The Key To Losing Weight? Go Topless.

Last year

Me: I’ve decided we are going to go walking 5 days a week.
The Captain: Wha?
Me: We need to lose weight. We are going for a walk every night after work.
The Captain: Are you going topless?
Me: Excuse me?
The Captain: Because the only way that can be fun for me is if you go topless.
Me: This is not about fun. This is about getting healthy.
The Captain: Topless healthy?
Me: No.
The Captain: Damn it.


6 months ago

Me: Look what I bought today!
The Captain: A jump rope?
Me: Yeah, I read that jump roping is great exercise.
The Captain: I’m not going to jump rope.
Me: Fine, I’ll do it by myself then.
The Captain: That’s what she said.
Me: I’ll do it every morning before I shower for work.
The Captain: Are you gonna do it…you know *eyebrow waggle* topless?
Me: Are you kidding? I’ll give myself black eyes if I did that.
The Captain: I would totally get up early to see that.
Me: I’m not jump roping topless.
The Captain: Damn it.


2 months ago

Me: Hey, I decided on a new exercise plan.
The Captain: What is it this time?
Me: Yoga.
The Captain: I did yoga with you once. Remember what I said?
Me: Yeah yeah…men are not meant to be in the downward dog position.
The Captain: It’s just not right.
Me: Well, I’m going to try it again. I bought a yoga mat.
The Captain: You need a special mat to do it?
Me: Yes, so I don’t slip around in my own sweat on the bedroom floor.
The Captain: That sounds hot. Are you gonna…
Me: Do it topless?
The Captain: Yeah?
Me: No.
The Captain: Damn it!


Last night

Me: Oooh, watch this infomercial with me!
The Captain: No.
Me: Oh come on. It’s about Zumba.
The Captain: What the hell is Zumba?
Me: It’s a kind of exercise program. It’s basically just dancing. Which is awesome.
The Captain: That dude is gay.
Me: Shut up, he’s not a dude. He’s the instructor. He’s supposed to be perky.
The Captain: I’m sorry. That instructor is totally gay.
Me: See? It’s like salsa dancing. Doesn’t it look fun?
The Captain: I’m not doing that.
Me: I want that DVD.
The Captain: Will you do what that chick is doing with her hips if I get it for you?
Me: Probably.
The Captain: *type type type* Done. It’ll be here Friday.
Me: Hooray!
The Captain: You know what would probably make the workout better?
Me: Don’t say it.
The Captain: But…
Me: I’m not doing Zumba topless.
The Captain: Oh come on! Topless Zumba!
Me: No.
The Captain: Why is nothing in this house done topless???

This is why I will always be fat. I mean, you try exercising while your husband keeps sneaking in and trying to rip off your sports bra.

Promalicious

Last weekend was prom in our town. Those of you with sons already know this, but prom? Not a big deal to teenage boys. Besides increasing the likelihood that they’ll get drunk and laid, there really isn’t much about prom night to excite them. Last year, the Kiddo had no plans to attend until the last minute when a girl he thought was hot turned up dateless and, being a man of opportunity, he kindly offered to take her…aka boink her in the backseat of his car.

This year he has a steady girlfriend of 9 ohmygodwearesoinlove! months and therefore had absolutely no choice in the matter of prom. Bunny started talking about prom dresses back before Christmas while shooting pointed looks in my son’s general direction, which he acknowledged with much eye rolling. Captain Carl, being the sweet and sensitive man that he is, wisely advised the boy that he had better break up with Bunny by no later than March if he wanted to get out of going to prom. But apparently Bunny’s, ummmm….personality kept the Kiddo interested well past March and prom plans were made.

Prom Plan #1:
Kiddo: Hey, can you guys get me a hotel room for prom night?
The Captain: The hell we will!
Me: Now now, let’s talk about this before we make a decision.
The Captain: Seriously?
Me: Yes. Now son, why do you want a hotel room?
The Captain: *snort* Oh come on.
Kiddo: Well, I thought it would be fun.
Me: Hmmm, yes I’m sure it would be fun.
The Captain: *eye roll*
Me: What kind of fun, exactly?
Kiddo: Just, you know, like hanging out with my dudes.
The Captain: Your dudes?
Me: Not with Bunny?
Kiddo: Well yeah, with Bunny. But she can’t stay out all night, so I figured I’d chill with her until midnight and then my dudes can come over.
The Captain: And trash the hotel room on our credit card.
Kiddo: That won’t happen!
The Captain: Right. A bunch of 18 year old boys out all night in a hotel with booze and probably pot. Yeah, no way could that end badly.
Kiddo: Why can’t you trust me! *angsty sigh*
Me: Hmmm, this is probably not a good plan.
Kiddo: *throws hands in the air* Oh man!
The Captain: You actually thought we’d rent a hotel room for you?
Kiddo: Well, I am 18 years old. I’m a legal adult.
The Captain: Tell you what, legal adult. Get a job, rent an apartment and then go ahead and get that hotel room for the night.

Prom Plan #2
Kiddo: What if I borrowed J-Whiz’s apartment for the night?
The Captain: Where will J-Whiz be?
Kiddo: With his parents in San Antonio for the weekend.
The Captain: Yeah, no.

Prom Plan #3
Kiddo: Okay, so Bunny and I are gonna chill with Twat and his date at his house after prom.
Me: Will Twat’s parents be there?
Kiddo: His mom will be.
The Captain: Isn’t this the same kid that you lit on fire last summer?
Kiddo: I didn’t light him on fire. We were lighting nail polish remover in the driveway and he stomped on it to put it out and his foot caught on fire. Totally not my fault.
Me: Are you SURE his mom will be there?
Kiddo: Yes.
Me: Well, that’s a better plan than the hotel room.

So we agreed to the third plan. And then without telling me, Captain Carl got the real story out of the Kiddo. He didn’t tell me about it until after he’d left for the prom with Bunny on Saturday.

The Captain: So did you notice he didn’t get Bunny a corsage?
Me: Yes I did. I reminded him about 10 times to get one.
The Captain: Oh he got flowers. But they aren’t in a corsage.
Me: Why do I have the feeling I’m not going to like the rest of this story?
The Captain: He bought roses and he’s going to spread them around the bed at Twat’s house.
Me: What?? Wait. I thought Twat’s mom was going to be home?
The Captain: She is, but not until after 11pm.
Me: How do you know that?
The Captain: I got it out of him. I knew he wasn’t telling us the whole story.
Me: So he told you he’s going to Twat’s house to get laid after the prom and you’re okay with this?
The Captain: Meh, it’s prom night. The girl deserves to do it somewhere besides the back of his car.
Me: Please tell me you’re joking about the roses thing.
The Captain: Nope. And he’s going to play his guitar for her.
Me: Holy shit.
The Captain: Nothing Else Matters by Metallica.
Me: No. Way.
The Captain: I wish I was kidding.
Me: Heh.
The Captain: What?
Me: *singing* I wanna layyyy you down in a bed of roses…for tonight I sleep on a bedddd of nails!!
The Captain: Aw man, he should do that one!
Me: Nah. He’s not awesome enough to pull off Bon Jovi.

The next day I asked the Kiddo how his night went and he was all "It was cool" and I was all "That's it?" and he was all "Yeah" and then I got on facebook and saw that Bunny had updated her status to say "I lurrrvvvv my boyfriend soooooo much!!!" so I guess Metallica got the job done. Just imagine how happy she would have been if he'd played Bon Jovi.

The Amazing Adventures Of The Super-Nerds

Captain Carl’s brother, Mailman Mike, hangs out with his girlfriend at an Irish pub at least 2-3 nights a week. They know the owner, the manager, the servers. They have a regular waitress who calls them at home to let them know what section she’s working so they will sit in it. Mike’s a big tipper. (twss) On Tuesday nights they have pub trivia. The Captain goes pretty much every Tuesday, but I attend only sporadically on account of working. And because I can’t stand to be out past 10pm on a weeknight. Because I’m 80 years old, apparently.

So I went last night and drank myself into oblivion! Yeah! Party! I’m an animal!

Not really. I drank three Diet Cokes. Because I needed to keep my wits about me to keep up with all the trivia geeks on our team. Seriously y’all. I suck at trivia and sitting at that table made me feel I had somehow teleported to a super-nerd conclave.

Name the three saints depicted on the Union Jack.
Which country has the highest elevation active volcano?
What was the name of Gollum’s sword in Lord of the Rings?
Which President stayed a bachelor his whole life?
What female swimmer successfully swam the something something big body of water something something something in 1950?

They knew the answers to all of them. I knew none of them. I mean, Gollum’s sword? Come on! I spent most of the night staring vaguely towards the ceiling with a contemplative look on my face, like each answer was totally on the tip of my tongue. And then when someone would whisper an answer I was all “Oh right! Yes! Of course!” and then nodded sagely. Fortunately for me, Renty came along so I was spared from being the dumbest person at the table. He spent most of the night smiling his joker smile and saying things like “Boo ya!” and “Straight up!” and “That’s what I’m talkin’ bout!” along with weird airport tarmac arm movements every time our team got a question right. He was either guiding a in a plane or signaling how awesome we were. He drank five beers, so it’s anybody’s guess.

But then? The worm turned, people.

Question: Which famous couple has children named Brooklyn and Cruise?
Me: Ohmygod!!!
Everyone else: *blank stare*
Me: Soooo easy.
Everyone else: *scrunchy eyebrow face*
Me: Becks and Posh.
Everyone else: Wha??
Me: Oh come on. Posh? The Spice Girls? David Beckham?
Mailman Mike: Oh, the soccer player?
Me: Pssh. Smart people. Don’t you ever read OK magazine?

Question: Which 80’s Saturday morning show featured a cartoon character named Penny?
Me: *gasp!*
Captain Carl: I’ll just go ahead and let you answer this one.
Me: Oh it’s too much! I can’t believe we got this question.
Mike: I’m pretty sure it’s….
Me: *finger point* Don’t say it!!
Everyone else: *scared face*
Me: This one is mine! Mine!
Everyone else: *scooting chairs away from me*

And then it was Renty’s turn.

Question: Who sang the song “Bye Bye Baby” in 1975?
Renty: I’m pretty sure I know this one.
Captain Carl: The Bee Gees maybe?
Me: What about The Jackson 5?
Renty: Nope, it’s Bay City Rollers.
Super smart Asian girl who’s name I forgot: That doesn’t sound right.
Mike: The Jackson 5 would be my guess too.
Renty: No, no….I know this one.
Captain Carl: Okay, if you say so.
Answer: Bay City Rollers.
Renty: Holla!! *raising the roof*

Question: How many hearts does an octopus have?
Renty: *whispered yell* Three!!
Everyone else: *stare*
Mike: Are you sure?
Renty: Umm, yes absolutely.
White girl who really really loves Dr. Who: This could be a trick question.
Super smart Asian girl who’s name I forgot: Yeah, the answer is probably one.
Renty: Ummm, nope. No. It’s three.
Captain Carl: Well….
Mike: Sure why not. Let's go with it.
Dr. Who girl/Asian girl: *smart nerdy eye roll*
Answer: Three.
Renty: Oh yeah! Straight up, baby! My pants are on fire!
Me: What?
Renty: *joker smile*

So yeah, we totally won the game and Mailman Mike bought us a round to celebrate our nerdy dominance, Renty is coming to trivia night again next week and I totally cannot get that one Bay City Rollers song out of my head.

S-A-TUR-DAY *clap* Night!

Damn it.

Harry = No Vibrator Necessary

So I don't know if any of you are watching American Idol this year. I am. Barely. Because, snore. The best one is a girl who looks like she just set down her bong before walking on stage, so imagine how lively that one is. She's all "whoa, I'm totally singing. That dude has an English accent. Far out." or something. I don't know, I'm not up on all the pot lingo.

But anyway, I have to at least listen to it in the background every week because Captain Carl is all gay for this show. Seriously, dude can't miss it. I'm pretty sure he'd go down on Ryan Seacrest if it were a real option. Hahaaaa, just kidding! Kind of.

But dudes. This week. Harry Connick Jr. was the mentor. Those of you who have been reading my blog for awhile might remember that Harry and I have a pretty serious relationship going on.So yeah, I was all clappy and jumpy when I found out he was going to be on American Idol. We watched both episodes last night on the dvr so that we din't have to sit through the commercials and Kara's annoying ass comments.

I was all a-quiver with excitement. I made it through Tuesday night's episode with only a couple outbursts of undying love for my Harry. But then we watched Wednesday night's episode. Harry sang and for some reason my thighs just would not stay together. *shrug*

Me: *sigh* Oh Harry, you gorgeous gorgeous man.
Captain: *eye roll*
Me: *ecstatic shiver*
Captain: You okay over there?
Me: Ohhhh yeah.
Captain: Hey...
Me: Shhhh, just wait a couple minutes. *turns volume up*
Captain: You know...
Me: *turns volume up more*
Captain: *yelling* Maybe you should go get your vibrator!
Me: *pointed stare* Not necessary.

Seriously, people. The man's voice is clit-tastic. He's the clit's meow. He's a member of the clitorazzi. Totally vulvular. Vag-errific. Deserving of a standing ovary-ation.

Okay I'm done.

I Believe The Children Are Our Future. Which Is Why I'm Terrified.

The Kiddo decided to have a poker party at the house last Saturday night. I made him vacuum and clean up cat puke and scrub the toilet before I let his friends come over and he was all “Why am I scrubbing the toilet in your bathroom? They won’t be using it.” and I was all “Pipe down there, Cinderella.” Because I’m an awesome mom who knows an opportunity when she sees it, thankyouverymuch.

Anyway, around 8pm the doorbell rang and a huge gaggle of 18 year old boys walked in and suddenly my house was filled with shaggy hair and baggy pants and Axe body spray. One by one, they walked upstairs after mumbling “hey” or “how’s it going” or “yo” in our general direction. I had only seen a few of these boys before, the rest were a mystery to me. So a few hours, five pizzas, two twelve packs of Dr. Pepper and many cries of “dude!” and “you douche!” later, everyone goes home. It wasn’t too bad, actually. They weren’t too loud and testosterone-y on account of the party being sans girls. I kept thinking to myself “only a few more months of this before he goes to college and then my house will be quiet and empty” and I got a little teary-eyed. At one point, the Captain looked over and caught me wiping my eyes and asked what was wrong. When I told him what I was thinking about, he was all “I know!” and pumped his fist in the air. So yeah, we’re feeling a little differently about the Kiddo’s upcoming departure.

So everyone leaves and the Kiddo flops down on the couch next to Captain Carl.

Me: Did you have fun?
Kiddo: Yep. It was cool.
Captain: Who were all those kids?
Kiddo: Just my dudes.
Me: I only recognized a couple of them. Who was the one wearing the sideways baseball cap?
Kiddo: That’s Nards.
Captain: What?
Kiddo: Nards.
Me: His name is Nards?
Kiddo: Well, his name is Jason. We call him Nards.
Me: Wh...
Captain: *points at me* Do not ask him why.
Me: What about the really tall kid?
Kiddo: That’s Black Kid.
Me: I know he’s black, I have eyes. What’s his name?
Kiddo: That is his name.
Captain: Son, do we need to have a talk about racism?
Kiddo: No, for real. He calls me White Kid and I call him Black Kid. It’s our thing.
Me: Awesome. You are totally not getting beaten up when you go to college.
Kiddo: What?
Captain: Who were the rest of them?
Kiddo: Well, there’s B-ry, Stony, G-Man, you already know Pothead and M-Dog, Twat and J-Whiz.
Captain: Holy hell.
Me: Which one was J-Whiz?
Kiddo: The one with the jewfro.
Me: Yep. Totally not getting beaten up.
Captain: So it’s one black kid, one jewish kid and a bunch of rednecks in your group.
Kiddo: We’re diverse and kick ass.
Me: You guys are like the United Nations of morons.
Kiddo: Yeah, and your mom is our president.
Captain: Ooooh snap.
Me: *sigh* I’d like to get upset about that comment, but it’s just too awesome.
Kiddo: You taught me everything you know.
Me: I know. I’m your Obi-wan.
Kiddo: Nah, I already have an Obi-wan. He couldn’t come tonight because he’s grounded for shaving his cat.
Captain: Of course he is.

Perhaps now is a good time to remind y’all that these boys are old enough to vote. Our country's future? This is it, America. Cat shavers and kids named Twat. Awesome.

And Now A Guest Post From Someone Who Should Probably Be On Medication Of Some Kind. Also? It's About Farts.

I've been whining to my blogdaughter, Tristachio, about how I'm super busy and popular and very important and therefore cannot find much time for blogging lately. So she offered to write a guest post for me. And because I'm stupid, I was all "Awesome, yes!". And she totally did it. And it's totally about farts. You're welcome.

Why It's Important To Have A Conversation With Your Anus

Do you know what is hard to do? Farting in public. It's just so hard. Your binghole is all "Dude, you've got to lighten up a little because, seriously, I'm filling up with stuff down here and the more you hold it in the more likely I am to shit your pants because you ignored me. That lady over there in the undersized clothes and unwashed hair? Yeah, she doesn't care if you let one rip. Infact I'm pretty sure she would love it. So why not saunter over to her and explode?" And seriously, what else can you say to your binghole then "No Mr.Anus, I can't do it because I am in Walmart and it's the epitome of class and farting in Walmart would be worse then showing up to a Redneck wedding with Obama on all your paper plates! Not to mention it's only the two of us in this aisle and she'd obviously know that it was me and then it'd be awkward."

What, you don't have conversations with your binghole about when or when not it's appropriate to fart? Maybe it's time to re-evaluate your relationship with Mr.Anus because you are, obviously, headed for divorce. And by divorce I mean you most likely will crap your pants.

My Boyfriend, The Pilot, doesn't have this type of relationship with his binghole. His relationship is more like a bromance with Mr. Anus. If Mr.Anus had hands they would highfive. All the time. Not matter where he is, he will fart. He just doesn't care. He would rather let out a ripper then "Potentionally explode while flying in mid-air because the pressure of holding in the fart can destroy your insides while you are a bajillion feet in the air" and since I don't know anything about planes and he learned this while attaining his college diploma all I can do is give him the stinkeye.

Also, when your binghole says "Dude, you should totally fart on your girlfriends feet because you are sitting on them and how funny would that be if you did it and it really stunk and then her socks started to stink because of it? It'd be super funny, that's what." You shouldn't listen to it because Mr.Anus is a liar. It wouldn't be funny if your girlfriends only clean pair of socks end up stinking like your butt.


p.s. I told Tristachio that now she'll get tons of followers on account of how I'm the Godfather of blogging and the mere mention of her blog on my blog will make people follow her. Don't make me go all horse-head-in-your-bed on you, people. Go. Now. Follow. Shoo.