Meet Frank

At the Boys and Girls club we are making "all about me" journals. Each day I give them a page they get to fill out and color.

This is what sweet little 6-year-old Frank turned in:



Me too Frank, me too.

T is for Texting

I now know what is feels like for someone who has herpes.

Every time I tell someone I don't have text messaging, they look at me like I have herpes.
Complete disgust, confusion and parental disappoint covers their faces.
After my confession I feel so dirty and ashamed.
Why I don't have text messaging:

• I am too cheap to pay for it. $20 a month to send people little love notes?
  
• I don't even like communicating with other people.
• My phone bothers me enough. I am not responsible enough to remember it all the time and am the WORST when it comes to calling people back. It's not personal, I ignore everyone equally.
• Then my work can get a hold of me easier. No thanks.

It basically comes down to the fact that I just don't want to pay for it.
Stop looking at me like I'm all Herpetic*. amen.

*disease infested

Embarrassing Deliverance

Last Thursday was one of the worst days of my life.

I woke up to horrible cramps that made me drop more than a few obscenities. I thought maybe I had a monster ovarian cyst again but then I remembered I hadn't pooped in 5 days.

Constipation is of the devil. I thought I was about to give birth to the King of Darkness himself. If you have ever been that constipated you know what I'm talking about. Every time I moved my intestines freaked out so I stayed in fetal position crying "mommy" for over 2 hours.

Having never had 5 days worth of turds stuck in my intestines I called my Doctor in a panic. I had to explain my ailment to 3 different people before they let me talk to the nurse. Reiterating my butt issues to strangers was the last thing I wanted to do.

The nurse suggested I go buy some enemas, suppositories or mineral oil. However this would require me actually going to the store. I went through a mental list of people I could call for emergency butt supplies. I was such a mess I decided no one should witness me in this condition. I was going to venture to Rite Aid alone.

In my pajamas, I put on a hoodie, sunglasses and Nikes. I walked carefully to the car. I arrived at Rite Aid and wondered around for butt supplies. I was walking like I was holding a quarter between my butt cheeks. This took so much concentration I began to sweat.

I asked the pharmacist where I could find stuff to get 5 days worth of poop out of my body, she pointed to isle 3. She did not appreciate my wit when I asked her if Rite Aid sold pick-axes.

I bought every butt supply available. Enemas, suppositories, mineral oil, Metamucil, laxative, stool softener. Anything that had to do with butts I was going to buy. I wanted a full arsenal of weapons to use on my buttocks.

I got home and suspiciously eyed my purchases. I needed something that would work fast. The enemas promised to work in 5-15 minutes, but I was skeptical about putting that much liquid in my bum. It looked like the suppositories were going to be the best option.

Now, I was terrified of putting something in my butt. I didn't grow up in that kind of household. But, I was also terrified of my entire body filling up with dookie and eventually choking on it.

Shaking my head in shame I inserted it. I don't know what was worse: the fact that I put something in my butt on purpose or the fact that it wasn't that bad. I struggled to wait 15 minutes like the package suggested. I waddled to the toilet and recited positive affirmations. "Soft serve ice cream, dump trucks, etc."

Finally, deliverance. Embarrassing deliverance.

P.S. If anyone needs constipation relief, my arsenal is full.

Maple Pee

A couple days ago I woke up to my bathroom and bedroom smelling like maple syrup and pee. The only logical conclusion was that I was peeing maple syrup at night.

I remembered that I once heard someone saying if you smell like maple syrup then you might have diabetes. After 2 hours of intense WebMD research I figured I probably didn't have diabetes. Good thing because I do not want to spend my Sephora budget on insulin.

Then..... the next morning I smelt it again! I am obsessed with the way things smell and do not want my house smelling like a diabetic urinater lives there. I had to get to the bottom of this.

I asked Jared if he could smell it. He mentioned that he just thought I was on an eggo waffle binge again.

But then....he remembered that the girl who rents our basement apartment burns candles 24 hours a day. We called her and asked her if we could go turn her candle off. Jared went around to her door and blew out her pear-maple-pee-spice candle.

Then my house smelled normal again. amen.

Porn for Dinner

Jared and I took a romantic trip for two.

Cruises are a great vacation for many reasons, but the never-ending parade of buffet food is one of the best. At night you get a little dressed up and go to the dining room for amazing dinners.

Food is included in the cost of the cruise. Unashamed, Jared usually orders 2-3 appetizers and 2-3 entrees. I have better self-control and only order 1-2 of each thing.

We are determined not to let social etiquette get in our way of eating like rabid dogs. When other cruise donkeys give us stink eyes for beating the system, we let our mouths foam up a little and growl at them. It works out rather nicely.

Jared likes to try the "exotic" options on the nights menu. This is what the waiter brought him:

A vagina?

I thought "exotic" referred to something like escargot or munudo, not crotch.

What if there were kids at the table??? How was I to be sure that is had been cooked properly and all the STD's were killed??? Was I obligated to contact PETA??? What is that suspicious looking red sauce???



Turns out they were frog legs..... boring. amen.