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    It’s all fun and games until you see it in print

    May 29, 2008

    So there was this little review post I did about the Malibu. Remember that? I was funny.

    Mary from Automotive News called me a few weeks ago and wanted to discuss my trip. GM’s courtship of the blogger, blah, blah, blah.

    My husband gets nervous when I do any kind of interview. His motto is “get off the phone as soon as possible.” Except the one thing he has forgotten? I’m being interviewed about something stupid I have already said that is now forever immortalized on the internet. So I’m gonna have to say that ship has already sailed. I never reread the post before I did the interview and I was on my way to a show when Mary interviewed me. I was driving the truck. Without a headset. And probably with my knee so I could hold the phone with one hand and change the radio station with the other.

    As I read the article today,  I breathed a sigh of relief.  I had said several coherent things like “GM understands we are living in a world where social media are extremely important.” Except I’m positive I said “social media is” instead of “social media are” because “are” doesn’t sound right to me. It’s “is” right? Anyway, I plod through the article and realize that I may have gotten out unscathed. There’s even this AWESOME picture of me and Kelly in the trunk, taken by our most favorite Vicky.

    Mocha and Cocktail in the trunk

    Until I see the insert with the screen shot of the blog. And a quote from my Malibu review. And my heart stops. Because I’m going to be handed divorce papers over this one.

    There it is in Automotive News.

    “I think I looked ‘HOT’ driving it. I would definitely allow my husband to accost me on the hood.”

    My husband? He’s a bit of a shy guy. While he may be all up in my grill about accosting me on the hood, he’s less of a talk and more of an action kinda guy. I called him to tell him I found the article online. And then I broke the accosting news to him. As happy as he was to read it the first time when probably only 10 other random people read it, I braced myself.

    D: You. You are a funny girl.
    K: At least I didn’t say I would definitely let Keanu Reeves accost me on the hood.

    Keanu Reeves? WTH? In an effort to downplay the situation, I pulled Keanu Reeves out of thin air? Seriously? Seriously. Keanu Reeves. Tom Selleck would have been just as believable, just as non-threatening, but not repulsive. Keanu Reeves. Still reeling from the stupidity of that one.

    D: That’s true. What are your parents going to think of that comment?
    K: Hey, that accosting is within the bounds of holy matrimony. I HAVE to get a pass for that one.

    Keanu Reeves.

    On a cheerier note, tomorrow night is the big Mommy Needs a Sex and the City Happy Hour at Coastal Flats in Fairfax.  Starts around 7.  You should totally come, even if you don’t know me.  I’ll be fun.  I promise.  I mean, I did use the word “accost” in a product review.  How bad can I be?

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    Party like a rock star

    May 28, 2008

    Saturday we went to Jeannine’s house for a party with a band. That party ranked up there with the KA parties with the bands every Friday night back in college. Who even KNEW I could remember college, it has been so long ago. Anyway, we were there all of two milliseconds before The Baby realized that those buckets full of boxes? Those be JUICE BOXES. My mom looked at me with that questioning look as The Baby reached over and nearly fell into the drinks. She knows I’m a hard ass about juice boxes. Nate and his crackDon’t you love the box? “No Sugar Added.” Because the 79 grams of sugar that naturally occurs in apple juice is apparently enough.

    I’m going to say this amid eye rolling across the internet. My kids really do get jacked up on sugar. I’m sorry. I hate to say it. It’s like me on coffee. Even decaf and I’m clocking my mandatory daily 25,000 word allotment by 7:30 a.m. So we just try to avoid it. But it was a PARTY! With a BAND! Juice boxes for EVERYONE!

    Except he remembered where the bucket was. Every once in a while he would head on over to the bucket and fall in, face first. Someone would dig him out and hand him a juice box. This picture? This was his third. It doesn’t look like much to you, but I’m pretty sure he left actual fingerprints when we pried his hands off. And these two? I said, “Make your mean face.”

    The Boy and The Husband

    That would be about right. And thanks for all your comments on my brand new Mommy Needs a Business blog at Work It, Mom! Even you, Dad. Who has NEVER left a comment on any of my blogs. Thanks for the offer to beat the asshat up. That was a good one.

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    Because you can never run into too many idiots

    May 27, 2008

    Sunday and Monday I did another one of those crafty shows. I made a new BFF (Hi, ELLEN!!!), Wendy brought me Smart Food popcorn on her 7-Eleven run and I had a fabulous time.

    Instead of waxing poetic about the 9,999 people who “ooh’d” and “aaah’d” over the MNAC shirts, I would much rather tell you the story of the guy who said the wrong thing. I decided to write it over at my brand new Mommy Needs a Business blog at Work it, Mom! because, well, it seemed funnier over there than here. When Nataly asked if I would blog at Work It, Mom, I told her that I could only write there if I didn’t have to pretend that I have a FRIGGIN’ CLUE about what I am doing. So basically is all half-assed, all across the internet.

    So go over there to find the story. Just so you know, I left out the part about the much younger girlfriend who laughed at his comment. I left her out of the story because I too was once that girl who dated the guy who said the stupid things and I thought he was funny. Until I realized that one day he would be 43 and still trolling for chicks on Match because God forbid he ever become a grown up. She too will wake up one day and realize the error of her ways and marry the Nice Guy.

    Head on over to my new digs at Work it, Mom! to see exactly what I said to Prince Charming when he made smart ass comments about my Mommy Needs a Cocktail shirt. Go to my first post and leave a comment for a chance to win a MNAC tee or a My Mom Doesn’t Want your Advice tee. Just do it. Even if you don’t want the shirt. Not that it’s a CONTEST for attention or anything. I mean, it’s not like I asked you to vote for me on a reality show or anything.

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    He thinks my tractor’s sexy

    May 22, 2008

    When we moved into this house, The Husband was all, “I’m gonna need a BIG tractor to mow this lawn.”

    Little did I know that meant that I was going to need a big tractor to mow the lawn. If you are new to this blog, you haven’t yet experienced my hatred of all things related to outdoor lawn care. My first piece of real estate I purchased was a condo and it was a condo for a reason. A friend asked me why I wasn’t getting a townhouse with a cute little 3 feet by 3 feet front yard and a matching 3 X 3 back yard. Cause, people, I don’t want to mow that. Or in a case of a lawn that big, I don’t want to have to cut it with scissors twice a week in the spring.

    My husband? He would be delirious on a hundred acres. Except I missed the point that he just doesn’t want to be able to SEE anyone. It has nothing to do with the sprawling land or rolling hills. If there were some magic potion that would make your neighbor’s house disappear, I think The Husband would live on a 1/5 acre. So here we sit on 3+ acres, 1 of which is cleared with grass. I use the word “grass” loosely because to have grass, you have to get rid of the 2 feet of leaves stifling it from above. This grass? Never gets cut. When we moved in last year, the neighbors used to offer to cut it for us.

    I swear to God.

    Then we put up a fence and now it looks like we are growing it long for the horses we don’t have. It hit about 14 inches and went to seed. The Husband came home and said, “I think we should cut the grass today.”

    Last time I checked, that mower has one seat. We means, “I’ll cut the grass and you can continue to watch these animals everyone else calls ‘children,’ or you can mow the grass.”

    I kinda like to mow the grass. Sometimes it takes me hours. It’s either that or watch the kids. That, my friends, is what we like to refer to as a no-brainer. The Husband comes outside with the kids in various restraining devices and moves the lawn furniture around because he knows I’m just gonna run it over. Today he watched in disbelief as I barreled down the hill at about 10 miles a hour. It doesn’t seem that impressive because you haven’t seen the craters that form some sort of underground drainage system in my yard. I hit one and looked over to see the look of disbelief on his face when I got the tractor airborne. It was only for a brief second but I lifted my Sierra Nevada to him in salute and continued to sing along to the Cold Play blaring in my earphones. I whipped around on two wheels and found myself suddenly stuck. BOTH back wheels spinning in the dirt. I began to bounce up and down, trying to get traction and was forced to climb down and push it out of the hole.

    The Husband stood at the top of the hill with his mouth wide open. I think I saw a fly go in there. I waved again and I was off in a flash. Sure my days of high speed driving are gone, but every once in a while I can grab a little thrill on the tractor. Which does a great job drowning out the sound of crying kids.

    The Baby Crying

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    Mommy Needs a Wet T-shirt Contest

    May 21, 2008

    Today we spent yet another day in the car for most of the day. I don’t know why. We started out at CFFG’s office where The Baby proceeded to fill his diaper with a load that would make your eyes water. He then proceeded to toss the place with reckless abandon that would make a DEA agent proud. I’m trying to get this stuff shipped out and I look over to see him walking across the room with a Lite beer. There are so many things wrong with that picture beyond the fact that a 15 month old had a can of Lite beer in his hand. I mean, do I have to break up with these people for drinking Lite beer? I would sooner pass on beer altogether than drink a Lite. I put it back and then I turned my back.

    When I turned back around, he had taken the entire contents of her desk and dumped it on the floor. The shredder was tipped over and he was sipping from a previously unseen McDonald’s cup. I shoved everything back into her desk and left, hoping for the best.

    7 errands later and we rolled into the drive about 2 minutes before The Husband (and the rain).

    TB: DadDadDadDad. We should go for a BIKE RIDE.

    You would think that rain would hinder someone but NO.

    D: Sounds like fun. Let’s ALL go on a bike ride.

    I looked at The Baby. He looked at me. I normally don’t ask his opinion about anything because, frankly, he’s a baby and I don’t speak his language. I decided to give it a stab.

    K: Nate, do you want to go for a ride in the stroller?

    Emphatic head shake “NO.” Hmm.

    K: Nate, what do you want to do?

    With that he reached up with his chubby little hand and grasped mine. He began to pull me out the door and onto the back porch. We walked across and he pointed to that damn trailer.

    K: Nate, do you want to go on a bike ride in the trailer?

    Emphatic head shake “YES.” Who friggin’ knew the kid understood what we were talking about and could communicate? I thought about asking him for lottery picks but that seemed a little shallow. We loaded up on our respective bikes and off we went. Did I mention it was raining?

    The funny thing about riding a bike in the rain? It kinda feels like being stabbed repeatedly with a fondue fork all over your body. I may have mentioned that it felt like sleet. By now The Baby is yelling because I keep trying to put that flap down to protect him from the rain but he can’t see. So he’s pissed. My t-shirt is soaked and now the cold wind is wooshing through that empty space under my bra where my boobs used to be before I weaned The Baby. If I actually owned ANOTHER bra, I would wear it. But the nice thing about the oversized bra? I now have a place to put my keys, my wallet, my cell phone and snacks for the kids. And a couple of drinks, now that I think about it. I put the trailer flap back up and The Baby screams from the pelting rain. Put it back down, screams again.

    The Boy? Taking a leisurely ride up the street, discussing the various plants and animals. Rain? I don’t see no stinking rain.

    The Zug is collecting money for a friend in need who needs a new computer.  Check it out over here.  Even a couple of dollars can help. 

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    I just thought I would have a few more years before he mouthed off

    May 20, 2008

    There are certain things you never anticipate as a mother. People tell you, tell you, tell you, ad nauseum, how it’s going to be and you’re all “blah, blah, blah” and don’t listen to a thing. Things you don’t anticipate…..

    The other day I’m driving down the road with my entire family in the car and I missed my turn. I cursed under my breath. Nothing exciting. Just a “dammit.” And then the commentary from the back seat begins.

    TB: Mom. Mom. Mom. You were supposed to go LEFT! Not right.

    Mind you, I haven’t verbalized my intended directions. People, can I just tell you that when you pass a fifteen and a half inch head out of your vagina (and need I mention the unmedicated 22 stitches), you really don’t anticipate your THREE YEAR OLD giving you driving guidance. I looked at The Husband.

    K: What the hell?
    D: (ever literal) I mean, he is kinda right. You were supposed to go right back there.
    K: But do I need it from him? (yelling into the back seat) DO I NEED IT FROM YOU?
    TB: Mom. I’m just saying you should have gone right. That’s all.
    The Baby: MOM!
    K: Heaven forbid we don’t just all stick together AGAINST me.
    TB: Mom. You just should have gone right.
    K: FINE!!!

    Then it was today. We were in the car for like 19 hours running errands and going here and there. I had to run home to get my checkbook to pay for the organic food that is actually coming TOMORROW and The Baby is crying and they are arguing over a cup of milk in the back seat.

    TB: MomMomMomMom. Where are we going?
    K: We have to go home to pick up a check book.
    TB: MomMomMomMom. Can I watch Diego while you look for your check book?
    K: Um, NO.
    TB: MOM!! I haven’t seen Diego ALL DAY.
    K: That’s a bummer.
    TB: MOM!! It’s gonna take you a LONG time to find your check book.

    Out of the mouths of babes.

    K: No it’s not, smart mouth.
    TB: So where are we going to be?
    K: You are gonna wait in the car.
    TB: Mom. It’s not safe for boys to stay in the car.

    I cannot pay the kid to remember where his shoes are but I tell him it’s not safe for boys to stay in the car when he asks at the Post Office and suddenly he’s pulling it out on me.

    But I’m not biting.

    K: You are staying in the car. We live in the middle of nowhere, I’m walking right in the door and picking up the check book and walking right back out. I’m gonna lock you in.

    He groaned. And I locked him in the car. 3 seconds later I was back in.

    TB: You KNOW, Mom, it’s not safe for boys to be left in the car.
    K: Pipe down. It’s not like I left you in a double parked car in Midtown with the keys in the ignition and the motor running while I ran into StarSucks for a triple mocha latte skim. Now that? That would have been unsafe for everyone.

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