As you can tell, my weekend was pretty uneventful

Friday I went to Happy Hour with The Man’s best friend, because coincidentally he works in the building next door. And my friend went with me because even though *I* didn’t think he’d ever try to roofie my drink, my friend wasn’t so sure. He didn’t. He DID, however, try to keep us there all night, so we WALKED (about a mile and a half?) back to our parking lot, and on the way got tossed out of some BET Award party we crashed that they were having at the SLS Hotel.

Saturday, The Man had to spend all of his Saturday trying to fix my window that RANDOMLY fell off the track, while I spent a large portion of my day sitting in the worlds most uncomfortable chair. While watching NASCAR. Which, WTF? She finally changed the channel to the Kardashians. Which I’ve never seen up until then. I guess she didn’t notice ’cause she was on the phone.

Sidenote: I’m sure I’ve mentioned the lady who braids my hair is African? She spent a significant amount of time on the phone talking about somebody. I really wish that I could understand her, because it had her ALL RILED UP. Also? I totally wanted to tweet that but she was looking DIRECTLY INTO MY PHONE from her view.

Related: I wanted to start looking at porn, just to see if she’d admit to being nosey. But I DIDN’T want to piss her off because y’all don’t even know how cheap her prices for my very awesome braids.

Sunday, I had to take The Brat to Anime Expo. And then my BIL called to ask me to babysit at the last minute.

He didn’t leave the carrier that he always sits in.

And he forgot his binky. Which he apparently can’t live without.



So. How was y’all’s weekend?



When the bikini is on the other butt

Not too long ago, I went shopping with my sissie.

Seems that auntie’s baby needed a bathing suit. And my niece will NEVER be a member of the itty bitty titty committee. Which is causing my sis a little bit of stress because “OMG, SHE WANTS A BIKINI AND I JUST WANT TO PUT HER IN A BURQA AND BE DONE WITH IT”

And by burqa, she meant a one piece. But she probably really meant a burqa

Actually, I won’t lie on her. She seemed to be okay with monokinis too.

We went to Old Navy because:

1. They were having a sale

2. They have really cute bathing suits (I know, I just bought TWO there)

3. I had to return some shorts for the Brat (wrong size. TOO BIG. GAH)

Sissie: How about this one? *holds up monokini*

Auntie’s baby: I don’t like it.

Me: How about this tankini over here?

You can always count on me to be super helpful, y’all.

Basically, my niece and I did some bathing suit shopping, while my sissie made sure I didn’t suggest anything too outrageous. She tried on a bunch of bathing suits and we chose a very cute, VERY APPROPRIATE orange tankini with some boycut bottoms. Sidenote: I am also very much a fan of boy-short bottoms. I don’t feel so exposed. Which is sort of ridiculous, when I’m practically naked from the navel up, but there you go. LOVE the boycut shorts.

And as my niece was changing back into her clothes, my sissie says:

WHY didn’t you talk her into a one piece?

Me: She’s 15. She wanted a bikini. I think it’s a pretty good compromise.

Sissie: But…


Sissie: …

Yeah. Welcome to my world. I don’t like it here either.

Saying thank you

You know… It’s really nice when people want to thank military spouses and families during Military holidays.


All I’m doing is what any other military spouse does. The cooking, the cleaning, the wrangling of small children, the paying of the bills, the fixer of problems – large & small, at least until The Man returns.

And the spouse? HE (in my case) got to get up long before the sun is even THINKING of rising to deploy to some foreign country for however long he had to go, for however many TIMES he had to go, had to try catch me at the EXACT moment that I would be home to try to squeeze a WHOLE LOTTA CONVERSATION into a 5 minute phone call because other people need to use the phone too — OR not be able to talk to his family because something happened and they’ve cut communication stateside, wait for my trifling ass to send his care packages (which was at least once a week, without fail. And yes, I was the wife who sent contraband smut and liquor, along with spam, and baby wipes. Very much related: that shit gets expensive, yo.), he had to go out on patrol, and pretend like he wasn’t scared because I was pretty much a hot mess the whole/every time he was gone and he didn’t want to make it worse, he ALSO had to ignore the fact that he missed his family, and his friends because for him it was the only way to make it through that whole ordeal. EVERY TIME HE LEFT. He also had to watch/hear/read about his brothers in arms who did not make it home.

I guess all I’m saying is in comparison to what my military man does, I didn’t do anything. Shit. I won’t even give the bum in front of the Mickey D’s a dollar. HE was willing to die for his country. *I* just made sure his kids didn’t starve while he was gone.

As a military spouse, I have a more personal connection to days that honor the military. Because more than most, I know exactly how much they sacrifice to serve. And I won’t lie, I have a special place in my heart for all Marines. But if The Man hadn’t decided that he was going to be a Marine, I’d just be another woman who married her high school sweetheart. Instead of the woman who gets to bang a man in uniform, the BEST uniform. (Yeah, that’s right. I said it)

In Memorial to all of y’all who serve, have served and those that died serving: Thank you.

Ask me no questions

I have a firm policy on advice: I don’t give it, unless you ask for it.

I will sit quietly with my unpopular opinion because ain’t nobody ask me.

I don’t often point out people’s faults. Ok, well…maybe not to their faces. Because anybody who knows me knows I will send you stealthy pictures of random people and their absolutely horrifying fashion choices. But if you ask me “What is my problem?” And then I tell you, DON’T GET MAD AT ME.


*I* know what my faults are: I have general jackassy behavior, I’m stubborn, I can be lazy about things that I don’t really want to do to begin with…Wait. We’re not talking about me right now. We’re talking about you. *YOU* can’t see your faults, because to you they’re not faults. BUT TO EVERYONE ELSE, YOU DO THAT THING THAT GETS ON EVERYBODY’S NERVES. And while I deal with it because I love you, it is definitely a thing that is not winning you any personality contests.

If you ask, AND if I actually told you, you should consider than I told you because YOU NEEDED TO KNOW. Because DAMNIT that personality flaw is irritating as fuck, and maybe you needed somebody to point it out to you because CLEARLY you don’t (want) see it, BUT if you had to ask, then YOU KNOW THERE’S SOMETHING.

Which, you know…may be the reason I went ahead and was honest (in a nice way for a change, and not my usual brutal honesty which it generally way more painful than it needs to be <— see? another one of my character flaws), and told you in a way that wouldn’t completely destroy you, instead of fluffing your ego in that way that girls will do to their friends by telling you, “Girl, you know bitches be tripping.”

Because sometimes it ain’t the bitches that be tripping. IT’S YOU. And sometimes, somebody needs to tell you.

That’s REAL friendship. Keeping in real even when you don’t want to.

Just when you think she ISN’T like me, she proves she is

This is my sissie y’all.

She’s cute, right?

Anyways, she is known as the more RESPONSIBLE of the two of us. And less apt to say ridiculous things.  BUT, every once in a while she does something to prove that we are related.

So on the way back from Vegas, we stopped at Alien Fresh. Because, OF COURSE WE DID.

And they had this:

Yeah, I am NOT going to purchase an empty jerky bag that says invisible.

Sissie’s BoyToy: So you’re not getting any invisible jerky?

Me: No. Tasted weird.


Sissie: ..? They have invisible jerky? I didn’t see that over by the tasters. Do you have to get that up front?

Me: ::turns around and looks at her::

Me: *blink*

Sissie: …OH.


EVERYONE: ::turns to stare::

It’s nice to know I’m not the only one saying ridiculous things.


Gumballs and free shite

You know what really gets on my nerves? When I buy 5 bags of candy, and it’s gone in 3 days, AND THEN some asshole has the nerve to come over and complain because THERE’S NO MORE CANDY, even though said asshole probably at ate half of it, and doesn’t offer to contribute to the candy jar because CLEARLY the candy just magically appears from the candy fairy.


I bought a gumball machine.


It’s a bank.

Yup. You want a piece of candy? Drop in a coin. Don’t care what kind. Pennies, dimes, nickels. All are welcome. But what you AREN’T gonna do, is come over here, grab fistfuls of candy for free.

And of course, the first day I fill the gumball machine this happens:

MD (who does not WORK in my area, but comes over ALL THE DAMN TIME sniffing around the candy jar): Oh, you got a gumball machine … (tries to give it a turn WITHOUT putting in a coin)

Me: …

MD: I liked it better when there was chocolate.

Me: As long as I’m paying for the candy, I guess you’ll have to be satisfied with whatever I get. However, when the gumball machine is empty, I can totally use the money to buy chocolate.

MD: So I guess people were not contributing, huh?

Me: (turning around from my computer) WELL, my co-worker and I were basically supporting everyone’s candy habit, and that gets expensive. Especially since people who don’t work in this area were always coming over for candy. At least this way we’ll have something of a donation to use the next time one of us decides to do a candy run.

<<please picture a big cheesy smile here. Because I totally gave him one. It showed ALL OF MY TEETH>>

I would like to add that it is extremely difficult to embarrass a doctor over their expectations that ALL OF THEIR SHIT SHOULD BE FREE. They practically riot if they go to a meeting where this food isn’t being served. They have absolutely no shame complaining about a meeting where the coffee ran out like 1) they don’t make hundreds of thousands of dollars, 2) there aren’t 2 coffee shops on campus (not to mention the cafeteria and cafe that also serve coffee), AND 3) they weren’t 30 minutes late to this meeting, and that’s the REAL REASON there’s no more coffee. Because the people that showed up on time drank it all.

But apparently I did it. Because he turned bright red, and skulked out of the office with not one more word.


It’s Drawsome!

I know. Corny. And yet still. I kinda love this game.

I have a tendency to wait on the newest “fun” game, because DAMMIT Y’ALL, I have WORK, and SCHOOL, and #TRAININGDAY, and you know…LIFE. I don’t need another time suck. I’ve got plenty.

But. One of my friends sent me the picture that her husband drew for Rihanna. And after I stopped laughing, I signed up. I’m playing a significant amount of games. And I’m laughing hysterically at renderings of words like Raekwon, and marriage, and VEGAS (*cough* Grace is a fantastical artist. For reals)

It has also taught me that my friends are at least as ridiculous as I am, and know me well. AND? That they approach problems from VERY different directions:

From @sistuhgurl

From @mom2jazz


Very much related: God, I love my friends.




One more thing crossed off my bucket list

So here’s what happened:

I got to talking about getting into shape, and starting the Couch 2 5K program. Not because I had some 5K to get ready for, but because it was a running program a lot of my twitter peoples swore by.

And so I started tweeting about my training. And then Aaron was all “What? 5K, I’ll run one of those with you.” WHICH. Although, I hadn’t really considered running one, I did then. (I’m running THIS ONE. I blame this one on Megan, actually. Apparently a mud run is on HER bucket list)

And then EMMIE was all “You should think about running this relay race in October.” And in typical ME fashion, I was all “IT’S MY BIRTHMONTH!!” (Sidenote: I turn 40 this year, y’all. Get ready for real ridiculousness)

Another friend, who is NOT on the twitters goes “You know what would be great training for a relay? A half-marathon.”

I know right? It’s like everybody I know got into running ALL AT ONCE.

Actually, running a half-marathon is on MY bucket list. I have no interest at ALL in running 26.2 miles. But. I always thought running a half marathon would be just far enough to prove I was badass, but not so long that I would question my own sanity.

So I signed up! And talked several people into signing up too. Half marathon on May 20th.

Even though I’ve been a runner for a significant portion of my life (before I fell out of the habit), I know absolutely ZERO about long distance running, so I signed up for a training program called Start Training. It’s pretty awesome, not gonna lie. We meet every weekend to train, and get tips. Last weekend I ran a 10K as training. I have a feeling that I will be more than prepared to run 13.1 miles by half marathon day.

ANYWAYS (here comes the begging for money part), the Start Training program is run my the American Heart Association. And in order to participate, they ask us to do some fundraising for them. Did I mention that I HATE FUNDRAISING? Because I do, I really, REALLY DO.

BUT. I love love LOVE my trainer. And? My first job at Big Fancy Hospital was in the Cardiology department, and I do have a soft spot for AHA for that reason alone. Plus, Did I mention how much I love my trainer? She’s teaching me WAY more than I would have learned trying to do this on my own. Which THANK GOD I DON’T HAVE TO DO.

And so now I’m asking for money, because I love this program enough donate to it myself (which I did) AND ask OTHER people to donate to it too. Don’t y’all want to donate to a good cause? Of course you do.

And please do spread the word. Even though I have a minimum fundraising goad, I’m pretty sure they won’t hate me if I raise more.

Because I’m the most helpful person ever

My cousin in 23 years old.

And she’s never been to Vegas. (I know. It’s hard to believe we’re related)

Actually, the funny thing is that of my younger cousins, she is the MOST LIKE ME. 

Anyways. She IMs me on Facebook. I know. A lot of my cousins IM me on Facebook. Which I find to be weird. But what are you gonna do? Family.

She tells me that she wants to go to Vegas for her birthday. In JANUARY. I think her exact words were ” Be there, or never be spoken to again…or something” So, uh…yeah. TWIST MY ARM, I’ll be there. And then I say, “Hey, me and your cousins will be there in April, B2V is coming. Blah blah blah…. they’ll be running/volunteering; I’ll be drinking on the sidelines… blah blah blah….And the weather is perfect…blah blah…. Ditch Fridays at the Palms”

And then after she grilled me about Ditch Fridays, she said that she was scrapping Vegas in January plans. 

Me: Well, you can always have a HALF birthday. JUST SAYING.

So in case you were ever wondering, I AM sorta helpful. Depending on what you want help with.


Yes, I really said that

Every once in a while, I’ll tell my sister a story and her response is “Did you really say that?”  The answer has always been yes. I guess she asks because whatever I said seems like a completely ridiculous thing to say to another person.

But. I maintain that I live in some kind of bizarro world where people often say things to me that are completely out of order, but act like it is the most normal thing in the world to say to another person:

So Tuesday, I had to go run errands. I have a dress which I LOVE, but is ridiculously unflattering. It makes my boobs look HUGE (okay, yeah…I have huge boobs, but even bigger than normal) and its unflattering tummy-wise. Why did I go out in it? Because I don’t care. It’s comfy, and it was first thing I saw.

ANYWAYS, I ran into my sister-in-law. Who ended up needing a ride, so I dropped her at my FIL’s house. And her aunt was there.

An aunt, who, I would like to add, has known me for enough years to know that I am in NO WAY planning to have any other kids.

Aunt: Oh look at you. What is *THIS*?

And then you guys? SHE RUBS MY BELLY.

Okay. Now I’m going to interject to say TWO THINGS:

  1. Every woman should know NOT to assume another woman is pregnant.
  2. Just because you are older than I am (60ish to my 30ish), doesn’t NOT mean that I’m just going to stand there and let you insult me.

Me: Yeah, that’s fat. [And then I rubbed her belly RIGHT BACK.]

Just like that. Only smaller.


I actually think that was an appropriate response to that sort of question. I sort of feel like if you feel like it’s okay to say these kinds of things to me, I’m allowed to respond in kind. No?