Minivan Mix

If I have to hear Miley’s Cyrus’  “Cannonball” on the radio one more time I may go bananas.  Am I the only who sings Gwen Stefani’s “Hollaback Girl” when I need the correct spelling for bananas? This s**t is bananas.  B-A-N-A-N-A-S!


“Cannonball” is on the radio every damn time I get in the car. Would it kill programming directors to play some old school Stevie B on the radio now and then? Vanilla Ice? Marky Mark and the Funky Bunch? My van doesn’t have the new MP3 player so I have to rely on CDs. We got a 6 disc changer up in here b***hes!  That is how we minivan playas roll.

I was scrolling through iTunes trying to find some new music and came across a new Chris Brown song. He has supposedly left his wife beater ways behind and is a changed man. I suppose everybody deserves a second chance. So, I decided to give this song a listen.

“Show Me”
(Kid Ink feat. Chris Brown)

Adult Ink is one of my favorite performers. I hope his kid doesn’t disappoint.

[Intro: Chris Brown]
Mustard on the beat ho

Who got mustard on the beat? I hope they have some Spray & Wash because mustard can be a tricky stain to remove.


[Bridge 1: Chris Brown]
Baby let me put your panties to the side.

Oh my! Obviously, his lady friend needs to pee in the woods.  “Why else would you need to put your panties to the side?” – said every woman over 30.  

I’m a make you feel alright
‘Cause I’m a give you what you need, yeah

Do you know what a woman needs? They need you to take the garbage out and put your dirty clothes in the hamper. They need you to get off your phone and play with the kids.  They need (voice cracking) you need to acknowledge that they do everything.  Would it kill you to say Thank You?  She needs an adult conversation and a minute without hearing, “Mom, Mom, Mom, Mom, Mom, Mommy, Mom, Mom, Mom, Mom.”

(Fast forward….)

Got a cup in your hand
Baby sitting but you ain’t got no kids
We ain’t leaving ’til there ain’t no more left
Can’t see no time on the Rolex
I could tell you a freak, go and show it
Looking for the after party, where to go at?
Go on the floor like a doormat
Baby you know where to throw that
Don’t say ain’t or your mother will faint.  Your father will fall in a bucket of paint.  Your sister will cry.  Your brother will sigh.  The dog and cat will say good-bye.  I have said ain’t before and none of that happened.  However,  this song would make my 10th grade English teacher cringe.

We ain’t leaving ’til  are not leaving until there ain’t no more left it is gone.
Can’t see no time I cannot see the time on the Rolex
I could tell you you are a freak, go and show it
Looking for the after party, where to go at where is it?
Go on the floor like a doormat
Baby you know where to throw that

Unfortunately,  this Chris Brown song does not make the minivan mix.



It’s a new day which means another celebrity is going to post a picture of themselves on Twitter.   I’ve never had the urge to go in the bathroom to snap a selfie.   You’re welcome.  My favorite pics are when people are obviously posing, but pretend to be caught off guard.  Oh, I didn’t see you standing there with a camera. I was just risking my life, hanging on to this plant near a cliff in Mexico while standing in my underwear.
(I call that Tuesday)

Actress Lea Michele posted this pic on New Year’s Day. There is no denying she is talented and gorgeous.   The girl also has a massive wedgie.  I choose comfort over sex appeal.  I would rather have my underwear sit above my belt loops.  Besides, a wedgie + cottage cheese = train wreck.   I am sure many people who look at this photograph see her tight a** and the stunning backdrop.   I see danger.  Honey, you are too close to the edge. You are going to fall!  (Besides, is that a foot in the bottom right hand corner with one too many toes?) I suppose since becoming a mother everything makes me nervous.  Yesterday my 4-year-old daughter was demonstrating how she can balance on  the bottom rung of a chair.   She was so proud of herself. “Mommy, look, look, look.”  I saw a vision of the chair flipping over, her face smashing against the wood and tears, lots of tears, “You are going to get hurt!”    Her smile faded away.  Sure, she could fall, but she didn’t. Why didn’t I praise her first?  I reacted in a similar way when my older son told me a funny story about school.  “Well, I hope you were behaving,”  I said.  His words made my heart skip a beat,  “I can’t tell you anything.” I would rather be sentenced to prison and have a Kardashian as a bunk mate than know my kids can’t talk to me.  I suppose I need to lighten up and listen.  Is it possible to be a parent and really listen without passing judgement.  I have to try.   My job is to teach them the difference between right and wrong, but can they learn anything if I control everything?



Around the www

I received a comment from an angry reader that started with “Are you kidding me?”  Yes, ma’am.  I am usually kidding.  You need to buy panties with stronger elastic.

I am not in the mood for anonymous insults. When you work in TV news you have to put up with a lot of BS.

Comment: “I don’t like your haircut.”

Response: Thank you for your feedback.

Comment:“You’re a dumb pig.”

Response: “Thank you for your feedback.”

Comment: “Your newscast is so painful it makes my eyes bleed.”

Response: Thank you for your feedback.

I can assure you the reporter, anchor, producer, etc. is thinking something completely different. If the walls in a newsroom could talk…. Now, I don’t have to be nice to rude people. I can be honest.

I was up all night with a sick child.  My 6-year-old has the virus from hell.  He doesn’t have a single symptom all day long,  but coughs the minute his head hits the pillow.   My husband managed to sleep through his hacking episodes.  I cannot.  I got up a million times to adjust his pillows, pat his back, curse, etc.  Each time I leaned over the bed he, in a sound sleep, started swinging like Mike Tyson on his honeymoon. I’m lucky I didn’t wind up with a black eye.

Anyway, I’m too tired to write something witty. So, here are a few of my favorite things on the world wide web.


Ohio State Marching Band Michael Jackson Tribute



What if your favorite brands used honest tag lines?  The answer is hysterical.  Here are a few examples.


For the complete list go to :




I ‘less than 3’ Conan O’Brien :



My daughter has some dance moves,  but this girl is amazing:


Come on a my house

If I were writing a Facebook status I would choose the annoyed emoticon. Then, I would post a picture of dinner and a candid shot of my kids. After an hour I would check back and question why more people haven’t “liked” my status. What the hell! That’s a cute picture.

I am annoyed with myself for caring what someone thinks about my house. I don’t live in a shack, but it’s not a mansion. There are scratches, dents and dings on the walls, evidence that three children live here. We have picnics and tea parties on the carpet. Matchbox cars and toy trains race on the hardwood floors. I don’t own expensive artwork. The framed paintings hanging on our walls were created by my kids.


I suppose if you consider the co-pay for labor and delivery it was expensive. Their creations have more meaning to me than a reproduced photograph from



There’s a good chance you will step on a Lego or find Barbie in the couch cushion. Well, when she isn’t whoring herself out to Ken. Our entryway floor dates back to the 1980’s. Man, they loved light blue in the 80’s! Hearts and paneling were also hot. At one point our house had all of the above. It even had carpet on the bathtub. I am not kidding. Some David Hasselhoff wannabe impressed the ladies with plush pink carpet up the side on the tub. We made a few renovations, but used the money to replace the entryway floor on a trip to Walt Disney World. I would rather create memories than have a house that looks like the Pottery Barn catalog. (Although I do love Pottery Barn and, much like Barbie,I would whore myself out for free stuff.)   I don’t think I have ever walked into someone’s house and judged their decor. I am too busy judging your clothing. (I’m kidding, I’m kidding)

My kitchen counter is outdated, but the photograph of my husband and I standing beside the President of the United States at the White House Christmas party, yeah, that’s pretty modern. (Two snaps in z formation) Seriously, I am 34-years-old (or something like that) and don’t want friends that I have to impress.


I had never heard of Adrian Peterson until January 8, 2013.   There was an article in our local newspaper about the star football player.  I live in Buffalo Bills country.  We may not have a Superbowl trophy on the shelf, but we are dedicated fans.  So, why on earth was everybody gushing about a running back for the Minnesota Vikings?   Adrian Peterson did something off the field that made him a real hero.   He called a teenager, battling a rare form of cancer,  just to talk.  Blake Cognata took the call from his bed at Strong Memorial Hospital.   For five minutes Blake was in his glory, speaking on the phone to his favorite player.


The 17-year-old died days after his dream came true.


Today I saw another story about Adrian Peterson.  The headline read:

Report: Adrian Peterson’s young son dies after alleged assault

The suspect is the boyfriend of the toddler’s mother.  Joseph Robert Patterson, 27, has been charged with aggravated battery of an infant and aggravated assault.   I do not understand how anyone could hurt an innocent child.   My heart aches for Adrian Peterson.  He just recently learned that he was the child’s father. The toddler was on life support when he met him for the first time.

During that phone call to Blake Cognata Adrian Peterson talked about his faith and told the teen, “not to give up.”  I imagine Blake is with Peterson’s little boy looking down from Heaven whispering those exact words.