.  That began our days of sitting on the couch together eating Kool-Aid ice cubes and listening to Alvin and the chipmunks on cassette tape.  When we got bored with that we would fight over whether we were going to watch, Teenage Mutant Ninja Turtles, or Jem and the holograms.  A kid in the neighborhood had the coolest bike, everyone wanted a turn on that thing.  Josh got his turn first and then brought me the bike.  He had failed to tell me the bike had no brakes.  I was hauling ass down the street, and went to stop right before the end of my road, where I would enter a busy intersection.  I quickly figured out myself, the bike had no brakes, and rolled straight through the intersection.  Luckily, I didn't get run over, but I still couldn't stop.  So I kept going until the only place to land was directly into the fence approaching quickly in front of me.  I smashed into that and flew off the bike.  Thanks Josh. 
     Josh woke up one day and his eyes were stuck shut.  I think it was from eye cheese.  Looking back on it I don't know why he was stuck like that all day.  I would have put a warm rag on it if I was the adult.  I had to help him eat and everything.  It was kind of fun taking care of his blind butt. 
     I used to make him chase his shoe all the time.  I wish you could all see it.  He would throw his shoe across the room and then, like a dog, he would run after it and go crazy with it, then do it all over again.  It was hilarious!  It was all fun and games until he decided to get himself a 5 finger discount from Sam's Market, the local convenience store, and my parents made him turn himself in.  Hope the gum was worth it!   
     Just before we were teenagers we moved to stupid, freezing West Virginia.  We started school and it didn't take him long to make a name for himself.  I remember one day in particular.  A kid at school had jumped off the swings and broken both of his arms.  I knew this because when he came back to school the principal made him spend his recess holding a sign that said that's how he broke his arms.  The same day the kid was holding the sign, Josh got suspended for calling a little lady 'chocolate girl'.  Now don't go getting all upset about it.  I think it was probably more of a compliment in is eyes cause I think he liked her.  In case you didn't figure it out, this is when I started calling him Vanilla.
     There was a time Josh brought one of his friends home and they were watching wrestling.  I just simply commented on how fake it was and this kid burst into tears!  He had no idea it wasn't real.  I had no idea why Josh would want to be friends with a big cry baby. 
     Vanilla was constantly getting me into fist fights.  He would be a punk and I would beat people up so he wouldn't get beat up.  I have no memory how many times that happened.  I lost count.  I am my brother's keeper.  Any time my parents left the house I'd have to hurry up and lock all the gas cans in my bedroom because I always caught him and his friends huffing gas.  Another time my parents left, Josh and I decided to go through the house and gather a bunch of stuff to have a yard sale.  We laid it in the yard on a tarp, but found ourselves thinking we needed some advertisement.  So I sent Josh to the end of our street to scream YARD SALE every time a car drove past.  There is a video of this somewhere, and it's a great one.  A lot like the video I shot of him making his own music video to Salt N Peppa's "whatta man", it's a must see!
     In the top five funniest things I remember was when I was rudely awakened from my sleep early one morning by my neighbor yelling.  I looked out the window and saw that the guy was walking up and down our street yelling, "I know who did this you son of a bi***!  I'm gonna F***ing kill you, you sick bast**d for putting Sh** in my mailbox!"   I knew immediately it was Josh, rolled over, and went back to sleep.  When I woke up Josh told me I was right.  He pooped and put it right in our neighbors mailbox.  And not in a bag either, he just stuck it in there.  This wasn't his first rodeo with poop, He left it in places like the Library book drop off slot, the handles of the UPS truck, and our neighbors porches.
      As we got a little older Josh's voice started to crack when he talked.  I told him that he was going through puberty.   He didn't know what puberty was.  Of course I'm not just going to tell him!  I made him guess, and then try to figure it out by putting it into sentences.  I wish I had it on video because I know I let that go on for a solid 20 minutes, laughing the whole time.  But the only sentence I can recall is, "I slam dunked the puberty!".  Soon after that I woke up one morning and found him sleeping on the couch.  I figured this was my chance and slapped some bright blue and pink eyeshadow on him, some blush and some lipstick.  Then woke him up and asked him to go outside (and clear down our street and across the main road)  to check the mail.  I watched him the whole way, waving to the neighbors.  He had no idea he looked like a drag queen!  It was one of the coolest ideas I'd ever had.
     Being the responsible child I never got up late for school.  Josh was late everyday, and I mean everyday.  In fact I had to get up early just to have time to try to get him out of bed.  I got him up because my Dad threatened to make him walk to school if he was late.  I don't know exactly how far it was, but I took a cab home from track practice once and it cost 23 dollars, so the school wasn't close.  Then the day came.  The day I woke up late for school.  Guessing yet?  Yep, my Dad told us to start walking.  I was so mad!  My Dad always tried to be a fair man, but this???  So we started walking.  About a mile into the walk I convinced Josh we should just hide under a bridge until school was out, then walk back home.  Of course it didn't take much convincing.  There was only one bridge so we climbed under it.  We should have kept walking.  The underneath of this bridge was lay down  or curl up room only.  We were smashed all day long, and had to ration our lunches like we were on Survivor.  We walked home when the first bus rolled by, and my Dad asked of if we went.  I guess I didn't plan ahead for him interrogating us.  So in the end we fessed up and realized we wasted a whole day of our lives squatting under a bridge. 
     We got a little older and some idiot at the DMV actually passed my brother on his driver's test.  I'm positive the DMV has to regret that decision.  Of course I didn't want to ride with him.  I was forced one day when my family was invited to dinner at someones home.  We got there and immediately the old lady that lived there starting hitting on my brother...and she took it way to far.  Then she got sloppy drunk and started fighting with everybody.  It was crazy, and nobody was saying anything.  So I finally said, "Screw this, I'm leaving.".  Two cars, my parent's- who weren't leaving, and Josh's- who couldn't wait to leave.  I knew Josh would likely kill us, but I had to get out of there.  By 2 miles into the ride, I was sincerely scared for my life and told him he better pull over and let me drive or I'd kick his a**.   I have NEVER ridden with him since, and that was 11 years ago.  And I never will, since I don't have a death wish.  Without exaggerating he has probably had 20 cars and wrecked or blown up every last one.  And I'm pretty sure he has blamed a deer every time.  I don't think there is hope for him. 
     I saved the best for last.  When Josh was in 5th grade, as was expected, he refused to do well in school.  He used every last available resource to get out of doing anything, including even showing up.  He never once did his homework, and he probably spent most of his time in school with a hall pass so he could go clog up the toilets.  I never expected what happened, and to me it proved he was actually pretty smart.  Apparently, he was telling all his teacher's that his mom was handicapped and wheelchair bound.  He said his life was really hard for him because he had to take care of her all the time, so it was hard for him to concentrate in school, and it was impossible for him to do homework.  No joke, that actually worked for some time.  Then it all came crashing down when his mom showed up to parent/teacher conference day and introduced herself.  The teacher just looked at her and said, "Where's your wheelchair?".  Haha!  Well Vanilla, you had a good run while it lasted! (love you Vanilla)