Wednesday, February 29, 2012

Guest post for Leap Blog Day by Haley's Comic!

Today is Leap Blog Day!!!!! A day when we do some leaping to other blogs and allow someone else to leap into ours.

I would let Haley Wolfe at Haley's Comic leap into pretty much any part of my body and/or life. She's hilarious and severely underappreciated. Please go check out her blog and give her some following action!

I asked her to do a post about what her life would be like with children, since that is something I frequently blog about.Here's her wonderful post for today.

10 Things That Would Happen If I Had Kids

by Haley Wolfe

1. My ability to ignore crying babies would prove useful.


2. Our families would lavish gifts upon them.

3. We would never be able to retire ever.

4. At least one of them would be the harbinger of the apocalypse.

5. They'd learn a lot from me.

6. I'd always be honest with them.

7. I might get confused and think they were characters in a book I was writing.

8. With my luck, they'd excel in math and science and hate English.

9. Ari would grow to resent my superior parenting skills.

10. After a few years, some nice people would come take them off our hands.

Thank you for checking out all of her stuff. If you need some Mary to get through the day, check out my guest post at Word Nerd Speaks.

Sunday, February 19, 2012

Do it over.

This week has been about as awesome as a girl with a giant ring in her nose like a bull.

Hence to say, not awesome at all. In fact, it was just like that poser girl in the fact that it really had good intentions of being awesome, but took a left turn on Monday into awful.

I was still recovering my usual flow after my horrific getting-out-of-bed neck injury. I had decided to fake it. I will just fake wellness until I feel it. But it didn't really pan out that way. It was more "fake it until 2 pm and then take a hydrocodone".

I am a little needy when it comes to medicine. I require a big meal, a large glass of water, and some pleasant company in order to consume a narcotic. If I don't follow my own rules, I'll end up crying on the floor and blasting Justin Bieber from my office computer.

Even with all these extremely thought-out and medically necessary precautions, my stomach's feelings got hurt by the narcotics and made me sad girl, bowel speaking, for the whole week.

Valentine's day was Tuesday. I started it by making nutella brownies shaped like hearts. They tasted like a sack of poopholes so I was down for the count. Then I used my mothering of the year apron and made the kids heart-shaped pancakes. Which I subsequently then had to cut up for them.

I would make it up that night. I had done my hair real pretty like, and I was going to scrub the house and cook husband with one T a meal so delicious that he would struggle to even understand it.

I grew out my hair just for relations on Valentines Day

We walk into the local butcher. I can't tell you how fun it is to write that; It makes me feel like I live somewhere cultured and not suburban Oklahoma.

Adrian has never been to a butcher before and as we walked in he said "This place smells like pigs". I hugged him because he was cute and right.

I ordered the best filets they had and ordered some side items that I was confident I could pass off as impressively homemade.

But then my stomach was still pouting about being narcoticed and informed me if I touched that steak with my mouth, stomach, or other digestive component, that I would immediately be plummeted into a deep state of bloatedness. One so bad that I should be worried people would throw me emergency baby showers the next day, thinking I was 8.79 months prego.

I explained this to husband and he understood. He didn't care about Valentine's day any more than I give fucks about the day of the draft. Or something. Whatever that means. I assured I would cook the steaks the next day once my tummy wasn't on strike with my large intestine.

When we got home, Adrian was so excited that he got some mail! It was from the Brace Place. I figured someone told them his teeth were coming in a little funkified and this was a phamplet about the fun and sexiness of braces.

But it was a bill for 88 dollars. Addressed to a 7 year old who thought he was getting something neon and fun. He decided to take a do over and write them back.

Once that matter was efficiently handled, I put my children to bed, alone. Mat has been working late every single day this week. On top of a hurt neck, stomach being emotionally unstable, now our 7 year old is in severe financial turmoil.

Wednesday wasn't much better. One of my coworkers gave me a compliment that started with "You look nice today!" and was finished with"'re looking like Madonna"

Madonna with a smile
 I wasn't feeling particularly jolly. I had stopped at the grocery store with two kids and that will make any decent person a psychotic wreck with Daddy issues. I decided to back my car into the garage so I could get the groceries out easily since it was raining.

But then I got the car stuck. Having broken 2 sideview mirrors last year. I decided to not move forward or backward and wait til husband, who was working late OF COURSE, to get home.

So I had to move all our stuff into the house, because everyone thinks it's cute and fashionable to constantly steal our shit!

Mat immediately did the verbal eye roll and said he never wants to hear a sentence out of my mouth that starts with " So i decided to try backing my car into the garage."

Keep reading....Thursday and Friday really win at winning.

Thursday morning I wake up and start getting Adrian ready so he can look big pimpin in his music performance that morning. After he gets out of the shower, I emo his hair enough that he looks misunderstood yes respectful. This is the moment he informs me he needs a brown shirt.

No problem, he had two brown shirts.

I can't find either of them.....anywhere. He needs to leave for the bus in twenty minutes. I ransack his closet, dresser, bags laid out for goodwill....nothing. Nothing that can even be construed as a brown shirt.

I think outside the box and decide to bleach a black sweater, just a lil. I soak it in the sink for 10 minutes and it gets a rich brown color. I throw it in the dryer with a smell good towel and a prayer. We wait 20 minutes. He's now missed the bus and I am going to have to take him to school. No problem, I'm still in control. This girl be be poppin all over her kitchen, making lunches like it's her job!

2 dryer cycles later, the bleach-reeking shirt is not dry. School started 5 minutes ago and Ellis will now be late for her preschool.

"Let's go take Ellis, then we'll swing back by and it'll be dry and we can throw it on and make it to your program in time!"

Ellis is at school, I went 231 MPH the last mile back to our neighborhood and tore into our house to find the black with smelly brown spots shirt still completely dripping wet.

Here's a burnt orange sweater, Adrian. Make the best of it.

"It's 9:23, we're already late"


I dropped him off at the door and told him to run to the stage. After I parked and walked in, I saw someone was rushing him to backstage, but the show had already started.

I noticed my ex husband's very perfect and early parents in the back and made my way back to them, foregoing any sort of greeting and immediately going into full-blown excuses.

"Wow it's been a morning. I know. He's wearing orange. I feel horrible. I tried to bleach a black shirt because I couldn't find a brown shirt and now it smells and looks a catcher's mitt. Then I thought the program started at 9:30. oops wrong! I'm sorry. You guys are here. That's great! We just have been-

"You know you already missed his dance part. They were first. So we missed it and he missed it."

Me:immediately start crying and cursing the day my mother had me.

I hugged him on his way back to his room and just whispered, "I'm sorry. I'm so sorry".

"Sorry for what? huh? "

He had no idea he was the only pumpkin in a sea full of firelogs and that he missed his opportunity to be a star.

I managed to talk my ex into going and buying him a brown shirt and attending his afternoon performance. He also recorded it for me, and was incredibly reasonable when I was bawl screaming into the phone "I'VE RUINED OUR CHILD'S LIFE FOR REAL THIS TIME".

We got ice cream and that made things better. Duh.

Then Friday. Ohhhh cute Friday.

I busted my cell phone. My iphone. Worst thing to do, especially when it's my third time in a year. I have GOT to stop having nice things.

Then Ellis's wonderful teacher texts me and says she thinks Ellis may not be feeling well. I noticed she had laid on the floor that morning while I did my hair, but I just brushed it off as her feeling congested and a little down like the rest of us. It'd been a long and tough week.

She texted again, saying she really didn't think she was okay. She was clingy and seemed tired. So I made her a dr appointment for that afternoon just in case she needed medicine going in to the three day weekend.

This is her at the doctor. Mocking me for wasting her time with an appointment when we was clearly......a toddler supermodel angel face.

Do I look like I have the flu?

Cause I do. And a horrible bacterial infection in my throat. Get me 140 dollars in prescriptions. Thanks Mom.
I take care of her, take care of a headache husband when he gets home, and sleep HARD last night.
Then I get up today and am trying to do some binezz...when I suddenly vomit the delicious fun dip I was partaking in. Fast forward another hour, and I have a blazing fever and can't move my body.
Next week will be my do over. And even if it's just 12% better, it MAY be bearable with a husband working normal hours.

Ellis didn't do it right. This is what the flu looks like.

Saturday, February 11, 2012


When I was almost sixteen, my parents took my brother and I where I had always wanted to go....

Guthrie, Oklahoma!

Just kidding. That was always a joke my Dad would tell us when we whined about wanting to know where we were going on vacation.

"Guthrie, kids! It's only 20 minutes away and it has a bunch of beautiful old buildings and a donut shop!"

They took us on a vacation every year, until we graduated from high school. It definitely has a lot to do with why none of us ended up wearing all black and hating smiles.

If I remember right, our flights to Hawaii were paid for because the previous year we took 3 or 4 bumps on our flight from New York City in exchange for a ton of super fun vouchers. I think that added to the awesomeness of our trip; our parents were relaxed and drinking pina coladas like they(the drinks) were virgins and they didn't cost $7.50 a piece.

We went to a luau which was pretty funny. When my mom took a picture with the hula guy, my Dad whispered to me and my brother, "Is he smiling that big because he has such a big package?"

 hahahahahaha. Oh, Dad. Making fun of the hula boy's genitals. No wonder I'm so awesome.

They let us come up on the stage to learn to do the hula. Looking at these pictures, I think/hope the reason I went up to the stage was to show off my amazing sixteen year old legs and ass. Get it, 1999 Mary! 

One of the best conversations of my life happened that night:

Dad: You sure are a perfect singer, Mary

Matthew: Yay let's talk about how awesome Mary is!

Dad: I don't know where you got that voice, but it sure is incredible.

Mom: I know where she got it. I can carry a tune pretttttttty well.

Mary and Matthew: (snorting with laughter)

Mom: What? I can! I can! She got her singing ability from me!


Dad: Kids, no laughing at your mother when she's telling you how talented she is.

It's been 13 years since we went on that trip, and that line still gets said at least once or twice a year.

I've been thinking a lot about those vacations. Now that Ellis is finally in the clear from her doctor we can go on vacations to other places than San Antonio! So this year we decided on....


Me and the Dad in Disneyworld in 2004. Okay, maybe more like 1988.

The bad thing about Disneyland is that it's in California, where everyone is hot and sexy and does drugs. We want to be at least 2 of those things before we go in 90 days.

We can't have Ellis writing down her memories of this trip in 20 years and have them include that mama looked like Rosie Odonnell in the pink teacups....

One last picture of me looking young and carefree.

My mother reminded me that everyone called me "your majesty" on this trip. hahahah

Friday, February 10, 2012

Leap Blog Day Reminder!

Don't forget that Leap Blog day is February 29, twothousandandtwelve!

 My email address is if you signed up and have not been contacted to do a guest post, shoot me or any of the others an email and we will try to match you up.

 I was supposed to write this a few days ago, but I have been bed-ridden from a neck injury I suffered doing something incredibly athletic getting out of bed.

Please join us in increasing our readers, feeling better about ourselves because of increased attention, and just being overall extremely bad-ass.

 Please submit your guest posts to the blogger by February 21, so they have time to correct your spelling and grammatical errors and to add a few cuss words.

I love you all like babies.

Thursday, February 2, 2012

Inappropriately Medically Necessary

Dear United Healthcare,

Hi! We paid you $7,521 last year. Isn't that cute?

Doing some research into your company, I see that you've had quite a few scandals in the last decade. What?!? How shocking! I can only find dirt on how you screwed your stockholders. Well, while screwing anyone isn't completely nice, you gotta feed the kids, right? Them rich babies need diapers and college, too.

I would like to edit some of the articles regarding you and tell them that the fact that you backdated some stock options isn't nearly as awesome as the fact that you won't pay for my Ambien.

My brain is like that of one of those ugly people on intervention whenever I try to sleep. In fact, I dread going to sleep because of the psychotic and analytical thoughts that cloud the back of my eyeballs. It's like those thoughts are the Indians and a good night's rest is the U.S. Seventh Cavalry; every time I close my eyes to try to sleep, they have the Battle of Little Bighorn.

In case you don't know about History, Dr. McGuire*,  because you're busy spending the $1 of every $700 spent on Healthcare in our country, the Indians kicked the absolute shit out of Custer and his boys**. As my thoughts pummel any chance of a decent night's rest.

It costs $42. FORTY TWO DOLLARS. Really? You only want to cover every third month of them because you don't think they're medically necessary?

Guess what I don't think is medically necessary? Crack. Donuts. Diamonds. Calculators. Prostitutes. Nutella. Nicolas Cage. Extended car warranties.

I really could just keep going on because it's really fun to just type stuff that doesn't make any sense.

Sleep? It's necessary. I only want one pill a day. I don't want to sell them on my kid's playground. I don't want to crush them up with pixie sticks and Comet and snort them. Actually. That sounds fucking awful.

Know what doesn't sound awful? Sleep.

Know what shouldn't sound awful to you?


Then you can take the remainder and buy all the other stuff that I want but can't buy. Just to spite me. That way,  you are still a giant assmonkey and you continue to win! Like a mattress topper that shoots cool water under you to keep you at 42 degrees all night. It's only $400. After that, you still have a couple of vacations and a few MRI's left in your Mat-funded shopping spree.

Oh and last but not least, THANK YOU for donating that rare butterfly collection worth 41 million to the University of Florida in 2009. As much as I love Tim Tebow and all his silly Jesus antics, I shall sleep sounder tonight just knowing such a collection was close to him.



* I am aware the Dr. McGuire was forced to resign and there is a new CEO. But he doesn't have anything to slander, and positivity is NOT FUN.

**I may or may not have had to call my husband for this analogy.