Archive for the ‘Entertainment’ Category

Actor: MOM! I just got a role on American Horror Story!!

Mom: OMG, that’s great! What part do you play?

Actor: I play a heroin addict that gets cornholed to death by a mummy-like creature wearing a giant strap-on drill bit!


Actor: Mom?


So I’m Facebook chatting with my friends, who shall be named Esmerelda and Lorelai. I was hopped up on cold meds, and everything I typed seemed hilarious to me. I thought I’d share.

Esmerelda: So my son is staying at a friend’s house tonight. Got scratched by their dog. Friend’s mom’s all freaked out. He has scratches on his leg and the mom locked the dog up. Completely overreacting.

Lorelai: My stepson stayed with a friend when he was 16 and a dog bit him in the face.

Me: I got stabbed once at a friend’s house. Her mom passed out after doing the whole 8 ball, and my mom was kinda mad.

Esmerelda: I’m sorry, DAFUQ? Are you high right now?

Me: Lol, no, just being me.

Esmerelda: Break that shit down for me.

Me: Um, I was totally lying.

Esmerelda: You’re an ASSHOLE.

Me: ME?? What? It was a GOOD story!

Esmerelda: But you’re still an asshole. Assholes can spin a great yarn.

Me: Ok, I might be a little high.

Lorelai: So I’m going to take my family to the Four Seasons Orlando next Christmas.

Esmerelda: That’s a bold goal!

Me: (thinking Lorelai was taking parents and extended family) How much of the family? Just the ones you like?

Lorelai: Just my husband and daughter.

Esmerelda: It’s the Four Seasons! That’s exPENsive!

Me: Oh, I took “bold goal” as meaning a lot of family, not mo’ money.

Esmerelda: Nope, get with the program. The Four Seasons is a lot of money, you should know that!

Me: (googling what holds memories) I forgot. Well, I WAS stabbed in my temporal lobe, but I don’t like to talk about it.

Esmerelda: You can hear, no you weren’t.

Me: (hurries and Googles what lobe): Duh, it was the MEDIAL temporal lobe.

Esmerelda: Dick, temporal lobe = hearing.

Did I mention she’s a nurse?

Me: Medial temporal = memories. I’m a bit fuzzy about things since the stabbing, and the subsequent surgeries.

Esmerelda: That’s IN the brain!

Me: Yes, I know, but it was just with a toothpick.

Esmerelda: You can’t be stabbed there without reaching the outer temporal lobe.

Me: That’s because my friend was an alien, they have technology you cannot imagine.

Esmerelda: Through your nose? Sideways?

Me: I know, right? It really hurt.

Esmerelda: You’re so stupid.


So cold:

… my car thermometer says: HOLY SHITBALLS, BRRRR!

… my kids WANTED to wear coats.

… the Browns could have won a game today…

… the devil is wearing¬†UGG boots, and he HATES those things.

… I could cut diamonds…(wink wink)

… my heated garage can’t¬†warm itself past 28 degrees.

… the squirrel that hangs out in the tree by my kitchen window hasn’t moved a muscle in 3 hours.

Poor Larry.


I understand the importance of sleep, and the fact that my husband needs more than young children. I let him sleep in on weekends, make sure the kids don’t run in and wake him up (unless I’m pissed at him), and give him some time to rest.

I sneak around the room like a cat. I make no sound. I see in the dark. I am one with the void.

Do you think I get the same courtesy?

HELL to the NO.

For some reason my husband can’t manage to keep the kids out of the bedroom when I’m trying to sleep. “Sorry, baby, they just demanded to see you.”

Dude, you are a grown ass man, you can keep preschoolers away for Christ’s sake.

This morning he needed to get up by 5:30 am. I usually make him breakfast and pack his lunch, partly¬†because I like to feel needed, but mostly so he doesn’t spend money getting breakfast AND lunch at a drive through.

He told me to go ahead and stay in bed. I snicker to myself because while, SURE, I can STAY in bed, SLEEPING is not something I will be doing.

So he goes into the bathroom (10 feet away) to shower and while I’m lying there willing myself to go back to sleep he:

1. Drops 587 things

2. Slams the toilet seat down 8.5 times

3. Drops 15 things in the shower

4. Opens the door as wide as possible with all the lights on when he’s done (shining like a fricken lighthouse in my face) AND LEAVES the DOOR OPEN

5. Sits on the bed and rolls his ass around like Goldilocks finding just the right spot just to put on his socks

6. Puts on said¬†socks, sloooowwwly, like he’s putting on a burlesque show

7. Leaves, with lights still on in the bathroom, but not before bumping into the bed 2 times

8. Makes a really loud 17 course gourmet microwave dinner in the kitchen

9. Comes in to kiss me goodbye, and wonders why I’m not sleeping

10. Slams door shut to garage (20 feet away)

He’s lucky he’s cute.





My Mrs. Kravitz-like neighbor called me last night around 7:00 PM.

Neighbor: “Hey, did you see any kids running around my yard in the last hour or two?”

(YOU didn’t? All you do all day long is peep out the window all weird) ¬†I did not say this. ¬† Yet.

Me: No, I was curled in the fetal position on the floor most of the day.

Neighbor: “Oh, haha, well, um… all five¬†of my¬†pumpkins were on my porch¬†at 3:30 PM, and all but one¬†were gone by 6:00 PM. So someone stole them while I was in my family room, about 10 feet away.”

Me: That takes some balls.

Neighbor: “Oh, um, haha, but seriously, who steals Halloween pumpkins on November 5? The weird thing is that they left one. Just one lonely pumpkin.”

Me: Shit, that pumpkin must have felt like I did in 7th grade gym class.

Neighbor: “Always the last one picked?”

Me: No, hollow on the inside.

Neighbor: (silence) “Oh wow! Ok, then, well not sure what happened to the pumpkins, but you, uh, have a good night!”


Me: Put on jacket to steal the remaining pumpkin to add to my collection. God, I love to mess with these people.