Tuesday, August 30, 2011

Sorry Mom...

The story of my losing my virginity is just too damn inappropriate to not be included in the blog. I have refrained for so long because I know my mom and aunts and uncles and a lot of Christians read it. I'll keep it as pg-13 as possible, which will be hard considering the hilarity of the situation at hand.

I was in love for the first time. I knew it was love because he would sing along with Moulin Rouge to me and he didn't wash his hair.

I thought I loved Andy Timmons, but turns out he told everyone he only took me on one date. He always told me he would  take me on a magical roller coaster with hemp bracelets and Third Eye Blind, all the way to Heaven. Turns out our love ended at the Blimpies on my 16th birthday, and I imagined all the other stuff.

Anyways, fast forward 3 years. Moulin Rouge. Smelly apartment. Love.

I was 19 years old and lived at home with my mom and dad and brother. My sister had warned me before she moved out of the house that my mother could smell sex. I wondered if sex smelled like bakery rolls.

My mom and dad knew that I was an adult and did not mind or give opinion to when I came home. I didn't want them to think, however, that I was having sex. So if I went to stay the night with my raven-haired man, I would always bring an activity. Even if it was at 1 in the morning.

Dad: Hey, you're going over to his house this late?

Mary: Yeah. Are you mad?

Dad: No...I'm just wondering why you're bringing a "Paint by Numbers" kitten poster.

Mary: Well, we aren't just going to sit around and touch each other's bathing suit parts, if that's what you're insinuating. You know I'm not like that.

Sometimes I would bring my guitar and a journal. Because we were going to stay up all night writing about our feelings and non-existent stress/pain.

Eventually I decided I was ready for some action.

It had been a while that we'd been eating Taco Bueno on his floor and listening to Coldplay, so this shit was real.

I told him I wanted to have the sex, and that I was ready.

He replied that his roommates were home and I would have to be quiet. I didn't think that was possible because I had only watched  sex on cinemax and romantic comedies.

I asked if we could go play somewhere else. He said he knew a spot we could drive to.

We walked out and I told his christian roommates we were going to go for a drive and listen to Shania Twain. Then I mentally high-fived them because I was about to be awesome.

We tried to drive somewhere but I got scared when we hit a small animal and its ribs crunched under our tire. It didn't make me want to rip my pants off and figure skate with my genitals.

We eventually drove back to his apartment so we could improve the mood by listening to Radiohead and laying on his futon. He found a "Welcome to College, Virgin!" box that he had had in his dresser for 3 years that had some offspring preventers in it.

Things were definitely not ideal, nor were they hot and heavy. 

I had heard my friends talk about boning before and they would say "Oh, it was so much better with Kirk than it was with Dylan. Kirk really knew what he was doing."

Therefore I thought if a man was a good sex haver, his sex moves would be similar to Michael Jackson while making a face like Clint Eastwood and making noises like a humpback gorilla.

I had waited years for this. Years and years and years and I was so excited. The buildup was so intense.

Then it happened and I started screaming like a banshee on crystal meth.


That was the best way I could come up with describing how awkward and agonizing what was happening below my belly button was.


He looked mildly disappointed.

I was moderately disappointed in mySELF. Why wasn't I arching my back and tossing myself around while making bite-lip face and flipping my hair?


"Mary, why do you keep saying it feels like you have a toothbrush in your ear?"


I then, I swear on my children, wrote up a contract that we would never have sex again. I signed it and notarized it. I don't break contracts unless they involve payments and the years 2001-2007.

I eventually changed my mind about the whole fornication thing.

If my kids decide they want to get freaky, all I'm going to do is walk into their bedroom when they're almost asleep and ram my Oral-B toothbrush with tongue scraper down their ear canal.

Saturday, August 27, 2011


I was a filthy little liar when I was a kid. I had decided what I would do is tell people lies to make myself look better and distract from my unfortunate hair. If the people called me out on these lies in front of my mom, then I would say..

"Ohhhh, you misunderstood me. I said I had a FRIEND that did that."

It was fool proof. Who could argue with that?

In 1st grade, when I was on an "Annie" kick, I told everyone who would listen that I lived in an orphanage. The only reason I had clothes is because I stole them from a laundry basket once when I escaped. The reason I was so scrawny and my hair was like straw was because all I ate was porridge and I had to bathe in fire hydrants when Miss Hannigan wasn't looking. I was hoping and praying and singing for a nice family to adopt me and take me home.

My teacher called me out on that one. She heard me telling Kara that we didn't have anyone with red hair at my orphanage and told the 2 people who were still interested that I did not live in an orphanage but what an amazing imagination I had! I could have chainsawed Mrs. Tansel on that day in 1990. I wasn't to be deterred though.

"I didn't mean orphanage. What I meant is that I live in an APARTMENT."

Where we lived, nobody lived in apartments, so this was an even bigger deal than me being parentless and criminal.

"....yeah it's crazy....we have to walk up stairs to get to our door and we don't even have homeowners insurance. Sometimes the doorman gives me Fun-Dips and calls me Sally."

I kept that lie up until 5th grade, when suddenly living in an apartment was embarrassing and and not cool anymore.

My Dad calls me "Marigold" and always has. This was the perfect opportunity for some lies. I told everyone in 2nd grade that my real name was Marigold but they could call me "Mary" for short. I said the last part while winking and doing a fake gun with my thumb and forefinger. That would make my name Marigold Flowers. It got me a lot of negative attention. But I realized then, as I do now, that negative attention is still attention and makes me happier than nonchalantness.

I had to keep up that lie for a long time, into middle school. Everyone kept REMEMBERING it and sticking around in the same school district. I was like,


Then started the lie that I was born and lived in Canada. I even made a poster of my "birthplace" to hang on the 5th grade wall. I was terrified my mother would see it and call me out on it in front of all the girls who wore loafers with tassels on them. My mother was born in Canada, so I used her stories and turned them into mine. Including the time a polar bear got into "my" trash.

I even made up a story about crashing through some ice and swimming to rescue a baby turkey that was struggling in the frozen water.

I sure as hell hope my children are smart enough in 5th grade to say "Um, that's bullshit. You'd be frozen and dead and uglier than you are now. And turkeys don't swim in ice."

I hope my kids don't say bullshit in fifth grade.

When I lost the 2nd round of the spelling bee on the word "perjury", I lied and said I lost it on the word "Mozzerella" which probably isn't even spelled right there. I knew I'd gain more sympathy and understanding than I would being a 10 year-old that thinks pergury is just fine with a g.

I would suck on red popsicles like it was paying the bills...then tell everyone in 6th grade that my mom gave me some red lipstick.

Worst lie I've ever told: When the people who sold the most on the school fundraiser got a trophy, I told everyone my parents owned a trophy shop and they were giving me the biggest trophy in the store, just for being awesome.

Worst lie to stick around: Definitely Marigold. I could not let that one go.

21 years after I told that lie, someone came up to called me Marigold, then told her husband that was my real name.

I laughed and slapped her on the ass and then pointed to something pretty.

Wednesday, August 24, 2011

It's a Mom blog. Whatevs, I'm still cool.

I am, according to myself, a very good Mother.

I think proof enough is that my son wanted to marry me for the first 5 years of his life. Now, he wants to marry his sister. Whom I have also raised impeccably. You may think that's gross and weird but you'd be wrong. It's just complimentary and indicative of perfect parenting.

My perfect parenting advice is not to spank. I don't know of any kids that got spanked and didn't end up listening to Korn, fornicating before 14, and cutting the legs off of a homeless cat.

I didn't get spanked and I ran over my bible so people would think I was even awesomer than I actually was.

Adrian has never and will never need anything close to a spanking. If he does something moderately wrong, like laughing too happily or saying "I love everybody" too loud, I can ask him politely to stop and he will end up apologizing in the fetal position and complimenting me for an hour. It's very hard to ever be anything but pleasant to him because he punishes himself so much better than I ever could.

Ellis, on the other hand, is different. Getting in trouble aint no thang for her. She'll just look me right in the eyes and say "k" after I have just given her a monologue of the importance of not taking her off her diaper to throw at the dog after he steals the cookie she wasn't allowed to be eating anyway.

Adrian has a completely illogical fear of flushing the toilet. He thinks the worst thing that can happen to a human being is to flush a toilet and for the water to come overflowing instead of going down the hole. However, we have thoroughly explained to him that if that happens, Dad or I will kill the poop monster with the plunger and he won't get in trouble. But, seriously,  FLUSH THE DAMN TOILET.

I don't care how much you love your kids, their day-old Browns floating in the superbowl and stinking up the east side of the house for the third time this week will make you reconsider swatting some offspring-ass.

We tried politely requesting, I promise. Then we had a sit-down talk. Then we told him he would lose 10 minutes off his bedtime. I thought the mere threat of this would be enough. But no, I had to enforce this new law last night to keep his little bowel movement-having self up to code.

I happened to enforce this on the same evening that I decided to also enforce the new law,  "You and your sibling can't take a bath together anymore because your genitals are different and it's getting weird". Adrian was excited but Ellis was ready to trade me in for one of the moms on Intervention.

She had already had her bath and was in her pajamas when she realized Adrian was getting into the bathtub. She screamed with glee and delight and I, of course, had to stamp it out like the ogre that I am.

Ellis: Baaaath! Bubba! Yayyyyyy!

Ellis: (smiles and takes off pants)

Mary: No, little snickerdoodle angel. We already took a bath. This is Bubba's bath.

Ellis: Oh no you fucking didn't!

(this was said as more of a facial expression than actual verbal communication)

Then we had a meltdown. It's hard to explain to a 2 year old about siblings and awkward genitals so I just tried to calm her down by giving her candy. Just kidding.

I pulled her out of the bathroom and shut the door and asked her to calm down and take a deep breath. She did, and stared at me with a request of a reasonable explanation of why I had lost my damn mind.

Mary: Bubba is too bi-
Ellis: waaaaaahhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhh

Mary: Deep breath, Ellis. You need to listen to me.

Ellis: K (deep breath)

Mary: Bubba is too big to take a bath with someone else. He needs more room. It's going to be hard at first, but we'll find more ways to make your bath fun, okay?"

Ellis: K. (happy) Bath.

Mary: Okay, you stay here and watch The Sopranos while I go clean up dinner.

2 minutes later, Adrian sprints out with wet hair, laughing hysterically and screaming "Look at Ellis!" over and over again.

Ellis has removed her clothes, except she looks like a velicoraptor caught in a net the way her shirt is stuck around her neck and pulling her arm in an opposite direction. She has both her legs stuck in one side of her pull-up. She is joyfully yelling "bath" and "bubba".

I grab her and take her to her room, where I calmly put her clothes back on and alternate asking her to take deep breaths and trying to explain why I am being so horrible and unattractive.

That's when she screams noooo like an emo pre-teen and yanks her Elmo pants out of my hands and swings them at my face.

That's when she got put in time out.

As I went to clean up the kid's bathtub messes, I noticed an awesome turd floating in the toilet. That's when Adrian lost 10 minutes and subsequently bawled like I had just kicked his Guinea pig into a field of hungry eagles.

Ellis was taken out of time out after an apology and a lengthy explanation she could not possible understand, and she went to join her brother in the living room.

I went to my bedroom and took 114 deep breaths, took some IB profen, and went back out to make bedtime snacks and good decisions.

This is what I found.

Apparently, camaraderie is highly enlightened after going through such horror. I can't believe they even made it up and to school today, knowing the traumatic experiences they had last night.

Monday, August 22, 2011

Women are Crazy and (because) Men are Stupid

My friend and I decided long ago we would write a book entitled "Women are Crazy and Men are Stupid".

Isn't that inevitably what every single fight you and your partner have boils down to?

If I wasn't crazy, and he wasn't dumb, we wouldn't be having this fight. In fact, if I was more like him, and he was more like me, then we would probably be sitting on the floor alternating wrestling and singing kumbaya.

Not that that would be any funner than throwing it down. I thrive on drama.

If it's been too long since our last fight, I will pick something to fight about.

"Remember that one time, in 2008, you said my ankles look swollen? What the hell? Now I don't even want to wear this dress today because the only man who has sex with me thinks I have elephant cankles."

"Why aren't you more sorry? Can't you see I'm upset?"

"What is wrong with you? I seriously just told you how bad I'm feeling about something you did, and you are just going to continue eating your Mr. Goodbar like everything's okay!?!?"

"I would NEVER say anything like that to you. In fact, if I even knew you were this upset about something,  I WOULDN'T EVEN BE ABLE TO EAT OR DRINK OR BATHE OR DRIVE OR PEE. Why do I care so much more about kindness than you? I am such a good person....and for what? For you to keep apologizing and eating your deliciously nutty bar that won't go straight to your lower legs?"

Women are crazy.

Sometimes, I think men are intentionally dumb so our dumbfoundedness over dumb statements they have made will just make us be quieter.

I will not call out my own husband on things he has said, because I want to continue to have him love me . These are men I have known or my friends have known's quotes"

"I just like the Imperial Palace because the cocktail waitresses are so sexy, honey"

"I think your calves are too big for those boots. WHAT'S WRONG? HOW DO YOU KNOW I DIDN'T MEAN MUSCULAR, BABY?"

"On a scale of 1-10, you are definitely a solid 7. But your personality makes you a 10"

"Who cares how hot my ex is? I love you with my mind, not my penis. I only loved her with my penis. A lot."

"You don't need to wear make-up. I'm not with you for your looks."

"This is my girlfriend! Thank you! She IS pretty but she doesn't workout."

"Why does your friend always wear such baggy dresses? I can't ever see her body."

"When I saw your butt through the window, it looked like a horse's ass on the back of a trailer on the highway!"

"She's my ex-girlfriend. The only girlfriend I have ever had that I feel bad about cheating on."

"No, I don't think Kristin Bell is pretty. She's way too old."

"Why did Tiger Woods cheat on his wife? She's not even fat."

I think this book could be a best-seller.

I have an amazing story about thinking my boyfriend was cheating on me at a party, but the party house had a gate that was locked. I pulled my car up to the wall surrounding the property and crawled on top of the roof of my car to be able to jump over the wall. The fall on the other side caused some injuries. Not too many injuries, however, for me not to be able to crawl through the scaffolding on the side of the house that was under construction and then climbing through a bathroom window.

But, if he hadn't been so dumb, I wouldn't have had to act so crazy. Get it?

Friday, August 19, 2011


Is there anything worse than that moment you burn yourself?

It doesn't matter what the situation is.

If you grab a hot pan, splash blazing liquid onto your skin, or just accidentally rest the wrong part of your wrist on your stove...it still is the same complete and utter feeling of betrayal. Like the world is so stupid that using logic doesn't even help.

If this is too deep for you, maybe this is just how I feel and I'm the only one. Alone. I'm always alone. Man, I need a charcoal pencil and some homemade paper.


I was making a delicious lean cuisine today when I got distracted by nothing and poured the boiling hot calorieless tomato sauce onto to the top of my hand.

My immediate reaction was to slap my hand into my mouth and lick off the ass-tasting sauce.

Whenever that didn't fix the pain, I wanted to call bullshit.





That's it for today.

Thursday, August 18, 2011

10 things that most definitely actually happened at my 10 year reunion

1. Nobody on earth thinks I'm more hilarious than me.

 I walked up to a very obviously pregnant friend from high school and said, "I feel like you've really let yourself go and it's disgusting. You've gained a ton of weight in your middle section" then laughed at my joke obnoxiously but genuinely and went in for the hug.

She was immediately mortified and I'm 90% sure she wanted to front-kick my jaw bone. She said "I didn't even want to come, I told my husband I felt so gross. I know. Why am I even here?"

I obnoxiously and genuinely then went into a monologue about how beautiful and glowing she was. I insulted a sweet prego girl whose baby now hates Edmond North High School, all so I could make myself laugh.

2. My husband and I happened to witness my friend we'll call Julie go up to a very good-looking and girlfriended guy in our graduating class. She whispered something in his ear and then sat down on his lap like she was about to tell him she wanted some of that for Christmas. It was as though his attractive yet committed lap had a hot girl ass-sensor, because the second Julie touched down we witnessed his hot girlfriend tear across the room like a lap FBI agent and said something so angry in his ear that it made me slap my own husband.

He immediately pushed Julie off, who was in a fun oblivious bliss, and chased his girlfriend.

Mat and I made funny conversations for them while we watched them arguing, until one of hot guy's friends awkwardly and drunkenly entered the conversation unaware of what was going on.

3. Probably the smartest kid in our class was there for both events. I always thought he was quirky and fun, but never saw him outside of school. We'll call him Simon. I had heard Simon was a scientist. I immediately went up and talked to him when I saw him, because I was dying to know if all that intelligence had made him slightly crazy and socially inept.

Two hours later he was leaning back on his back hand and humping the air while I shouted "RUDE BOY BOY IS YOU BIG ENOUGHHHH" and did a couple jazz squares around him.

Then I tried to get girls to go home with him because he kicked so much ass. All my friends are married and kept making me drink water.

3. I was in the middle of a conversation with 3 very conservative, successful, attractive and intimidating people I wanted to BE in high school when a drunk guy that had bought me a drink came up and said

"Heyguyssss. Dis girllll. She. yeahhh she showed me her boobs on the back of the vocal music bus".

I was horrified because that had indeed not happened. I did show him my bra, while we were playing truth or dare. That's the kind of lame stuff you do in 1999 when you're on a vocal music trip, okay? Stop judging.

Oh. And I failed to convince them that he was lying AND I awkwardly walked away to talk to the kids that made bad choices.

4. A girl I was friends with and I had this conversation. It was so cute.

Mary: Heyyyy! Are you leaving? Oh no! Will you be here tomorrow night?

Mary-HATER: No. Hell no. I'm only here because he made me come.

Mary: Oh no. Well that sucks. What else have you been up to? (my arm is swung around her shoulder like she's my niece)

Hater: Well I know you're married and have kids, and I just got out of a 6 year relationship.

Mary: Oh my god, right before your high school reunion? That's awful, I'm sorry.

Hater: Don't feel sorry for me. I'm actually happy.

Mary: I honestly cannot believe how much you fell off the face of the earth. I literally have not seen you for 10 years.

H: Why don't you stop being fake. Who gives a shit that we haven't seen each other for 10 years.

Mary: Um. well. I guess. Me. I guess me gives shits.


Mary: But. We got arrested together junior year and sang together in the school talent show.


Mary: Okay. Well...it was nice to lose my self esteem by talking to you and seeing the hatred burn from the core.  You don't have any wrinkles.

I can honestly say there is no way I will ever see this girl again. I deleted her from Facebook, which everyone knows is the ultimate "Eff you" from those of us who are non-confrontational.

Another thing that sucks about my life is that prego girl that I insulted in happening #1 witnessed the entire thing.

5. When the Single Ladies song came on at the end of the night, after I'd had some drinks, I ran up to the stage to do it and knocked someone over on the way. I cared so much about showing off the fact that I learned a Beyonce dance alone in my living room that I KNOCKED SOMEONE OVER and didn't give NO shits about their fall.

Oh. And my friend Andrew took a video. Can't wait for that to surface.

Andrew and I making non-awkward smiles

6. This is what I put in the reunion directory. Nobody else. Not one single person had a funny/sarcastic entry.

Someone took a picture of it and posted it on Facebook, that's how noteworthy and stand out it was.


7. What I thought were the good kids told me they were actually potheads. I wouldn't even cuss or run my fingers through my hair when I was around them because I thought they were so innocent and fragile. I got home 30 minutes late to the babysitter after the reunion had ended because I ended up walking around to ALL the people I thought were goodys and asking what kind of drugs and sexual activity they were doing in high school.

Turns out....I was honestly the only lame one who kept the goods locked up and refrained from the reefer. Seriously.

8. My bestie Kendal saw a guy we had known for a long time but hadn't seen in a few years. If anyone has a picture of Tanner from that night, please send it to me. Kendal drunkenly walks up to him and tells him he looks like he owns a yacht. Funniest thing I've ever heard. Doesn't this guy absolutely look like he would be talking about his yacht? (Will post a pic as soon as I get it). Don't get me wrong, he's handsome and fun. But he totally has to own a yacht.

9. I played, "Who grew the nicest ass?" by myself while my husband boredly played with his Iphone. This girl won. Then when I posted about it on Facebook, one of my friends gchats me and tells me he tried to slap her on the rear at "the club" but she didn't want any of his white chocolate. How does this stuff happen and my antics always manage to uncover them?!? Amazing.

10.  I was looking for the guy that was an officer of our class, and finally spotted him. I felt bad that I hadn't talked to him about his life and was instead only asking him how I got access to a directory, so I went out of my to tap him on the shoulder and hug him strongly, then keep my arm around his shoulder while I asked him how he was doing. He told me he was doing great and he's sorry, but he doesn't remember me.

Ouch. That one hurts. I laughed and said "Ethan, are you serious? It's Mary. You're silly. Where do I get a directory?"

Blue shirt guy: My name's not Ethan. My wife is over there and I came with her, I didn't graduate with you guys.

Fail. I find his wife in the room and go to tell her what happened. He was really nice about it and said he always accepts hugs from strange women. I made a joke again to his wife.

"I think it's really inappropriate that your husband is hitting on me."

Nobody laughed. It's hard being me.

Love this awkward pic these girls took

Can you find me!?

We all ended up in black because we trying to look skinny for all the haters.

Wednesday, August 17, 2011

Donuts and Creepers

I have had so much going on the last few weeks, you may have even started thinking I was a responsible adult. You would, as always, be wrong and still unable to please your spouse.

We went to San Antonio for a family vacation. My daughter has a doctor there we have to see periodically as a follow up to skull surgery she had when she was 5 months old.

Cute lil football head!

 Yes, my baby's head used to look like a football.

But all those Mary-haters who are starting to come around and feel sorry for me, check out this little hottie now!

Dear Mary, don't refer to your toddler as a "hottie".

She was fine. We had to stay for a few days for different appointments and swimming in public pools with Mexicans, so we rented the same house we always do. It's 4.7 times nicer than our home at home, so we look forward to it exponentially.

However, upon arriving to the beautiful house, we immediately needed a break from the 8 hour drive with our well-behaved yet frequently obnoxious offspring. We plopped them down in front of the TV and turned it on to find there was 5 channels, and 2 of them were in spanish. We had ABC, NBC, WGN, Pantilones, and Dieciocho.

This is when shit got real.

Adrian will turn into a manic depressive tiger eating philosopher without the Disney Channel. At home, we have 5 different Disney Channels.

Mat calls the owner of the house and she says they cancelled the cable because it got too expensive. Mat offers to pay for the month if they will just add the Disney Channel. She said they would be out on Tuesday. It's Sunday. Let's go get an economy size bucket of cheese balls.

Mary: All right, goodnight. You can watch TV for 30 minutes before you go to sleep.

Adrian: Do I have to watch "El gato de mi tia es en la playa" again?

Mary: It's either that or The Bachelor Pad, and I think someone is skanking it up tonight so I think we'd better stick with the latinas.

Adrian: Hey! I like stuff about like, dirt and rocks....Is there a science channel? Is that science? I don't know what anything is since all I watch is hot 18 year olds playing 12 year old characters with no parents.

Mary: Hey look! A spanish cartoon is on. Watch this!

Adrian: I guess I'll just pray for a while and go to bed.

Mary: Agreed. FYL.

It felt like we were in Lagos, Nigeria...Who knew everything would fall apart without TV? All of a sudden things like peeing and bathing became awesome and fun.

We tried to stay out of the house as much as possible. We went to the Zoo. We went to Ripley's museum. We went to the public pool that was full of long black hairs and shattered dreams.

Funny sidenote: This was a set up at Ripleys that you could take pictures with. Adrian thought it would be hilarious to sit on the dummy's lap for a picture. I ended up not showing anyone, except you. It's very unfortunately inappropriate.

Why'd you have to put your hands there, Adrian?

It was fun to get away from home and eat an asston of donuts.

Here's an amazing video of Ellis singing Bennie and the Jets on the way home. Turn the volume down or else all you can hear is my attention-whore self.

I'm working on a VERY inappropriate blog about my 10-year high school reunion. Check back in a few days!

Thursday, August 4, 2011

Email me. sharkymary@gmail.com Seriously.

My son is sweet and wants me to be happy. He knows nothing makes me happier than people getting their ass bit by a shark.

He walks into the house proudly yesterday and says with an exagerrated building to a surprise..."...IIIII knnoooww soooommeethhinggg that willl makkke you happpyyyyy....!" As he picks up the remote and waits for me to start jumping up and down with anticipation.

Since I am a working mother of two, I rarely show the kind of enthusiasm I should, and instead said "Sit down and find something to do while I make you something unhealthy for dinner."

"MOM! It's something called 'shark week'. I know you love sharks so just tell me what numbers to push to make shark week go on the TV."

"Adrian, you're going to watch shark week with me!?!?? You are so sweet. Let's go get my stuffed shark to hold while we watch. And my shark cookies to eat. Oh my gosh this will be so sharkyfun!"

We eat dinner in front of the TV. Adrian doesn't even seem to be disappointed that we're watching this instead of some unrealistically hot middle schooler making jokes she can't possibly understand on a web show.

The first show we watch is about shark attacks. I already know all about them since they've played the same shark shows on shark week since 1987 AND I have them all on DVD. Because I am really sexy.

I get a little bored and start thinking about mint creme oreos and walk to the kitchen. When I come back in,  a few minutes later with black teeth, there is an ACTUAL home video of a lady getting attacked by a 16 foot great white shark while swimming near her cruise ship. It's horrifying.

I quickly grab the remote and change it to something less traumatizing. Like True Blood.

Adrian hasn't said anything in a while. I kind of bite my lip and do some dancing and try not to catch his eye.

Mary: Adrian....do you want some money and a trampoline bed?


Mary: Do you want Mommy to start going to church?


Mary: Here. Here's some Tylenol PM.

Adrian: Why. Do. You. Like. Sharks.

Mary: Ummm......I'm...sorry?

Adrian: He just bit a nice lady's leg off when she wasn't even being mean to anybody.

Mary: I know. They don't actually like the way humans taste. Most of the time they just think we are another animal and once they bite us they go away because we taste like non gel-cap aspirin.

Adrian:  Why would you like something that swims up and bites somebody?

Mary: Listen, I know that was scary bu-

Adrian: No. I am not scared. But we need to sit down and talk about why you LIKE SHARKS.

Adrian: (hands me back my stuffed bull shark)

Adrian: (grabs the remote and turns off the TV)

Adrian: (walks to the couch and lays down on it to think about his mom's life choices)

Adrian: When we saw the sharks at the aquarium, they didn't try to bite us through the glass. So....the sharks you like...are nice... right?

Mary: YEAH! I only like bull sharks. They don't bite people. They just eat mean fish that were....already...sick and dying anyway...

Adrian: But you told Daddy you liked them because they bite unsuspecting stupid asses in fresh water rivers....?

Mary: Did I say that? We'll talk about it another time, okay? Yay! Friendship, rainbows, and nilla wafers! Let's go take a bath.

Adrian: I'll get Ellis. While YOU take the shark toy out of our bathtub.