Tag Archives: wtf

I couldn’t stay away…also HAPPY BIRTHDAY NICK?

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It’s weird, not blogging.

You know that saying when it rains, it pours? I swear it’s like someone opened Pandora’s box of ugliness over the past week or so and all I have to protect me from the rain is a shredded umbrella.

Anyway, I was deleting some anonymous mean-girl type comments on my blog this morning (this is becoming a very frustrating habit. I love how being “anonymous” gives people balls on the internet) when I ran across an entry from 2006 that made me smile…

So I share that smile with you:

8 year old logic

So, I was “coaching” my youngest son’s soccer team last night. And by “coaching” I mean I was standing in front of the bench yelling “Follow your kicks! Attack the ball! What are you waiting on, an invitation?” Yes, I’m a helluva coach.

In my defense, I did refuse to coach anymore because it’s getting to the point where you have know the rules. And I don’t know diddly about soccer. I should. I’ve given birth to 2 soccer players who have both been playing since they were 3 years old. But no. The soccer rules and I have not become one in the universe. But, I’m coaching because fishdog signed up to coach both boys. Which would be fantastic if the boys didn’t play at the same time. And since they have been playing at the same time, I’ve been “choosing” the lesser of two evils by coaching the 8 year olds. And by “choosing” I mean, not having a choice at all.

Where was I? Oh yes. “Coaching” soccer.

My son, Rader, is very determined and competitive. Soccer is a team sport and we (I say we because if I HAVE to coach the games, I should get some credit) try very hard to make the kids understand that. But last night, the kids didn’t understand anything. It was more like kickball than soccer. Herding snails would’ve been easier.

Rader decided he was Superman Soccer last night and took it upon himself to win the game. Forget the team. He didn’t need no stinkin’ team. He was Rader the Fearless. He could do it. And he did score our only two goals. (we’re not going to mention how many goals the other guys scored) But he also managed to wind up bashed around quite a bit. He took one hit to the nards that had him sitting for a while. I thought for sure he’d be talking in a higher octave for a day or two.

“Rader, what’s the deal? Have you forgotten you have 3 other teammates out there? They can help you if you let them.”

He sighed and did a semi-roll of the eyes. “Mom. It’s obvious they don’t want it bad enough. Besides, you can only help those who help themselves.”

Can’t argue with that logic, I guess.

In other smiley news, Happy Birthday to my best male friend, a man I consider a brother, and Ian’s godfather…Nick-O-Lust. I love you man…I miss your vodka inspired 20 minute messages and I can’t wait to hug you again when you visit in May. xoxo

hairs day! prom! friends! wine! opossum!

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Today I get my hairs did. Which is good, because my Go-Go Red needs to be punched up a bit.

We pick up Ian’s tux this afternoon. Prom. ❤

I had a great night with an old friend last night. Well, “old” as in lifelong…We hadn’t seen each other in a decade. It was amazing catching up with her. We will not wait so long to hang out again.

Another awesome thing about last night? She introduced me to a wonderful new wine. And you know I always love new wine. Especially when it’s in a bottle!! (Unless it is that crappy white zinfadel. That belongs in the toilet.)

Paul Hobbs Chardonnay. ZOMG. My taste buds and liver were so damn happy.

ION (of the weird variety) There was a possum in our backyard this morning. (or as one of my high school teachers would say: Miss McKenzie, that would be opossum. there is no such animal as a “possum”) Frieda Mae actually picked it up and carried it around like  puppy. I’M NOT KIDDING, PEOPLE! Picked. It. Up. Then it played dead. It was very committed to its role as dead possum. El Jefe scooped it up with a shovel and dust pan and placed it on the other side of the fence…where it continued to play dead.

Welcome to Arkansas.

If it’s still there when I get home, I’m going to name it Fred Finkle.

day one

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Today is a new day. I’m greeting it with a smile, an open heart and a new direction.

I’m guilty of lying to myself, but no more. It’s time to dig back in and give myself a giant wake up slap. I have the family and friend thing covered in spades, but it’s high time I make writing and exercise a priority in my life again. I actually miss both and I’m sick of making excuses for not doing them.

So you,my internet friends, have been put on notice. I’m back in the saddle. My latest WIP is titled THE REMEDIES and it’s a darker science fiction story. (don’t worry, it will have plenty of humor in it as well. How can I not be funny?) Today is Day1.

If I don’t report back, I’m asking you to hold me accountable. I must write something everyday–even if it’s a paragraph. And I have to tell you about it.

As far as fitness goes, I really want to run the half-marathon again next March. I’m not so much worried about weight loss (though I probably should be) but I am worried about being healthy and happy. So today is Day 1 again… I must do something physical every day and report back. If I don’t–you bitches better shame me.

I’m not even joking.

Now on a less serious note, check out my little friend. He was hurt and fluttering around unsuccessfully on our screened-in-porch last night. I moved him outside to save him from certain death by Bobcat Greyskull…

Month of Mel 2012: Day 22

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Welcome to Nightmare on Melf Street.

I had the most horrific dream last night. HORRIFIC. Unimaginable, even. And yet it happened not once…but twice. Yes. The same dream happened twice. I got up at 4:00 to watch TV and rid myself of the images that remained. I was awake for nearly an hour, went back to bed and dreamed the same dream. I couldn’t wake myself up, either.

I’m really slightly traumatized by it. I won’t go into graphic details because nobody else should be subjected to my nightmare but I will tell you, the main bad guy, looked a lot like the guy the actor who played Mitch Laurence on One Life to Live. This guy personifies creepy to me. Part of it is the smarmy character he portrayed and part of it is just the way he looks. Either way, let’s just say what he did was very brutal and even after he was captured, he got very angry and escaped his Hannibal Lector type bondage and came after me–again. In both dreams. He had Hulk strength and major anger and psychotic issues, but he never turned green.

Here are a few interpretations for some of the happenings going on in my dream (if you believe in this sort of thing.)

“This dream indicates vengeful or resentful feelings toward the opposite sex. You feel that you have been violated or that you have been taken advantage of. Something or someone is jeopardizing your self-esteem and emotional well-being. Things are being forced upon you.” 

“This indicates negative feelings that are being pushed out of the unconscious. Feelings of hate, aggression or anger which you may have suppressed need to be addressed head on.”

“This suggests that you are feeling lost, overwhelmed, and/or inadequate. You feel that you are unable to take charge of yourself.”

“This indicates that you need to be re-energized.There may be a situation in your life that you are having difficulty in getting a handle on.”

 Hmmmm. Okay. Sounds like I may need to hit up a therapist soon. Or maybe retail therapy. Or Sand, Sun and Surf therapy. Or maybe Vitamin Margarita… or maybe just a sweet happy of some kind? Maybe I’ll run by Francesca’s or Box Turtle this weekend and see if I can’t treat myself to something sweet that will “re-energize” me. Oh, guess that qualifies as retail therapy.

Whatever that awful dream means, I can tell you one thing for sure–I never want to have that dream again.

even more.

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Yesterday, I discovered a show that is so full of crazy, I seriously think I lost a piece of my soul for watching it.

And I blame Robyn.

Toddlers and Tiaras. WTF is this holy hell of nuttiness? Who does this to children? ON PURPOSE? And how on earth can they think they’re not abusive? (They spray tanned a 23 month old AND called her arms fat. Dear Lord.)

Wow. Just. Wow.

And now Jenn is begging me to watch Dance Moms and Mob Wives, too.  I just don’t know if I’m ready to lose the rest of my soul to that side of reality tv. Save me while there’s some good left in me.

And for your open-mouthed viewing “pleasure” I give you Alana– “A dolla makes me holla, honey-boo-boo!”  

it’s raining crazy

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And I’m not just talking about the dumbasses who forget how to drive when water falls from the sky. /rant

Yesterday, I posted my Bachelor Recap for episode 4 on Hey Don’t Judge Me. Y’all. Y’ALL. I cannot explain the amount of crazy that pours out of that show. It is seriously awesome. And I’m always left to wonder what the douches and hoes think after they watch themselves..and see the behind the scenes crazy that goes on. I mean, it’s truly spectacular. So please, go read and talk to me about it. (This recap even has a clip of the crazy. One in which threats are levied against another ho-testant’s eyebrows.)

That’s all I have for today. I am going to go suck down more coffee and watch the water pour from the sky…while driver IQs everywhere continue to fall…

THAT was unexpected

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So it kinda, sorta SNOWED last night. I thought it was going to be a little flurry here and there, but no, we got SNOWED IN with 2.2 inches.

Okay, that was me being slightly MEL-o-dramatic (a direct result of the lingering MELaria) but there is some slight truth in that statement. I actually can’t get out of my driveway this morning because there was a big rig wreck on the interstate and a fuel spill. And the road in front of my house is at a standstill. And has been for 2 hours.

At least it’s pretty. And the dogs seemed pretty happy about it…

Personally, I love the fact that the traffic has given me a reason to be late for work and snuggle up with El Jefe and more coffee…

a TWI-Hardly confession

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Ok. It’s not a Dirty Little Secret, but it’s a confession. And some of you might not like it…but I’m going to risk it all and confess anyway.

I do NOT understand the obsession with Twilight and I really don’t understand Twi-Hards. I just don’t. I find the entire series reeee-donk-ulous, mainly because it romanticizes a dude who stalks a girl and then calls it ETERNAL FOREVER LURVE and then when that girl decides she wants to be a vampire so they can spend ETERNAL FOREVER together, he takes her choice away from her because of HOW IT WILL EFFECT HIM. Until, of course, she almost dies having his baby, then of course, she can become a vampire because that way he has “saved” her. Dudes. I just don’t get the appeal.

I find Bella to be wimpy, weak, and a waste of air. She makes “emo” look like a Unicorn farting a rainbow of skittles, sunshine and butterflies.

The first time I read the book, I got the appeal of Edward. Until I started to think about the message the story was sending… Girls need to be saved by a big strong man. Girls can’t make their own decisions about when to eat, drink or sleep (or even walk with their own feet. Seriously. Bella was carried everywhere!)  And my favorite: Girls find it very romantic to be secretly watched from the woods and even from their own bedroom. In my world, that’s considered cray-cray and is grounds for a giant restraining order. Or a dirt nap. Because damn, please don’t sneak into my room and watch me sleep and tell me it’s because you love me…

So there. That’s my confession. If you want to read some hysterically funny breakdowns of all the books and the latest movie, here are some links for ya… Seriously, worth the read…for a number of reasons, and not just the “sparkly peen.”

Secrets of Sparkle

More Twilight

Return of the Sparkle

Final Chapter in the Sparkle

and at Hey Don’t Judge Me we have a movie recap for Breaking Dawn pt 1…

Here’s the thing, it’s okay if you disagree…I know I’m in the giant minority here. But damn, y’all. Stalking and controlling ain’t right.

From the book Twilight and Philosophy pg 178 (chapter by Rebecca Housel)

The newspaper headline screams: “Eighteen-Year-Old Slain by Husband after Giving Birth.” (eh. Okay, actually 18 year old turned into a vampire is more accurate.)As you continue reading, you learn that the young woman was brainwashed by a strange blood-drinking cult who call themselves a “family,” though none of the members were actually related. The young woman’s husband was much older than she and had a history of violence. In fact, you learn that her husband used to stalk her prior to her marriage, watching her secretly from the woods near her home and climbing into an unsecured window at night to watch her sleep without her knowledge. Once the young woman, then seventeen, was initiated into a relationship with the man and his “family,” she was encouraged to marry right after her high school graduation. (THIS is the crux of the entire series and what concerns me the most as a parent and a reader. Also, vampires shouldn’t sparkle.)The young woman reportedly had bruises all over her body after returning from her honeymoon, where she also reportedly became pregnant. Her husband was not happy about the pregnancy and wanted her to have an abortion. She refused, eventually leading to him ripping the child from her womb, then, draining her of her blood until she finally stopped breathing. Sounds torturous and sick, doesn’t it? But in fact, this is the basis of a tween-teen literary phenomenon called the Twilight saga…

Now, this is a VERY literal interpretation of what happens, and let’s face it, saying he killed her is kind of a stretch, however, the underlying facts remain the same. He controlled and emotionally abused Bella, he stalked her and married her right out of high school and his “family” encouraged this, then once she became pregnant, his family hid her from her family. Is that what we want for our kids? Ugh. No thanks.

Sorry. Not feeling so funny today. I’m just kinda over Twilight and I’m tired of being quiet about it…

this is so not cool

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SOMEONE, and I’m not naming names (*koff* fishdog *koff*) sent this link to me last night.  Here, let me save you the trouble of clicking:

I’m torn about this. You see, I can’t really look at this picture without wanting to cry. Remember last Halloween?

However, I actually think a yard full of those awful creatures (with a few Big Headed Kings from BK thrown in) makes for great Halloween decor. It’s just too bad I would be too terrified to pull into my driveway. Or sleep. Ever again.

Oh, who am I kidding. I would drown in my own tears.

just. say. no.

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To the “New Footloose.”

Really? REALLY?

Team Bacon all the way.

I’m actually a little horrified they’ve remade this movie. I know I have friends who want to go see it, but I just don’t. It’s a travesty. That would be like remaking 16 Candles, Dirty Dancing, Breakfast Club, Pretty in Pink or Any John Cusack movie…

Dear Movie Industry,

Quit messing with my childhood. Footloose is an iconic movie that should have been left alone. Your remake is unnecessary and as Matt Cherette of Gawker says, “will ruin your childhood when it hits theaters in October.” I don’t want my childhood ruined.

Love,
Melf