Posts Tagged amusement

Jane’s Vagina (G-uno)

Just so you know you all aren’t the only ones who have to put up with my vaginal whining. Poor Jane has had more than a few earfuls along with the other friends in our little circle. It would seem though that I am the only one willing to openly gripe, and probe about the deteriorating condition of my uterus. I know for a fact that I am not the only one old enough to face these issues since I am third (She types proudly 😉 ) to the youngest in our little bunch.
Jane has me beat in the birthday department by a few years so after my repeated hounding she finally snapped saying she really didn’t see the point of dwelling on this subject. Now at this particular point I completely tucked away my despair due to my sudden amusement of her reaction. Yes I’m a horrible friend who is actually amused by her friend’s discomfort over subject matters that make them squirm. Jane in particular is still sensitive to her stripper pole injury that ended in her having to use a walker for a little while.
The injury has long since healed, but she is still touchy about my public ribbing in her doctor’s office. Okay a lot of ribbing even outside of the office too.See my post “Love Hurts- When You Fall Off Your Stripper Pole.” I just wish I were able to completely convey the hilariousness of Jane when she is embarrassed by something. As I type this out loud it occurs to me that if she were as awful a friend as I am she would have realized that I had actually given her some pretty good ammunition to retaliate. Lucky for me she was so uncomfortable with my “Vagina monologue” that the idea has not even occurred to her.
Finally Jane confesses that my vagina isn’t the only one with drought issues. Her face scrunched up, and her left eye twitching nervously. Seeing the eye twitch immediately lowers my maturity number to the single digit level. So I lean forward holding my imaginary interview microphone, and ask her how she’s bringing rain to her desert. She physically scoots farther away from me on the couch, then snaps “That this is the exact reason why she does not want to have this discussion with me!” So of course I scoot closer to her with my imaginary microphone in hand, and say ” Jane what kind of friend refuses to share her dried up vagina stories with a friend inquiring minds want to know?” Her eye stopped twitching while her middle finger shot up, then she made a “Target Lady at Christmas dash for her bar.
 I run over next to her promising to never call her vagina a desert again as tears stream down my cheeks trying to control my laughter. Jane slaps my arm, then asks me what exactly did I want to know? My first question was why she never brought this subject up to me? Okay dumb question I know, but there is seriously some great secrecy out there with women who are experiencing some betrayal from their own vaginas. Then she looks me straight in the eye, and asks me “How much humor was I finding with in my own desert?” Yep, it’s all fun & games until it’s your dried up vagina. 😉

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“Reverend Yummy Pants”(G-uno)

If you’re not laughing out loud at least once a day then you are truly not living. Yesterday morning “Bette Davis” was completely stoked about her day because her pastor was coming by for a visit. Let me point out to you that we are talking about a woman who is terminally ill, and has been sleeping upright in a chair for an entire year who was absolutely giddy. Two things light her up like nothing else in this world. The first is great humor, and the second is a good looking man, and her young handsome pastor fits into both of those categories.
“Bette Davis” and I watch a lot of comedies together, and one of our absolute favorites are the old reruns of the television show “Reba.” If you have never seen this show I need to apologize to you because you will not get the humor of this post, but for those of you who have you will completely understand the hilarity of this moment. There is a character called Barbra Jean. She is a tall beautiful funny character who is prone to getting innocent crushes on men who are not her husband. Barbra Jean has a huge crush on her pastor, so much so that she once gave him a copy of “The Thorn Birds.” She also refers to him as “Reverend Yummy Pants.”
“Bette Davis” who normally could care less about her appearance wanted me to doll her up before the young goodlooking pastor arrived. He was coming a little sooner than usual, and rushing someone who struggles to breathe is tricky. We managed to get her on her “A” game best, but moving too quickly slows down the amount of oxygen that flows to her brain, and sometimes renders the usually very articulate “Bette Davis” in a state of slight forgetfulness.
Finally we hear the doorbell ring, and this dolled up 80 year-old is so giddy she’s literally beaming. This is something she knows I will make fun of later after he leaves, but she will masterfully hide this from him when he enters the room. He only sees the well educated sensible parishioner who until her illness ran church affairs with the up most dignified capability. So when the pastor walked into her room I looked over to watch her  masterfully  change her expression from giddy to complete composure (so I  could imitate her of course after he left), but she looked a little winded, and slightly like she was struggling to find her words.
Then all of a sudden she sits up, and blurts out “Good morning reverend yummy pants!” I saw her face as she realized what she had said, and then I saw the open mouthed shock hit the young pastor’s face before he quickly composed the shock to a warm smile. I completely lost myself in hysterical laughter! Then “Bette Davis” with her red face trying to rectify the moment says to the pastor “So do ever watch the show Reba?” 😉


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Mr. Never I Say Never (G-uno)

There he stood on his tiny chair in the middle of his preschool cafeteria making his royal stance adamantly clear. My eyes surveyed the room. His poor teacher was completely unsure about what to do. The other children were entranced by his command of the room. “The Baby” otherwise know as “The King” was perched on his tiny little chair with his index finger pointing straight up in the air shouting at the top of his little lungs “Never I say, never!”
“The King” is not your average 4 year-old boy. He falls into several categories within the Autistic spectrum. Although his intellect borders on brilliant, his speech is severely delayed. The biggest problem with “The King” is that his mind is bursting with thoughts that his speech simply cannot relay. So he has learned to make his royal commands, and desires intensely clear in other ways. This king will be heard whether he is able to express his wishes with words or not.
He is intensely easy on the eyes. His large beautiful blue eyes draw you in then while you’re completely captivated he throws you a smile that lets you know you are probably going to give him whatever he wants. Adults, and children alike are often drawn into his kingdom with not so much as even a single word. He commands your attention while systematically getting you to relent to his every wish.
On the flip side of his charismatic charms there is a tyrant who loses his shit when his powers of persuasion are not being understood, or worse yet denied. Like all great rulers he knows that when his charms are not doing the trick you have to rule with an iron fist. He has a new teacher who is quite young, and clearly has not had the experience of dealing with a 2 -1/2 foot tall ruler. I have dealt with this mighty king since he was a year old. Over this period of time I’ve been extremely lucky to have found myself very much in “The King’s” favor.
I have the ability to understand him in a way that does not require so much energy output on his part, so he tolerates me much more easily than the rest of his subjects. I don’t deal with him in a verbal way because I know that when he realizes he is not able to converse back in the same way he becomes frustrated. I can see from the look on his face that he feels defeated by his inability to speak. Plus it’s good for him to see that I am as bilingual at getting what I want in the nonverbal sense as he is. He likes this about me. He knows I share the same admiration for him in this way.
However much to “The Kings” dismay I am equally as tenacious about fulfilling my job requirements as his personal assitant. So as he stood perched on his tiny chair I walked over to him, and looked down towards the ground signaling him that it was time to step down. He looks me straight in the eyes to let me know he is not ready to comply. So I look him back in the eye being ever so cautious not to be mesmerized by his charms, and I raise both of my eyebrows while smiling at him.
He is assured by my smile that I am not issuing a command so he climbs down off of the chair, and starts to walk away towards the door. I remain by the chair until he realizes I am not following him towards the door. He looks at me with slight disgust, then I smile again and stare down at the chair that has not been pushed back into the table, and the snack (of apples & raisins) that remained uncleared. He gives me a pronounced hesitation just to make sure I know he is making a choice, not following a command. Then he walks over pushes in his chair, and clears his uneaten snack from the table.
I smile at him again. He looks at me in a way that let’s me know he is only conceding to my wishes only because he wants to, but he knows that I will stand there like an immovable mountain until he relents. Then he looks at me again with his “Happy now look?,” and I beam back at him so he knows that I am. I hand him his royal nap blanket, his box of apple juice, and his bag of pretzels. As we walk down the hallway I look at him with my “What happened in there face?” He smiles at me then in four tiny words says ” I don’t like raisins.” 😉


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Less Chatter & More Bang (G-uno)

Jane has pardoned me for having lunch with Ex-hubby, and his infant. Khaleesi is walking on air over the fact that dad has decided to come to her wedding leaving his girlfriend behind for the big day.We spent yesterday at Jane’s house working on Khaleesi’s wedding details so every “Ya ya” was on board doing their thing. Tarzan has bravely been by our sides as we put everything together. In fact it’s pretty amazing how great he is at envisioning how things should look. Of course you can not gather our group without some big topic of discussion, and one of the girls is having some bedroom troubles with her husband.
To help you get a better picture of how amusing it was for the rest of us it would help you to know what this “Ya ya”is like personality wise. If your familiar with “The Golden Girls,” then you will get this instantly lol. Our girl would be Dorothy.She’s a straight forward no gray area kind of gal. Her world is very black & white. Well it would seem that Dorothy’s husband has been making the attempt to spice things up in their sex lives. If I were to describe him to you I would probably relate him to the character “Coach,” played by Craig T. Nelson. He’s a guys type of guy, and unless your discussing sports he’s pretty quiet.
Well “Coach” has decided to be the coach in their sexual encounters. According to Dorthy he calls every play verbally out loud with a lot of chatter through the entire encounter. To demonstrate this new found behavior (none of us can even begin to imagine) Dorothy grabs the back cushion off of Jane’s couch, drops to her knees positioning the cushion as if it were her in a doggy-style position. Then proceeds to bark out orders of what she’s going to do to this cushion, and is gesturing while uttering some very descriptive adjectives about how the cushion (aka Dorothy) feels.
The rest of us are dying with laughter, and poor Tarzan was mortified. So when Dorothy finally stops gesturing, and we all stopped balling we asked her what she did about this? Well in true Dorothy style she lifted her drink, and said I told him “How about less chatter, and more bang!” 😉

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You Can Call The Scale A Liar, But The Full Length Mirror Isn’t Putting Up With Your Crap! (G-uno)

As I mentioned before a bit of vanity is a necessary component in life. I hear all the time about people who think they are fatter than they actually are, but I have the opposite problem. I really did not get how fluffy I have become. I joked with you all in a past post about purchasing a full length mirror as a form of “Checks & Balances” type strategy, and a way of getting myself to pay more attention to to my outside self. Well I did it, and holy crap!
To make matters worse I decided to have it placed on the wall in front of my shower so there could be no more denial, and let’s just say that reality has bitch slapped me senseless. Mr G-uno & our children must truly love me, or maybe like myself they are more in tune with my inner self. I was absolutely shocked by the reality of my reflection in that mirror. I was truly convinced that my scale was a big fat liar.(My apologies to my scale), and my middle finger to the full length mirror.
So I am on the vanity train now, and trying to work on getting my outter me to match my inner me. I’m just hoping I don’t give myself a fluffy heart attack in the process. Stay tuned for future progress reports on my journey to develop some vanity, and if that does’t work it should at least produce some comical posts. Off to write an apology letter to my scale. 😉

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i’m really not feeling this summer camp shit this year (g2)

I’ve usually spent a great amount of time trying to sign up Spawn for an epic series of adventures every summer.  The afterschool place they used to go to years back would promise a lot, and deliver little to nothing. It wasn’t even the ones running it that were the problem, oddly enough it was the owner. He felt it “cost too much,” even though that cost was passed onto the parents and a lot of the activities they tried to schedule were free.

You don’t know frugal until to you see caregivers who quit over a .13/hour raise… yeah, 13 cents. You also don’t see “dickhead” quite like a guy who drives a Mercedes and talks about things that cost too much to people who work for a .13/hour raise.

That was my breaking point.

Spawn and I had to suffer the place during the school year, but I would be damned if we would to do it during the summer. Of course, now Spawn is of an age they can actually stay home, but I don’t like the idea of them just sitting at home without stimulation that doesn’t involve a screen. I had to ban YouTube for a month because of their addiction to play-throughs. They even stopped drawing and usually that is akin to breathing.

Spawn knows that staying home also involves a honey-do list a mile long with a tight schedule as to when it should be completed. So they are not exactly thrilled by the idea either.

I have to schedule their chore list, you want to know what my kid is like doing chores? Watch this:


There it is! Yep, I spend a lot of time wanting to pull my hair out.

This year, Spawn also got really into cello as well and wishes to pursue it. This is really interfering with the school’s rules on PE requirements, since Spawn wants to go to a weird school in the future with the weird kids who like to do other creative shit, art being their focus. I support this completely, so I figure to nip the school’s gripes in the bud, I need to make sure some physical stuff is on the menu this summer.

The choices are sucking major ass though. Either the camps are beginners with the bulk being vastly younger than Spawn. Considering Spawn is giant for their age, this is a concern. Or they are the perfect age range, but for experienced kids. Or its 50 miles away, and they are only running from 9:47 – 3:26 and you have to pick them up within 10 minutes after or its a bagillion dollars extra.

Those of you parents ever notice this? For a bulk of us, we work 8a-9am to about 5-6pm… who the fuck came up with the hours of these summer camps? It’s couldn’t possible be anyone who actually procreated, right? Because if they are parents… they are either fucktards or their reproducing genitalia is so past used and fossilised, it caused their brain to rot to dust with it.

What are some of the more creative things you did with your kids during the summer (stories involving duct tape especially welcome)?

For those who may not be able to answer on the parent end, what kind of things did you do during the summer that you liked/hated/make you blow chunks? I’m game for anything.

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Surrounded By Moody Judies (G-uno)

I find myself surrounded by drama queens of both genders here lately, is there some sort of cosmic thing going on that I’m unaware of? I am usually pretty sunny side up with most situations, but lately my sunny side disposition has been more like an oh crap let me hide kind of one. The more I try to dodge all this exaggerated drama the more determined the dramatic ones become.
Apparently in the midst of all my afterglow of how well our daughter’s wedding went, more than a few family members decided it was time to rip off my rose colored happy glasses, and give me the behind the scene scoop. For the record I wish they had let me keep the love goggles on, living in my own happy little world was so much more pleasant.
More than a few guest felt that their seating was a slap in the face. It would seem that there would be some implied thought process that not everyone can be seated at the front tables, which in our event we chose to seat the more elderly guests. Note to self other guests don’t give a rat’s behind if the older folks can’t see, or hear very well, and they should not be allowed to play the “Age Card!”
It was also pointed out that I did not spend an equal amount of ” talk time” with each guest. It was nice that I greeted each person individually, but I was overly attentive to the groom’s out of town family members. My son-in-law’s family took up all of three tables at the wedding, and it was their first time meeting our side of the family so to be fair to that complaint I may have spent a little more time trying to include them.
In fact I probably could have spent more time talking to all of our guests, and making sure everyone got their pictures taken with us if I hadn’t of been so focused on watching the bride & groom as they had their first dance, or my daughter’s dance with her dad, the cutting of the cake… Afterall how selfish of me to be so present in the moments that I didn’t participate in the conversations people were trying to have with me. 😉






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