Your tonsils are showing

I understand that I have been MIA and my avid followers (by followers, I mean like 3 of you sweet people trying to make me feel nice) are a bit upset by this.  However, I am American, so of course I have an excuse.

Unfortunately my Granddaddy Hog (aka Dick White) passed away Monday morning (3/14/11).  Stop right there & don’t even think about closing your browser!  I promise you that this will not be your typical tribute you read in the papers.  Hell, even Granddaddy’s obit wasn’t even typical…the entire thing was basically a family tree and half the names were the same!  He leaves behind a brother, 4 children, 8 grandchildren, & 1 great-grand…see what I’m saying?  After that, there wasn’t much room left to even begin to describe the kind of person he was.  It probably wouldn’t have been appropriate either.  If you had the pleasure of meeting him, you know what I mean.  If you didn’t, allow me to explain…

Stage 5 Clinger in The Bathroom

Does anybody feel like hearing a story?  No? Close your browsing session then cause I'm telling one anyways.  This one is for all the little brides to be.

In case you didn't know, we currently own 2 homes and plan to list one soon.  So we spent the entire day today cleaning the yard, washing the siding, painting the front porch, etc.  It was a fulfilling yet exhausting day.

We returned home (the one we live in -duh - #winning) just before 9 o'clock.  I was sore and dirty and wanted to take a nice relaxing bath, so I tiptoed to the back of the house hoping John Eric and Brice wouldn't notice for at least 20 minutes.  20 minutes, apparently, was too much to ask.

The minute my feet hit the fiberglass John Eric ducked his head in to see what I was doing and why I left him without telling.  I forgot to add that he is only this clingy because he was a bit buzzed from the beers he consumed - he claims they "help him paint better".  Yeah Right.  Two minutes later he was back...and pouting.  He wanted to tell me that he was going to bed and he was taking Brice.  "Ok Dear" I responded while crossing my fingers behind the curtain hoping this response would be appeasing enough.  It wasn't.  I must have double crossed.

Here he comes A THIRD TIME!  Now he wants to know why I don't care that he is going to bed and why am I ignoring him.  I finally said I do care but you are getting on my nerves so please get the your drunk [behind] out of here and stop letting all my hot air out!!!!  He finally left and went to prancing down the hall singing Daddy's drunk Brice & All She Cares about is Her Hot Air & Stage 5 Clinger in The Bathroom.

Stage 5 Clinger?  Ha, I'll show you a Stage 5 Clinger.  I decided to arm myself for his next entrance.  I flung the curtain open and sat waiting with my Sweet Honeysuckle & Orange Peel body wash in my hand.  I waited for the footsteps and bellowing to get closer.  Here  he is...the door flings open and I chunked the body wash at him.  Apparently I'm the dummy in this story because I forgot he was a baseball catcher and has much faster reflexes than myself.  Before I even released the bottle he was pulling the door shut to avoid injury.  Mother Fletcher.  There goes my favorite body wash exploding ALL OVER the bathroom that I JUST cleaned today.  Why do the men always win??  Now he's parading around the hall singing Your Mommy tried to get Your Daddy Brice & You can't beat Big Daddy Rabbit.  And there I am...in a cold bathroom without any body wash.

Why do we always lose?  I guess because we are women.  And I guess I didn't really lose because we all know that had I successfully pinged him in the forehead that I would have spent the rest of the night taking care of him and rubbing his back.  At least now he will walk around with his chest poked out feeling appreciated.  In the end that's all that matters & that's what makes a happy, loving household.

Oh yeah...the lesson for the brides to be?  Ask him to get something out of the cabinet and then throw his body wash.

Yes...locking the door works too, but then they feel locked out of your heart and they can't handle that.  Trust me. They love to suggest "Take a Mydol" every time we shed a tear, but they are much more sensitive and would rather you take the time to knock them out with a bottle of soap than be locked out of the room you are in.


I'm not proofreading, so please forgive any errors.

Keep your kankles to yourself

In case you didn't know, I LIVE for Wednesday nights!!  I don't know what excites me more - Cam from Modern Family, willingly sharing the couch & remote with my hubby, or pampering myself with an at-home pedicure.  Ok, I’ll admit it; Cam is what excites me the most!  Cause we all know I’ll have the at-salon pedicure, please.   Love the pedicure too, but hate the price?  Me too, so I lie, I'll do mine at home. 

Over the weeks I have shockingly discovered that these pedicure specialists have been holding out on us and I mean big time.  While thumbing through your Glamour magazine, how many times have you wondered: A) Are they talking about my kankles? B) Can I do this at home?  C) Does it hurt everyone’s abs to hold their foot up this long?  Answers: yes, yes, and I really hope I’m not the only one out there.  Stop the Presses! Yes I said Yes to A.  They really are talking about you…to their neighbor…in a different language.  I know we all try to convince ourselves that no, they aren't talking my kankles; they are talking about Charlie Sheen.   Nope...Sorry Ladies.  Don't believe me?  Go ask "John" (the little one with the glasses) at Season Nails on Rosewood in Columbia, SC.  He actually laughed when I asked.  Shrugged his shoulders.  Then let me in on the conversation about the lady across the room.  He also laughed really hard when I told him what kankles are.  Bastard.  I knew he thought that all along.