Category Archives: buffoonery

I Wanna Know

Someone recently very kindly pointed out to me that blogs occasionally contain some personal information about the author and their daily lives. This voyeuristic quality apparently makes it fun to quietly watch them go about their business while getting a peek into their brain.

This of course was a nice but passive aggressive way to let me know that me and my life are not at all present in the things I write.

Sure, occasionally I like to fume over the mindless jaywalker who stepped into oncoming traffic while I was on the road or reveal the horrifying incident at the Chipotle that took place only hours after my young son learned that ladies did in fact have vaginas instead of wieners but for the most part I leave my day-to-day happenings at the doormat when I step over the WordPress threshold.

After so many years of working diligently to not be vulnerable, needy or a pain in somebody elses ass, I’d almost forgotten how brilliant it is to see a person write something stripped down and bare enough that it makes them look completely human.

I’m not exactly sure when vulnerability and truth fell so out of fashion in my mind but there are days when all this autonomous droning about impersonal subjects and flaunting my “independence” gets tedious.

To exert so much energy in opposition to what I really feel at times is exhausting. It’s a struggle that results in exactly what I don’t want.

More isolation.Less warmth.

Since I am slow to absorb the most basic changes in routine, I’ll need to marinate in this sea of change for a few hours before I can produce a worthwhile post on the terrible new development of vagrants shitting in my garage.

Seriously. It’s either a guy without access to indoor plumbing, an urban Yeti or a bear that’s escaped from the zoo.

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Filed under a screw loose, adversity, am I doing anything right?, Back to basics, bad writing about nothing, buffoonery, crap shack, crazy ramblings, do this for me, do you really have the time to read about my life, don't destroy my dreams, don't take a crap in my garage please, excuses, foul language in preschool, getting it together, good smells bad smells, hidden grammar errors and bad writing, hole in my life, I can't spell, I can't end a story OR a blog post, I complain too much, I enjoy being inferior, i like to pretend, I need to get an original thought, I run fast, i said it was uncategorizable, I'm a hack, I'm a jerk!, I'm all over the map, make it more personal

I Know a Secret!

Have you ever found yourself in possession of a bizarre nugget of information that defies categorization?

What if this oddly intriguing but toe curling bit came to you by the most covert and bizarre means imaginable?
Say for instance that some unknowing soul had the misfortune of sitting on their phone and butt dialing you while information clearly not intended for your ears filtered through the receiver, unbeknownst to the person whose ass had just helped you become privy to some of their darkest secrets.

Do you keep listening?

What do you do with all this naughty juicyness?
Since you are essentially a fly on the wall in this case scenario and by no means meant to hear these words do you act on them?

Pretend they don’t exist?
What if they shift the axis of the earth you know so well?

What if this person was never what they seemed?

This opens up a whole new set of windows into a dimension previously unexplored by you, the voyeur.
Now that you are in on the secret can you quietly smile to yourself when you want to yell out everything you’ve heard in a cathartic release?

To be honest I’ve been the recipient of many drunk dials, and riveting phone conversations during my short life so not much on the other end of the receiver is shocking to me anymore, but wow.

Just Wow.

Talk about a surprise.

It’s like when I found out after  several years of suspicion that my husband was an ass man and NOT a boob guy as  previously thought.

Do you know how devastating it is to spend countless hours employing preventive measures to counter gravity only to find out you should have worked hard on your buttocks instead of your ta ta’s? Not that is was all for naught, as I still get the occasional appreciative perusal of my less than impressive rack, but still.

I get more applause coming than I do going.

Anyway, with each dawning day I learn something new and with that revelation I will be heading into the kitchen to make myself a generous helping of Ben & Jerry’s Vanilla Caramel Fudge ice cream while letting go of the dream of a firm taught behind.

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Filed under afternoon time wasters, alternate reality, are you kidding?, blogging for amateurs, boobs, buffoonery, butt dialing your cell phone, maybe?, secrets

The Horrifying Incident Involving the Boy, His Mouth, a 44 Minute Wait on Line, The Word Vagina and Fifty Scandalized, Hungry Patrons

Hey, remember me?

Super freewheeling summertime girl with the wind in her hair, not a care in the world and the family that looked like it jumped off the J. Crew end of summer catalog?

 Yeah, well she shriveled up into a ball and fucking vaporized in a puff of smoke this evening while trying to exert what little parental authority she was still clinging to during a mortifying incident at the jam-packed Friendship Heights Chipotle.

The scene opens with a sun-kissed, seemingly relaxed mother and her cute tanned energetic child engaging in playful banter  and games to bide the time at the end of a very long slow-moving line.

Area power outages have taken out the restaurant computer system and they seem to be processing transactions on some sort of Fred Flintstone rock and chisel credit card contraption.

Mother: Sam, get off the ledge, you might fall.

Sam: This line is long and I’m going to cut it. Let’s walk up there and just give the stupid order. This is terrible AND boring.

Mother: I know, but all these people are waiting just like us so that’s not fair.

Sam: Life is not fair. You say that to your kids all the time so I’m saying it to you now. (sing songy voice) Gonna drive my steamroller over all these stupid people and make them flat, then I’m gonna walk right over them and get my rice, la, la, la…

Mother: Sam! That’s not nice. Stop.

Sam: (under breath) It’s what we really need to do. Make pancake people and less line.

Fifteen more agonizing minutes pass with the levels of buffoonery increasing exponentially.

Mother: (sensing danger) Sam, you want me to pick you up?

Sam: (smiling) sure!

Sam: Hey, I can see your boobs from up here!

Mother: Okay, it’s time for me to put you down now.

Sam: (now rolling on the concrete floor and swatting at the bottom of his mothers sundress) Hey! I can see your vagina if I lift up your dress right?  Gavan taught me that girls penises are called vaginas! You have a vagina (then looking around and pointing to the surrounding women) and you have one, and you too. All ladies do!

Mother smashes her hand over Sam’s mouth

Sam: HEY! mrphh, machina, shtop, I CNTBREAFFFF!!!!!!!!

Mother: Shut it or you will NOT get a Mr. Pibb you fucking deviant animal, hiss.

Mother: (to employee) yea, I’d like three chicken…

Sam: VAGINAS!!!!

Mother: Burritos and one..

Sam: Lady vaginas! We want lady vagina on our burritos.

Mother: (covering Sam’s mouth with the iron force of a thousand livid parents) Just give me four burritos!

Employee:(quizzical look, cartoon question mark over head) burritos?

Mother: YES! Four of them, please hurry for the love of Christ!

Sam: (tearing at his mother’s fingers) pah chinas!!!!!

Mother: throwing cash at the checkout girl) QUICKLY! These four and a small Dr. Pibb.

Sam: Mr. Pibb doesn’t have a vagina cause he’s a boy and he’s got a penis. Mom, don’t you wish you could pee standing up?

Mother: no.

Defeated, she leaves the Chipotle with her head hanging in shame and her small son singing a remarkably catchy song about penises and why they are much more fun than vaginas.

Fade to black, end scene.

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Filed under Adventure, adversity, am I doing anything right?, bad parenting, buffoonery, can I have a normal day, delinquints, difficult kids, disasters

Starts With B, Rhymes With Witch

Float like a butterfly, sting like a bee.

What do you get when one and three go to war? Lot’s of flying fists, hurt feelings and exhausted referees.
 

Into every new year a little profanity must fall and who better to give it to you than Il Duce? The shock value of naughty words spilling forth from tiny lips never lessens, but  even I drew a sharp breath upon hearing his newly acquired profane utterance. 

If you want an extreme reaction, make sure to call me a bitch. 

If you want to make me cry watch my five-year old learn and use that word. 

Number one and number three are forces of nature that suck the air out of every room they enter creating a vacuum that few escape. Sandwiched between these two is my gentle sweet heart who has learned to weather the storm and keep his head down. 

Powerful personalities battle it out over Tokyo

Today I listened to all three call each other that word and waited for the piss poor parenting paddy wagon to pull up and cart me off. 

Good work mom. 

One too many viewings of the housewives of whatever county happen to be on and the word became legend over here where potty mouth is far too prevalent and three bars of lye soap are in demand now. 

Little assholes.

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Filed under 1, am I doing anything right?, assholes, Bad cable shows, bad catholics, bad parenting, behavior problems in kids, buffoonery, crazy ramblings, discipline, kids and parenting, kids that like cursewords, parenting, parenting badly, please let him grow up to be normal

Things are Not as They Appear.

This Sunday I had myself a true Judas Iscariot moment.

I denied knowing my own children at the grocery store.

Then I stopped after reading that last line and asked myself  “Hey girl who spent her whole life chained to a pew in parochial school! WHO was it now that denied Jesus three times?” “Why YES you moron that would be Peter.”

Judas sounds so much more theatrical though, so I’m keeping it even thought it is not historically accurate.

While waiting patiently in the checkout line my two boys began to act a little squirrely.

They were redirected to the front of the store near the exits brought there by my beleaguered mother who was lacking her usual sharp tongue and was hanging there like a limp dishrag due to a debilitating migraine.

 This means that the boys were running in circles, screaming about having a girlfriend, punching each other, jumping off the bench my mother was passing out on, smashing the video machine with the dollar rentals and accosting the automatic lotto dispenser.

Two über uptight couples with pursed thin lips were starting to shake their heads in disbelief and exchanging disgusted looks with each other at the volume and sheer audacity of the two unruly boys and their comatose caretaker.

“So rude and disrespectful” noted one.

“Why isn’t she doing anything to control them?” asked the other.

Then Il Duce let loose with a rank profanity followed by a roaring hysterical cackle and I watched them gasp with horror.

They were truly disgusted.

“CAN YOU BELIEVE THAT?!” they croaked, looking at me.

I thought for a moment. There were thousands of ways I could go here but I opted for betrayal.

“I know!” I commiserated, as I lugged the rest of my fresh produce onto the belt.

I didn’t feel nearly as bad as I know I should have but it was just so much easier to cut and run regarding knowing this lot than to try to explain them to someone who wouldn’t care.

After scooping my mother up off the bench and driving her back home so she could suffer her mind exploding agony alone on her couch I spoke briefly to the boys about minding their behavior in public. But my pleas fell on deaf ears as they were both fast asleep in the back.

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Filed under 1, adversity, am I doing anything right?, bad manners, bad parenting, being shallow and crass, boys with serious attitude, buffoonery, can I have a normal day, cowards, crazy ramblings, disasters, discipline, giving up, I complain too much, I don't know how to end a blog post, i don't like mondays, i love kids, I REALLY DO, I'm not as effective in a bad situation as I thought I would be, kids, kids and parenting, kids that like cursewords, random observations

How I Imagine My Week End at BlogHer Might Go Down

That's me second from the right.

Every great story has a beginning people, and this could be ours.

Picture the Hilton.

Emerging from various modes of transportation throngs of ladies approach the entrance “Almost Famous” style with Led Zepplin’s Misty Mountain Hop blaring for full effect. You also have the option of a helicopter drop a la’ Woodstock, but I was too young to witness that firsthand so I’m not sure how it works.

Can I be Penny Lane?

There is a lot of fist punching, high fiving and hugging as people find out for the first time that the mommy blogger they’ve been following for three years is a seventy year old parole violator with a working knowledge of explosives and  mean martini making skills.

I can mix a mean drink!

Drinks are consumed and laughs are had as all regularly scheduled programming goes down the shitter.

 Vapid brings an entire travel bar we can use after last call. We end the evening wearing ponytails, glitter and find polaroids the next day depicting us being carried by what appears to be an ice giant.

The Bloggess sets up shop with her new intern and legions of followers NEAR the bathroom because the confines and stench of the actual facilities are too much to bear. She sends us forth to the buffet to procure food and drink for her new area and we all bask in the glory of having had a Bloggess sighting while being asked to actually DO something of value for her.

We get halfway there and forget our mission.

Elly’s organized chicken faceoff is about to take place in the pool so in we go, drinks and all. Elly and I are able to pull off a victory due to a last minute hat trick involving a distraction by Destructicorn.

This is one of the few images I could find depicting anything resemblng a chicken fight. Weird right?

Ry and Amanda go down. And by that I mean FALL DOWN ya perv. They have their revenge in the form of a dance-off where Elly and I learn that there are just some moves that only people from Connecticult can master. We are left defeated and spent on the multi-colored light up floor.

Fun
Frolic
Foolishness

I enlist the help of my newly found gem Hellachella to fashion me three muppets in the likeness of Sting, Stewart and Andy so I can go up to my room and reinact my own warped version of the Police reunion tour. Anyone who has seen her zombie sock monkey knows that this will be a raging success.

We end like a house on fire with destroyed rooms, sullied reputations and terrible hangovers.

Weeping, we sing one last version of The Eagles “Desperado” (why , we are not sure) and part ways- until next year.

Vapid’s Corvette  screetches around the corner into the sunset.

What happens at BlogHer STAYS at BlogHer

There were like 400 more people I was supposed to fit into this case scenario but I got lazy and tired and my mind stopped working.

23 Comments

Filed under 1, blogher, buffoonery, imagine if everyone hates me, tomfoolery