Tag Archives: Ma

Introducing Our New Team Mascot, The Florida Fighting Conch!

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My muscle man. 🙂

 

My fiance, the BFE is truly the best. He cooks, he LOVES vacuuming, he doesn’t mind cuddling, he kills spiders when I find them scary, and he even cuts his parents’ grass for them. He really is a good guy.

 

 

He also makes high-pitched screams like an emotionally hysterical woman when faced with a simple ocean mollusk in his hand.

 

This past Mother’s Day weekend we headed down to SoFla (that’s South Florida for you non-Floridians) to visit his parents, soak up some beach time and generally enjoy a mini-break away. The morning of our first full day, BFE and I headed to the beach as soon as we could wipe the sleep and crust out of our eyes and whip on our bathing suits.

 

It was a beautiful day at the beach. A light breeze, the soft lapping of the waves, crystal clear water , only a few geriatric snowbirds walking the sand for shells, and powder white sand. It was great.

 

We waded out into the ocean, using our water proof camera to take pictures under the water and explore. Things were fine until I mentioned that my foot scraped over a weird shell. Moments later, BFE ran over it too, and dove down to investigate. It was this beautiful shell! So pretty and intricate. BFE turned it over in his hand, and we realized that the shell was home to …a CREATURE!

The pictures we took are REALLY bad, so I found this on the ‘net. See the eyes? They bore into your brain and steal your soul.

 

It stuck its little eye stalks out and peered up at us, while we huddled together, peering back. BFE insisted that it was a hermit crab that was missing a leg, but before I could decide, the shell disappeared from BFE’S hand!

 

The creature had reached out of the shell with its “toe” and tried to touch him! In sheer blind panic, he threw his head back and SCREAMED “waaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaahhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhh!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!” while flapping and tossing his hands about in the air with complete abandon of composure and tossed the shell further out into the water. It was a high-pitched womanly scream reserved for Hitchcock horror films. The whole episode happened in seconds and the shell was gone.

 

I couldn’t believe it! It was the coolest thing we’d ever found at the beach and it was just… gone. I railed at him, calling him a “woman” for screaming like that. In the meantime, he utterly ignored me and had already booked it halfway back to shore, telling me that if I wanted to see it again, I needed to find it myself.

 

I did find another one fairly quickly, and was examining it while calling for the BFE to grab the camera when it TOUCHED me with its “toe”.

 

The TOE!!!!!!!!!!!!!!! It’s coming for you BFE!!! Eeeeee!

 

 

In a repeat performance of BFE’s epic meltdown, I screamed “yahhhhhhhhhhhh!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!” and tossed it up in the air, which the shell landing back in the water with a big plop. I flew over to BFE, yelling “Omigod omigod omigod it TOUCHED me! It touched my hand!” While hopping up and down in the water waving my affected hand around like an idiot. I made a huge scene, but I did not care. The creature TOUCHED me with its TOE.

 

In the meanwhile, BFE just stood there, shaking his head and, in a move that was clearly borrowing some of my sass, said “mmhmm… who’s the WOMAN now?”

 

We found a third shell and this time I tried to buck up and hang on to it while he ran to our umbrella area on the sand to grab our camera. When it wriggled in my hand, I dropped it AGAIN. As I’m digging in the sand and water to find it again, I use our sand pail and shovel (yes, I brought a sand pail to the beach. I’m five) to pick it up and walk to the shore. The whole time I was making my way to shore I hopped to and fro while yelling omigodomigodomigodhurryupbeforeittouchesmeagain.

 

Keep in mind that until then, we were on what was probably the quietest part of the beach.

 

My antics caught the attention of an older woman and her husband, who had a blanket near ours. She came over and explained that what we’d found was a Florida Fighting Conch, and the “toe” that touched me was what it used to pull itself across the sand on the ocean floor. She said that putting it on the sand would kill it and we really shouldn’t attempt to take it home. Home?!?! Like we’d found a new pet or mascot and wanted to keep it?!?! Puh-lease. We took pictures and released the conch back into the wild.

 

Seriously, though. Doesn’t “Florida Fighting Conch” sound kinda like a slightly lame college mascot?

 

 

For the rest of the weekend, I couldn’t look at the BFE without thinking of him screaming like a little girl and tossing this tiny little three-inch shelled creature away from him because it “looked” at him and tried to touch him.

 

When we got home, I told his parents, and it became the running joke for the rest of the night. The next day I called my mom while she and my dad were driving back to Georgia from a family visit in Illinois, and she laughed so hard and so long that she woke my dad and eventually had to pull over to the side of the road so she could recover her composure.

 

The BFE is still the best, he just lost a few man points, although he did gain points for humor and scream creativity. I know I shouldn’t have laughed so much, and I probably shouldn’t have told both sets of parents and written a blog about it, but honestly, what would you have done???

 

Go TEAM FIGHTING CONCHS!!!!!

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Maaaa! Mama! Mummy!! Mummy!! Mum! Mum! Mum!

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Sometimes it’s really fun to be a little awful, if you know what I mean.

I am totally jazzed, actually I’m PSYCHED about the Mother’s Day card I put in the mail to my mom yesterday.

There were a lot of cards to choose from… sappy ones, poem-y ones with pictures of flowers on them, ones with puppies, black and white photos kids holding hands. A couple of them that I guess are supposed to be from smart alecky college kids or teenagers that have pictures of animals dressed in hop clothing and saying things like “remember when you told me to clean my room?”

I was having a hard time choosing which one to send, a smart-alecky one, a poem-y one, or one with puppies… and THEN I found THE card:

I added the word bubble 🙂

She’s going to love it.

I even added a heartfelt message inside the card:

“Mother!!! Did this card make you gasp aloud in shock or roll your eyes? Then its done its job and is worth every penny. 🙂

I wanted to send you a Mother’s Day card that is as crazy and random and hilarious as I am… it I cant be there in body, then at least I’m there in spirit!

So Happy Mother’s Day Ma!

I hope you have a wonderful day full of surprises, laughter and love.

And pictures of hot dudes :)”

And then there’s the other part:

“MAAAAAAAA!

(and the card reads: I figured you’ve got enough pictures of flowers and cutesy animals by now)

You have to admit, he is pretty cute!

Happy Mother’s Day!”

Then there’s the final parting shot on the back that speaks for itself:

“I can’t think of anything clever o say. I’m sexy, not witty.”
Yes mam, you are.

This card ROCKS. It ROCKS SO HARD THAT I DO NOT KNOW THAT I CAN HANDLE IT. I hope when I have a kid I get a card like this.

Now I’m wriggling in anticipation of my mom getting this card. She and my dad are traveling this weekend, so she probably will not see it until late Sunday or Monday. I have a feeling that I’ll know the moment that she opens it.

Happy Mother’s Day!!!

10 Days – 10 people

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My 10-Day Challenge (to Myself)

So I was reading girlseekskiss‘s blog the other day, and came across what I thought was a super cool idea…

Over the next few weeks, I want to highlight 10 people, 9 secrets (yikes), 8 fears (double yikes!), 7 wants, 6 places, 5 books, 4 foods, 3 films, 2 songs and 1 picture of myself.

I thought this would be an interesting blogging exercise, a good writer’s exercise, to see what comes from this. It’ll be so organic, and I have NO idea what’s going to come out! So bear with me folks… here I go!  🙂

10 People

Wow, this is going to be hard.

10. The boy that affected my college decision.

When I was in high school, I got accepted to every college I applied to, including UGA and Georgia Southern. I’d originally only applied to GA Southern because one of my closest friends (and dude I had a ridiculous crush on) was applying there. He also applied to UGA.

When the acceptance letters came in, he got accepted to Georgia Southern and waitlisted for UGA. So I decided NOT to go to my #1 choice but follow him to GA Southern. WHO DOES THAT?!? Oh wait – ME.

Long story short, I hated GA Southern, we drifted apart as friends, and I transferred to Georgia State University to finish my degree. I never regretted that decision: I honestly think almost everything that has happened to me since (good & bad) has all stemmed from my move back to Atlanta. I can’t imagine what my life would have been like had I not followed that silly boy down to Statesboro, GA.

9. Samantha Brown

Alright, this sounds nuts but she has really helped me to develop my outlook on traveling to new places! She really dives into travel and immerses herself in the people, food and culture of a place. She’s honest and witty and doesn’t take it all too seriously. I totally wanna be her when I grow up!

8. The person that selected me to be laid off from my former job.

As stranger as it sounds, I’d like to say THANK YOU!! to whomever it was in HR or my department or whatever that, when my former company was having financial trouble and having to let people go, decided I was one of the ones that should be laid off.

I spent a long time feeling resentful of that situation, and wondering what I’d done wrong that resulted in me being picked. I cried. A lot. I hadn’t been without a job since I was 15. I felt like a failure.

Honestly? Working at that hotel really put the “cult” in “workplace culture”: We were a tight-knit family working for a common goal, and really felt that management cared about us. Maybe they really did – I’m not sure. What I do know is that I felt like I was leaving family behind, and being sent away. I was having withdrawal pains from this place that had been the center of my life since I moved to Florida. It was hard. What I had to face up to is that WORK is about BUSINESS. It’s not personal, it’s not how much they like you, or who is friends with who. The people that you care about, and who care abotu you, will still keep in touch no matter what. I learned to do a better job of “leaving work at work”. In the real world, as much as a company can create a culture that sucks you in, at the end of the day, when they let you go, it’s just business.

Two years later, I’m working for a company where I could not possibly be happier. I love the people I work with, but I also temper that with accepting that it’s still business at the end of the day.

7. Jessica the BFF

This chick is hilarious. Like, really, really hilarious. I oculd gush about how lucky I am to have a BFF that listens and cares, and laughs because we have the same sense of humor, but that’s not why she’s on the list.

Apart from being one of the most cracked-out crazy pants awesome people I know, Messy Jessy is also the smartest. I mean that. LITERALLY one of the smartest most driven people I’ve ever met in my life. Which in turns challenges me to bust my ass for the things I want. Can you ask for a better friend than that?

Ok, how about one that will move into your 2-bedroom apartment with you because the thrill of living alone wore off and now you’re too scared to go to sleep alone in the apartment at night? One that will keep you company so you can stop imagining escape routes out of your bedroom in the event intruders come in through the patio? ‘Cause that’s what she did. She sort of saved my sanity. 🙂

6. Delton the other BFF

Taught me a lot of about seeing your way through to the other side after it feels like your whole house has fallen down around you.

We went through some pretty shitty events together (including a roommate from hell that stole our identities and turned out to be a sociopath). We yelled and screamed at each other, and tried to break each other down but in the end propped each other up. I learned that no matter how much it sucks, things are always much better with a partner by your side.

I also learned never to fight with your significant other in front of other people – no one wants to see that! So Delton, I’m sure the BBE thanks you for that too 🙂

Delton also had the cojones to tell his parents that he liked boys… in the meantime, I live in another state and stil haven’t manned up and told me parents that the BBE is probably moving in starting January. I totally admire him for that kind of courage.

5. Winnie the Pooh

He’s a ditsy fat yellow bear… we’re not that much different… he also addicted to honey (sugar)… yet another similarity…

He’s also NOT a fan of wearing pants, a personal preference of mine which I believe we’ve previously covered in other blogs.

One thing Pooh has down pat though, is figuring out who is friends are, and appreciating them. Especially if they have honey in the house 🙂

Pooh keeps it real, yo.

4. Snitch and Flip

My sisters. When I meet other people that don’t get along with their family/ siblings, I am grateful for the relationship I have with Lil Middle Sis (Flip) and Littlest Sis (Snitch). We always have a good time together, ever though we will occasionally get on one another’s nerves. What family gathering would be complete without someone bossing the others around, someone geting pissed off, someone drinking wine like it’s water, and another one spiking the holiday apple cider with crown royal??

3. Sunshine

My stepdad IS my dad, and my dad rocks. Plain and simple. I started calling him Sunshine a few years back, it caught on and that’s that.

I’m probably not always the best kid to my dad. And he might not always agree with my decisions, but he’s dependable, and patient and listens and gives me honest feedback. He’s also possibly the 2nd most hilarious person I know.

2. Maaaaaaaaa

Come on, y’all knew number one would be my mom, right?

My mom and I bump heads. A lot.

Remember when you were a kid? And you were like “I will NEVER be like my parents! I will be my kid’s friend and let them eat cake for dinner and take them to DisneyWorld every weekend if they want and NEVER make them do homework! And if they don’t want to go to school or college or do homework, then they don’t have to.”

When I was in high school, I soooooooooooo wanted to be like my mom… I would steal dresses out of her closet when she wasn’t looking so I could wear them at school. I observed how she walked so I could have the same walk, and subconsciously, I still have a lot of the same mannerisms she does.

We didn’t have a super-close relationship, though. I used to wish we were like my friends and their moms. I often think that’s because, as my personality formed, it was so different from how she wanted me to be. When I was younger, it hurt to think that I wasn’t measuring up to her image and expectation. And her expectation was HIGH. She put her boot up my ass and made me work hard: bringing home Cs wasn’t an option. Being lazy or rude wasn’t an option either.

When I hit college I decided to do my best to NOT be like her, and spent a lot of effort into being who I wanted to be and went a bit overboard. I’m grateful to those years because I learned to just be me, and like myself. Eventually, when you really like who you are, like really really like who you are, other people will like you, too. And that’s what happened.

I am grateful for those “boot up the ass” years, too. I am lucky that I had parents that believed in me. I didn’t appreciate it at the time. Who ever really does?

I live in another state now, away from my parents. I miss my mom sometimes, and we’ve gotten closer through our phone conversations, and enjoy the time we do have together because we don’t take it for granted. One interesting thing: more and more lately, I’m noticing that we share a LOT of personality traits. Which I actually kinda like 🙂

1. The Atlanta Crew: Castey Wayne, Kev, and LauraEllen

Real friends that will pick you up at the airport (and drop you off later too). Real friends that you have seen the good, the best, the bad and the ugly… and they know all that about you too.

Real friends tell you the truth, and keep your head screwed on straight even when you don’t want to hear it.

Real friends don’t bat an eyelash when you have crazy batshit plans – they simple burst out laughing, try to discourage you, then eventually tag along because they’re your friend. Quite often, they also supply the booze.

Real friends that you can look in the eye across a room, and immediately start laughing because you both know you’re thinking the SAME THING… “why is that b!tch wearing spandex?!?”

So… those are my ten!

The Milk and the Cow

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The other day, I had a rather frank conversation with my mom about my relationship with the BBE (best boyfriend ever) and where we were headed. I was very honest and told her that we were considering moving in together. I’m not a serial dater – I have never lived with anyone I have dated, EVER, so for me to even consider this step is pretty huge.

And she said the infamous phrase:

“Why buy the cow when you can get the milk for free?”

Wha??? Who says stuff like that? What is this, the 1950’s??

I am an intelligent college graduate with a full-time job and my own car. I am (fairly) responsible and I try to live a fairly morally compassed life. In this day and age, you think she’d be happy that I haven’t covered my body in tribal tattoos with a tramp stamp on my butt crack, dancing naked under the full moon and posting soft-core videos on YouTube. I mean, I’m not going all Kesha on her, just wanting to have a healthy relationship with someone that I’d potentially consider having little swirly babies with. I think this is reasonable.

I have to admit, I was a little surprised, and then again, I wasn’t. She was being a mom and wanting the best for me, but at the tender age of 32 and a half I have to start being the person that decides what works for me.

 I’m like…a penguin. When I mate, I want to mate for life. I have seen too many of my friends go through the stress and heartbreak of divorce. I don’t want to rush into any decisions… I also don’t want us to take 5 years to decide that we want to get married (I think my eggs expire before then) however I don’t want to date for just 3 months and then get married. That’s not how I roll. So in order to ensure that I’m making the right decision I want to try the living with him thing first – why is that so bad? Isn’t it better to realize that it’s not going to work and have to separate a few personal items, than to get married, realize it doesn’t work and have to separate two lives?

And let’s talk about “milk”… people are seriously perverts. I know I’m guilty of looking at pregnant women and thinking “you know they like, totally DID IT”. Conversely, it never occured to me that the thought of a couple living together conjures up thoughts of all day orgies, like we’d be shag-shag-shag, left right and center all day. I just don’t have the energy for those kind of shenanigans. And what makes yall think we don’t make milkshakes already?? 🙂 When I think of living together I think of sharing expenses, learning how to live together without wanting to kill each other, putting our lives in sync. I am 32. I’m tired. I like naps, watching Super Nanny and getting lots of sleep. I get excited about new flowers blooming on my hisbiscus bush. BBE had me the moment he agreed that a nice relaxing afternoon involved us both sitting quietly reading our own books. When we first started talking about the living situation, BBE didn’t immediately run to Walgreens and buy a turbo-sized box of condoms so I’m taking that as a good sign.

Furthermore, why is it that I’M the one giving the milk away? Why is it always about the girl putting out? Why isn’t he the one that’s giving the milk away??? And if he didn’t want to “buy the cow” (and I resent being referred to as a cow – I am working on my fitness thank you very much) do yall really think I would live with someone that was just interested in the milk? Seriously? Have you people met me? And if he was just interested in dairy products then he probably wouldn’t have initiated the loving together  conversation, since that’s big committment just to get a little “milk”.

Obviously I feel very strongly about this, and thus I’m a bit rant-y.

Did I mention that I’m lactose-intolerant??

Hmph.

Can’t Have Anything Nice!

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One of my favorite memories as a kid was my sisters and I horseplaying with my dad.

We played this make-believe game called “bull”, where we’d act like bull fighters and our dad would chase us around on all fours while we dodged him and laughed like maniacs.

Dad (or “Sunshine” as I call him) used to be a football player, and is still built like one. So imagine the force used when he ran his head into the wall after our family friend Junior jumped out of the way. There was plaster everywhere. My mom wouldn’t let us play the game anymore after that, yelling “we just can’t have anything nice!”

Anytime that any of us broke anything, that well rehearsed phrase was drug out… you would have thought that my parents were raising a pack of feral kittens hellbent on the destruction of everything nice in our house. Granted, “we just can’t have anything nice” was usually spoken with good reason, like

  • the time littlest sis poured elmer’s glue into the carpet and let it harden so it couldn’t come out – this happened again a few months later with play-doh
  • when lil sis and I thought we’d give our barbie dolls (in assorted ethnicities of course) haircuts, thinking the hair would grow back
  • when i set the tea kettle on fire by putting it in the microwave to heat water for my oatmeal
  • the day that our dog charlie got scared while watching Cujo with the family (no joke) and ran out the front door while the screen door was closed, ripping the screen,
  • when i tied my easter hair ribbons around the neighbor’s cat
  • when i tried to put clothes on the dog
  • when lil sis wrote on my white bedroom furniture in nail polish
  • when littlest sis wrote on the bathroom door in nail polish

AND

  • when i tried to give my gerbils pete and patty a bath and didn’t realize that gerbils can’t swim… let’s leave that one at that. Give me a break. I was like, 8.
We also heard “can’t have anything nice” muttered every time someone drank all but the last drop of ocean spray grape juice and left the carton in the fridge or when a Christmas toy was ruined before Easter. Truly the phrase has become part of my vocabulary; without even thinking it slips out. I repeat it at work a lot, to the point that my co-workers sometimes repeat it back at me and laugh at it as one of my Southern eccentricities (p.s. why is being Southern and wanting good sweet tea and barbecue weird?? i ask you).
 
 
So you’re probably wondering: where is all this rambling going? Well…… yesterday I wore the cutest outfit to work, a black and white silk tunic shirt with cute white capris. I thought I was so damn cute and so, cute hair and cute outfit and all I went trot-trotting into the garage to my car. I decided to be a good roommate and take the trash to the curb, only to stare helplessly as the black handle slips and hits my leg, leaving a big black mark on my white pants.
 
 
Guess what was the first thing I said? :p
 

Proof that I deserve the Daughter of the Year Award

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Morning Ma!!

I just want to point out why I deserve the Daughter of the Year Award.

Remember when you came to visit a few weeks back and still had the boot on your foot from your surgery and couldn’t walk much and had to use the old people scooter at Target and I took pictures of you on my phone while I laughed uncontrollably? Well, I wasn’t going to post them, but JENNIFER and DANIELLE (your daughters that do NOT deserve the daughter of the year award) tried to talk me into putting them on Facebook.

I’m just sayin.