SupAHmommy Speaks…{the one and only}

Shower Prayers

2012-02-08T23:34:00.001-05:00

You ain't no momma-- if the following prayer hasn't been said while you are showering rapidly out of itchy necessity and 3 day growth and your children -- are roaming the house.

Shower Prayer

Hustle clothes off like 15th date ( total lie)
Dear Baby Jesus
* jump in cold arse shower*
OH DEAR BABY JESUS it's COLD
*Turn dial up so high -- skin begins to melt. *
OH DEAR BABY JESUS THAT'S HOT!!!
* jump away from shower -- but really have no where to go*
Skin is melted off--- you might as well continue-- you can probably be a secret agent now-- no finger prints.
* grab conditioner*
DEAR BABY JESUS PLEASE DON'T LET THEM DUMP AN ENTIRE JUMBO BOX OF TRIX ON THE TABLE----------
AGAIN.

and then pretend to be dogs eating it off the floor.
AGAIN.

* realize you just put conditioner in YO GREASY ASS hair*
CRAP!!
DEAR BABY JESUS Please let me choose the right bottle this time.
* grab husbands ball soap*
Dear Baby Jesus Pleeeeeeeeeease dont' let them find scissors and play hair- sa- lawn.
AGAIN.
* shoot.. did I put those scissors up on the top shelf?*
Dear BABY JESUS please move the scissors to the TOP shelf - magically. Miraculously.
* dump bodywash on body*
SON OF A BANANA!!! WHAT IS THIS ???

LOOKING AT IT WITH CONDITIONER IN EYE.

AXXXXE???

AGAIN.

DEAR BABY JESUS please don't let women hit on me now at Walmart.

AGAIN.

* look at razor*

That should be on the top shelf with the scissors.
Lather , rinse , repeat.

Dear Baby Jesus please don't let them use the tiny little school chair as a booster chair to OPEN up the front door and let the dumb dog out--- to roam in the back field endlessly and ignore me when I call her though she's 4 feet away and I can't see her.

AGAIN.

* turn water off -- soap still in hair *
Dear Baby Jesus please let them not have found the glitter.
AGAIN.

OH BABY JESUS...
Please please please.

Please.

* grabbing towel--hustle to dry off. Bring up to face*

EWWWWWWW DEAR LORD THIS IS MY HUSBAND'S STINKY TOWEL

DEAR BABY JESUS-- PLEASE GRANT ME THE SERENITY….

CALLING OUT…. PEYTON! MADY!??? ANSWER ME!!!

DEAR BABY JESUS .. please let them still be here AND not on the front stoop in their bathing suits.

AGAIN.

PEYTON! MADY!! ????

* they appear out of nowhwere!*

SCREAM BLOODY MURDER cuz they SCARED THE BABY JESUS OUT OF YOU!

They begin to cry.

DEAR BABY JESUS. Please make me a good mother. Someday.
Again.

I mean…
Amen.

Twitter Party : Tonight! 2/8 With Macaroni Kid and South of France Natural Soaps 9PM EST

2012-02-08T12:49:00.001-05:00

On Wednesday, February 8th from 9:00-10:00 pm (EST), Tweeple are invited to join the Macaroni Kid family along with sponsor South of France Body Care ( www.southoffrancebodycare.com) (@SOFNaturalSoaps) and The Soap Dish Magazine ( www.thesoapdishmagazine.com) (@TheSoapDishMag) for a great community twitter party! Hashtag #mackidtips.

Participants are encouraged to RSVP to be eligible for special RSVP-only prizes below.

RSVP HERE

http://mkrsvp.blogspot.com/2012/02/macaroni-kid-soap-dish-in-140.html

Set up your custom Tweet Grid.
Click here to join us!

OMFBakaaaaaaawwwwww The new W. T. F.

2012-01-26T21:07:00.000-05:00

I've invented the next acronym.
The new little black W. T. F.

~~All day long~~ ( wait .. that's a total lie.)

During the times when I'm not working like a chicken being perpetually plucked--- BAKAWWWWWWWWWWWWWW

stressed beyond belief -- head pounding -- BAKAwwwwwwwwwwNG with each email that opens with some sort of request that I must get er done for....

I emerge from my office to see what my children OR when applicable child ( one) have done to the house.

o .

m

f

BAKAWWWWWWWWWWWWWWWWWWWWWWWW!

WHEN
DID
MY

2
YEAR
OLD
LEARN

TO
POUR
CEREAL

and seriously IS THAT
O
M
F
BAKKKKKKKKKKKKKKKAAAAAAAWWWWWWW

DOG FOOD IN ONE!???

Turn to the left.

O
M

F

BAKAAAAAAAAAAWWWWWWWWWWWWWWWWWWWWWWWWWWWWW!

THAT IS NOT NOT NOT NOT NOT NOT .. OMFBAKAAAAAAWWWWW REPEAT A POTTY!

Turn to the right....

O

M

MF

BAKAAAWWWWWWWWWWWWWWWWWWWWWWWWWWWWWWWWW!!

AND AN EXTRA
BAAAAAAAAKAAAAAAAAAAAAWWWWWWWWWWWWWWWWWWWWWWWW

WHAT IS THAT ON MY CARPET??????????????????

O
M
F
BAKAWWWWWWWWWWWWWWWWWWWWWWWW!!

THAT BETTER BE CHOCOLATE CHIPS!!!!!!!

I stand in pure defeat at the mere initial site of the damage.

And then drop to my knees and wail , hands held high - BAKAAAAAAWWWWWWWW BAKAAAAAAWWWWW BAKAWWWWWW ----- which translates to WHY WHY WHYYYYYYYYYYYY!

Just kidding.

FEEL ME and LOVE ME as I am.. cuz after the
OMFBAKAAAAAAAAAAAAWWWWWWWSSSSSS

I just go back into my office and think about how quickly I can probably clean it up before anyone "outsiders" can step foot inside and I also think.... i wonder what dog food tastes like.

O
M
F
BAKAAAAAAAAAWWWW

am I a practically perfect mom.

Just like I always thought I'd be.

.

Oh Joyous Gift

2011-12-23T08:46:00.002-05:00

So DBD gets to go away on all these awesome trips. In the name of "business"

* FULL ON 'GLARE' QUOTES*

Seriously.

It's never to missions in Africa to save all the children from that one horrid holiday song, Feed the World.

Which for those of you still yet unaware-- I've been singing like THIS for 20 plus years.

Do they know it's Christmas time at allllll…….

ME: " we go woooah oahhh oahhh"

ME: " DO DO DO DO DO DO DO DO "

ME" "we go woooah oahhh oahhh"

ME: " DO DO DO DO DO DO DO DO "

When in reality it's actually.

Reality: FEEEDDDDD THE WORRRLLDD

Realtiy: Do they know it's Christmas time at all.

Reality: FEEEDDDDD THE WORRRLLDD

Realtiy: Do they know it's Christmas time at all.

Twenty some years.

My sis broke the news.

I was … just….

well. A little embarrassed.

And a bit sad.

I love my we go's.

So anyways--- the BEST BEST gift of all that I will receive this holiday is a punishment delivered to my husband's doorstep for all of his " air quote business meetings."

HIS NEXT ONE is in Orlando ( oh sadness befalls) in January.

For a week.

So he comes home from his ANNUAL BUSINESS MEETING * reads PENGUIN GAME $300 TICKETS PER PERSON) and says---

You'll never guess what I GOT SIGNED UP TO DO during our convention in January.

*( I love these opportunities)

ME: Wear a coconut bra!?

ME: Synchronized Swimming?!

ME: SAVE THE "WE GO'S???"

ME: POSSIBLY FUCKING WORK?

DBD--- * smirk eyes*

No.

I got signed up…

WAIT FOR IT.

( I LOVE DOING THIS)

WAIT FOR IT..

IT'S SO GOOD.

GOT

SIGNED UP

DURING OUR BIG

DINNER MEETING

IN FRONT OF 600 PEOPLE

TO BE IN A

FLASH MOB

Oh Dear Baby Jesus.

Thank you for this" Joyous Gift" Of The Holidays.

AIR QUOTES!

Amen.

Please also save the "we go's."

Rollin Like Rudolph

2011-12-20T16:39:00.000-05:00

This is how we roll here in Da Burgh' and subsequently get a lotta laughs.

Time Magazine

2011-12-19T14:03:00.002-05:00

When I was in highschool my creative writing teacher Karen Thomas wrote me a note I'll never forget. She said, I'll watch for you on the cover of Time.

2 things

I loved her.

I'm pretty sure THIS blog here .. is the same as Time magazine, no?

Yes. Positivioso.

The BOME list-- Holiday Cards.

2011-12-17T23:04:00.002-05:00

I usually think I'm so super smart -- that I send " New Year's Cards" to everyone.

Because I . Am. Awe. Some.

Happy New Year -- From the Perry's.

I'm the first card in your mailbox for the new year-- and I should then get a reward of some Ugg boot sort. I push for you to hate my timeliness and " with it ness." To be THAT mom.

But mostly because fucking Christmas Cards are the BANE of my existence!

Bane.
Of.
My.
Existence.

BOME.
Only, next to grab bags and the post office though. Those two items need no introduction to reasoning for being on the " BOME" list. They need to hire robots during the holiday season--- to come to my house and take the fucking grab bag gifts I've bought.. yet not sent out yet.

I am NOT doin the post office without a little margarita in me Cuz--- I can't take it. It's worse than the cashier in aisle 34 of our Walmart that continually got her watch caught on the bag em up carousel.

Seriously, the 14th time isn't funny anymore.
FUCKING RING MY SOUP UP. I'M PAYING A NANNY TO WATCH MY KID SO I CAN FREAKIN SHOP IN PEACE AND NOW YOU ARE CRAMPIN MY STYLE WITH YOUR MOLASSES SELF AND WATCH ISSUES. YOU OWE ME 9.00 NOW for the hour I SPENT WATCHING YOU UNHOOK YOUR WATCH.

Kill me dead please.
I ALWAYS choose the line!! * whiny voice* WHY WHY WHY

Regardless. I am off topic now. BOME's. I have so many BOME"s this season that Im feeling a little humbuggish and not so SEASONAL to be honest.

So much so that THIS YEAR-- I tried to have some spirit and actually send CHRISTMAS CARDS OUT. As if the Christmas cards would paper cut my scrooge soul-- and infuse me with merriment and mirth.

They look like this.

They deserve to be sent. I look HAWT.
They're total merriment and mirth worthy, no?

Here's how it went down.
1 hour of my life taking the pics with my evil little 2 year old-- who refused to put the cheezit bag down and with my 8 year old who said out loud to my incredible personal professional on site super wow, awesome photographer " I LIKE PICTURE PEOPLE BETTER."
* be gone with you-- you are out of this family child* Is what I wanted to say. Instead I growled. I'm pretty certain. No words. Just a low, curling growl. It was eerie.

I become more eerie the more I am a mom and pushed to my outer mind limits?
You feel me?

So 1 hour of my life taking HAWT pics
1 week anticipating the HAWT pics as my photographer edits to make me even HAWT. ER.
1 hour JOYOUSLY looking at said HAWT Christmas Card.
1/2 hour thinking--- How am I so HAWT and yet not invited to Victoria's Secret Angel Wing Thing?
2 min thinking-- fuck. I should have had it say " HAPPY NEW YEAR!"
1 min thinking--- instead I should have also had it say-- signed "YOUR HAWTNESS" lmaoooo
1 min getting serious again--
2 hours stuffing the cards in the envelopes
2 minutes thinking-- SHIT.. should the front be in the front, or in the back.
1 minute telling myself to Fuck Off-- who gives a crap if they see your HawT face peeking out when they open the envelope.

1 month on desk , stuffed. Staring at me. Mocking me.
Closer to Christmas deadline for mailing.
1 hour surfing through little black book -- that always resurfaces during the holiday magically.
There are no addresses in it that I want to use. Even remotely.
1/2 hour pissed off at the black book.
1 more week sitting on desk.

1 minute thinking…. should I Email everyone?
2 nanon seconds saying.. yuck fou. No. I dont' feel like it.
I hate these cards.
They threaten my holiday cordial spirit.

They taunt me.
I want to burn them.

What to do.

How about a little shout out on facebook? Is that tackY?

Super. Works for me.

If I can stand you-- and you want one of my awesome cards please message me with your addy.

And you know what.. it worked.

1 hour spent addressing envelopes to people from every crevice of the facebook Earth.
All but FOUR DONE. WOO HOO

Where are my cards now?

Sitting in my SUV cubby. For 3 days now.

I just cannot fathom the post office. There is not enough salt in the dead sea for my margarita needed upon entrance. I'll wait for the robots.

Nor am I EVEN THINKING AOUT asking the aisle 34 Walmart watch lady to order me up 30 books of stamps.
She'll get fucking tangled in her conveyor belt during the process.

I can't have this happening before Christmas.
It will ruin my holiday cordial-ness.

Are you cards done?
Wait.. I have 56 of yours already.

You all are on my BOME list too.

PS. My awesome photog in the Pittsburgh area is www.framesofinfinity.com

You too can look super HAWT like me.

Driving DBD

2011-12-13T22:06:00.003-05:00

Where to sir?

He didn't think that was very funny.

I did.

Seems I'm spending some of my time driving my husband around these days as per doctors orders as he FUCKING PASSED OUT WHILE DRIVING A CAR and having a coughing fit.

Did you know this shit?
Did you KNOW you could pass out while coughing?

Let me survey the readers.

1..2…6..

5 say no. 1 asshole says yes.

Isn't here always one asshole who says-- Yes. In fact, I DID know that.

He's not getting a christmas card.

So passing out. While coughing.
This seasons little black warning label.

NOT PASS OUT while … drinking yourself into a stupor.
NOT, PASS OUT while ramming your head into a steel beam.

Pass out-- WHILE COUGHING.

Seems that should be a warning on every freaking tissue box or something MR. GOVERNMENT??

I KNOW not to lick outlets.
I KNOW not to wear heels without stockings. BIG MISTAKE
I KNOW not to wear my Spanx two sizes too small. I sound breathy… when doing so. Sexy. Cuz I can't freakin breath.
I KNOW DBD can pass out from the mere mention of a COLD HARD STEEL NEEDLE going into his precious baby boy skin… ( he just hit the floor.. told u so)

I KNOW these things.

And now I shall do a public service announcement for all of you-- but refer to it as a " P. S. A" because it sounds funnier.

BEEP BEEP BEEP BEEP BEEP BEEP BEEP BEEP BEEP
THIS IS NOT A TEST.
I REPEAT.. THIS IS NOT A TEST THAT STILL FREAKS YOUR KID OUT WHO IS AFRAID THAT EVERY BLEEPING BLEEP… MEANS A TORNADO IS COMING IN WESTERN PA BECAUSE SHE WATCHED THE WIZARD OF OZ.

People of the INTER-netZ

You can fucking pass out from coughing.

Your muscles can constrict so tight that they hit a nerve somewhere all up in there--- and make you see stars.

Word to the wise Yo.
Put THAT on your tissue box AND BLOW.

That's All I Get?

2011-12-13T11:02:00.002-05:00

His head slumped after a coughing fit… cough.. cough... cough ….wheeze… wheeeeeeezzzzzze and he was gone. His foot hit the pedal and we accelerated at full speed into the car in front of us. It was as if we were underwater and trudging through vats of sand. Everything was so slow. Every movement magnified. The polar opposite of what was really happening. Time began to turtle… though in "real time" we were moving through seconds of our lives with the speed of a bullet.

As we careened forward and I saw what was about to happen, I thought not about the impact into the rear end of the vehicle in front of us, not about my own life at risk, not about my sister sitting in the back seat--but instead…I thought to myself as I stared at his slumped head and non responsive body.

That's all I get?

My entire being literally shattered into a million shards thinking that my husband had died right there in front of me as I watched. That I'd never see his eyes open again. That I'd never hear him snore.

The air was gone from the car. This couldn't be….I don't think I told him I loved him today. Or yesterday? Did I? I yelled at him about something. The girls!? Oh no, the girls. He's so young--- their father. They won't have one. Oh Lord help me!

A nanosecond later I was shaken out of my fog by the screams of my sister telling me to FIND THE EMERGENCY BREAK as our car recovered from the initial impact of hitting the vehicle in front of us, only to begin rolling backwards into the car behind us.

I looked over at him desperately as I fumbled in slow motion to push the car into some sort of gear-- something that never happened. My hands just couldn't find the right movement--- couldn't find the button to engage the gears-- my mind wouldn't work. In this wave of thick fog I kept looking at him slumped over--- the world was slow and I was swimming through molasses.

That's all I get?

I screamed his name another time and hit his chest as my sister nearly climbed into the front seat to gain control of the car.

He came to.

He came back.

Disoriented to our screaming-- he put his foot on the brake.

The car stopped and we were able to put it into park.

I thought he was gone forever.

Don't wait any more. Don't hold back the hug because he loaded the dishwasher wrong. Don't be mad at your son because his choices are off the beaten path. Don't neglect to tell your children that they are special and that THEY MAKE YOU HAPPY because you had to call them to the dinner table 6x. Don't wait to tell your friends that they are the best thing since sliced bread because they already know that, right? Don't wait to bring coffee to the dude on the street that carries the guitar every. single. week. Don't be afraid to love with all you have.

Don't wait to say -- That's all I get?

Life is fleeting and the cliche that "it could all be gone in the next second" is truth in whole.

Make every single second count to the best of your ability.

HOLIDAY HAPPINESS IN 140 – CHARACTERS THAT IS! WED DEC 14, 2011 9PM EST

2011-12-13T10:24:00.000-05:00

For Immediate Release:

HOLIDAY HAPPINESS IN 140 – CHARACTERS THAT IS!
A Community Twitter Party with Zappos.com and Special Guest, Jessica Claus!

December 1, 2011. Water Mill, New York: On Wednesday, December 14, 2011 from 9:00-10:00 pm (EST), Tweeple are invited to join the Macaroni Kid family along with Zappos.com (www.zappos.com) and Special Guest, Jessica Claus, publisher of Macaroni Kid’s North Pole edition (www.northpole.macaronikid.com) for Holiday Happiness in 140 -- characters that is.
hashtag #mackidtips.

"We are so excited to have Jessica back with us again this year, publishing all the local news for the North Pole,” says Joyce Shulman, Macaroni Kid's Chief Macaroni Mom (@macaronikidHQ). “And to learn that she had to turn to our go-to, Zappos, for a little holiday help, well, it just means she’s human too. Sort of,” she adds.

Jessica opens up about her secret shoe obsession and shares her own love of Twitter: “ever since Blitzen introduced me to Tweeting, I’ve been all over the Twittersphere! LOVE the instant connection, since cell phone service in the North Pole is so touch-and-go, I totally rely on the internet. I’m not alone; Kris just read in the North Pole Daily that 71% of all U.S. adults shop online!” (http://www.infifthgear.com/2010/quick-online-shopping-statistics/)

See you Tweeple on the 14th! The more the merrier, as Kris and I always say! Did I mention I’m bringing a surprise guest?” – Jessica M. Claus, North Pole Publisher Mom

The party will be sponsored by Zappos.com and will feature plenty of Zappos loot to give away.

This will be Macaroni Kid’s 21st monthly Twitter Party.

The party will be hosted by Macaroni Kid Publisher Mom and blogger extraordinaire, Debby Perry, who is better known by her Twitter handle SupahMommy (@SupahMommy).

Participants are encouraged to RSVP to be eligible for a special RSVP-only prize below by simply inputting their twitter ID!

* * *
About Macaroni Kid, LLC: Through an ever-growing network of Publisher Moms, Macaroni Kid delivers weekly e- newsletters and creates websites that provide all of the skinny on events and activities for kids and their families in communities across the country. Additional information about Macaroni Kid, LLC can be obtained by calling 631.726.1412 or emailing joyce@macaronikid.com

About Zappos.com: Established in 1999, Zappos.com, operated by Zappos Development, has quickly become the leading destination in online apparel and footwear sales by striving to provide shoppers with the best possible service and selection. The Zappos Family generates gross merchandise sales exceeding $1 billion annually. Zappos.com currently showcases millions of products from over 1000 clothing and shoe brands. Zappos.com, Inc. was recognized in 2009, 2010 and 2011 by FORTUNE MAGAZINE as one of the "100 BEST COMPANIES TO WORK FOR". Zappos.com is also proud to be rated ELITE by STELLAService and was named a J.D. Power 2011 Customer Service Champion, one of only 40 companies so named in the U.S. More information about the customer service philosophy, unique culture, and job openings can be found at http://about.zappos.com. More information about Zappos Insights, and its business membership program can be found at http://www.zapposinsights.com.

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Love Hard.

2011-12-12T14:42:00.006-05:00

His shoe swung around the side and I could see just how little it truly was. A dark leather dress shoe--- probably bought at Sears or JcPenneys. The size of my hand. Tiny….yet having to plod through, step by step, this big huge world of emotion. No 5 year old should have to do this.

A shoe that should have been a Transformers sneaker cacked with mud and muck from whatever it is that little boys do. Instead, his little foot was dressed up to say goodbye to his mommy.

The fuzz of Jaden's little head, would peek out occasionally from beneath the broad shoulder of his father. I could see the back of his head briefly. Fuzzy from his treatments, even almost 2 years past now. He's grown so tall, no longer the baby face we all prayed for for such a long time. Like a little bird. He on one side, Joey on the other. Joe, Julie's husand in the middle. wingedly protecting his little boys ---sitting in the front pew so naked to the world. So vulnerable up there. So vulnerable.

The emotion going on behind them from the hundreds of people there to mourn-- a seeming wave threatening to wash over all of them. He is a rock, I thought. While the waves part around him.

Joey's head would lean on his father's shoulder and his tiny little arm, clothed in a suit jacket, would reach around to pat his father's back. It was gut wrenching. A mighty grasp for such a little arm.

Joe never let them go. He stroked their heads and gave them kisses as only Julie might have been able to when she were alive and healthy. It was incredible how he filled that pew with warmth. It was solace in a time of deep sadness. That he will be what they need.

He swept Jaden up with one arm and held Joey's hand with the other as they followed the procession at the end of the service. The strength and fortitude of this man--- who has lost so much was a gut wrenching kick to all of us--- who think we have so many problems.

My love to this man -- who will do great things for these boys. I do not know you Joe as I did your sweet wife… -- but Julie knew you and she left the boys in your amazing hands.

Life is fleeting.
Love hard.

Mady came up and saw the picture while I was posting this.
"Julie" I told her.

Jewwwwyeee-- she said.

Mommy's friend I said.
Mommeee- fwend? She questioned.

Yep. Mommy's friend.

You will be missed in this world Julie Andrulonis Duttine! You will be missed.

Rest In Peace Julie Duttine

2011-12-07T15:15:00.001-05:00

Rest in Peace Julie Andrulonis Duttine.

Revelation 21:4-8

He will wipe every tear from their eyes. There will be no more death or mourning or crying or pain, for the old order of things has passed away." He who was seated on the throne said, "I am making everything new!"

Be free Jules. Be Free.

My Black Cryday Tale

2011-11-30T23:06:00.001-05:00

This past Pre Black Friday I himmed and hawwed. Pished and poshed and then promptly decided at 8PM NOT Black Friday Night-- ( THURSDAY ) to join the hysteria. I was never one to rally far from peer pressure. This is how it all went down AND how I went down with it. Money and all.

SERIOUSLY--- THURS. DAY.

8PM My sister gave me the frantic "text."

"I'm in Walmart. There are 35 people in line already for Kinect system!!! Do you want me to get in line for the 10 PM release of 200 of them at $200 plus a $50 gift card."

"Isn't Santa supposed to bring that?" * giggle not so funny to her*

"Just kidding Jenny, In line ALREADY???? Wait, it's Thursday!?? " My heart starts beating.

"I KNOW" yells her in all caps.

"Sure get in line!" says I! What a great sis!

"Well are you coming to sit with me?" says she.

* TEXT Crickets*

Son of a gun.

So I nabbed on my best fitting yoga pants hoping they might give me an advantage over the crowds? I had no idea what to expect. The closest I've gotten to this "tradition" is watching the Target lady's funny commercials about Black Friday and cackling.

Cackling takes some effort but it may not have been enough to prep my body for the madness.

So I did some pre-sale stretches found my mom tennis shoes and slapped on some extra deodorant.

I also brewed myself some yummay coffee!

Left the house with my wallet, no purse,my cell phone and no coffee.

This is how I prepare-- to go into --- what became THE MOST STRESSFUL EVENT OF MY LIFE.

I rolled up to Walmart @ 8:30 PM in my Hyundai, sans children. Only to FLIP OUT because ...

The ENTIRE parking lot is FULL. This is worse than a 1/2 inch snowstorm.

I'm beginning to have more intense heart palpitations.

I see gates that seem to have been taken from a RODEO.

Text to JENNY* THERE ARE RODEO GATES AND NO PARKING SPOTS!! O. M. G*

I see NOT REALLY SECURITY GUARDS looking not really serious but still-- they're there. This is SERIOUS STUFF PEOPLE!

* GET IN HERE* texts she.

I go through 100 gates as if I'm at KennyWood, winding through following the masses. BACK AND FORTH, AND BACK AND FORTH AND BACK AND FORTH. I am dizzy. I am at a serious disadvantage already. WHERE IS MY Sea Sickness BAND!??

I have my cell phone in one hand, keys in the other and my wallet pouch. I am so incredibly unprepared it is insane. Not to mention my trusty dusty yoga pants-- have no pockets. HOW EVER WILL I CARRY MY MASS LOADS OF UNNECESSARY AND OVER THE BUDGET IMPULSE PURCHASES???

I am a target. I will be mocked by other more seasoned Black Not Friday shoppers. I FEEL it.

I'll get a cart. That's THE TICKET!

I am back on track. Guffawing at those that secretly mocked me.

I enter the doors. Turn to get a cart.

There are no carts.

The-- end--of--the--world---is--near.

When there are NO CARTS at Walmart. You best turn around right then and there---- and go "bunker" down.

Turns out… the carts.

They are in a special section you have to GO TO to get. It's like Oz.

I feel sorry for that worker who had to MOVE those carts to the creamed corn aisle.

They give me a MAP.

Sections of Walmart have been converted into "product areas."

If you want Barbie Astronaut for $1.50 , she'll be in the waffle section. Start lining up.

WHAT?????

1. I don't read maps. Ask my husband. I am useless. Put me back with the children to fight and scream about who's touching who. THAT, I can do. MAPS I cannot.

SHE'S STARING AT ME !!

2. I have absolutely NO IDEA why I'm here other than Kinect. But everything -- just looks so --- DEAL OF THE DAY. I am distracted. I think I have a black Friday addiction already.

3. I am overwhelmed. I do not function in "overwhelm" mode. I freeze up mouth open. Drool. Eyes wide. With my map in hand. Staring. Someone PAPER CUT ME! Wake me UP! IT'S PRE BLACK FRIDAY and I'm going to leave with ONLY A FLIER!

PEOPLE ARE WOOSHING PAST ME. BUMPING ME, CARTS IN MY KNEES.

TAKING THE MAN DOWN!!

I BOUNCE BACK. IT'S FOR THE CHILDREN.

"DON'T YOU HIT ME WITH YOUR

3 FUNCTIONING WHEEL CART!" I BELLOW!

I text my sister.

"I'm SCURRED."

" WHERE ARE YOU??" texts she.

More people are pouring in. They begin GRABBING ITEMS from the SARAN WRAPPED COCOONS OF TOYS THAT ARE NOT TO BE OPENED UNTIL 10 PM!!

It's only 8:45 PM. It's NOT 10 O'CLOCK PEOPLE.

Is this STEALING?

DO I REPORT THEM?

AND TO WHOM?

THE NOT SECURITY GUARD IN THE COFFEE AISLE?
He looks ever so helpful picking his nose.

More people begin BUSTING OPEN the Saran Wrap.

OM word.

I am NOT a rule breaker!

I am having stress.

Where ARE my ANXIETY PILLS!?

"WHERE ARE YOUUUUUUUU!??" TEXTS JENNY AGAIN.

OH MY WORD I've forgotten about her already!!

"I'm not sure. I think in Barbie Land or maybe the tire area. I don't know. PEOPLE ARE STEALING FROM THE COCOONS JENNY! I need a paper bag to breathe. I think I'm just going to sit down. WHERE ARE YOU????????? I CAN'T FIND YOU ANYWHERE ( I never even looked)"

" I'm in the salad dressing aisle sitting on my purse next to Hidden Valley Ranch! There's a man next to me with all the sales ads, a go go gadget robotic arm and a bar-co lounger!"

"JENNY THEY'RE TAKING STUFF!! OMG. I THINK this qualifies as LOOTING!" scream texts me.

"SO TAKE SOME TOO! THEN GET OVER TO ELECTRONICS AND SEE IF THE XBOX GAMES ARE ON SALE" SCREAM TEXTS HER.

I nearly faint. I start delving into Cocoons, weeping. I am breaking the law I'm quite sure. I'm peer pressuring with the masses. Next up is the penitentiary and a chick names Big Bertha. I grab a scooter, a power wheels. I start to feel powerful. I grab a vtech laptop-- because it's 10 DOLLARS. For no other reason. I am LIFTING and heaving items into my cart! I BARREL through the crowds.

WATCH OUT PEOPLE--GET OUTTA MY WAY! XBOX HERE I COME! I break up a fight in the XBOX aisle. I knock over an old lady getting eggs. MOVE IT SISTAH!

My sister texts "I GOT THE KINECT!! MEET ME UP FRONT AT THE REGISTERS!" We rendezvous HUGGING, EMBRACING AND CRYING at number 146 register THAT'S not REALLY OPEN.

. OH I THOUGHT I'D NEVER SEE YOU AGAIN!! Jenny is hugging the Kinect like "the crying game." She looks at my basket, wide eyed.

"I was pressured!" Says I. " Get me help. An intervention. I'll comply."

Moral of the story is. If you're gonna run with the big dogs-- you best have a researched plan of attack, a fully charged cell phone, a backpack with dried fruit and liquids , reinforcements to divide and conquer, body armor and a killer go get 'em attitude.

We went to see Breaking Dawn as our reward at 10:45 at night. Seeing the movie was much more fun which leads me to "soap box" --- family time is what you make of it. But for me, I'd rather hang with my sis eating some popcorn rather than prepping myself for the "bighouse."

Happy Holidays Everyone!

Julie Duttine: Love needed.

2011-11-08T14:48:00.002-05:00

An update from Julie Duttine's Husband. THose of you following Jaden Duttine's story for 2 + years now. His mother and my college friend Julie --- is battling daily with her cancer. The latest.

Please pray.

xox
debby

I wish I had better news to report to everyone. Julie's quality of life is slowly declining. The pain seems to be unbearable. The doctors are trying to get her on a regimen so she can go home. I've seen her down before only to bounce back a couple days later. Please continue to pray for her as she is in the battle of her life. The Andrulonis family and myself want to thank everyone for all the kind words.
I will try to give daily update on Juls status.

Joe

2011-11-03T10:29:00.000-04:00

PMSO

2011-10-28T21:19:00.000-04:00

I'm in a pissy mood.

I'm 37 years old. Wait... I'm 36.

I never get it right. You'll learn that about me quick. It's as if I have short term memory. Odd.

Did I tell you I was in a pissy mood?

I'm 37 years old. Wait...I'm 36.

I

JUST KIDDING...

So anyways I'm 36 possibly 37 and every single month -- I say to self.
SELF

WHY ARE YOU SO PISSED OFF.
You are A GRUMP. WHY IS THIS SO?

SELF-- what is YOUR DEAL?

SELF never has an answer.

SELF also must be Short Term Sally--- because perhaps it could be.....

Oh I dunnooooo..

hm.....

I WONDER...

could it BE?????

P. M. FAREAKING S????

the same crap I've gone through MONTHLY for what.... 20 plus years?

Nah...

I'm just pissy.

AND PMS

STANDS FOR

PISS MY SHIT (OFF )

Julie Duttine - Jaden's Mom Very Sick--- Pray!

2011-10-28T07:22:00.002-04:00

Those of you who follow me know that Jaden was our special boy for a year plus. We prayed for his recovery from stage 4 cancer and it worked. He is well! However his sweet mother Julie, is not. Julie is my college friend and former freshman dorm floormate.

She lives here in the Pittsburgh area near to me and this sweet, funny girl has been through intense challenges that no family should. She has cancer herself, slow growing over many many years. A momma in her mid 30's.

Her cancer seemed to take on Jaden's- as any momma would pray for --- and it has spread. She is battling for her life with Chemo and such and has been admitted to the hospital this past evening for continued intense pain that is unmanageable. Would you find it in your heart to think of her today --- praying for peace and comfort for her so that she can forge forward battling. Prayer for this entire extended family who has ridden this intense roller coaster-- for too long. We are thinking of not only Julie, Jaden, Joey and Joe but of Julie's mother and father as well as their extended family .

xoxo

debby

Karma is my vengeful twin.

2011-10-20T09:00:00.001-04:00

I love karma.
She is a dirty evil whore.

No wait, she is more like---- my vengeful evil twin.
Because I'm the good twin and would never wish semi-nonhurtful terrible things on people who have
DONE DID ME WRONG.

Nope, not me.

Karma is a horrible bitch-- and I cannot be associated with her.

Except on the sidelines-- CHEERING MY POM POMS!!

GO KARMA GO!

GO KARMA GO!

GOOOOOO KARMA!

K
A
R
M
A

WHAT'S THAT SPELL?

SUCK IT!!

Personal Flotation Devices: A Must Have This Season

2011-10-18T00:07:00.002-04:00

My D.B.D does anything for me. Seriously. I'm such an evil witch sometime that it surprises me when he happily goes to the store for the 5th time that week after I text him a grocery list.

No , it is NOT possible to know what I'll need for Tuesday's dinner. Planning is for the sickos. The weak minded.

So when I ask him to pick up tampons and pads--- he's all good with it. Doesn't bat an eye. I don't get that part either though cuz the dude gets heart palpitations just thinking about trying to use an expired coupon. He doesn't like doing things that make him "have diarrhea tummy."

He gets the goods.
But he's a smart one I tell ya.
He's a THINKER.

He MUCKS it all up. To hell and back.
So he doesn't ever get trusted again with such an important task. AGAIN.
EVER.

This PARTICULAR TIME. DBD won the war.

This time DBD made it VERY clear-- who was the boss.

And it wasn't Tony Macelli.

He brought me home a package of pads that was the size of a hay bail.
I coulda set pumpkins on it casually for a FALL FOLIAGE LOOK.

That was my first indication that he was revolting.

My second indication.

The FARKING pads were BIGGER THAN MY FEET,
WAIT..
TWO OF MY FEET
when expanded to their full capacity.

IT WAS LIKE UNROLLING INSULATION.

I
shit
you
not.

I EVIDENCE THE SHIZNIT out of stuff w my IPHONE.
Don't TRY to mug me. I will take pictures and BUST you later. I'M THAT GOOD. * lie-- I'm terribly obvious*

Ready for this?

Get ready.

I'm serious.

TA Da!

My own personal flotation devices.
POOL PARTY ANYONE?

I'LL BRING the RAFTS!

I flew this past weekend to Florida and when the stewardess said

" in the unlikely event that this tin can turns into a ball of firey flames and turns into a cruise-- your seat cushion will become a flotation device"

I SAID..

I'm good maa'm. Then turned around and gave a little friendly-- I got more people. Just give a hoodle when we're goin DOWN and I'll toss one.

There is rustling noise when I walk.
It is not the fall leaves.

NEEDLESS TO SAY--- he is off of PERSONAL PAD PURCHASING DETAIL.

Fucker.

DONT' EVEN ASK-- If I asked him for tampons.

Cotton Candy Dreams and Fa-reaking Lollipops-- How Angela Landsberry Got her Groove Back- and me too.

2011-10-16T05:07:00.000-04:00

I'm flying this week and visiting some friends in Ft. Lauderdale.
Do I sound super fun and exciting?
Like you want to be my friend?

* blank eyes*

Actually I'm flying BACK as I speak and I'm posting because so many people stopped me at our annual Macaroni Kid Meetup and told me that I should quite simply, be president.

I know.

It's crazy eyes bull shit.

*letting that settle in*

Okay -- so whatever. They said they thought I should write again.

Well.. SHUT THE FRONT DOOR!

( me too)

ORDER UP BARTENDER!

Everywhere I turned someone was stopping me to kindly fill me with lollipops and fucking cotton candy dreams --sweetly commenting about my writing. The lurkers out there are intense *NERVOUS LAUGH * and mucho appreciated.

Why don't I do it any longer?
Loads of reasons. Namely, my family needed my focus more. I was building my incredible Macaroni Kid empire with my two wonderful sidekicks and was finding all kinds of things in my life that I had been missing. Sadly, writing was one of those elements.

Writing has taken a back seat to many things in my life and has been pepper sprayed in essence. What used to be fun for me------ blogging--was no longer something I wanted to be a part of.

I maced it.
It maced me.
It burnt me from the inside out in so many ways.

So...
I lit it on fire like that one chic who lit all her husbands clothes and beamer on fire in that one movie.
Finding Angela Landsberry?

No? Not it.

Getting my groove on?
Angela's groove back?

What the fuck ever. The chick who lit it all up and gave a big eff u.

Yah.. that's kinda me. In my head though. Tough like nails. But not really.

But this past weekend I realized that I don't have to be a "blooooooogger" * air quotes* just because I spew my madness on a BLOG page. I'm no longer a blogger. That means a whole different realm of shit.
But writing is INDEED fun-- and I can choose to pick it up when I want and mail you something. Postcards to you. :)

So here you go. Check your mailbox soon.
I got some shit to say. :)

Things that didn't come in the instruction manual.

2011-07-26T00:00:00.004-04:00

When you purchase a product like
THIS …. ( so your kids don't have to get the CLAP )

There are a few freaking things they don't tell you in the instruction manual.

Let me help you all and give it to you "straight."
What they NEGLECT TO TELL YOU .. #1

You will hurriedly put up Mt. InflatedMoney , get the kids in their suits, peeing in their own excitement only to realize when you are to the FINAL STAGE OF SET UP in the scorching hot " BALL OF FIRE IN THE SKY SUN"….

That there is no "final stage" piece."

The fucking part that sprays water- ain't no where to be seen.

It's probably flown off to Mexico--which is about what Nenny and I ( mostly me) wished we could have clicked our heels and done.. right about then and there.

Bartendah! Bring me another round yells "no kids" Supah as she swims up to the pool bar in Somewhere Totally Safe Mexico. ( and then creates a Tsunami wave washing over the bar because she ate Olive Garden this week) I digress.

When something like this happens: Supah is fa- reaking useless. Pulls up a chair, dreams of STS Mexico and watches the Nenny go to work.

Nenny is the Macguyver of MCGUYvers. I AM CONVINCED OF TWO THINGS. Wait , 3.

1. I cannot spell Mackgyuver.

A. NENNY CREATED MACGUYVER HERSELF out of rusted screws, a diet snapple cap and a pair of pantyhose.

B. She could build a RUCKING FOCKET SHIP if she wanted to and I could invite you all over for tea and crumpets while we flew safely to Mars in her creation. This would be no "drink the koolaid " type of situation where I was faking you all out--- if Nenny says she can build it. It's safe. And we're GOIN TO MARS BABY!!!

She BUILT THAT "unincluded" PIECE FROM WHAT I SWEAR TO YOU was bendy straws we stole from my friends party, portions of my guest shower and my neighbor Paul's outdoor hose.

Never mind the clepto issue.

She got it to work.

The girls have been enjoying Mt. Inflated Money for days.

However the weather hasn't cooperated as much as we'd like and we also had a trip to the Emergency Room due to FLU IN THE SUMMER.
WHO.
GETS.
THE .
FLU.
IN .
THE .
SUMMER?

MY KID.

During these times of UNUSE.

What they NEGLECT TO TELL YOU .. #2

is that youll be babysitting this effer like it's ANOTHER PLUCKING CHILD.

Nursing it.

Keeping it from the rain.

Running like chickens to deflate the effer when the rain cloud beckon!

Running out in lightning LIKE A FOOLIO to retrieve the "electrical components" <--smart.

Flipping the TOTALLY INFLATED EFFER UPSIDE DOWN and following Nenny's "plan" for drying it out properly.

Cuz she's alllll about proper.

*clickheelsclickheelsclickheels*

You will also be forced to go outside late at night after it's had it's "Drying time." You'll feel CREEPY EWWWWWW BUGS CRAWL ON YOU because it is DARK and CREEPY EWWWWWW BUGS crawl in the DARK.

Your sister will not help when she says the word

SLUG.

And you flip your lid and your skin turns itself inside out.
AND once you settle your shit down-- Nenny instructs further.

Nenny says' JUMP."

to force deflation.

You will JUMP like a white girl can jump, imagining dunking like Air Jordan in his prime, becauSE when you're told to JUMP by nenny, you follow directions. It's how we roll round here.

So you will JUMP

( and get some AIR before impact ) ONLY to

A. LAUNCH YOUR SKINNY ASS SISTER,(who was innocently trying to deflate HER SECTION of Mt.INflatedMoney) directly to MARS.

WHO NEEDS NENNY'S SHIP! ?

Then you will ROLL ON THE DRIVEWAY LAUGHING SO HARD YOU LOSE WEIGHT----

and then promptly get your ASS UP.. when you remember this word.

SLUG!!

And THOSE are the things they don't tell you about when you purchase this fun stuff :)

P. U.

2011-07-23T11:09:00.000-04:00

Lord have mercy I ate something the other day that crawled inside my body, hibernated and festered into toxic radioactive gas.

It was so very bad-- men in suits showed up. Like when they discover E.T and the movie gets all freaking creepy.

Anyways-- my ass and it's issues.

I seem to have repeat Ecoli issues huh? But this time--- I didnt' poop myself stoopid. I just burnt all of my ( limited and quite normal amount of ) ass hairs each time I farted.

I'm sorry. It's not often I speak about this. But there's a funny part-- hold the line please!

I have deduced on my Clue Master Detective Form -- that I carry around with me:

That it was

the red bliss potato salad
from the man with no sanitary gloves
in Walmart

When will I EVER LEARN???? * dramatic hands to sky!*
SERIOUSLY. WHY DO I GO BACK?
AND BACK.
AND BACK.
AND BACK.
AND BACK.

I am ready to file for a PROTECTION FROM ABUSE ORDER.

So anyways.
I accosted much of my household with inadvertant toxic ass dust--- but the funniest part of this all.

I put my littlest to bed. She's 2. A fairly new 2.
And devil child.

She VERY rarely lets someone else put her to bed and by " put her to bed" I mean----

require that I lay with her
in this certain area of the bed
until she is dead asleep

It's torturous. Anyone who KNOWS me, knows I cannot sit still for a moment. I get heart palpitations thinking of all the stuff I could be doing rather than being held hostage by a terroristic two year old who tells me WHERE TO LAY, HOW TO LAY, and WHEN TO MOVE.

And I oblige.

So she was ALMOST falling asleep. So she was quite angelic. In between sleep and consciousness.
Well my ass dust began to rumble and I couldn't help it.

So I burnt up my ass and let one loose.
In the pitch dark.

I could see the flourescent green as it floated up to our noses.

I think it was "nerve gas!'

So I am DYING trying not to laugh and wake her ALMOST NEAR SLUMBER -- but my laugh is not the concern. This smell is the type of odor that COMPLETELY RIPS YOU FROM SLEEP TO YELL AT YOUR HUSBAND SMELL.

and I catch a glance of her face as I'm peering in the dark.
I think.. NO WAY.

I get a little closer-- to confirm what I see.

And yes. There she is. the little terrorist.
Having fashioned her own " gas mask!"

She was HOLDING HER NOSE.

INSTINCTIVE SURVIVAL MODE IN HALF SLEEP.

Heirlooms

2011-07-21T00:01:00.004-04:00

My husband tells this awesome story about a family car ride he and his family went on when he was younger. His family consisted of 4 hoodlum boys, Mom and Dad. I'll try to do the story justice because he tells it so well. I'm adding some details to supah it up.

It's a gem-- a
Family heirloom.

They had this big green station wagon that he tells me looked like this

You know this kinda "ride." The one that bounces you into the wheel well when you hit a bump-- cuz there aren't any seatbelts?

All 4 boys were piled into the back seat. I imagine elbow shoving , farting and "staring" at each other. Four boys…. 2 older, DBD and the youngest. Shit kickin, BMX bike riding, stupid plan making, bone breaking, wedgie bustin trouble making hoodlums. With buzzcuts.

Tie your sled to the BMX bike, let your brother pull you in the fresh fallen snow … directly into a parked truck. Breaking your nose.

Those kinda boys.

Dear Jesus. Thank you sir for giving me only girls. Amen and blessings.

All singing ass fart songs as Dad was driving down the highway.

Because ass fart songs are heirlooms---- ones that DBD enjoys teaching to my daughters.

So Dad was driving. Dad's a hoot. Big guy. Slow southern drawl. Originally from The "Carolina's" Grew up husking Tobacco on a tobacco farm. Amazing life. Got the hell outta dodge when he turned 18! Went into the military. God Bless Him.

Amen Dad.
Can you imagine working in a tobacco field for most of your young life? And adult life. Then sayin EFF YOU to that back breaking labor-- only to enlist in the military. FOR life.

Incredible work ethic--- that does not exist today. Starting with moi.
An heirloom sadly not passed.

Anyways.. Dad's a hoot. He moves slow, he talks slow, he a cool dude. I like to think about him as a young father. Whappin the boys upside the back of their heads, and specifically DBD a buttload of times.

Perhaps I should get a broom like his mom used to do and freaking GO TO TOWN?

Everyone needs this old school shit. Bring on the BROOMS!

Anyways.

Dad is driving. I like to imagine him whistling the ass fart song along with his boys who are singing it in the back. Mom is knitting next to him. Because she was a SAINT. The woman had cancer most of her life and her boys lives yet knitted hats for poor children in 3rd world countries.

Again.
Ethics.

Missing.

Where's the broom.

Arm restin' on the window ledge. Cruisin in that big beast of wagon.

All of the sudden dad starts SCREAMING!

OHHHHH!

OHHHHHHHHH!

Holding his arm.

OHHHH MY GODDAMN ARM!

MY GODDAMN ARM! I'VE BEEN SHOT!!

Car swerving.
Oncoming traffic dodging the green beast with 4 buzzed hoodlums in the back seat.
Tumble weeds rollin along side the car ( cuz there are totally tumbleweeds in Colorado)

MY GODDAMN ARM!

OHHHHHH

I THINK I'VE BEEN SHOT!

PAT , I'VE BEEN SHOT!

* I IMAGINE PAT ROLLED HER EYES A LITTLE.

He pulls the car over to a stop. Cradling his arm. The boys are piled on top of each other in the back seat wheel well… all dazed and beat up from pin balling it across the back seat during Dad's freak out time.

Just as he begins to survey the "shot" damage on his arm -- the hoodlums start FUCKING FLIPPING OUT in the back seat ---- screaming, scrambling and climbing over each other to get to the "back."

THEY'RE SCREAMING like idiots --- kicking each others heads landing on each other trying to now get out of the BACK WINDOW.

Turns out Dad was "shot" by a ……….

massive bumble bee

traveling at 65 miles an hour.

The bumble bee lived to tell the tale in the back seat of the beast of a wagon and CAME BACK TO LIFE while the boys were staring at it.

I love heirlooms. :) I wonder what stories my children will tell OVER AND OVER about me ---- that will make them laugh when they're having a rough day.

Burnt Retinas.... It was like...

2011-07-15T20:40:00.002-04:00

I was driving home the other day from something that made me drive in that direction.

The SUN was so freakin intense in the sky.

You know the kind that BURNS YOUR RETINAS INSTANTLY endangering your life in the midst of traffic on 376 W.

The kind that makes you SCREAM AT THE SUN GODS like some maniac who's lost it.

The kind of SUN in the sky that crystallizes your windshield and turns it back into FREAKIN SAND!!

( that sounded good right? I'm not a science chic)

So I was SOOO mad that I drove my burnt eyeballs home, immediately got out of the car,used echolocation to find my way to the front door( because of my burnt ass retinas) and went into to complain to Nenny. My sister.

DO YOU KNOW THAT THE FREAKING SUN WAS IN THE SKY~!!!!!

* blank stare*

IT WAS FREAKING HUGE.

* blank bigger stare*

NO SERIOUSLY. THE SUN WAS SO MASSIVE NENNY IT INSTANTLY BURNT MY EYEBALLS !!

IT WAS CRAZY!

IT WAS LIKE...

IT WAS LIKE...

LIKE....

LIKE...

* the words finally GRACE my mind*

IT WAS LIKE

A BIG BALL OF FIRE IN THE SKY.

My sister and my husband have YET to let go of this "description" that I came up with.

All on my ownsome.
It's hard being me.

Especially with burnt retinas!

Told You So.

2011-07-13T23:27:00.002-04:00

I came home today after meeting with our CPA --

* I'll wait for you to think I'm super important*

**

**

**

waiting****

Yuck FOu!

So I came home and sure enough EVERY cotton pickin window in the house was open.

I was GENIUS at Clue Master Detective--- and the windows OPEN --tells me something
AINT' RIGHT AT THREE THREE EIGHT. And it was with the rope, in the dining room…..

Open windows?

Supahdon'tplay'dat.

I enjoy myself some " artificial climate."

If I wanted to breath natural air--- in the stench of my sweating pits--- I'd.. I'd…. I'd…. gotoa3rdworldcountrywheretheydon't haveluxuries…………. and USDA BEEF.

I've been to Cancun.. people. I've seen 3rd world.. and smelled rotting taco beef in the air as I awoke each morning from my foggy slumber. I survived that trip on two things- alcohol and frosted flakes.

Well of course DBD was all over it.
Our air conditioner had shit the bed.

Luckily he pushes a cushy job at Honeywell and has HVAC geeks at his beckon call to "take care of this jeeves!"

I call down from the top of the deck--

because I can't see him--- only hear him and his HVAC Geek.

What is it? What's WRONG???????WHY ISN'T IT WORKING???

* beginning to perspire in the 70 degree breezy weather*

I
am
delicate.

He steps back and holds up evidence of the "issue" at hand.

It's the CAPACITOR--- says DBD.

I gasp a little.

DID HE REALLY JUST SAY IT???

*SOMETIMES BLOGGIN IS JUST SO EASY*

DON'T YOU MEAN THE

FLUX CAPACITOR????

supah is on the ground rolling----
no one else is.

I TUCKING FOLD you all he was a time traveler!!!!

Holy Mother of Bologna --- if I wasn't right.

SERIOUSLY. YOU ALL WANT TO LIVE WITH ME AS YOUR WIFE DONT' YOU?

You know I'm sending him back in the Delorian tonight to 1982 to get me some REAL hair feathers
( today's newest sa- lawn trend) SCREW THIS ROOSTER FEATHER SHIT.. don't you remember THESE?

You weren't cool unless you were walking around with drug paraphernalia clipped to your freaking head in the form of a roach clip.

So I'm sending him back and I'm goinna rock this shit out…. need anything- from my TIME TRAVELER HUSBAND?