Random stuff

Here are a few random things I wanted to share with y’all.

Used Car Ad

This used car ad made me laugh. There isn’t an obnoxious salesman screaming into a camera. This was posted on Ebay. The vehicle description is fantastic.

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“Since owning the vehicle, it has been thrashed, raced, rallied, and the interior has been smashed up in a domestic, not to mention the time my wife booted the wing because I suggested she eat a salad or two. ( please refer to photo of foot next to dent for reference).”

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“If you are looking for an immaculate, well maintained example of a Mercedes e320 CDI… you have come to the wrong place. If however, you are low on self esteem, with a strapped budget, but shooting for the stars, welcome to my auction.”

I may be interested. I have been having one problem after another with my minivan. I took it into the shop yesterday with a flat tire. The mechanic put the car on the lift, removed a nail and patched the tire. Then, he signaled for me to follow him outside, “You are all set, no charge.” I told my husband he was probably hitting on me, thought I was hot. My 13-year-old overheard the conversation and laughed as if to say, “Very funny mother, you troll.” Is it so hard to believe that someone would find me attractive. Hasn’t he heard the song “Stacey’s Mom?”

I am not a professional photographer, but here are a few pictures I snapped.

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This guy wants his MTV and to cut off the circulation to his feet. #ELASTICSWEATPANTS

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This is painted outside a Chinese restaurant. You can park here, but don’t you think about praking.

Coupon insert = entertainment

It is no secret that I love coupons. I am a rookie extreme couponer. I don’t have 90 cans of peas in my pantry, but I could supply deodorant for an entire NFL team. I just bought three 12 packs of Bounty paper towels and a bottle of Tylenol for $6.30. Bam! Do you know what I love even more than scoring a high value coupon? The advertisements that are included in the Sunday inserts. They bring me so much joy. Please allow me to explain why.

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The model is saying “Ta-dah! For $19.99 you can look like you are 50 years older, too.” Put these on and you won’t need to show ID to get a senior citizen discount at McDonald’s.

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Have you been searching for the perfect knick knack to sit on the shelf beside your collection of Precious Moments figurines? The hunt is over. Who doesn’t want a talking monkey in a pink dress? You’re welcome.

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Cancel that appointment with the gynecologist. This is better than birth control. Have your man throw on a pair of these elastic waist pants and problem solved.

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These shoes say “I would rather be comfortable than look attractive.” Her online dating profile includes “Must be willing to massage my bunions.”

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Money can’t buy you class, but it can get you a ceramic elephant.

Relief

My 6-year-old son is braver than me. (Or is it braver than I? My English teachers are cringing.) This kid had a piece of his head cut off today and didn’t flinch. He underwent surgery to remove a mole with moderately atypical cells. I nearly lost my mind when I heard a pathologist mention the “c” word. No, he didn’t call me a C U Next Tuesday. Although it wouldn’t have been the first time.

I noticed the mole after my son got a horrible haircut. Our usual hairdresser was off, but my children were starting to look like Chewbacca’s relatives. So, I scheduled an appointment anyway. This chick gave my kindergartner a style shorter than a high and tight. While washing what little hair he had left I noticed an unusual spot on his scalp. I treated it with Neosporin for a week. Growing up, my Dad’s cure for everything was Neosporin. Papercut? Neosporin. Burn? Neosporin. Lose a limb? Neosporin. When it didn’t go away I scheduled an appointment with the dermatologist who recommended it be removed. I suppose I should thank Edward Scissorhands.

My 3-year-old daughter hugged my son before his appointment and said, “It will be okay.” My heart melted. It almost made me forget how, moments earlier, she told him he needed to move out because he annoyed her. True story. She is three going on 15.

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On the way to the ambulatory surgery center my son admitted being nervous, “I am so scared I am farting like crazy,” he said. Look out Honey Boo Boo, our white trash family is on your tail. I couldn’t help, but giggle. A plastic surgeon performed the surgery using local anesthesia. I was allowed in the room and held his hand until it was over. He would have been fine without me. This kid didn’t stop talking the entire time. He gave a long winded speech about Legos, superheroes and why transformers aren’t cool. Then, he discussed my excessive sweating at length. Yep, he told the surgeon and two nurses, “My Mom sweats A LOT especially when she exercises.” It was a complete non secuitur, but how can you lecture a kid getting 15 stitches on the top of his noggin. At least he didn’t tell the story about how I had to race home from his school to use the loo. He is probably saving that one for the dentist.

 

Stroll for Strong

I finished a charity walk today looking like I ran a 5k. It turns out pulling a 6-year-old and 3-year-old in a wagon, up hills and across rough terrain is not easy. I was dripping with sweat.

Today’s event raised money for Golisano Children’s Hospital in Rochester, NY. This hospital and its staff are a vital part of our community. They do amazing work for a lot of families. I walked in support of my dear friend, Jennifer. Last year, her daughter Grace, born with CDH, was one of the hospital’s “Miracle Kids.” Grace passed away in February at just 17-months-old. I got teary eyed when I saw a poster of her at today’s fundraiser. I thought to myself, I can’t believe Grace isn’t here.

The Stroll for Strong is like a carnival complete with face painting, magicians and a dunk tank.

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There’s food, ice cream and bounce houses. My kids spotted the play area the minute we pulled up. They sat patiently in the wagon until the walk was over. Then, they raced over to the play area. My 3-year-old daughter wanted to follow her older brother through the inflatable obstacle course, but was afraid. The sign said you had to be under 6′ tall and 250 pounds. I could go with her. We got halfway through before I realized it was a horrible idea. How was I supposed to squeeze through this carrying a toddler:

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I decided to go first and pull my daughter through. I put my legs up, hoping to slide feet first. Well, my sweaty knees got stuck on the plastic. I did a face plant on the other side. My daughter, who apparently has trust issues, thought I abandoned her. “Mommy,” she cried. “Don’t leave me.” I didn’t leave her in the mall when she threw herself on the ground screaming. I didn’t walk away when she knocked coffee out of my hand in Starbucks. So, why would I choose to abandon her now? “I’m right here,” I mumbled. Each time I tried to stand my foot sunk deep into the plastic throwing me back on my ass. I was finally able to claw my way to a kneeling position. “Come on honey,” I signaled for my daughter to jump into my arms. “No. I can’t. I’m scared,” she screamed. I was about to have a panic attack. I had to get out of this damn bounce house.

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It became a Bruce Willis movie.
“Listen to me. Calm down! You have to come with me,” I yelled, grabbing her arms and dragging her to safety. I met another woman at the exit who looked just as frazzled. We locked eyes and I said, “That was..” She finished the sentence, “Awful!” We both laughed. “We are the best mother’s ever,” she continued. I nodded in agreement.

I let my children play alone a bit longer. Then, we made the long journey back to the car. That is when it dawned on me. Grace was here today. You could feel her spirit everywhere. She is still inspiring people. Even on days when life seems impossible, Grace reminds us not to give up. She was even with me in that bounce house. Grace was and will always be in my heart.

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Run, Forest, Run

A lady who bears a striking resemblance to an Old Maid card kicked my ass on the high school track. I went for a run yesterday to train for a 5k. The race is today. I am used to running on a treadmill. So, I figured I should introduce my sneakers to pavement. I usually try to avoid exercising in public because I sweat profusely. It was 8:30 a.m. and the track would be empty, right? Wrong! After one lap grandma jumped in lane two. Ha! I thought to myself. Eat my dust grandma! A little healthy competition is a good thing.

I threw on will.i.am’s “T.H.E The Hardest Ever.” and ran like I was being chased. (William obviously failed the lesson on punctuations) J.Lo sings the chorus, “You can go hard or you can go home…” I am going hard grandma! I sped up putting a good distance between us. It didn’t last long. I got tired and slowed down. Grandma and I were neck and neck. Sweat was pouring down my brow and into my eyes. I could barely see the track. You cannot lose. Grandma smirked as she passed by. Then, the bitch taunted me. She started with a side step, threw in some high knee kicks and even ran backwards.

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I made frequent stops for water, but not grandma. She is some sort of camel because she didn’t stop once. When she finished running grandma hopped on a bike and rode home. I would have shaken grandma’s hand or bowed down to her, but I couldn’t catch her. So, I got in my minivan and left. I will be participating in the charity walk and stick to running 5k’s indoors.

Moment of Zen

I sat outside a coffee shop this morning for 30 minutes waiting for a friend. It was just what the doctor ordered. The sun was shining and birds chirping. The coffee shop is nestled in a small plaza behind an ornate iron gate. There is a long brick walkway leading to the entrance with trees scattered throughout. I cannot remember the last time I enjoyed a quiet moment alone. It was heaven until…. two crackheads appeared. The woman was wearing cut off jean shorts and a paper thin white tank top. The man looked like he hadn’t bathed in months. I don’t know the extent of their conversation, but she was cursing him out. I don’t think it was for using the last of the toothpaste. Together they walked to an ashtray outside a restaurant and lifted the lid. He held up a cigarette butt and looked to her for approval. If she nodded he carefully placed it in a plastic baggie. I am pretty sure that is close to rock bottom. They just haven’t realized it.

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I closed my eyes for a brief moment as a gentle breeze caressed my hair. I was back in my happy place until.. a pungent odor smacked me in the face. Apparently I chose to sit near a toxic waste dumping site. One by one workers from nearby restaurants came outside to dump filthy water into a sewer grate.

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Still, I was alone and nothing was going to make me leave. Well, that was until….a homeless man plopped down on another bench directly next to me. He reeked of alcohol and urine. If that wasn’t bad enough he let out the loudest, most vulgar fart I have ever heard. The noise was similar to an app on my son’s IPod. My children think passing gas is hysterical. This sound did not emerge from an electronic device.

I had to admit defeat and walk away. I will take my screaming children over this chaos any day of the week.

Minivan salute

Motorcyclists have a special connection with one another. I have never been on a hog because I am what some may call a chicken. I didn’t learn to ride a bike until I was 9-years-old. I figure if God wanted us on two wheels we would have been born with them. A car is another story. You don’t expect me to walk everywhere? As a kid I would get on my Huffy bike, fall off and say to myself, “F-this!” Then, I would throw that sucker on the ground and go watch Saturday morning cartoons.

Motorcyclists take better care of their bikes. They also have clubs, matching jackets and a special wave. Actually according to a Google search they have 5 basic waves.

1) the left-handed low wave
2) the left-handed straight out wave
3) the left-handed high wave
4) the right-handed (ha, ha, I have cruise control) wave
5) the left-handed forward wave.

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Now, you cannot randomly choose a wave. What are you some kind of an animal? There are some wave rules. I am not sure what happens if you give a #3 when you should have greeted the other rider with a #4, but I bet it ain’t pretty.

After I got my swagger wagon I joked that we needed our own wave. It is an exclusive club that takes some big kahunas to join. You have to be able to admit your life is over. I mean, that you are no longer cool. Comfort is our number one priority. We sacrifice our dignity to keep our kids as far apart as possible without driving a bus. The TV is a bonus. For years I crammed my children like sardines into an SUV. They would bicker, “Don’t touch me.” “He is touching me.” “She touched me.” I walked my mom jeans into the dealer and got a bitchin’ minivan.

A friend’s husband has come up with the perfect mini-van salute.

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Please pass it on. Minivan owners unite!

Hair Bow Obsession

I am obsessed with hair accessories for my daughter.  She doesn’t leave home without a bow that compliments her outfit.  Why?  I think they are pretty.  I also like it when people compliment her.  It must suck to have ugly kids. Actually, if your kids are ugly you should accessorize even more.  Relax, I am kidding. (sort of)  My daughter can be feminine and kick ass on a soccer field.  Someday,  she may refuse to wear them, but until then here is a sample of our collection:

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I could not resist buying more bows today when I saw a sale on Very Jane.  They only cost $1.50 each. You can’t even buy a bottled soda for $1.50.   I know, I know, I am out of control.

Very Jane has a new deal everyday on boutique merchandise.   They have everything from clothing, jewelry to unique items like these personalized serving platters.

A platter would make a great gift when you attend  a summer BBQ.  I never knew you were supposed to give the host/hostess a gift until I worked as a nanny in the Hamptons.   In my neck of the woods we just brought our own beer and lawn chairs.  My Bridgehampton boss shopped for parties before receiving a single invitation in the mail.  She had a closet stocked with host/hostess gifts.  She also paid to get her hair blown out everyday.  She paid someone to dry her hair.  I color my hair at home and sometimes it shows. (My hair dresser is shaking her head. )

Speaking of BBQ’s,  how cute are these chalkboard stands to label food at a buffet.   I don’t organize parties on a regular basis because the idea of people going in my house to use the bathroom freaks me out.  I don’t want to clean toilets my own children have used.  I certainly don’t want to clean the neighbor’s shit stain off the bowl.  Plus, how do I know his kid isn’t a Kleptomaniac.  I don’t need anyone stealing my gold tone jewelry.  However, I would totally use these if I had fancy parties.  They are cute and you don’t have to answer the annoying guy who has to ask, “What’s this?”  and “What is this?”over and over again.  He can just enjoy the free food and shut up.

I would love to buy these pillow covers. The pillows included with our patio are covered in palm trees and pine cones.  I am pretty sure the two don’t go together.  Of course, my children would never allow me to rest my head, but at least my pillows would look good.

Full disclosure:  I am affiliated with Very Jane, but I wouldn’t promote crap I didn’t like.

 

Daily Boutique Deals

Road Rage

I am guilty of road rage.  Well, it’s actually watered down road rage.  I am not a complete lunatic.  I haven’t crashed my car into another vehicle or assaulted anyone.  I bite my tongue most of the time when my children  are in the car.   However, when you are going through perimenopause some things are out of your control.  Most recently, I yelled at a driver who didn’t turn right when the light was red.  “It’s right on RED,”  I shouted through my windshield. He didn’t hear me because we were separated by glass and metal.  My kids were watching Tangled Ever After for the millionth time at an ear pounding volume. You aren’t tied down Rapunzel.   Jump out of the damn tower already.   “Come oooonnnn!  Right on red. Right on red!”  My low pitched screams sounded eerily similar to “Red rum! Red rum!”  Listen,  I was late to an appointment.  I am always late.  At this point I was perspiring and close to foaming at the mouth while Mandy Moore sang in the background.  “Oh, what the hell!  Go, you idiot!”  My daughter asked, “What’s wrong Mommy?”  I took a deep breath.  Mommy was acting like a complete fool.   Comic Louis CK has a great bit about road rage.  It makes me laugh out loud every time I watch it.