My Fam Damily

My family is excellent....like really excellent.  I miss the shit out of them since I moved to Maryland.  My friends still hang out with my parents which makes me jealous and happy all at the same time.  The best part of my family, and why my friends always come back for more is that there is never a dull moment.  My sister (the quiet one of the bunch) refers to my parent's house as a circus.  And it really is, particularly when I am in town.  My parents and I are LOUD, someone is always drunk, the music is blaring, people are coming and going, friends are showing up unannounced, the phone is ringing, my dad is being sassy, the dog is barking, and I love every minute of it.  Now that my sister has a little tike and a dog of her own running around, shit gets even crazier.  And that is just inside the house, we are no tamer when we embark out into the wild of Metro-Detroit. 

My sister may be quiet, but she is just as strange and crazy as the rest of us.  Her favorite place on earth is called Gibraltar Trade Center.  It is a large indoor flea market that always has some strange trade show going on.  They host the world's trashiest carnival each summer and even have a tattoo parlor and pet shop in the midst of the various Gypsy vendors.  It is my personal hell on earth.  I feel as though I have entered the twilight zone whenever I set foot inside. For some reason though I find myself in this odd place at least once a year with my sister. I really can't even do justice to just how odd this place is, but if you ever find yourself in the Metro-Detroit area don't go! 

Here is a text my sis sent me regarding her most recent Gibraltar trip:

My mom is possibly the wildest of all of us.  It is no surprise to find her dancing on top of a bar or even in a cage.  Hell, she danced in a cage once when there wasn't even music playing.  My mom loves her nickname Big Sandy even though she is anything but big physically.  She holds annual bashes in their neighborhood and always finds the perfect ways to piss off my dad, The Warden.  He is good at pissing her off in return.

Big Sandy knows all about the Beibs and Maroon Five, she keeps up with all the current trends and even suggested the book 50 Shades of Gray to her church book club.  I like to call her Mombo.

You really don't mess with Big Sandy.  She does what the F**k she wants when the F**k she wants.

Even my parent's dog Butch is a wild card.  He is not playful like most dogs, never was.  He loves two things: food and walks.  Mostly food.  My sister is his go to dog sitter when my rents travel.

Ohh the Dog Park

As anyone campaigning for dog-mom of the year would do, I take my baby Fred to the park on the regular.  We go several times a week, despite the fact that Fred is slowly destroying my car.  Even though my seats are always caked in mud, the windows full of slobber, and there are nail scratches on my dash....it is still better than changing diapers and paying for college so dog babies for the win!

I grew up with dogs but never had one while living on my own until now.  Because my parents have a large backyard and a great neighborhood for walks, I had never been to a dog park before getting Fred.  I have learned many things by becoming a dog park regular.  The most important is the levels of dog obsession.

I am obsessed with my dog I will not lie.  He does not however rule my life, this is not common with the folks I meet at the dog park though, they are freaky into their pets.   

These dog park junkies do not know your name, but they can tell you your dog's nickname, age, weight, height, and personality.  I am shocked when I will overhear a dog parker telling someone else all about my dog...

These people think it is perfectly acceptable to let their muddy ass dog jump all over you and hump your dog.  No my friend, these things are not ok. 

The only human interaction some of these weirdos get on the weekends is the dog park, and they form cliques. I am not a part of the dog park elite, I try to avoid some of the stranger regulars.  I know for a fact most of these crazies don't like me (they love Fred though) it is probably because I am not a 40 year old virgin and I know boobs don't feel like bags of sand. 

One of the real winners asked me for my number once so our dogs could "play".  This gentleman was in his mid-fortys sporting a Grumpy hat.  Grumpy as in the dwarf; I declined.  The next week he invited me to his dog's birthday party.  I asked if there would be booze to which he replied, "no it's a party for the dog!"  I obviously did not attend.

(Fred gets parched after a long day at the park)

Another wack-a-doo at the park brings his three dogs (none of which play, they just sit by his feet) every single Saturday and stays about 5 hours.  This man wants nothing more than to argue politics at the park.  I am typically hungover on my Saturday morning visits and his shouting and close minded ideas do not sit well with me, I haven't gotten into a fight yet but know it's only a matter of time.  Your dogs don't play: GO HOME!

Perhaps the craziest of the lot is a homeless woman who frequents the park.  She lives in her 1980s Volkswagen golf, smokes a pack a day, and owns 3 black labs.  The labs live in the VW with her.  During my most recent encounter with her she gave me financial advice and told me I should buy a house not rent an apartment when she over heard me talking to someone about the complex I live in. 

The Warden's World

Well folks, the Warden is back.  He is still crazy as ever and has now decided to make the move from business owner to philosopher....

If you are wondering what short bus U is, that would be my mom's school.  She is a special education teacher, the Warden does not know how to be PC. 

Friday Falsies

Oh Friday you sweet little treat, back again!! Friday's make me such a happy camper.  I am going to do as little work as possible today, then head to Zumba, and who knows what might happen after that....Wine is likely! 

Last night I went on a nice little girl date.  We are both single moms, so we took our dog children to the park to play.  After that we enjoyed a romantic dinner of chicken wings and beer.  There was some Kohl's shopping involved as well.  I live in a small town guys, Kohl's is about as fancy as it gets....
unless you want to go to JC Penny of course. 

Anywho, on our Khol's visit my pal and I ran into this little beauty. 

At this point in my life I am not in the market for making any part of my body look bigger.  My boobs are large and in charge and lets just say my trunk has enough junk.  But apparently if you want a little bigger derriere, Khol's has you covered.  Now I am not one to judge.  In fact I think whatever makes you happy is great.  If a big fake butt or boobs makes you smile, you go girl.  But I wonder, is this false advertising?? What happens when you go to get frisky and the lucky recipient discovers your butt is much smaller up close and personal??

My best friend has the right approach.  She wears those chicken boob cutlets all the time.   You know the little plastic pads you put in your bra for a little extra oomph.  She doesn't pretend they are God given however, and anytime she gets drunk the little cutlets come out to play.  Sometimes they are even sassy like she is and slap me around a little. 

Ignore the toilet behind me, I'm classy I promise.

I guess the butt enhancer shouldn't have surprised me, even way back when ladies liked to pad their bras, I learned this a while ago when I was working on a clothing exhibit for work.  I got to see a bra insert from the 1800s.  It looked nothing like a chicken cutlet though.  I have been on my diet for about three days now (minus the beer and wings oops), so I am sure I will be needing a but enhancer in no time.  I am just glad I know where to get one now.

Facebook Bitch Slap

This summer will mark my ten year high school reunion.  Jesus Mesus I am old!! That means it has been six long years since I left the happiest place on earth, also known as college.  That being said, many of my 600+ Facebook friends are folks I have not seen in the flesh, nor spoken to in years and years.  Just the other day I was thinking, "man I should really delete some of these jokers I never plan on seeing again."  I happen to be a Facebook lover.  I really like to see what people are up to and stalk their photos.  I get a lot of news from my friend's status updates, find interesting articles, also being states away from lots of my peeps Facebook helps me feel connected to them.  There is also the flip side and some of the political rantings, hundred photo shares a day, and baby mama drama that many of my so called "friends" post make me hate them a little more each day.

I have yet to clean up my friends list however, and today something happened that made me re-consider doing so.  I heard via the Facebook grapevine that one of my old middle school buddies had gotten married.  Naturally I wanted to view her entire photo album and see her dress, flowers, reception, and so on. I love weddings for crying out loud!! I went to do my creepin this morning only to discover I had been removed from her friends list!  I mean granted we haven't actually spoken in probably five years, and I wouldn't say we have been legitimate friends for at least twelve, but what a bitch slap in the face to be removed like that!! I will really have to think before deleting anyone in the future.  If semi-strangers and people I once knew want to look at my loser life on Facebook, what right do I have to stop them!! Stalk away former co-workers and drunken acquaintances...I love you all in my own way.

The Real Housewives of Downton

The most important thing I have learned through working in a museum is that people way back when were just like people today. Nothing is different, we just dress a little sluttier now and use iPhones instead of telegrams. 

I mean even in the Jesus days some people were jerks and some were cool.  Throughout history people have not really changed all that much when you really think about it.  I think my point is proven on the fabulous PBS series Downton Abbey.  I was late to the game in getting into this little gem, but now I am a full blown Downton junkie.  I have a Master's in history, so obviously I am a great scholar and can say with 100% confidnece that this is the best period drama since Mad Men. 

It is also further proof that women were bitches even back in the early 1900s.  The ladies of Downton are just as awful as any of the real housewives.  In fact they are pretty much one in the same.

Some people simply do not fit in with their family or in Kim's case group of friends

Some people have really weird freaking names....Shrimpy, NeNe?? They need to bang already. 

Some women are genuinely nice, even some really pretty ones!

Some women you just don't mess with!

Some rich people are into being charitable.

Some dudes are secretly gay.

 

Some girls aren't exactly nice but we don't hate them because they are so darn pretty.

and some bitches are just downright evil....

The Warden's World

The hardest part about moving across the country is not having your loving family by your side.  Back in Michigan, even in my late 20s I went to my dad, The Warden, with every problem I had.  He would fix my car, lend me money, help me cook, give me rides, wait on me when i had a hangover, really whatever I needed.  Now I text him for advice, when I run into a pickle in Maryland.

He is always there with good advice and a kind word.

I sent him a message the day I burned my hand at work.

(I am super smart and poured boiling water onto it while making tea)

My dad misses me in his own way.

Textual Messages

It's like a sexual message without the romance or the sex.

There is no one that loves to text more than me, my mom even  made rules based on my addiction. 

In highschool there were only four rules in my parent's house:

1. Don't wake my mom up if you come in late.

2. Don't open a can of pop and not finish it
(my mom would cut a bitch for this one).

3. Don't let your friends call the house after 10.

AND

4. Turn off your cell phone ringer.
 (My mom hated the sound of my text chirp more than I hate John Mayer).

I still text at least 4 million times a day.  Mostly to my manfriend and my best bud from college. 

They are the two best text buddies a girl could dream of.

I made Matzo Ball soup for the first time the other day.  This is a traditional Jewish soup if you aren't familiar.  My manfriend tried some of the left overs and sent me a message to let me know. 

(note: mandfriend and I love Jewish people, as well as all people, this is meant to be funny not offensive)

The Warden's World

Who is this Warden character you ask??

That would be my father. A rare breed; totally anti-social on some days and the life of the party on others.  He likes his scotch expensive, his wine cheap, and no matter how sassy he is to someone they always come back for more.  He is funnier than your average bear and reminds my sister and I often that all we ever did was break his heart and take his money. 

As kids he would take my sister and me out of school for no reason so we could all hang out, regularly woke me up at 2am on a school night to eat chips and watch TV, and played the game hot potato with us when our friends came over....he would use an actual hot potato. 

My dad and I did not always see eye to eye.  We fought like banshees when I was in high school.  He seemed to always want to know where I was going and what I was doing.  I have always been a free spirit and this did not sit well with me, the name Warden was coined by my best friend when I was angry at my dad for not letting the 16 year old me come and go as I pleased.

My dad and I are good pals now.  We go out drinking every Christmas eve, we get nice and hammered then head to the mall to buy my mom her gifts.  We Still both like to eat chips and watch TV, and now that we are states away we text each other when ever he will actually give me the time of day.  He is a busy man the Warden is, and he does not waste his day texting like I do.

Here are some of my favorite conversations:

 

If you do not have an iPhone, #1 get one. #2 my dad is on the left, I am on the right.

My dad taught me the importance of sobering up with a beer when there is too much liquor in your system.  (My mom is Sandy, but my dad sometimes refers to her as Terry. I can't really remember why, but I know it is not nice.)

My dad thinks off the hook means out of control.

My dad finds random jars of gourmet olives in the house: I miss my parent's fridge.

My dad is never politically correct.

Potluck Do's and Don'ts!

I can hardly control my excitement today.

Why you ask??

It is not because it is Friday and that means no work for a bit....

and it is not even because I am going to see the comedic stylings of

Ron Swanson (the greatest man in America) tonight.

No my friends, I am ecstatic because today is the day of the monthly potluck at work.  Call me white trash if you want, trust me I've been called worse, but I love work potlucks. 

They combine my three favorite things on earth:

-Eating

-Cooking

-and Not Working

Each day I wait and wait for my lunch break, dreaming about my delicious salad and lemon water...counting down the minutes until I can stop working for an hour and shoot the breeze with my co-workers.  Lunch is by far the most wonderful time of the day, and the monthly potlucks are like the King of all lunch breaks.  These potlucks always have a theme of some sort.  Today's is baked potato bar.  There are 31 employees so that means a shit ton of food.


(I googled potluck and this is what came up, trust me ours looks way trashier)

Myself and my two BFF's at work are the organizers of the potlucks.
 It is great because we have really maximized the getting out of work aspect of them.

We take at least an hour to "set up".  My boss has never noticed the only set up involved is putting up three folding tables, bringing some silverware and plates into the conference room, and maybe heating up our own items.  This all takes about four minutes, but we stretch it a tad.  The clean up takes even longer.  I mean we have to throw away the plastic table cloths, clean like five serving spoons, and talk trash about our co-workers we hadn't seen in a while.  This takes an hour+.  We just want to do a good job.

Potlucks are not all fun and games though my friends.  No not at all.  I have really learned a great deal about potluck etiquette from some of my co-workers.  I am going to share the rules with you so you won't have to learn the hard way like I did. 

Potluck Do's and Don'ts!

(note these facts are all 100% true and have happened at my place of work)

• Do not eat anything brought by co-workers that exhibit hoarder tendencies.  (we have 3).

•  Share the DO NOT EAT LIST with the ones you love .  We thought this was common knowledge and then discovered our wonderful boss did not know rule #1!  We quickly showed him the car of one of the  list members and he threw up in his mouth a little.  This car was so packed with crap (an SUV mind you) that only one passenger could fit.  I am not exaggerating.  If you can't sit in someone's car, don't eat their food.

• Do not eat anything brought by your co-workers that have more than 3 cats.  A former co-worker of mine had over 15 cats.  We only allowed her to bring chips in a sealed bag, or unopened packs of plates.

• When the theme of a potluck is appetizers, do not bring a can of corn that you open at work and put into a Tupperware container and act like you are contributing. 

• Do not bring an open, half eaten sleeve of saltine crackers to the chili cook off.

• Do not bring a tub of anything that has been used.  We don't want the last scoop of your sour cream.

• Do not bring a dish called tomato and tuna pie.  What the fu*K is that even??

Otherwise anything goes at a potluck.  They are a really great way to get your weeks worth of calories in one meal, and a great reminder on a monthly basis of why you eat lunch with just your 2 BFF's the rest of the month. 

A note to the one I love!

Happy Valentine's Day to the cutest boy I know.

The one who can always make me smile.....

the one who is always there, and I can always count on....

who takes care of me when I am sick......

and plays with me when I am well....

who cuddles better than anyone in the world...

and has the most beautiful eyes around...

who always knows the right thing to say....

and when to say nothing at all.

They don't come more handsome than you!

I love you a little more everyday.

Happy Valentine's Day to my baby dog Fred.

You are the best in the west.

and the east and the north too.

just look how cute you are chewing on dad's sock!

and stealing his hat from our table! (that is a pub height table FYI)

Look at your cute little tongue, I don't even care that you were sticking it out at me!

You always know how to make yourself comfy! I admire that Fred.

I love when you lay on me while I watch Downton Abbey (even though you weigh 97 pounds)

Seriously Fred, I love you to the moon. 

Happy Valentine's Day to you too manfriend.  Thanks for the flowers and the present. 

You are pretty ok!

Hope everyone has a wonderful Valentine's Day, and for you non-idiots who didn't give up sugar

 for lent, have a piece of real expensive dark chocolate for me!! Or hell, even have a twix for me.

The Birthday Boy

Last night, manfriend and I celebrated his birthday.  His actual birthday was Sunday, but thanks to his a-hole job he spent that entire day sleeping and working.  I did get him carry out breakfast, so obviously it was a day to remember.  He had last night off for a change, so we went out to a nice little restaurant for some dinner and drinks.  Everything was really good, even though the celebration wasn't really our typical sort....

(My favorite part of any meal)

We prefer to celebrate by doing things such as: traveling to new cities we have never been drunk in, spending money we don't have on fancy hotels in DC then not remembering how we got back to them, or having a bunch of friends over and me getting so drunk I am embarrassed to face any of them for the next few weeks.

This year we couldn't do that though, so we kept it local and tame.  For his gift however, I did present him with a homemade gift certificate (I am adorable like that) redeemable for an overnight stay in a surprise location.  He doesn't read this blog so I can give it away a little, the trip will involve a brewery tour and lots of bar hopping.  He will love it.

For those of you who don't know my manfriend, he is a really fun dude.  He is nice to everyone, hardly has a mean word to say, makes friends literally everywhere he goes, and is quite funny if I do say so myself!  You would probably like him a lot.  His name is Jose so obviously I call him Jose Jalapeno, or sometimes Juan or Joyce (my dad gave him that nickname and I love it!)

I really like texting him at least a thousand times a day....mostly I send him photos of our dog Fred.

I was almost that guy

I tried a new class at my gym last night.  It was a flow class which mixes yoga, pilates, and some other shit.  I figured I love blended wines so this would probably be great too.

I have only taken about 5 yoga classes, I know there are all different types because I googled it once, but all the previous classes I have been to have been super relaxing and stretchy and totally not a hard work out.  I have loved them all. Anytime I can lay on the ground and stretch out like a lazy bum is good with me.  This new class was not what I was expecting, it was hard as hell.  Hard in a good way of course, I am sore as all getup today which I guess is what you want from a workout.  I felt like a bit of a beached whale attempting most of the moves last night but I will be back to perfect my skills next week.  I even tried to get up at 6am for the early bird class this morning, but we all know how much i love waking up....so I got coffee at WaWa and ate an English muffin instead.

The very end of class was the relaxation/meditation session, aka my jam! There I was laying on my back doing the happy baby pose when it happened, my throat started to tickle like mad!!! I thought no way, I can't be that guy who starts hacking up a lung in yoga class!! I kept swallowing my spit (gross) trying to make the urge to cough like a 50 year old chain smoker go away....

Some how I made it through without coughing, I ran out of class as soon as it ended and coughed my little heart out.  I am so glad i didn't embarrass myself on night one, there is plenty of time for that if i keep going.  Why do I always have to cough in the most innapropriate times such as church, during meetings, and funerals?? I don't get it.  Sometimes it happens even when I am not sick.

I did forget my yoga mat at the gym due to rushing out of the class however, I hope some a-hole doesn't steal it, but then again not really because if it gets jacked I have a reason to buy a new one at Target. 

Zumba Hookers

I think we can all agree that Zumba is a damn good time.  I go every Friday and Saturday unless I am out of town or too hungover.  Until recently I thought my teacher was awesome and never had a reason to complain; then I found out the Zumba classes in Maine include a free hooker.  I feel so ripped off. 

Read this article, but probably not at work cuz it's all about hookers

I mean I guess I just have to accept it, every class and every teacher is different.  I learned that this week when we had substitute Zumba instructors for both classes.  Subs in Zumba aren’t like the ones from elementary school.  They don’t let you goof off and watch movies, they take themselves very seriously.

I should have known my class on Friday was going to be a hot mess.  I really should have skipped and went to target instead.  For starters, I got to the gym about 5 minutes after the class started.  I am typically fashionably late for everything (including work each day) but  free Zumba at your gym is not the time to be tardy to the party.  No my friend, being late means you get the little sardine can space in the very back of the room next to the two smelly ladies.  Without fail if you get to class late, you will get elbowed, stepped on, and otherwise molested.

If being late wasn’t bad enough, when I got into the locker room to change I realized I left my sports bra at home.  I don’t want to get too personal here, but I will tell you: my bresticles are large and in charge.  Once again, I should have counted my losses and left then and there.  No, instead I decided, I needed to work off the Starbucks I had that morning, plus I freaking love Zumba.  I decided to be brave and face the class with my regular bra….ahhh the horror. 

I walk into the room and what do I see, but some stranger is leading the class?? Where is my beautiful teacher who I hate because she had a baby like 4 weeks ago and has the body of a playmate?  She was nowhere to be found and in her place was a scantily clad, crazy eyed woman.  I don’t know what it is about these Zumba teachers, but they always dress so crazy.  This one had black cargo pants, a see through jersey (like the kind they used to make you wear in middle school gym class), and a robins egg blue sports bra; and of course every article of clothing said Zumba on it somewhere.  This outfit may not seem to wild, in fact the color palate was quite tame compared to some I have seen; what was so shocking was the sports bra.  It was quite see through and this woman was on the older side….I saw more nipple than I ever wanted thanks to that stupid jersey that served no purpose. 

(This isn't my teacher, just some random Zumba enthusiast.)

Her outfit aside, this woman was bat shit crazy.  Now, for those of you who have never Zumbaed, the teachers often like to sing while they instruct; this gal was no exception. When she sang though, she made what I can only describe as her “O” face.  It was awkward to say the least, especially with that obscene bra on.  Halfway through the class she got all fired up and started yelling like a drill Sargent.  This is Zumba not boot camp!  It was terrifying.  At one point while describing a move, this loon actually said, “act like you are wiping your butt with a towel” .  I can’t even comment on that one.  Her class, aside from the shouting, was actually really good so I can’t complain too much, but at the very end she had us all do a cheer…we all had to put our hands into a circle and yell “we rock” on three.  I know I rock, I don’t need to yell it woman, I have a bar to get to.

(All the oldies in my class have started wearing these noisy skirts....I'm not a fan.)

I went back Saturday morning for round two.  Once again there was a sub.  This one called herself "Rocky" and was sporting at least 30 of those plastic Lance Armstrong-esq bracelets that all said zumba.  This bitch even had Zumba brand shoes.  She was pretty tame compared to Fridays whack job, but she did keep going around the room high fiving everyone...I think I am only friendly when I am drunk because it just made me feel awkward.



The World's Best Cookies

We all have different skills and talents.  Some people have more than others.

Not to toot my own horn here, but I happen to be blessed with tons of sweet skills.

I am a great cage fighter

I can tell if there is bleach in milk

I am also an awesome pastry chef.

Seriously let me on the show Chopped and I will kick every one's ass.

Here is a recipe for the best cookies you will ever eat:

*Soften one stick of butter.

*Add one egg to a large mixing bowl.

*Pour contents of cookie mix into bowl.

(Or yea...that's the good stuff!)

*Next get tired of waiting for afore mentioned stick of butter to soften and begin mixing cookies.

*The mix may look lumpy and not quite right, but just form it into inconsistent balls and put them onto a cookie sheet.

*Don't worry about spacing or anything, obviously, these cookies are 100% organic, vegan, gluten free, and healthy so they will be fine.

*Next place cookies in your pre-heated oven. 375 ya'll!!

*Take cookies out after ten minutes.  They will look a little undercooked so put them back in the oven.  Check them every few seconds by opening the door and looking at them.  It isn't true what they say on Chopped, opening the door and letting all the heat out is always a good idea...especially if you do it over and over.

*Take out your cookies once the edges have turned brown and the centers are still mushy, and enjoy.



(They should look something like this)

Honest to god, who screws up making a bag of cookies??  This guy does.  There is no excuse for those cookies, and I can assure you they tasted just as bad as they look.  I mean I still ate one, but it was not very good.