100 words, I can handle…


I’ve been thinking lately about how much I miss blogging writing and tried to think of ways I could find the time and brain capacity to start it up again and then I remembered that if I’m able to update my Facebook status 3 times a day and throw in a Tweet here and there on Twitter then I can SURELY at least stick my pinkie toe back into the somewhat murky waters of weaving my thoughts into the internets again in little bloglets.

Probably my ability to type one single run-on sentence to begin this endeavor only strengthens my position that I should EASE BACK INTO THIS SLOWLY, DUDES.

So, I pondered.

And then I went to blue girl’s blog…and damned if she wasn’t smack dab in the middle of a 50/100/50 challenge in which she is writing 50 posts in 50 days of 100 words.

And I was all…. maybe… maybe THIS I could do.

So, come along with me on this journey if you’re feeling adventurous.  I make no promises.  I haven’t slept more than 90 minutes consecutively in more than 2 months.  I have a tendency for over-reaction and lunacy and bad limericks (and that was BEFORE I had the baby).  I talk about poop and boobs and my kids and my life and I don’t really give a shit if I should be filtering at least SOMEWHAT between my brain and my fingertips… because WHO HAS TIME? Not me.  That’s who.  I have all this poop and boobs and whatnot to deal with.

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His momma raised him right.


The Teen probably couldn’t tell you the date of my birthday.  Or my wedding anniversary.  Or even, probably, my middle name.  He doesn’t like to…. encumber himself with details, in this life.

He asks me how to spell everything he types because he can’t be bothered with Spellcheck.  He never reads the directions on microwave meals.  He sometimes can’t remember the order the months go in….  but that boy has MAD SKILLS, yo

You just have to know where to look.

Perkins, yesterday 12pm.

Me:  Ohmygod, I’m going to die if I don’t pee right now.

Teen:  Go! Go!

Me: No, I have to figure out what I want and then wait for them to take my order and then I can go. Going first messes the entire flow up!

Teen:  You want that chicken sandwich right? I can order it. Go!

Me: No, there are…. issues……  I have a substitution…  don’t want the pepper jack.  *hopping up and down*

Teen: MOM. I’ve got this.  GO TO THE BATHROOM.

Me:Ok, what kind of cheese do I want?


Me: If they don’t have it?

Teen: Swiss.

Me: What do I want to drink?

Teen: Iced tea. No lemon.

Me: Do I want the fries or the salad?

Teen: Both. Trick question.

Me: What dressing do I want?

Teen:Balsamic vinaigrette.

Me: If they don’t have it?

Teen:Bleu cheese.

Me: Ok.   *breaks into a big smile*  I’m going to the bathroom!

Me: (over my shoulder, as I waddle toward the bathroom)  Damn, you’re good.

Teen:  I’ve known that for years.  Years!!!

A or B?


A little quiz.

Which was more disturbing to my husband Kory?

A. When my daughter worked his entire jump drive into a full can of Diet Mountain Dew


B. When my daughter pooped in the bathtub and then lifted her tiny hands out of the bubbles and handed the turd to him, which he took – not realizing it wasn’t a toy.

Which was more distrurbing to me?

A. Scott “Blind Guy” on American Idol’s creepy mullet/perm and mini-vampire fangs.


B. Scott “Blind Guy” on American Idol’s lack of talent and horrible, smarmy Barry Manilow bullshit song choices that make me cringe and then feel bad because my years of diversity training make it VERY DIFFICULT to effectively make fun of this guy.

Which was most disturbing to The Teen?

A. Having a pregnant mom with diarrhea in a house with ONLY ONE BATHROOM.


B. Closing the bathroom door and finding his pregnant mom’s underpants hanging off the hook on the back of the door, after she forgot them there while showering.  PLUS SIZE MATERNITY UNDERPANTS.

Which was the most disturbing to The Toddler?

A. No more stickers.


B.  Seriously, there are no more stickers. I know you can not fathom living another moment in a world without stickers. Lots of stickers. Flower stickers. Easter stickers. Fairy stickers. Pooh stickers. Mickey Mouse stickers. WHY EVEN BREATHE IF THERE ARE NO STICKERS?!!!!

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