Category Archives: Escapades with AE

Paid Family Leave, Bitch Please.


I cannot believe how many women are anti paid family leave. I don’t care how fiscally conservative you are, would you rather fund unemployment, disability and supplemental Medicaid?   Would you prefer to have people stressed and behind on their payments because they’re missing 12-15% of their annual income?  Of all things to protest the government being involved in, you’re going with this?!  And no, Rainbow Bright, it will not results in less women to being hired because paid FAMILY leave actually levels the playing field in terms of how we treat parents as it applies to *both* men and women and both natural and adoptive births.   Traditional self-funded leave does not and considering women actually give birth, it’s generally considered their problem.  There’s more room for discrimination and wage gaps without this bill as is today, specifically targeting against women who “breed”.  Women’s rights activists  often argue any sexuality a woman chooses to own is relevant and should be supported,  “my body, my choice” and many of these same women are judgmental and insulting toward women who do the one thing only a woman can and become mothers.  The same women applauding abortion stories as empowering and losing their ever living minds because Hobby Lobby didn’t offer a full menu of free birth control options to their employees are are rolling their eyes so hard they tear a retina over the self-imposed financial implications of a pregnancy that results in an actual child you bring home and keep. They’ll stand in solidarity against bullying and H8 as they should but can’t support the mental health, recovery care and bonding between new parents and their children?   And if one more person says “if you decided to have a family, you should just plan ahead, you don’t deserve a paycheck for free”, …first of all…planning doesn’t guarantee desired outcomes EVER and in fact planning fails often enough there’s a Plan B available for free in the united states thanks to those who fought the good fight in the war on women…they also earned the right to define “women’s issues” politically as those having to do with ending and preventing pregnancy as if women get pregnant on accident by their own damn selves and as if foreign policy, fiscal policy, social issues and legislature is other than a “woman’s” issue.  Thanks ladies.  

It’s well documented we the people need a free Plan B.  Not to mention, if you’re proposing that women have 9 months to prepare their personal finances to accommodate a 6 week medical leave and that’s plenty of time to get their shit together than SURELY a business could use that 9 months to plan ahead as well.  The idea that a business is going to go bankrupt because one employee takes a known, scheduled leave for a couple of weeks is completely irrational, there are businesses in this country that don’t even turn a profit and keep their doors open.  Honestly, it turns out that it’s actually A LOT cheaper to pay 45% of someone’s gross income in addition to a full salary for a temp replacement during a 6 week vacancy than it would be to absorb employee attrition and have to source, hire and onboard a replacement.  Exponentially so. In fact, it probably will cost an average company less than 10% more than the regular salary during a 6 week period to pay the leave and the temp wage concurrently and new mothers are more likely to re-enter the workforce after a paid leave than an unpaid leave.  That means paid family leave is a good INVESTMENT, if you’re paying attention and if a business cannot absorb that minuscule of a POSSIBLE fluctuation in operating expenses for the short duration of 1/3 a quarter then they have absolutely no business running a business in the first place.  If you feel like I’m talking to you, I’d recommend hiring a new mother to help you find your P&L risks, excess spending and losses, ballin’ on a budget, it’s a naturally acquired skill just like communicating imminent death with only a pointer finger and a mom stare.

Most reasonable people are in favor of women who’ve just given birth taking care of themselves and their new child and MOST people can understand that a father should have the right to bond with his child and take care of his recovering wife in the days after such an event…. BUT, if you’re not one of those people then you better bring your A game in the comments.  This political season has been a snooze-fest for those of us who don’t debate public policy via penis size or a candidate’s competency based on their smile to tone ratio so I haven’t really had the time or inclination to talk to people about their ideas until they realize they’re wrong.  Until now.

In the meantime, I’m curious as to how long it usually takes for for planned parenthood to comment on legislature affecting uterus owners and occupiers because tick tock ladies! The longer you say nothing the more you’re looking like Kris Jenner not supporting Rob’s engagement based on moral grounds…which is to say, you look like an asshole.

PS – If you have decided to not contribute to the over population of the earth and/or if you love your unborn children so much you can’t bare the thought of inflicting the angst of the human condition upon them in this cruel and unjust world,  I know how busy you are commenting on every single post on Facebook about this topic so I’m just going to comment for you below to show my support for yours and Darwin’s mission to eliminate your Veruca Salt genes from the population.  Thank you for being selfless and self-centered.   You’re welk.

“This is another example of the ENTITLEMENT generation, I’m so glad I’ve chosen to love my future child enough to not have one, I can’t imagine bringing a child into a world that’s over populated by children and their trophies.  Seriously, you think you deserve to get paid for NOT working just because you’ve procreated?  Like you didn’t even participate but we’ll give you a participation pay check?  What about single, childless people, are they given the same treatment or  just because I chose to not have a kid means I don’t deserve a special 6 week paid vacation?  That’s not fair, this is a violation of my rights and I feel discriminated against for not identifying as a parent to a human child. My family still matters, I deserve paid family leave too.”

Note:  Claiming you deserve paid family leave just because someone else gets it is the very definition of entitlement which you’re obviously opposed to.  Out of respect for your right to experience disappointment in life, we’re sure you’ll agree paid family leave should exist for everyone but you.  You’re right and you’re welk.

There’s a special place in hell for women who support other women only when it benefits them.


How I really feel about THAT mascara & why you’re invited to my party…

Just like you guys probably received this morning, I woke up one morning to a FB notification that said I’ve been added to a LASH BASH Facebook Party for 3D Fiber Mascara, this was about a week and a half ago.  At that particular moment I rolled my eyes so hard I nearly detached a retina.  Are you effing kidding me?  How are they adding me to these parties without my consent and what happened to a good old fashioned RSVP?  It used to be bullying if you didn’t invite someone but now it’s bullying if you decide not to go.  So, you’re just auto-included because groups are not exclusionary, invitations are.

Anyway, I actually did need a refill of my 3D mascara so I decided to go to the party page to see who was hosting it.  These parties are all the same, I’m invited to buy something and whatever I spend goes toward the hostess’s rewards which are usually free gifts.  So, given the choice I’d rather spend $30 when buying from someone who would appreciate it.  In this case it was a girlfriend from college who is actually very sweet and she’s pregnant with her first child so I decided I’d spend $100.  I think makeup makes you feel beautiful and always fits always no matter what weight you gain in your belly or booty, so I wanted to help her reach her goal (she looks beautiful by the way!)  Plus, I assumed not many people would be buying the mascara, doesn’t everyone already have it?

A couple of days later I noticed I was getting a notification every time someone posted in the lash bash group, whether I knew that person or not… this would have probably been pretty annoying but I honestly don’t mind getting notifications about conversations going on that have absolutely nothing to do with me.  Sometimes my best friend sends me text screenshots between her and people I’ve never even met and like any other BFF, I give her my opinion on these people’s life choices.  It’s called being a good friend.

I was notified each time the hostess/Presenter thanked the people who bought from the party and literally like three dozen people bought something in the first couple of days.  Was there a sudden influx of Amish refugees to Facebook?  Because if you’ve been exposed to WiFi and Facebook, how could you NOT know about 3D Lashes?

I eaves dropped long enough to come up with a theory.  Younique 3D Fiber Mascara is pretty much the ice bucket challenge of multilevel marketing on Facebook. Blah, blah those wraps, blablabla, well you know what not everyone wants to diet or drink green powders or wear face masks in the name of physical fitness okay but EVERYONE wants to save the boobies, find a cure for ALS and provide a solution to the bald eye ball.  It’s universal humanity. It’s just the right thing to do.

According to my local Subway, ice water is pretty much free so the ALS challenge is an easy bandwagon to hop on but when it comes to becoming an Eyelid Activist, spilling a drink on yourself or on a friend who happens to be wearing falsies in the bar might wash off a set of glued on spider legs but that’s about as impactful as it gets. To be an effective Lash-tivist (I’m trademarking that) you actually have to pledge at least $29 to join the fight against random girls winking at EVERYONE in the club involuntarily because their eye lid is tragically glued shut.  Your financial contribution will also prevent early morning Lisa “Left Eye” house fires by making sure you and your loved ones are one less lonely girl waking up with a hangover and text messages you’re afraid to read with a spider adhered to your pillowcase…although the only way to kill a spider is a blazing inferno, which I’m willing to bet would be a solid defense strategy, usually it’s just a displaced eyelash from your sleep of shame and in that case arson is frowned upon pretty much always.  I think it’s a felony, but let’s not pursue the specifics of temporary insanity, k?   And lastly, boycotting false lashes will send a message to adhesive manufacturers from sea to shining sea letting let them know that their labels are bullshit. Fuck GMO’s okay I’m pretty sure if there’s no pumpkin in the pumpkin spice latte then I’m drinking a chemical experiment and I’m fine with that because at least it’s honest. You know what’s not honest? People who make their Facebook Status’s locked to unknown people.  I always want to know who they’re hiding from. What else isn’t honest? The unfair business practice of skin safe super glues taking advantage of the fact that just because I put their glue on the one spot on my whole entire body that I cannot actually see for myself, mirror or not, they claim said glue dries CLEAR which technically means “not visible to the naked eye”. Well that’s freaking odd because my eye is not naked if there’s a synthetic strip of hair glued to the hood and all other eyes who view this add-on falsie on my face are able to see RUBBER CEMENT EYELINER above my lash line and below my smudged smokey eyeliner.  I don’t even have to be close enough to hear them talking shit and they can see it, under fluorescent lighting I’m sure it glows like Hillary Duff’s veneers.  All we need to do is just walk past one black light and “invisible when dry” or “dries clear” means white as deodorant marks and invisible like toothpaste spots in a bathroom selfie. If you’re buying false eyelashes of any kind, you’re contributing to the problem. Take a good look in your bathroom mirror, see white spots?  Get some Windex and own your splatter.  Does this picture look familiar?  Admitting you have a problem is the first step.

If you think a girl’s night out glue on is a pain in the ass, let me tell you about extensions.  As an eye lash extension survivor (2011, My Wedding),  I endured 6 hours of individual lash application over 3 individual sessions during a 2 week period.  A normal person with nothing better to do could probably bang this type of thing out in like 2.5 hours but complications from my ADD/the fact that I was planning a wedding got in the way. Needless to say there were scheduling conflicts, personality conflicts, conflicts of interest (I was no longer interested) and conflicts with my mom because what’s new? Not only did I subject myself to fidgeting/blinking/sneezing/pee emergencies and a long term commitment with a stranger who was dangerously close to my eye ball with chemicals and small tweezers, I paid to have this happen.  I’m rounding up to 6 hours but I’m not exactly sure about session number 2 because I took a potty break and then ran away (I don’t even know why, probably because of some emotional outburst I was due to have and not in the mood for, you know, #BrideProblems) this made session #3 a little awkward but I was getting a weave in my eyelashes…is anything other than awkward a legit option? I had false lashes, not false expectations.

All in all I paid $280 in cash money and the equivalent of getting my period in public in loss of human dignity/self-respect. Not to mention, the fumes of the glue used for this process felt exactly what I imagine it feels like to be Pepper Sprayed. I don’t know for sure but I burped jalapeno my entire 3rd trimester so I know what peppers in my face feel like so just trust me.  In fact, speaking of shady labels Elle Woods would object to, this eyeball glue was labeled HYPOALLERGENIC.  I actually can’t argue that because I believe it really was “hypoallergenic” but only because every orifice of my face watered so much that any allergen/irritant was flushed away before it had a chance to bother me.

Paying a technician to skillfully mace you in the face while you lie perfectly still is probably something most women would consider, it’s not far stretch from a Brazilian Wax and the guarantee of luscious, long, dark eye lashes for an entire sunnies season is pretty promising.  The reality is, I ended up getting 15 wishes per day due to lash shed for a solid 5 weeks…female pattern eyelash baldness is really hideous by the way and I was back to wearing falsies by my honeymoon. “Human hair bonded to your own lashes for a natuaral look”. K, liar.

Confession: I’ve never tried Latisse but I know the warning label includes blindness.  I’m familiar with what gluing one-eyed shut does to my quality of life so I’m just not even willing to entertain loss of sight.  Plus, I wouldn’t even know for sure that I didn’t look like an asshole after all that.  I don’t recommend this option, but consult with your doctor if you’re suddenly into risk taking behavior.

K, back to my point…I promise there was one.  I’m here to tell you that 3D Fibers mascara replaces ALL of the above L’issues with better

results, consistently and in less than 5 seconds and you’ve been invited to a Facebook 3D Fiber Lashes Party because I care about you (or someone I know does) and you deserve better.  You deserve to go anywhere you want in any little black dress with BOTH eyeballs wide open (or whatever is reasonably expected based on your BAC).  You should be able to get drunk and scream “turn down for what!” like it actually means something without hearing the little voice inside your head (or your bitch friend) saying something to the effect of, “Turn down your lid is what some rubber cement did honey, you can’t turn up cause it’s glued shut…Just saying, no offense”.

Real friends don’t make light of eye-patch problems.  I’m the kind of friend that would realize you’re talking to me from across the room with your right eye but your left eye is accidentally winking at some dude.  Instead of embarrassing you, I’d request the song by Third Eyed Blind that no one knows the words to and you could read my lips while I tell you to get ready to escape this creeper.  Then I’d request Drake, “I’ve got my eyes on you”, to clue you in as soon as the creeper became mobile and in pursuit of that fine ass followed by “Eyes Closed” by Kanye West so you know there only way to get out of this situation is with absolutely NO eye contact with the creeper and then I’d follow that up with “I see you baby, shaking that ass” (shaking that lash) just to make you feel better about looking like a pretty pirate with Tourette’s while you walk away from the perp.

But, I can’t always be your seeing eye wingman.  I also haven’t requested a song in a bar since 2006. Luckily with 3D Mascara you dont’ have to worry. One payment of $29 gets you a three month supply of 3D Fibers. That’s less than 30 cents a day.  Yes, this is the same amount of money it takes to save Sarah McLachlan’s pets and your false eye lashes look just like one of them except glued to your face. It’s sad. Seriously.

In the EYES of an angel…

How can you be sure it’s right for you? If you have a face and a vagina you fall into one of the following categories:

  1. You need to buy Younique 3D Mascara
  2. You need to buy Younique 3D Mascara AGAIN (because trying it any not loving it is not a realistic option).

In closing I’d like to just say THANK YOU for shopping my party and helping me earn hostess rewards, I’ll be giving these to friends as Christmas gifts because I happen to own enough make up to choke RuPaul. If you’ve ever helped me poke my own self in the eye while applying falsies (Becca, ahem) I’m not saying our time together wasn’t special and I’ll never forget those special moments but I’ve simply moved on. Just know that every time my daughter pokes me in the eye, I’ll think of you. Every time you apply your 3D mascara, don’t think of me…think of this bitch and then text me and thank me that you’re not her.

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You’re welk! Shop here–>

I wrote this blog for my brother…

ALL THE FEELS: Today marks the end of a very special time in Isla’s life. For the past year I’ve worked without worry, knowing that Isla was either in the next room over or at home while I was away, being cared for by someone who loves her…her uncle Tim, my little brother, our live in manny.

Now this is the story all about how
His life got flipped turned upside down
And I’d like to take a minute , just sit right there
I’ll tell you how he became legit
known, “Manny of the Year” ….

{My brother served in Iraq and Afghanistan for 4 years before coming home to finish his undergrad.  My husband and I were expecting, he needed a place to live and go to school and we had a guest bedroom.  We needed a nanny with a flexible schedule because we both work long hours in high pressure careers.  We needed someone who remained calm under pressure, adapted easily to changes in schedules and wasn’t intimidated by a fragile infant’s assplosion…my brother needed flexible work hours, had experience in combat and sneak attack explosions….one year ago we hired him.}

On the first day back to work I only cried for a brief moment thanks to him saying “wtf is wrong with you? Get your shit together before you eff up that shit on your face (mascara), I’ll text you as often as you want just stop crying, it’s making me uncomfortable”.

From then on I got video, picture and text updates every hour letting me know Isla was listening to 70’s rock anthems, eating “balanced as fuck” healthy meals, wearing a Mohawk in the bath tub or wearing pre-planned outfits that “are a bitch to put on” and “should be fucking Velcro because baby buttons are as useful as a shit flavored lollipop”.

Even though “bows are going to deform her huge ass head and make her look like her mom smokes crack”, she wore a bow every-time they left the house….and he wore tattoos, a beard and a “Keep Calm and Chive on” T shirt. I thought about using the app I wrote to track his speed and location when he went out with Isla but based on the pics of them together I knew he’d get mistaken for an Amber Alert if he went over the speed limit. I’m not joking.

I got to know their schedule without location-based tracking. From 7-10 am and 1-3 pm she was sleeping soundly on the chest of “the very best friend that anyone could have” watching geek cult movies that have their own annual conventions or How I Met Your Mother reruns. Who needs a nanny cam when your nanny uses your Netflix account? I got email alerts.

In between couch naps was epic meal time, gross high chairs and gross motor skills. Manny Poppins taught Isla how to walk, how to say her name, how to say “Tttttteh” instead of his name, how to sniff like a bunny, fist pound, high-five and how to dance to the music that Tipper Gore tried to ban from television. I think they’ve both loved their time together equally.

Every day I left the house I said, “Take care of my girl”. It became a habit and then a superstition.

Most days my manny replied “I will” automatically. But some days my little brother said “Shut the F up, you’re so annoying it’s 6 am don’t talk to me, I know what to do, just leave, SHH NOPE. I’m giving her beer and cigarettes for breakfast. Same thing she had yesterday. Bye. Bye. BYE!”

Not in my house, not under my roof! I said that. Can you believe it? And since I couldn’t fire my little brother for being an annoying little shit anymore than he can file a worker’s comp claim cause his sister punched him in the arm, I would just call my dad every time this happened. EVERY SINGLE TIME my dad answered with, “Calm down, I just talked to your brother”. He got to him first. Just like in the ’90s.

Over the last year, no matter how many times I fired him, punched him in the arm, punched him in the arm with my engagement ring hand or the one time he called me fat for eating FroYo and I chased him through the kitchen with with a folding chair like I was freaking Stone Cold Creamery Steve Austin in a cage match…..he never left.

He took the very best care of my girl.

Thanks Tim. I love you. I’ll stop crying now but first☝️here’s a pic of your last morning Mannying “like a mother fugger”….😭😭😭😭😭


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One Less Hoe, No New Bitches

Today I was minding my own business just scrolling through my Facebook News Feed….

Then this popped up:

I blame men. The first cuisine a woman chooses, the guy always says no. We know that so we have to start out with a place we don’t want to go, but then argue a little so by the time we get to the 4th or 5th option the guy actually begs us to pick what he thinks is his idea.  Don’t men ever wonder how they started out protesting Outback Steakhouse like this…?

” No wonder Mel Gibson lost his damn Australian mind, that’s what happens when a man pays $15 for a deep fried onion served by a teenager dressed like she’s on Safari. And who’s that other crazy Aussie? The one that thought it was a good idea to marry Miley Cyrus?  That’s called effed up perception and poor decision making skills. This right there is what happens to a man who believes a 45 cent onion dipped in canola oil is worth $15. Nope. No way. Not gonna happen”.

And then end up demanding Ruth’s Chris like this…?

“Listen, I am not going into hypoglycemic shock just because you’re unwilling or unable to appreciate a $40 spear of Asparagus the size of small tree that took probably 3 years to grow, sorry it’s not instant gratification, sorry a blooming onion would have me coming in an emergency bathroom situation like a wrecking ball.  You know what?  I’m so low blood sugar I can’t even argue anymore.  I never meant to start a war, either we’re going to Ruth’s Chris to enjoy prime 30 day aged beef or we’re gonna peacefully sit here and starve like Ghandi.” #Fine

For the record, if I was in a hurry I would have just said to my husband, “Why can’t I eat a deep-fried onion, what are you trying to say? Are you calling me fat? End of discussion. 

A few minutes after I made a comment blaming men for indecisive dining, my friend Carlos bravely stood up against man bashing in the name of husbands everywhere.


He wrote: “I’m sorry Emily, but we’re going to go all “Facebook political argument” on this topic and I have to defend my fellow brethren husbands.  First, your response just proves that men are more logical and not looking for an emotional debate in something as simple as “What do you want to eat?”  When a question is asked you should respond, and when you respond you should answer honestly. For men in this situation, we answer honestly. For example, if my wife asks. “What color should the curtains be in the guest room?”  And I answer, “I don’t care!” That means I. DON’T. CARE!  I have no interest in coordinating colors for a room so I let her decide.  “I DON’T CARE” doesn’t mean… “I prefer warmer/earthly colors but if she chooses something else I’m going to voice my opinion until she names my choice.” Now, doesn’t that sound ridiculous? Yea, that’s how you women sound. If you want something; say something. It’s simple, it doesn’t have to turn into a guessing game. Or at least say “I don’t care, just not Chinese.” Can a brother get an “Amen” from his bros?!”


Hell  hath no fury like a woman with a blog. 


Dear Everybody’s Husband, 

Let me explain something to you all, in a linear, logical, manly way.  I’ll just be completely honest, since it sounds like you’re into that….Sometimes I call my BFF Bex for no other reason than to talk shit about Jane Doe.  Now, if Jane Doe found out I would feel TERRIBLE because I don’t want to hurt her feelings.  All I want to do is state the facts and then bond over a shared view of what those facts do or do not mean.  For example, Jane Doe wore pasties to a pool party. Fact. Our shared opinion? All together now…JANE DOE IS A MOTHA FUGGIN HOE!!!

Another option (besides talking shit) is the passive aggressive statement about “People”.For example: “People who need to wear sunscreen on their areola should probably not be at a kid’s pool party”. The purpose of the passive aggressive status about the very specific “People” is to let Jane Doe know she’s being a hoe…I just don’t want to be the one to inform her.

Instead, I’ll just address the one specific “People”…Those Jane Doe’s trollin with a guilty conscience and invisible tan lines can just draw their own conclusions. I don’t want to tell Jane Doe that she specifically is a “MOTHA FUGGIN HOE” because that would make me a BITCH. I just want Jane to come to the realization by her own damn self so that we can make the world a better place…one less hoe, no new bitches.

Since men are supposedly rational and logical, you can obviously see that the Jane Doe Hoe method sounds familiar…It’s the EXACT same thing as baby wanted 12 lemons, or this popular reoccurring argument…

Wife: I don’t want you to do the dishes because I’ll nag you if you don’t do the dishes. I want you to do the dishes because you want to do the dishes.
Guys Everywhere:But I really just don’t like doing dishes

Geez guys, there’s no reason to get so emotional, no one said you had to like it. Okay so now is the part where I drop some science on you after saying things like mother fuggin hoes and  bitches.  Let’s talk about a few of my heroes…

Hedy Lamar She’s a female pioneer in the field of wireless communication from the 1940’s.  She manipulated radio frequencies at irregular intervals between transmission and reception to form a literally unbreakable code.  This is how secret messages were transmitted without the Nazi’s being able to intercept. A Code no man could make sense of…

Barbara Askins She was a NASA chemist and she  invented a way to use radioactive waves to enhance underexposed photographic negatives.  This made visible the invisible in photos  including getting data from underexposed space images—such as those peering deep into space as well as those highlighting the geology of other bodies in our solar system. Seeing invisible data, #nofilter…

Dr. Grace Murray Hopper She’s was an Ivy League mathematician and the inventor of an entire language for a business computers.  she is also credited with coming up with the word “de-bugging’ ‘and she invented the  first compiler which translates source code into programming language. Invented an brand new language out of Code…

Rachel Zimmerman She’s the inventor of the Blissymbol Printer.  This machine enables non-speaking people to point to symbols which are then translated into language and sent via email. A machine that reads the mind…

What do all of these amazing women, myself, your wife and the hoe and bitch from earlier have in common? The unique skills and ability to make connections and derive meaning from the innocuous or invisible. Women are effing amazing! We use facial expressions, intonation, body language, telepathy, foot stomping, pursed lips…limitless combinations of these actions are what make the word “Fine” mean anything ranging from “I care as much as I would if I had Amnesia” to “Fuck Off”.

If your wife asks you what color you prefer, she’s not asking you if you care or not.  She’s asking you to choose an effing color.  No one has “caring” feelings for a color anyway, who are you Buddy the Elf?  She’s asking because she values your opinion and she is taking your ideas into consideration before she makes a decision that you’ll both have to live with.

If you don’t care about that then be prepared to stand down the next time The Home Run Derby airs at the same time as The Bachelorette.

You’re welk! -AE

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What’s it like to be someone’s mommy?

What’s it like being a mom?

I asked this question at least 100 times before I had my daughter and I got all types of responses (most cliché greeting card definitions of motherhood or daughters bonding). After actually having my baby I realized everyone really sucked at describing it and what it’s like to be her mom has changed as she’s changed! 

In their defense when I asked people what it felt like to become a mom I got a lot of graphic descriptions of labor and so I visualized ordering my phone number of the taco bell menu and giving birth in their ladies’ room. That is actually exactly what labor feels like so I can somewhat sympathize with women who have accidentally birthed a child instead of a poop in a taco bell bathroom, it’s an easy mistake to make if you’re completely oblivious to every other aspect of pregnancy but that’s a topic for another delusional day.  What I really wanted to know is what did it feel like to belong to someone who belongs to you too?   

Yesterday one of our friends’ daughter’s called me “Isla’s Mommy” and it was like the best thing ever to me that she identified me that way.  It was also a bit of a shock that made me feel 100 years old especially when she referred to our home as “Isla’s home”, I’ll pass out if she rings me up to schedule a playdate!  

I believe that I was Isla’s mom before I knew I was pregnant with her and we were chosen for each other and I also felt instantly like a mother the day Isla was born.  In that moment everything switched from a pregnancy where I took care of myself in order to provide for a healthy baby to providing everything for my baby over my own needs.  I also think that I’m becoming a mother every day in new ways and what it means to be a mother and how it feels changes as Isla grows and our relationship changes.  In the beginning it’s very one sided of course, a mother gives everything to care for the child but what’s happened recently is Isla has become aware and interactive, she’s learned her parents’ names and she can understand some things we say and she reciprocates affection.  It’s amazing to hold your first child for the first time but it’s life changing to have your child say mama, reach for you, hug you back, kiss your face and I wish I knew before how awesome it would-be, everyone was holding out on me!

If I were to ask myself today what it’s like to be someone’s mommy I would skip the greeting card bullshiz and try to explain how changed the world is when you see it through your daughter’s eyes but the world also changes through the eyes of any parent to a little girl.  And let me tell you what, it’s freaking terrifying.  So if you’re pregnant or planning on having a baby just be prepared for the most terrifying and euphoric day of your life, every single day, for the rest of your life.  Here’s what it’s REALLY like:

A Taylor Swift Album.  Exactly like that.   If you think a Taylor Swift album is the most emotionally diverse interpretation of true love and hormones ever squeezed into 48 minutes, then try being a mommy.  To simulate the emotional impact motherhood will have on a new mother just pick any Taylor Swift album and listen to it from start to finish.  48 minutes of dramatic continuous and conflicting emotions and extreme mood swings every three minutes is what you will experience the first time you try to get dressed in real clothes after having a baby.  Are you happy, are you sad, are you skinny are you fat, do you love skinny jeans or did you know they were trouble when you walked into the closet?  Another thing you could do is just watch Taylor Swift accept any award, pull one up on YouTube.  This woman is always 100% completely flabbergasted that she won; does she want us to think she thinks she sucks?  Regardless, you will look just like her the first time someone compliments you on your post baby figure.    You’ll screw up your whole face in shock and disbelief like, “WHAT? MEE?  Nooooo…. Me? Really? (Yes you bitch, you in the jeans you had to lie down and zip with a coat hanger, you who can’t bend
your knees, you the girl who would pop a stitch if she popped a squat.) After you study the fake shock acceptance facial expressions of Taylor Swift, watch Jennifer Lawrence at any award show and learn how to bite it publically and remain adorable because there may be some air you find yourself tripping over or other baby crap that is located approximately everywhere and the only thing you’ll be accepting is the defeat to an ass rip.  Be prepared.   


Movie Director.  A great way to experience what motherhood feels like is by shadowing a movie director for a day or two, specifically to learn how to imagine and play out different situations, scenes and how to bring the vision to life.   For the most realistic experience, shadow a horror film director who works with lots of blood and dead people especially people who die from like a paper clip cut or choking on a cheerio.  As a mother you will become an expert in envisioning every possible horrific scenario that could happen at any given time in any given setting with any given set of props and supporting cast of characters and you fly through all possibilities in 1-3 seconds before trying to act normal and grocery ship or whatever it is you do. Always refrain from calling 911 in advance just for precaution, you can think it, and speed dial is an option, just don’t do it.

Chilean Miners.  You know those Chilean miners who were stuck in a dark whole underground for weeks on end and couldn’t shower or eat?  Think about how awful it must have been to know that civilization is immediately outside of your reach and you are trapped in a manmade bunker.  This is what it feels like when you first have your child and are afraid to shower pee or leave the room to get a cheese stick because what if she wakes up? What if she breathes and a sound comes out?  What if she learns how to crawl and gets out of here and runs away?  The possibilities are endless, the risk? Not worth it.  Starve, smell funky and pee later, this is life or death.  Wear sunglasses. 

Have you ever played a new game and won the first time you tried? You must have thought something like, wow I must be a natural or something I’m just born to do this!  Being a mother is nothing like that.  Being a new mom is more like playing Candy Crush…you start out flying through levels like WTF is the big deal? This is easy peas unless you’re lazy and don’t pay attention,  then you get cocky and the level gets a little harder, maybe sleeping through the night doesn’t exist in your world.   Level 163 on Candy Crush?  That’s being a mom.  If you have no idea what you’re doing but it’s working so you keep doing it? That’s being a mom.  If you have no idea what you’re doing and it’s not working so you try something else?  That’s being a mom.    Do you think of all the ways your parents messed you up and make the choice to not do any of those things to your child?  That’s being a mom.  Do you change your mind a few minutes later because you realize you’re a mother fugging genius?  Mommying like mother Fugger.

Mom Moments.  Sometimes things happen that just slap you across the face with reality that says, I’m a mom now”, like you just found out in that moment. Getting peed in the face would be an example of something that just validates that special role.  Here are some other examples of events that only happen to mommies….

What would a normal person do if a 4 month old is so engrossed in the TV across the room that she won’t turn her head to look at you?  Probably nothing.  What does a mom do?  Call the pediatrician and schedule an appointment for the next day because you suspect you child has come down with a case of BEING BLIND.  Yup.  Seriously. This really happened. 

If you’re a young new mother, here are some random thoughts that might pop into your head at one time or another.  These phrases are additional validation that you are in fact a first time mommy.  

“I can’t believe I dropped the paci in the airport, oh well…now we have to burn it.”

“I’d love to go to the mall but I read this article about human trafficking and I don’t think I’m in good enough shape yet to fend off a Russian Liam Neeson in  bathroom stall to save by baby’ from being kidnapped.”

“I bought ahead for next season at the clearance sale”

“Those footed one piece things are pajamas; I can’t dress her in that for the daytime.”

“Wegman would be in kindergarten this year…I don’t even know where I’m sending Isla to preschool and I have to think about Wegman should be in kindergarten? If her were human obviously, but still…time is going by too quickly, Isla doesn’t fit in any of her baby clothes anymore, she’s moved on to toddler, she’s crawling and talking… it’s probably time to have another baby” (for the record, Dave telepathically calls me crazy as I type this, I can literally hear him saying “Are you fucking crazy?”…whaevs.

My thoughts on my child’s diet at months 5, 6 and 7 respectively….motherhood changes you.

I’m going to make my own baby food.
I’m only buying organic baby food.
Feed the baby.

Mommy Roller Coasters.  Highs! Lows! A lost shoe! Safety harnesses! OMG Someone’s gonna die! Someone’s screaming, someone’s kid is screaming, a grown man is screaming, the ride to the top is beautiful and you’re enjoying the peaceful view, well ✌️that’s the perfect time to drop your happy ass to the lowest peak without warning and it’ll take all the positive momentum you can muster to get you back to coasting…by then you’ve got whiplash, jacked up hair and streaky mascara running down your face….and that’s always the moment someone will take your picture. (What is it with the timing of that, by the way?  Every picture my husband took of me during the first three months of my daughter’s life makes me look like I’m a windblown homeless person on the verge of death or coma.)


As a new mom you’ll be crying one minute and punching things the next and laughing hysterically the minute after that. You will be consumed with the deepest love you’ve ever felt and a constant looming terror like you’ve never experienced but all at the same time.  If you thought you were a moody pm-sing crazy biatch at any point before child birth you can go ahead and just add a level of psychotic and it’s safe to say that’s on a good day.  I am just grateful that Lamaze is taught in pre-parenting classes because although it doesn’t do shit for labor pains, if it helped Dion and Cher survive the Freeway, I think it can help any new mom survive the crazy train in the cul-de-sac.

Seriously, mother to be, you and your husband created a baby and somehow that baby was given it’s very own soul and it has been entrusted it to you to grow, teach and protect.  When was the last time you were in charge of a soul?! Exactly, it’s a big fucking deal and so is being a mommy.  Hee hee Hoooo.




Re: Gigantic Flag Pole – Antique Gang Sign

Hi Ken!

I hope this email finds you well. I apologize in advance for my tone, I’m under duress.

It has come to my attention that a resident of Rachel’s Place has erected a flag pole of significant size in the middle of their front lawn amongst an array of colorful and diverse lawn gnomes resembling decorative rodents and small dogs. Unless the right hand corner lot of Loblolly and Sweetspire happens to be it’s own municipality, township or the location of a Rutherford County elementary school, then there is no logical reason that such a large metal pole would be necessary or aesthetically desirable.

You may be further unimpressed to learn that a 30 foot tall architectural focal point is surpassed in distaste only by the giant Confederate flag billowing in the wind on top of it. The fact that this antique gang sign was erected immediately after a young black family moved in directly across the street elevates the obnoxious decor to a level of provocation that I find intolerable.

Within our HOA documents in Article 8, under Usage Restrictions, numbers 3 and 6 prohibit offensive, noxious activity that may be perceived as a nuisance or annoying to our neighborhood as well as specify no signage shall be permitted for use other that for the purposes of advertising a home for sale. This house is not for sale and I find the flag annoying and the pole a nuisance. I’m withholding judgement regarding the flamboyant ceramic sculptures as a negotiation tactic should we disagree on an acceptable level of tolerance for offensive lawn ornaments.

In the same section number 8 prohibits immoral or otherwise unlawful or unacceptable conduct and several items throughout the HOA agreement specify there are to be no structures erected or modified on any property without written permission and review. If this enormous Southern Cross on a steel stick was in fact not pre-approved for super sized display by a blind architect, then could you please advise as to the earliest possible date it will be removed?

The HOA is in place to protect the value of my home and my ability to enjoy our neighborhood as well as to protect the safety and enjoyment of my family of any family in the neighborhood. I do not find this enjoyable.

Seriously, can you get the guy to take the flag down or should I plan on a half mast observation on Memorial Day?

Please advise.

Sent from my iPhone


I used to SAAAANGGG and now I *SING*

Things that I Do Now That I’m a Mommy!!
(that would otherwise qualify me for a 5150 psychiatric hold in the state of California)

This might have to be a series…for real.

So this morning I realized that I sing to my child.  This came as a complete surprise to me.  One moment I was talking to my 2 ½ month old baby and then all of the sudden I was having a conversation with myself…in my mind.  For the record if you hear your own voice then it’s called THINKING and you are not crazy…and if you think that’s weird then don’t even bother reading the rest of this.  You’re welk.

(I’m wearing a bath robe with a homeless messy bun on the top of my head and only one slipper.  I’m not sure if it came off or if it was never on in the first place but regardless, I think that visual can accurately depict the state of affairs in my home during a 4 am feeding.)

My thoughts were some variation of the following…
*Begin Scene*


“Hmmmmm….uhmm….well, okay this is a little creepy.   Something is happening here…yeaaah, I’m not really sure what is going on but… it appears…at least I think…I’m pretty sure…yep, it’s happening.  I am talking to an infant about a fish.  Full  blown monologue because 4 am is a great time to tell the life story of the little blue fish that rattles.  The thing is…I hear some sort of weird sound as I’m explaining where fish come from.  Caviar is to fishies and omelets are to chickies… I wonder how long I’ve been rhyming.   Yep, definitely just asked a fishy for a kissy.  I hardly even know this guy and here I am making out with him.  That sound though…wtf is wrong with my VOICE?  Baby girl, never kiss a fish unless you wish to get sick, with laryngitis¸ well that can’t be it.   What would Dr. Seuss do?  He would count…I wonder if he’s a real doctor.   Whatever okay so something is definitely happening here… what is the opposite of laryngitis?  I think I have that.  If that was a thing it should be called MilliVanilli-it is.  Alright my baby thinks this is funny and I’m pretty sure I just went up an octave.  If I was a pre-teen boy and got kicked in the nuts this would make sense.  I’m not.  OMG, I seem to have come down with a case of the Mariahs! Definitely just called my child DARLING.  Definitely a case of the Mariah’s.   I’m probably hurting my dog’s ears.  The baby seems to like it…she’s smiling. WOAH. Okay.  I get it…so every time she smiles my voice goes up an octave and gets a tiny bit more shirll.  I can honestly say I have never wondered what it would sound like if a carbon monoxide alarm said, “YAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAY”!  Now I know.  Seriously, if this is what happens when she smiles….and I’m pretty sure we’re on the cusp of a giggle. I will definitely get mistaken for a little tea pot short full of boiling water.  OMG STOPPPPPP! I didn’t mean to say that out loud…maybe it’s not such a good idea to yell STOP at myself when I sound like a rape whistle.   Whelp…I guess its official.  I am singing to my baby”…

*End Scene*

Okay so I don’t know how long I’ve been doing this and I’m not sure I want to know but I just became aware of it today.  It’s horrendous.  Why couldn’t I be that mom that sounds like Mary Poppins and her spoon full of sugar?  I sound like Mary Pop Drop it Lock it and a spoon full of crack cocaine.  I’m not entirely disappointed because who doesn’t appreciate a Mariah moment?  I really respect a bitch that can incorporate her favorite body wash into a love song.  Her Calgone is my orange tangerine scrub by Softsoap.  It smells amazing.

So I was totally surprised to learn that I sing like a helium addict to my child.  I’ve been singing to my husband for years so I know that occasionally the spirit will move me to song but I didn’t know that the spirit can get me a hit of helium every time my baby smiles! I called a fish a whore in a voice that is 10 octaves above a Soprano and also caught in a wood chipper.  Acoustically my mommy voice is a cross between, “someone lost a limb, now react” and “Golden Retrievers, it’s time for dinner!”  Like, I could do a voice dub for either Alvin, Simon OR Theordore should one of them get a little fresh with a fish and come down with a little manili, know what I’m saying?

As I said before, I sing to my husband all the time…and by sing, I mean I SAAAAANG but only because I’m a pain in the ass and it’s embarrassing to others and funny to me.

Prior to having a child, the extent of my singing was purposeful, rare and would never be appropriate in front of a small child.  I am blessed physically with the ability to manipulate my vocal cords and diaphragm in such a way that produces a deep bass-y bravado that resembles a burp at first but evolves into what it would sound like if a Baptist church choir was evacuating a building that happened to have been set on fire.  On accident, but they were taken by surprise.  It’s a vocal gift from the Lord so I don’t question it.  I mean come on, would Adele run around asking Theresa Caputo or Billy Graham why she was given the gift of song?  No.  She just has an epic hormonal broken heart breakdown with the accompaniment of some porcelain keys and a full orchestra and then moves on.  Who am I to have the audacity to ask Our Heavenly Father why he would choose ME  to have the ability to summon a sound from the depths of my soul that is not necessarily auto-tuned Opera but is also not a sound I’ve ever heard in the natural world.  Some say heavenly, others say demonic.  Potato Poe-tot-toe!

Anyway, so I hope you have a clear depiction of my  REGULAR singing voice.  My non-mommy singing voice.  I make Kim Zolciak look like Celine Dion.  I can’t “sing” necessarily… but I can  SAAAAAAAAAANNNGGG!

It’s completely horrific and there is only one occasion in which I would ever do such a thing.  To annoy my husband for fun.  In pursuant of that goal I have SANNGED in the grocery store, at an NFL football game, at my In-Laws house, at family gatherings and other various non-specific locations.  I just always choose a time and setting that is completely inappropriate.  I’m not saying that there is necessarily EVER an appropriate time to impersonate Ruben Studdard with acid reflux after a root beer chugging contest but I like to be predictably unpredictable.  I like my husband to live in fear of when and where my next performance will strike.

Something else you should know about how I SANG to my hubby is that there are only two songs that I SANG and I only do one verse from each during a given performance.  You never know what you’re going to get.  When I feel moved in my spirit to express myself this is what happens…



(For this song I like to jiggle my jangle for the “nan a nan a nan a na” part, not like Shakira but just enough to clear up any misunderstandings about whether or not I do squats. )



And with this selection I have the capability of sounding EXACTLY like (If you thought I was going to say Ginger Spice you are obviously not paying attention) I sound EXACTLY like a big fat guy with a 5 o’clock shadow who happens to have sleep apnea and he’s in a church choir too but he may or may not be nursing a hang-over from drinking Keystone light in a smoke filled bar during the day.   As you can imagine, it’s LEGIT.

It would be fair to say that my SANGing voice is not exactly cochlear-ly pleasing.  My husband has tried to insinuate that I could potentially make his ears bleed but I’m pretty sure if he can listen to Hatebreed through his Dr Dre Beatz headphones loud enough for me to hear the pain in Jamey Jasta’s voice and THAT doesn’t cause inner ear trauma then there is no way my vocal gift from Jesus would cause damage.  At least nothing permanent.

So that’s it.  That’s what I do.  I belt out a single verse with every ounce of Patti LaBell I can muster and then I pretend like nothing happened.  I *could* be accused of having a rare form of boy band girl group vocal Tourettes’…I mean it *has* been suggested once or a couple of times but make no mistake, I do this shit on purpose.  It’s just one of my things like putting a love note on the coffee maker or sneaking a lovetap on the booty. I refer to these small acts of emotion as “marriage enhancers”.  It’s just a little way to get a little attention.   You have to be careful though, this particular modus horrendous opera operandis happens to be more of a wild card type of move.  It’s the kind of thing you do when you want a little bit of attention but not so much attention that you have to wax.  It’s just a little you know, “HEY LOOK AT ME HUSBAND I’M BEING ANNOYING AS F*CK BUT ONLY FOR 5 SECONDS SO IT’S CUTE!”

I will take this opportunity to warn any newlyweds out there…if any of you are contemplating trying to come down with a touch of the Andrea Boccelli meets Baby Spice, it’s a little offensive.  Once I was at the mall with my husband and my BFF and between floor 1 and 2 I said IF YOU WANNA BE MY LOVAAAAAAA YOU GOTTA GET WITH MY FRANNNNZ.  It’s not like I meant HER but I can see how that could be misinterpreted so she made a really strange face. I would say that the look she gave me was comparable to what I imagine she would have done if I had just licked the banister while riding on the escalator.  Like everything is fine, the stairs are moving, we’re holding hands just in case so we don’t have a near death experience over the ledge like Tai after Cher fixed her from being toe up… and then I sing and my BFF is all like “WOAH WOAH WOAH WTF was that… that was too weird to have an actual conversation about but not weird enough to talk on three way with our other sort of BFF so I’m just gonna give you this look so that you know that I know that you know you’re singing in public  but let’s forget this ever happened and try not to trip on the way off”.   I don’t know what to say.  It’s a burden being a one woman vocal flash mob.  One minute I’m elevating up a mobile staircase and then when the clock strikes WTF thirty…..I perform.  If I’m” being perfectly honest with myself I would have to say that on the offensiveness scale of zero to the time I saw Miley Cyrus’s cervix on MTV….my SANG-ing is a solid studded nipple wardrobe malfunction.

So there you have it. I’ve been a barratone of love for the past five years and then I wake up one day and I’m suddenly Charlotte Church in a wind tunnel.

Until next time….You’re welk!

WTF #Staples, I thought this was supposed to be EASY? #Lies

Today I found myself needing to fax a signed contract.  Typically, this would be no big deal.  I would simply turn 45 degrees to my right in my office, put the pages in the machine, type my email address and 5 seconds later I would have a PDF attachment in my email that I could send it anywhere my little heart desires.  Unfortunately, I am on maternity leave and do not have access to my office.  So, I had to find an alternative.  Turns out Staples offers business services including the ability to fax.  Their motto is the “EASY” button, right? So, I packed up my newborn baby and high tailed it over to the nearest Staples to do exactly what I would normally do from my office…email a signed document to myself (and then forward it to its final destination).  Some variation of the following is what happened when I got there…

*Begin Scene*

Me: Hi, I have some documents I need to fax to email please.

Cashier: Oh, sure! We would love to help you.  Silvia over at the scan & copy station can help you with that, have a great day!

Me: Thanks! (I walked over to fax & scan station to find Silvia)

Me: Hi, Silvia.  I need to fax some documents to an email address, can you help me with that?

Silvia: No, we do not do faxing to an email…

Me: Okay…what do to you do as far as faxing? I have a contract I need to send out today.

Silvia: Well, we can send a fax to a fax machine. (Points to an antique grey thing with a dial pad and a phone receiver with a curly cord like Sue Ellen Crandall used in Don’t Tell Mom the Baby Sitter’s Dead, “I’m right on top of that Rose!”…wow, how vintage.  

Me: Okay, I guess I could do that…and the fax will just print it out in the office I’m sending it to and I suppose the recipient could then re-scan it and email it back to me so I also have an electronic copy for myself…uhm, do I just pay you when I’m done, or…?

 Silvia: Yes, it’s $2.00 for the first page and $1.50 for every page after that for long-distance and you pay after you receive a confirmation print out that the fax was sent.

Me: Ok, well it’s not long distance I just have to fax it to Tennessee (Where does she think I’m sending this? China?)

Silvia: Tennessee *IS* long distance, if you’re not faxing within the Charlotte metro area, it’s considered long distance….

Me: Well why would someone drive to Staples just to send a fax in Charlotte? Wouldn’t it be easier to just drive the document to its destination if it’s local?

Silvia: *BLINK…*BLINK.*

Me: Okay…uhmm…well, I have 60 pages here…so, it’s going to cost $90.50 to send these documents via fax…uhm….via wireline fax?

Silvia: Well, no, it would be $90.50 plus tax so actually that comes to $97.06. 

Me:  (Laughing) Wow, okay…and you offer no other more cost-effective way to do this?

Silvia: Well, I guess I could scan the documents for you into this computer here and then you could email them?

Me: *phew* YES! Yes, exactly! That’ll work! Let’s do that. (Why didn’t she say that in the FIRST place?)

Silvia: Okay, it’ll be 25 cents per page for me to scan these for you onto my computer here and then you can go rent a computer over there for 45 cents a minute and send yourself the email. Do you have a rewards card?

Me: …What?

Silvia: A rewards card…it’s…

Me: No, wait…what USB card?

Silvia: It costs 25 cents for me to scan the documents for you here and I will put them on my USB drive (holds up USB on a lanyard around her neck) and then you have to go over there to use the computer…you can rent the computer…it’s $0.45 per minute…

Me: Wait, okay…so you want to put my private documents onto YOUR USB drive…with one computer and then send me to a different computer to upload the file and send it via email? That doesn’t sound very efficient or secure. 

Silvia: Well, I will delete the document from the USB when you are done.

Me: Do I get confirmation of that?

Silvia: No¸ but it’s my policy and I will delete it.

Me: Wow, okay well I guess paying you $15 to put my documents on a USB card is better than paying almost $100 to use that relic over there…


…..This is ridiculous but whatever I NEEDED to get these documents sent and I didn’t have any more time to waste so I decided to pay the $15 for Silvia’s expert scanning services and then head on over to the pay-per-minute-PC.  I fired it up, gave it my credit card and logged on to to access my email and to my *shock* I got an error message that said, “This browser is outdated”…you would think that at $0.45 cents per MINUTE these bitches could keep their shit up to date but then again my other option is a fax machine straight out of Dr.Huxtable’s home office.  The clock is ticking (literally…there’s a little clock ticking away up in the cents it’s charging me) so I shout out to Silvia just to make sure, “How much per minute to send a telegraph?”…and she ACTUALLY says, “We don’t offer those services here”.  How surprising.  I used my Gmail account instead of iCloud and $6.00 later was able to attach my document.  When I went to the removable drive to retrieve it, what did I find?  About 15 other attachments from previous customers stored to the USB drive that my confidential document was ALSO stored on.  WTF Silvia, I thought you said you deleted personal shit post use?  Obv not.  Clearly protecting customer information is not a concern around here.  I sent my document and then accessed the USB drive again and deleted my document permanently.  I contemplated deleting all the other customer files that were saved but instead decided to just let Silvia know that they were there…

Me: Silvia, just so you know there are other customer files still saved to this USB.  Honestly I could have sent them anywhere…or read them…or used Mr.Wilson’s W2 that you have stored on here and stolen his identity…

Silvia: (Smiles smugly)

Me: You might want to delete them per your personal privacy policy?

Silvia: *Blink*…*Blink*

…….Okay, WTF?  I just spent over $21 to send a FAX in the most inefficient way possible that not only compromises my security but also that of at least 15 prior customers. To illustrate just how ABSOLUTELY MOTHER EFFING RIDICULOUS this is, I would like to share several alternatives that I thought up during the 10 minute road rage drive back to my house (I was a passenger but I bitched a brain storm while my husband drove). 

10 ways to send a signed document in either a more cost-effective, time efficient or secure manner that Staples “Business Services” offered me today. Staples, you’re welk.

  1. You know those three big huge copy machines Staples has in their store for customers to use?  Those have the function to scan and email a document.  It’s that easy.  Hook them up to the internet just like your out of date PCs.  Charge me per minute if you want…it takes like 1…ONE MINUTE.  The machine does not save or store the information thus not inadvertently compromising my security by giving customers and employees access to my personal documents
  2. I could have BOUGHT a printer/copier/fax machine FROM Staples for around $80 and sent the documents myself from my home…or ordered it from Amazon for $20 less with free shipping thus eliminating the entire need to use Staples service center or retail store (as if the terrible experience wasn’t enough to never return, ever)
  3. I could have driven to Nashville in a fuel efficient vehicle and signed the documents in person and spent less money in gas than Staples wanted to charge me to send a friggen fax
  4. I could probably find a plane ticket and fly there for less than Staples wanted to charge me to send a friggen fax
  5. I could have hired a COURIER service to deliver the documents for less than Staples wanted to charge me to send a friggen fax
  6. I could have bought an e-signature software application and signed the documents electronically and sent them via email for less than Staples wanted to charge me to send a MOTHER EFFING FAX
  7. I could have taken a photo of each signed document individually and saved them all to my iPhone and then attached them to an email and sent them to myself one by one (time-consuming, but FREE)
  8. I could have taken a picture of my signature and used an app on my phone to paste it to each document and then saved & emailed the signed contract
  9. I could have unlocked the original PDF contract and inserted a signature to sign the document and then locked it back up and emailed it as a PDF
  10. I could have emailed a letter of power of attorney to a friend in Nashville and had THEM sign the documents in person!

I realize only AFTER seeing red in Staples how many alternatives there are to having to ever step foot in that store again.  Pardon me for thinking it would be easier than all of the above to just pop over to Staples and scan and email a document to myself.   

“Easy”, my ass.

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Happy Halloween! Scarier than a mythological taco bell birth, boo bitches!

Halloween is a time of year where people get a kick out of scaring the ever-living shit out of loved ones and strangers alike.  Some women use this as an opportunity to dress like a slutty something or other but looking like a walking herpes infestation is super scary in itself so I’d say they’re on trend.  Other people get all gory and bloody and scream to startle, etc.   When it came time to think up the scariest thing EVER for a Halloween costume, what comes to mind?  Sally Mae.  What’s on deck for seconds? GIVING FREAKING BIRTH. So, I went with that…here’s what happened…

I haven’t really taken the time to explain my birth story to many people because first of all, no one cares and secondly, it wasn’t that interesting.  I didn’t give birth on an airplane or the side of the road, the whole thing was pretty text-book like the rest of my pregnancy.  In fact, I would have probably written more blogs during my pregnancy if lots of weird shit happened but it didn’t.  I just spent 9 months gaining weight and organizing things.  It was a snooze fest (literally).

Anyway, although my birth story was boring, there are still some critical plot points that are crucial to you understanding the Halloween costume I devised so here’s what’s important…. I was in labor…WITHOUT DRUGS…for 36 mother effing hours. That’s right friends, a day and a half of freaking the eff out every 5-8 minutes in agony.  It was a great time for my husband I have to say, he was right next to me the entire time.  Poor guy.  If you’ve never given birth, a contraction means little to nothing to you.  You can’t really fully appreciate what it feels like. 

I also heard and read that after labor you get a case of the good old college blackout where you remember nothing from last night except the happy parts and you forget all the pain and humiliation and you can’t remember if you shit or peed somewhere weird or if you showed anyone your vajajay.  I can tell you that is absolutely 100% true.  That’s exactly what it’s like the day after having a baby.  I cannot for the life of me remember the pain of labor or much of what was going on below my waist after the baby came out.  Since I knew this amnesia was going to happen,  I prepared in advance.  I didn’t want to be tricked into doing that shit again without proper knowledge of what I was getting myself into so I made SURE to describe in great detail what labor actually felt like, while it was happening, so I could remind myself later in case my baby needed to be an only child. The good news is, it’s not THAT bad…and I will probably have another 3-4 babies in the future.  The even better news is, I wrote down all the gory Halloween details of what it feels like in my daughter’s baby book.   I might need to use this as leverage one day when she’s a teenager and I will have this memory FOREVERRRRRRR.  Also, *bonus* I can share it with you all right now!

Here’s what I wrote:

What does a contraction feel like?

A contraction feels like you’re drunk and ordered your phone number off the Taco Bell drive thru menu, ate it all in under 10 minutes giving yourself a case of severe beer shits bubble guts and THEN someone smacked you in the back with Thor’s hammer.

True Story.
During the actual contraction I imagined giving birth to a baby Taco that was just weed whacking the shit out of my spine and internal organs with a mythological sledge-hammer.  I described this to my husband and this was yet again one of the many times during our marriage where he’s asked me if I have been smoking crack. You’d think after 5 years together you’d really know a person but nope, he has to ask…”Are you on crack?” For the record, the answer is no.  I’m on caffeine and very little sleep.  Anyway…
So that’s what labor feels like. 

Fast forward a month and I’m picking out my child’s Halloween costume using the craft catalog otherwise known as Pinterest.  Most costumes for infants are cuddly and snuggly because babies this little don’t really move much and you need a costume that can be incorporated into their most often catatonic state.  One costume caught my eye…a subway sub.  I thought this was hilarious. You basically cut a bunch of felt to look like veggies, somehow you affix this to the infant and then you wrap it up in a Subway wrapper like a swaddle. Genius!  And this is what my ADD mind did when I saw this…

“OMG so CUTE! A baby subway sandwich! Wrapped like a burrito!  A BABY burrito! That reminds me of the time my baby was a taco beating the shit out of my uterus…OMG HOW FUNNY WOULD IT BE IF SHE WAS DRESSED LIKE A TACO ! HHHAHAHAHAHHHAHA…wait, not just a taco…I will dress her up as a CONTRACTION! Where can I buy Thor’s hammer? I wonder if that’s on Amazon…”

And that is how this costume was BORN.

All I needed to do was make a life size taco for my baby to wear and when I Googled “Taco Bell taco” for pinspiration, this image that came up was a taco served in a Dorito’s bag. 

Done, I can make that and just put my baby inside of it…but if she’s laying in a taco, she’s obviously the ground beef.  Hmmm….how do I make my baby look like ground beef you say?  



Boom.  Leopard Print.

Now for the accessories…we need a Taco Bell sign and a hammer.  I made the sign out of construction paper because that’s easy but I did have to order the mythological hammer…check it out:


That sign was done free hand, someone give me a high five for accuracy!


So in case you haven’t figured it out, what is my daughter dressed as this Halloween? 


TacoBell Baby 2

At this time I would like to state that I am not and nor have I ever been on crack. I simply find it hysterical to dress my child as I imagined her on the day of her birth for Halloween. Because for one thing, nothing is scarier and I think she’s cute as a weapon wielding Mexican snack.

Nom Nom!

You’re welk!

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Uh Uh,I work out.

Who do I hate more than people who brag about running at 5 am? People who bitch about other people going to “their gym” the first week of the New Year.

1. Just bc you read Men’s Fitness on a stationary bike for 30 mins 3x a week does not make it “your gym”.

2. Maybe if someone gave you some encouragement instead of being rude when you first started working out, you’d actually
look like you work out. You just look like you sit on your ass and read Men’s Fitness on a stationary bike for 30 mins 3x a week.
3.The only reason the typical New Year’s resolution lasts 2-3 weeks is because no one wants to come back to a place where there’s likely to be a judgemental asshole *wait for it* reading men’s fitness on a stationary bike for 30 mins 3x a week.

If you don’t like it, buy a kettlebell and go home…actually, run home. Let’s see that Nike+ app!

You’re welk.
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