The Prim & Improper Queens Make Their Debut!!

Okay, so. I am a member of The Sweet Potato Queens. Our Chapter name is the Prim & Improper Queens. Prim, because my Wife-in-Law Amy will walk riiiiiiiight up to the line, put her big toe over it, and be all "Woo-Hoo!!" like she walked on the wild side. Improper, because, well, I'm there. I run full tilt at EVERYTHING and then I'm all "There was a line there?? I'll be damned!! Where??".
It all started with a book I found on my Moms coffee table 15 years ago. It was titled "The Sweet Potato Queens Book of Love" by Jill Connor Browne. I'll encourage you NOW to beg, borrow, download, or (just this once) steal this book if you have to. It's a total life-changer. The premise of the entire book (and movement) is that you don't have to have someone TELL you you're FABULOUS. If no one tells you, go out, buy your own damn crown, and BE Fabulous. Don't wait for a "Special" day to be fabulous. Hell, the day you feel like the biggest piece of shit is the BEST day to wear whatever makes YOU feel FABULOUS.  The best place to find the books is here.
Anyway, the weekend includes a Luncheon on Friday and a Ball on Friday night, we march in a Parade on Saturday, and have a Breakfast on Sunday. There are a ton of activities in between. This weekend isn't relaxing. Not by a long shot. It's not exactly work either. It's busy as hell though.
Here are some Highlights from the weekend:

Friday:

The Big Hat Luncheon on Friday.

That's me on the left, Amy in the middle, and my friend Erica on the right. The apron is one I ordered off The Bloggess' website & had some ribbon added to. It's Juanita the Weasel screaming "This Motherfucking Souffle is RUINED!!" Yep, I thought it added class.

Us at the Big Hair Ball/Street Dance with JCB

We stayed for the WHOLE street dance. We were interviewed by the news, I got to sing with the band, The Bouffants, we got our pictures taken A LOT, and I danced so much, I came back with a blister.

Saturday:

The Blister From Hell didn't stop me from getting up early the next morning to head down to a book signing with Jill Connor Browne. 

Amy & Erica. I guess we didn't actually get one WITH the author. Because THAT would make sense!!

I'm kinda glad I wasn't in this picture. The professional photographer, Duane, took some but I didn't order any. Honestly, after all the eyelashes & fake hair, I looked kinda plain. Also I'd been tanning like it was my JOB before the Parade & I looked like I shoulda stopped WEEKS ago.

Erica & I with Lance Romance aka Wilson Wong.

Parade time FINALLY came. We dressed up in our "Steak & a BJ" outfits & got ready to roll.  the plates have a picture of a steak on them with "March 14th. Happy Men's Valentines Day!!" written on them.  

That's SPQ weekend in a nutshell. We show up in Jackson, Mississippi every year for one weekend in March. We dress up and we PLAY. We play hard. We form friendships with women from all over the country. We are FABULOUS. Just because we said so. If you feel so inclined, you're more than welcome to come play with us next year. Or just grab some girlfriends & make your own chapter. You won't regret it.

Be Careful What You Wish For

Okay, so. This weekend was SPQ weekend. I shared a room with my friend Erica & my Wife-in-Law Amy.
We were in the room changing for some event or other & I was telling the story of Why I Am Going to Hell (reason #427). Part of the story was "It was hot as fuck. I was sweaty as fuck."  Amy looks at me and says "Must you use THAT word?? Can you choose ANOTHER word to use PLEASE??"  I responded with "Sure!! It was hot AS BALLS. I was sweaty AS BALLS."  Amy Cringes and begins yelling "Oh Lawd!!  Never mind!! You can use the OTHER WORD!!"  Apparently, I was able to find something she found more offensive than the use of the word "Fuck". Never underestimate my power to verbally offend. I can do it with OR without the use of profanity.
It's totally my superpower.

*Gasp* *Choke* *Sob*

Okay, so.  I just watched TB get on the bus. Nothing out of the ordinary there except he had to catch it on its second pass this morning because he missed it the first time. This allowed me the opportunity to crack open the blinds and watch him. These are becoming rare.
The Mommy sobbing comes into play BEFORE my peeking on him. I'm leaving today. For four days. I didn't get my typical "Bye Mom. I love you. I'll miss you". I got a cursory "Bye. See ya Sunday." and he was out the door.
This is my BABY. This is TWH's only child. This is the child that was not supposed to be according to my doctors, who kept telling me to expect a miscarriage any day for FOUR MONTHS because my hormone levels were half what they were supposed to be. This is the only child that lives under my roof for reasons I won't/can't go into right now.
But he's not my Baby anymore. He's 13. He's a young man now. He spends more time in his room than he used to. He can do his own laundry. Apparently, he also needs less reassurance about things than he used to.  He's growing up. He's growing away, like he's supposed to. Not in a negative way. Just in a maturity way.
I'm proud of the person he's becoming. He's sweet, loving, thoughtful, funny, smart, and insightful. TWH & I did that, I like to think. Some of it anyway.
Despite the Man he's becoming, he's still my Baby and when these moments hit me, that he's doing EXACTLY what kids are supposed to do, GROW UP, they hit me HARD.
I have to stop.
I have to take a breath.
I cry a few tears for the child that he no longer is.
I look forward to the man he is becoming.
And I smile.
Because he's going to be WONDERFUL.

I. Am. The. Worst. Mom. EVER. (Part Two)

Okay, so. In another epic parenting fail I forgot my son at school today. See, he's in the school band. He plays the Trombone for the Concert Band (7th grade). The school is participating in a Band Festival next week and his teacher has asked him to play the percussion for the Symphonic Band (8th grade). This means that his practices went from a couple of times a week to EVERY DAY.  Last night TWH & I were discussing who picked up TB when and we came to the conclusion that TWH was going to pick him up. Except we didn't, apparently.
I'm with a client today when my phone rings. I answer it to hear TB on the other end piteously asking me if anyone was picking him up today. Oh. My. God!!!  I HAVE FORGOTTEN MY CHILD AT SCHOOL!! More accurately, TWH forgot TB at school. I frantically phoned TWH asking him Where. In. The. Hell. He. Was.  TWH seemed to be under the impression that I was picking TB up from school.
Once I ascertained that TWH was, in fact, on his way to retrieve our child, I got back on the phone to reassure TB that a parental type person was on the way.  TB at that point wanted to know what HE was supposed to do in the interim, how long it was gonna take, and what would happen if his teacher had to leave.  Now he's just starting to milk it.  I tell him to see if his teacher could bring him home. TB turns away from the phone and I hear him ask, in the best "Oliver" impression in the last decade, if his teacher could PLEASE bring him home because his PARENTS forgot him.  At this point, his teacher gets on the phone and I have to explain that TWH & I are both big ol' dumbasses who can't remember when in the hell we're supposed to get our kid and could he PLEASE do us a solid and give our kid a ride home. He agreed (Thankfully) and TB made it home in one piece.
My only consolation in all of this is that we only forgot OUR child. Some days we give TB's bestie a ride home too. Thankfully, this was NOT one of those days.

Counting Down to SPQ Weekend

Okay, so. In Just a few short days (Thursday) I will be headed to Jackson.  I started packing today because I have a shit ton of stuff to take with me. I have costumes for Friday, Saturday, & Sunday along with accessories & Hurr (wigs) for each one.  When I started unloading my closet, it looked like this:

This is a King-sized bed COVERED in Parade stuff

I managed to stuff just about all of it into 3 plastic bins. I swear, one of these bins is nothing but shoes & hurr!!

Packed up & ready to go (mostly)

I did all this, and a few loads of laundry, and some other stuff, wearing THESE...

My FMPs. Gonna be in a pair similar for most of Friday. Gotta get used to 'em!!

I am walking around in a pair of running shorts, a "Cake or Death??" t-shirt and my FMPs. That's gonna be my at-home outfit for the next few days.  I'll either be hobbled or able to wear them forever.

Bring on the weekend!!  My ass is READY!!!

Sunday Funday

Okay, so.  Today the Fellas & I went out for a hike. It was a balmy 85 degrees and virtually no humidity. This is rare for South LA as we are Hell Adjacent. By the beginning of May most of us will have retreated into our houses and air conditioning. We get outside while we can.

Me on a rock in the creek. The brace is because my knees are 100.

My knee held up pretty well.  I was climbing up to leave one of the waterfalls and tweaked my OTHER knee. I gasped in shock and I swear, my first thought was "Oh HELL NO!!  I did NOT blow out my knee 4 days before SPQ weekend!!  My ass will be on crutches & driving a handi-cart!!" Turns out, it was fine, it just popped & wobbled.

TWH, TB & Me at one of the waterfalls.

We probably hiked 3& 1/2 to 4(ish) miles. TB didn't even complain!!  If we weren't living in a rain forest, we might do more of this stuff.

I Had to Go Back To My Roots (And NOT In a Good Way)

Okay, so.  I'm originally from this small town in north Louisiana. There weren't a lot of things to do there. Mostly Drink, Fight, or Have Sex.  I had my share of throw downs in my day. One of my favorite sayings is "Don't make me go back to my roots!!". This means "Don't piss me off to the point that Imma hafta drag you around by your HAIR!!".
Anyway, we're on out way home this afternoon from running errands. We turn onto our street to find it's blocked by some teen girls in their FINEST skank-wear who were walking SLOWLY down the block to their house.  We slowed down and rolled along behind them until they noticed we were there & SLOWLY got the hell out of the way.  We're starting to pass them when one of them began yelling at our car.  Oh no she di-in't!! I yelled to TWH "Stop the car!!". He did & I got out and sweetly asked her if she'd mind repeating what she'd just said. Now this little bitch Angel had obviously seen one too many episodes of Jersey Shore and just thought she was The Shit. She sneers "I SAID there wasn't any call for yo att-i-tude". At this point I'm having to remind myself she is but a product of her environment Teen and say "The only one here with ATTITUDE seems to be you. The next time you walk down the street, be a little more considerate and GET OUT OF THE WAY of the traffic M'kay."  I'm getting back in my car when I hear it "Dumbass!!". This little Bitch just called ME a dumbass!! I jump out of the car AGAIN, go down to the house where this fucking heiffer was attending a "Party" and demand to see the adult in charge.  Someone finally comes out and I, in no uncertain terms, told her if that I did NOT appreciate the kids in HER care blocking the road, mouthing off to me, and then calling me a dumbass. I also mentioned to this "lady" that perhaps her kid needed a better class of friend and if the best her kid could befriend was that kind of classless, ghetto trash then maybe she needed to look at how SHE was raising HER kid.  Yep, once again, I'm out there making friends!! THIS is why I'm Not Down With OPC. The fact that these kids are our future makes me shudder in fear!!

The Sweat of Our Brows

Okay, so.  Back in the fall, we started doing some work to the outside of our house. We re-did the flowerbeds and added a railing to the front porch. Here are the results.

          The Results of Our Work

                     Left Flowerbed & Railing

                 Right Flowerbed (& Tigger)

                   Iris Bed

                They're Blooming!!

         Gwenyth Gets Her Own Bed (& Irises)


The house was painted last year(by TWH, of course!!). It was BLAH white. I thought we could do better.
All this DIY stuff is work. It's HARD work. I have to say, I LOVE the results!!

Facebook, Why Can't I Quit You??

Okay, so. Facebook is both a source of amusement and the bane of existence for me.  It satisfies my voyeuristic tendencies by giving me glimpses into peoples lives and letting me stay somewhat connected with people. It is also the bane of my existence in that, in order to see the shit I actually WANT to see, I have to wade through a ton of crap NOBODY but the person who posted it gives a rats ass about. I don't CARE that "The kids have done had their dinner & their baths and are in bed. It was a grate day. Binky BooBoo".  Yes, this is a direct quote, misspelling & all. The exception being that this person posts in all caps. My fingers just ITCH to leave this woman a bitchy comment about caps lock & the spelling mistakes I see in her shitty posts. I also don't CARE about "Just weighed in and lost 4.5 oz". Really?!?!  Just fucking REALLY!!  Good for you that you're addressing your downward slide into colossal fatassdom. A lot of us are. I myself have been letting the treadmill make me it's bitch & just last night squeezed my ass into a pair of pants that have been hanging in my closet for awhile now. I'm just not BEATING EVERYONE OVER THE HEAD WITH IT. I do not now, nor have I ever needed a play-by-play of Every. Single. Ounce that comes off your ass.  Also I don't care that you "Just completed a 3.7 mile run using (Whatever) tracker". Again, STOP!! Other things I don't give a shit about:
What you're having for dinner. I can't cook a lick. My kids asked me to stop years ago. I'm sure this is borne of jealousy. Whatever. Stop it.
Anything that ends with "FML". I had several folks in my timeline whose posts were nothing but whining about the pettiest bullshit ever known.  Get over yourselves already. Stop it.
What you've Pinned. Holy shitballs with this one!!  There are bitches on my timeline who posted everydamnthingeverdone to Facebook. Shoot me. Shoot me now. You're on Pinterest. You think you're crafty. Whoopdee Fucking Doo. Stop it.
There are a myriad of things about Facebook that drive me nuts. Having said that, I just can't quit it. Not yet anyway. I follow some damned funny people. Of course, some of the damned funny people are not trying to be funny. There's this one girl I knew in high school who is so small-town that she & her family actually packed SQUEEZE CHEESE into their carry-on luggage for a flight and she was posting all indignant like about them having to throw it all out in the airport because it was on the "NO-NO" list.  That's comedy gold!!  Yes, other peoples asshattery makes me giggle. When people stop being stupid, or at least stop posting their stupidity for everyone to see, I'll be forced to stop. Until then, I'm a total junkie!! I'm a junkie with the ability to opt out of the bullshit. I'm more than happy to do that!!

I'm a Social Goober

Okay, so. In one week (ONE WEEK!!!!) I will be attending my 3rd Sweet Potato Queen weekend. I'm so excited I can barely STAND it. If It wouldn't be totally stupid, I'd start packing already. This Parade??  THIS is my CHRISTMAS!!  I divide time into years by Parade time. It's the be-all event of the year for me. I freakin' love this shit!!
Having said that, I will admit, this weekend is also a huge challenge for me. Because I'm one of the most socially awkward people you will ever come across.
During Parade weekend I will suck at the following:
1) Meeting new people. I suck at this. Fortunately, I'll have my Wife-in-Law with me and my darling friend Erica. These two do NOT meet a stranger.
2) Making small talk.  I REALLY suck at this. I can carry on a well lubed conversation, no problem. Stand me next to someone and ask me to throw out a series of banal comments in the hope that one of them will spark a conversation?? Won't happen.  I'm incapable of doing this. I will stand uncomfortably and stare longingly at the door waiting for someone better at this to come out and save me from the horror that is small talk.
3) Observing social cues and acting on them. This one I UBER SUCK at. I don't even know where to place the blame for this horrific social failing. Also, due to the fact that I have very few (read: NO) verbal boundaries (once you can get me to talk) events like this are more difficult. And usually more uncomfortable.
With that in mind, I'd like to pre-apologize for any and all uncomfortable pauses brought about by my complete ineptitude at small talk. And those caused by my verbal diarrhea. Both will most likely occur.
Sorry Y'all...

My Vanity Knows No Bounds

Okay, so. This weekend, I cleaned out the cabinets & drawers in my bathroom. It started because TWH got water all over everything under his cabinet so I started pulling stuff out, drying it off, and throwing shit away. As with most projects like that, I can't leave it half done. That and my side looked like an episode of Hoarders. Junk & mess everywhere.  I go through those cabinets and show no mercy. I throw out shit I haven't used in months or am never gonna use.  You oughta see all the room I have in those cabinets & drawers now!!
I digress...
Today, I decide I'm going to bleach my teeth. I haven't done it in awhile and the SPQ Parade (my own personal Christmas) is coming up in TEN DAYS(insert squeals of excitement & glee here) so I need to get my smile all prettified.  I go to my (newly tidied) cabinet & get out my bleach stuff. I open my (newly purged) drawer to get out my bleach trays and they're GONE!!  G-O-N-E!!  Aaaaaauuuuugggghhhhh!!  I threw them out!!  Now I held them in my hand for a second as I was purging Saturday but for some reason I thought they were the clear retainers I'd gotten right after my braces came off so out they went.  I immediately dumped the garbage can in the bathroom out in the vain hope that they would be in ther but NOOOOOO.  They're in the big garbage bag TWH threw out mid-purge. They're out in the pollen & rain covered garbage can under the carport.
Where else would they be??
I ran outside, threw open the lid & dug through that can like a raccoon looking for some leftover chicken.
These are my BLEACH TRAYS people!!  I need this shit!! Not to mention that they're not cheap, require a visit to the dentist for molds, and take two weeks to get here. I don't have two weeks!!
I found them. Luckily they were in the bag that was on top. Right there in their little protective case. Which, thankfully, was still closed.
I ran inside, scrubbed everything with hot water, soap, toothpaste, peroxide, & rubbing alcohol then thoroughly dried it all.
Yes, I am using them. They're in my face right now. Like I said, my vanity knows no bounds.

WTF Wednesday (A Rant)

Okay, so.  I've mentioned before that I live in South Louisiana.  Recently, (as in the last year or so) we've had some major interstate construction going on.  As the construction has continued, the accidents have gotten worse. They are now happening at 1-2 times a week. Always during rush hour (morning & evening). They almost always involve 18 wheelers. They almost always shut down the ENTIRE interstate. It's a fucking nightmare.
A few weeks ago, my friend Missy commented on FB about how big a pain in the ass these accidents & their frequency were becoming. I commented that these 18 wheeler drivers had to pass a test so presumably they were literate & therefore able to read the big, flashing signs warning them that lane shifts and lower speed zones were ahead and act accordingly.
I was SO wrong.
Fun fact: The driving test can and will be administered to you in ANY LANGUAGE YOU REQUEST. I find this somewhat mind boggling because if you can't speak or read English, how in the HELL are you going to read a sign telling you important shit like Slow. The. Fuck. Down??  Seriously?!?!  These guys are driving big assed trucks that weigh TONS upon TONS, yakking on their cell phones, whizzing down the interstate, and very possibly cant speak or read  English. What kind of Dumbfuckery is THAT!?!!?
Way to go DMV. Another win for you guys!!
W.T.F??

TB Takes Control

Okay, so.  TB has always been a "Helper". Sometimes we ask. Sometimes we don't.  Tonight, when he took control of the remote, we didn't.  This was somewhat problematic for two reasons. 1: It's the end of the day so his ADHD meds are wearing/have worn off.  2: He was trying to access the On Demand channels. This is not something he's accustomed to doing & requires listening skills. If you're confused as to why this was problematic, see problem 1.

TB taking the control went something like this.

TB: What button do I press??

Me: On Demand.

TB: What channel am I looking for??

TWH: SyFy

TB: What show??

Me: Being Human.

TB begins pushing buttons.  Up. Down. Sideways.  My eye begins to twitch.

Me: No..  Go...  Back... Uh... Stop...   Just. Bring. Me. The. FlippingFlarkingFlooking REMOTE!!
(This was better than what was going through my mind at the time. THAT went something like "Will you just give me the motherfucking remote and let me do it!!"  You're admiring my restraint right now, aren't you??)

TB: I don't know WHY I can't do it.  I almost had it!!

Me: Because, you're not listening well & it's making me CRAZY. It's just easier & less painful for everyone if Dad or I do it.

My sweet boy. He tries. He doesn't always succeed, but he tries.

Holy Hell!! WTF?!?! OWWWWWWW!!!!

Okay, so.  Twh & I went to Lowes yesterday to pick up drywall for our bathroom project. We're turning the tiny shower we used to have in our bathroom into a linen closet.  We were on our way home when TWH looks up at the sky and says "It's a really nice day out." I reply with "I know. It's almost a shame we have to spend it all inside putting up drywall."   Now, you'll remember, back in the fall I pulled everything out of the flowerbeds and reshaped them so we could create a stone border around them.  We decided we would go home, unload the drywall & stuff then go to the nursery and pick out some plants for the flowerbeds.   I blissfully roamed the aisles of the plant nursery picking out whatever struck my fancy until the cart was totally full.  We came home, unloaded the plants & cleaned up the yard and I placed the plants around the flowerbeds.  I got them arranged to my liking and left them until today.

Today I planted.  Alone. In peace. Except for the 30 or so minutes the neighbors spent screaming obscenities at one another while trying to hook a trailer to their truck. Remember, I live in Tha Redneckhood.  It took me the better part of 5 hours.  I bought A LOT of plants.

Now I hurt. I hurt in places I didn't even know I HAD. Holy Hell!!  I'm too old for this shit. I'm also too cheap to hire a gardener.

I'm spending NEXT Monday getting a massage. It seems fair.

THIS Is Why TWH & I Work

Okay, so.  Monday one of my Personal Heroes, The Bloggess finally let go of her obsession with Nathan Fillion holding twine and JOKINGLY asked for a picture of Jeri L. Ryan holding a spatula which, of course, she got. Along with fifty gajillion pictures of her Minions holding spatulas. I read this post to TWH while we were in the car. He sighed heavily and said, "Do you need to send her a picture of you holding a spatula??". I told him no, I could continue my life (albeit a diminished one) without contributing to the influx of spatula pictures.

Fast forward a few hours. TWH is making dinner & I'm reading to him from my phone AGAIN about The Bloggess getting her wish. TWH (faux) grudgingly said "Fine. HERE." and posed for THIS photo.

                                                      TWH with TB's Darth Vader spatula.

This??  This right here?? THIS is why TWH & I work.  He GETS ME.  All of me. The crazy parts. The scared parts. Even the dark & twisty parts.  I wouldn't trade him for anything.

I Just Went & Gussied Up My Blog

Okay, so.  I got tired of my Blog looking so, well, STANDARD.  When I set this thing up, I did it quick, fast, and in a hurry with no thought toward the overall look of the thing.  I just wanted to write a blog. I didn't worry about making it pretty.
In MY opinion, it's pretty now.  Yes, it's pink. It's PINK. PIIIINNNNKKKK!!  Sue me, I like Pink. Besides, how disarming is the word "Fuck" amongst all this Pinkiness??  See??  You didn't even see it coming. Okay, you've been here before so maybe you were looking for it. Maybe it will disarm the Newbies.
Anyways, tell me what you think. Too much??  Too little?? Totally nailed it??
I really wanna know. I won't call you a Fuckwad or anything. I promise.

I Gots Me ANOTHER Award!!

Okay, so. Jo over at The Bright Yellow Balloon up and gave me another award. Now I'll have TWO pins to make up & wear around to attest to my quasi-awesomeness.  You think I'm kidding. I'm totally not. Imma pin them to my Juanita the Weasel apron for the SPQ Big Hat Luncheon later this month. Look for them in the pictures. They'll be on either side of Juanita.

Anyways....   This is the Award Darlin' Jo gave me:



It originated with Ach du Lieber and it's specifically awarded to people who have under 200 followers.  200..... I can't even imagine...
Of course, every Award has RULES (except the one Jo's gonna make. It's gonna be all anti-rules) so here goes:

1: Link back to the Blogger who gave the Award to you.  Check!!
2: Give this Award to five other Bloggers.
3: Post this on your Blog & follow the rules.

That's it!!  Those are ALL the rules!! Woo Hoo!!

First, Edith MyRant.  She is a single Mom, a Derby Girl (which is cool as hell & intimidating all at once) and a fellow Mommy Blogger. What else could you want??

Second My Suitcase Full of Tricks. Ali is a sassy, funny, skinny(but I can totally forgive her for it) Mom who puts herself out there. Amazingly, she does it without swearing. I KNOW!!

Third The Jamie/Jill Big Ass Cooking Project  This girl seems to be cooking up EVERY recipe from The Sweet Potato Queens Big Ass Cookbook (And Financial Planner). How can you go wrong??  Really??

Fourth Oblong Agenda My friend Julie turned me on to her. Her tagline is "A Journal of My Life Because I Can't Remember Shit". How can you NOT read that blog??

Fifth MamaNeeds1 RefillPlease She's on the same teenage daughter funcoaster. She has a sister who's (apparently) the biggest PITA to ever live. She's a wine lover & a photographer. She has more patience than I could EVER muster.

I've gotta say, I don't follow a TON of Blogs. I have no idea what'll happen if I get any more Awards. I'm fast running out of people to pass them on to.  I'm sure I'll think of something.

Thanks again for the love Jo.  I've said this before. You ROCK!!