I don't participate in Wordless Wednesdays because I'm a writer, and if I don't have my words, well then what the hell DO I have? So with my middle finger raised high to Wordless Wednesday, I bring you MOUTHFULL OF WHATEVA WEDNESDAY!!!
So....how many of you out there in bloggyland have a mother who used to say all kinds of weird things when they were mad at you? If your mom was anything like MY mom, you heard some of the most random crap in the world. Odds are you're using them on your own children now, even though you SWORE you never would! HA! SUCKERS!
Well, I am going to share with you some of the things I heard growing up, and CAN'T WAIT to use on the munchkin....I CAN'T WAIT TO SEE THE LOOK ON HER FACE WHEN I SAY:
"DON'T SAY ANOTHER WORD! NOW DID YOU _____________?? ANSWER ME!"
*ummmm....didn't I just tell her not to say another word?*
"I WILL SLAP THE BLACK OFF YOU!"
*I don't think that's actually possible, but when mom said it, I believed she would die trying. And then I'd be white. I always wondered if that would mean I would then have "white girl hair".*
"DO YOU HAVE A BREATHING PROBLEM? LAST I CHECKED I WAS THE ONLY ONE WITH ASTHMA IN THIS HOUSE, BUT IF YOU KEEP IT UP I AM SURE WE CAN MAKE IT SO WE SHARE AN INHALER!"
*Damn. My mom was no joke. How the hell she came up with this one is BEYOND me.*
"ROLL YOUR EYES AGAIN AND I PROMISE YOU I WILL ROLL THEM RIGHT OUT YA'HEAD!"
*I kid you not. She ACTUALLY said that. I don't think I even BLINKED for a week after that*
"IF I HEAR YOU HOLLERIN' ONE MORE TIME I WILL BREAK YA'FACE!"
*This was actually started by my aunt. Because of her fierceness we actually believed she would do it. No one wants a broken face in the second grade.*
So, these are the ones I can remember off the top of my head. My mom was an AWESOME mom - seriously - THE BEST!!! But when she meant business....well let's just say my mom didn't play. If she said "jump", you had better be lookin' for some pogo shoes because the words "how high" were just gonna get you the look of death for "gettin' smart".
And how is it that moms can do that - give you that look that says "I swear to God if you move one more inch I am going to feed you to the sewer rats and feign ignorance when people ask for you". Will I learn to do that? Will I be good at giving "THE LOOK"?
AND THE PINCH AND TWIST!
Did anyone else's mom do this? I got this at church ALL THE TIME! And then she DARED me to make even ONE PEEP when it hurt. I always wanted to be like "He-llo! You're freakin' TWISTING MY SKIN OFF!! HOW THE 'F' AM I SUPPOSED TO STAY QUIET???". But remember that "break ya'face" line...yeah - I knew better.
But here's how I knew I was really in trouble...and if you're Latina, I KNOW you can relate.....
"ME CASO EN NA, CONIO! NO TE MUEVES Y NO TE HABLAS! SIENTATE AQUI! CARAJO!!!!"
Translation:
"You move or say another word and that's your ASS!"
However, when it's said in spanish it sounds sooooo threatening. You wanna runto your nearest church and immediately beg for forgiveness of crap you have yet to do but know you WILL do, because you know what's coming.
Ugh....childhood....I look back and laugh because I was actually a really good kid. All the stuff up there I probably only heard once in my life...but they made a lasting impression. In a good way. I'm thankful for all of those "mommy threats". They kept me in line. They ensured me that my mom was maybe just a little bit crazy.
And every good mom knows that you want your kids to think you're just a little bit off.
Just a little.
Are you off? Was your mom? What kinds of things did YOUR mom holler across the house?
Wednesday, September 23, 2009
Tuesday, September 22, 2009
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White Girl + Black Guy = Slap This Mama!
I make no qualms about it - I'm a JAY-Z LOVIN' MAMA! I have loved him since Reasonable Doubt and adore him today with his latest release The Blueprint 3. When I was pregnant with my daughter, whenever a Jay-Z song would come on she would go nuts! Flippin', kickin', puinchin'...and I would just say "Go 'head little mama - NYC is in your blood!!" She still gets VERY excited when we play Jay-Z in the house now. It's pretty cute.
*And for you squares...no I don't play L'il Wayne and all that other crap for her. Jay-Z is relevant to who I am and where I've been and as long as I'M OK with it, she can hear it. AND DON'T PRETEND THAT YOU DON'T WANT TO BLOW YOUR BRAINS OUT WHEN YOUR KID ASKS YOU TO PLAY DISNEY SING-ALONGS IN THE CAR FOR THE 15,569th TIME - 'CUZ YOU KNOW YOU DO!*
Ok...back to my post.
I also make no qualms about the fact that I LOVE ME SOME SUPAHMOMMY!!! She has quickly become a girlfriend, a confidante, and a voice of reason and sanity. (I know - who would've put Supah and sanity in the same sentence, right?) If you haven't caught up on Supah's posts, my little one loves her too. SEE? Yup...that's my munchkin reading Supah's blog. Who needs the Wall Street Journal???
*And again, for you squares...no, I don't read Cosmo to her either. Supah is relevant to who I am and where I've been and as long as I'M OK with it, she can read it. AND DON'T PRETEND THAT YOU DON'T WANT TO BLOW YOUR BRAINS OUT WHEN YOUR KID ASKS YOU TO READ DANNY AND THE DINOSAUR FOR THE 15,569th TIME - 'CUZ YOU KNOW YOU DO!*
So, I'm sure you're wondering why I am waxing poetic over a white girl in Philly and a black guy from Brooklyn. Supah, I KNOW you are!
I am doing so because they both verbally kicked my ass in THE VERY SAME DAY.
During one of my mommy moments I was saying to S that my munchkin would never be a ballerina because of her gimp arm (she has Erb's palsy in her left arm). And this is what my dear S said to me:
"and your daughter can be anything she sets her heart to..
challenged arm or not..
she'll be a beautiful person because she has a mother like you... and she will inspire you one day when she dances in a production..."
So after I wiped my stupid tears away, I hopped in my car to get a much needed Diet Coke thinking:
"Ugh - she is so right. I hate it when other people are right. Damn."
Then I turned on the radio and my new Jay-Z cd was in - AND GUESS WHAT TRACK WAS PLAYING???
so ambitious
AND GUESS WHAT PART OF THE SONG IT JUST HAPPENED TO BE ON???
"the motivation for me, is them tellin' me what I could not be. oh well. I'm so ambitious"
O.M.G.
Could they have slapped me in the face any harder?? If her arm doesn't get any better in her lifetime people will ALWAYS be trying to put limits on her, telling her what she CAN'T DO...who she CAN'T BE. How DARE I be the one to start the chorus?? WHAT THE HELL IS MY PROBLEM???
My girl is sooo gonna rock! She will probably dance circles around me - and I can't wait until the day she comes home and tells me she slapped a boy for pulling her pigtails. That will be a LEFT HAND HI-FIVE for the ages!!!
So my love for Supah and Jay-Z grow deeper - for in their own little ways, they have awakened me to the endless possibilities of the munchkin. They are forever bonded. For me at least.
*And for you squares...no I don't play L'il Wayne and all that other crap for her. Jay-Z is relevant to who I am and where I've been and as long as I'M OK with it, she can hear it. AND DON'T PRETEND THAT YOU DON'T WANT TO BLOW YOUR BRAINS OUT WHEN YOUR KID ASKS YOU TO PLAY DISNEY SING-ALONGS IN THE CAR FOR THE 15,569th TIME - 'CUZ YOU KNOW YOU DO!*
Ok...back to my post.
I also make no qualms about the fact that I LOVE ME SOME SUPAHMOMMY!!! She has quickly become a girlfriend, a confidante, and a voice of reason and sanity. (I know - who would've put Supah and sanity in the same sentence, right?) If you haven't caught up on Supah's posts, my little one loves her too. SEE? Yup...that's my munchkin reading Supah's blog. Who needs the Wall Street Journal???
*And again, for you squares...no, I don't read Cosmo to her either. Supah is relevant to who I am and where I've been and as long as I'M OK with it, she can read it. AND DON'T PRETEND THAT YOU DON'T WANT TO BLOW YOUR BRAINS OUT WHEN YOUR KID ASKS YOU TO READ DANNY AND THE DINOSAUR FOR THE 15,569th TIME - 'CUZ YOU KNOW YOU DO!*
So, I'm sure you're wondering why I am waxing poetic over a white girl in Philly and a black guy from Brooklyn. Supah, I KNOW you are!
I am doing so because they both verbally kicked my ass in THE VERY SAME DAY.
During one of my mommy moments I was saying to S that my munchkin would never be a ballerina because of her gimp arm (she has Erb's palsy in her left arm). And this is what my dear S said to me:
"and your daughter can be anything she sets her heart to..
challenged arm or not..
she'll be a beautiful person because she has a mother like you... and she will inspire you one day when she dances in a production..."
So after I wiped my stupid tears away, I hopped in my car to get a much needed Diet Coke thinking:
"Ugh - she is so right. I hate it when other people are right. Damn."
Then I turned on the radio and my new Jay-Z cd was in - AND GUESS WHAT TRACK WAS PLAYING???
so ambitious
AND GUESS WHAT PART OF THE SONG IT JUST HAPPENED TO BE ON???
"the motivation for me, is them tellin' me what I could not be. oh well. I'm so ambitious"
O.M.G.
Could they have slapped me in the face any harder?? If her arm doesn't get any better in her lifetime people will ALWAYS be trying to put limits on her, telling her what she CAN'T DO...who she CAN'T BE. How DARE I be the one to start the chorus?? WHAT THE HELL IS MY PROBLEM???
My girl is sooo gonna rock! She will probably dance circles around me - and I can't wait until the day she comes home and tells me she slapped a boy for pulling her pigtails. That will be a LEFT HAND HI-FIVE for the ages!!!
So my love for Supah and Jay-Z grow deeper - for in their own little ways, they have awakened me to the endless possibilities of the munchkin. They are forever bonded. For me at least.
Friday, September 18, 2009
My Unlikely, Yet Blessed Anniversary
365 days ago today my world was changed FOREVER.
Looks like my uterus grew a penis, right? That was actually what I said to my OB when she showed me the picture. But alas, I was not growing boy parts on my insides - that was my kid. You are looking at my very first ultrasound picture. God had put his thumbprint on my womb and I was with child. If you've read "And Then God Laughed", then you know I had less than planned for this, and was shocked - to say the least. However, once the dust settled I realized that my dream had come true. Literally and figuratively. About 6 years ago I actually had a dream about my daughter; saw her face and everything. So though I wasn't prepared, I was ready. But a few short weeks later everything came to a screeching halt.
I started spotting.
I called my doctor immediately who told me to come in as soon as I could. I drove like a bat out of hell to meet my honey so he could drive the rest of the way to her office. She examined me and said it was most likely the beginning of a miscarriage, and there was nothing she could do to stop it. My body had to run its course. She sent me home and ordered me to stay there for the next few days. Broken hearted and filled with an unexplainable grief, we drove home in complete silence. I had never inhaled air that thick in my life. Sadness filled my nostrils with every.single.breath. I went home and waited. It's the weirdest feeling, and I'm going to put it the best way I know how. And I apologize now if it's too blunt for some readers, but this is how it felt for me:
My doctor sent me home to feel a prolonged death.
That's honestly how I felt about the whole thing. I was angry and sad and confused and every other adjective they teach you for "sad" in elementary school. So I sat. And I waited. I went to bed not knowing if the morning would greet me with more death or not. Before I closed my eyes I had a small conversation with the little person I was attempting to grow and told her that she had a job to do in there, and it was to hold on tight and be strong. I told her I would handle business in the outside world but she HAD to handle business in there. Then I closed my eyes and prayed for the best.
The next day came and at first I thought perhaps we were in the clear - the spotting had ceased and I felt pretty okay. It wasn't until that afternoon that I felt my luck might really be running out.
I was now bleeding. Not spotting. Bleeding.
Once again I rushed to the hospital and kind of braced myself for the D&C my doctor had explained would be necessary. Death was at my baby's door. I remember thinking "this is the most UN-FAIR moment of my life". A few things happened before I actually saw my doctor, and I'm not going to go too far into it except to say that at one point I was surrounded by a flurry of nurses and I think I screamed and my honey caught me. The next thing I remember is my doctor coming in and saying she was sorry, and that as part of procedure she had to scope me to make sure everything came out. Silence. And then, this:
No, it's not a kewpie doll. That's my daughter. Somehow through all that chaos she managed to do just what I had asked her to do. She held on. The doctor showed me her heart beating ever so rapidly and we joked about how she had never seen such a formed figure on her ultrasound machine before.
I like to think it was my daughters way of letting us know in no uncertain terms that she wasn't going anywhere.
Due to the chaos that had just ensued, my doctor decided to err on the side of caution and put me on bed rest for the remainder of my first trimester. Not easy for a girl who likes to think she's got a bigger planner than Oprah. But for my daughter, I rested.
As time went on we saw this:
(remember my dream?)
And then this:
And finally, this:
Now, I'm not going to say that my pregnancy was smooth sailing after that huge ordeal. I had bouts of terrible heartburn, to where I felt like someone had lit a pilot light in the back of my throat. At seven months I had to kiss my heels goodbye, for my once pretty little toes had been replaced by Hobbit feet. Through out my entire third trimester I felt like my vagina was lifting 50 pound weights. I wish I could make that last one up but it's true. My entire pelvic region was having a major anxiety attack. I jokingly referred to it as ETSD - Early Traumatic Stress Disorder. I couldn't complain too much though, because it was all just a reminder that I still had something so precious inside of me, gearing up to grace the world with her presence.
So, 365 days ago I had
and today I have
Never underestimate the difference a year can make.
Looks like my uterus grew a penis, right? That was actually what I said to my OB when she showed me the picture. But alas, I was not growing boy parts on my insides - that was my kid. You are looking at my very first ultrasound picture. God had put his thumbprint on my womb and I was with child. If you've read "And Then God Laughed", then you know I had less than planned for this, and was shocked - to say the least. However, once the dust settled I realized that my dream had come true. Literally and figuratively. About 6 years ago I actually had a dream about my daughter; saw her face and everything. So though I wasn't prepared, I was ready. But a few short weeks later everything came to a screeching halt.
I started spotting.
I called my doctor immediately who told me to come in as soon as I could. I drove like a bat out of hell to meet my honey so he could drive the rest of the way to her office. She examined me and said it was most likely the beginning of a miscarriage, and there was nothing she could do to stop it. My body had to run its course. She sent me home and ordered me to stay there for the next few days. Broken hearted and filled with an unexplainable grief, we drove home in complete silence. I had never inhaled air that thick in my life. Sadness filled my nostrils with every.single.breath. I went home and waited. It's the weirdest feeling, and I'm going to put it the best way I know how. And I apologize now if it's too blunt for some readers, but this is how it felt for me:
My doctor sent me home to feel a prolonged death.
That's honestly how I felt about the whole thing. I was angry and sad and confused and every other adjective they teach you for "sad" in elementary school. So I sat. And I waited. I went to bed not knowing if the morning would greet me with more death or not. Before I closed my eyes I had a small conversation with the little person I was attempting to grow and told her that she had a job to do in there, and it was to hold on tight and be strong. I told her I would handle business in the outside world but she HAD to handle business in there. Then I closed my eyes and prayed for the best.
The next day came and at first I thought perhaps we were in the clear - the spotting had ceased and I felt pretty okay. It wasn't until that afternoon that I felt my luck might really be running out.
I was now bleeding. Not spotting. Bleeding.
Once again I rushed to the hospital and kind of braced myself for the D&C my doctor had explained would be necessary. Death was at my baby's door. I remember thinking "this is the most UN-FAIR moment of my life". A few things happened before I actually saw my doctor, and I'm not going to go too far into it except to say that at one point I was surrounded by a flurry of nurses and I think I screamed and my honey caught me. The next thing I remember is my doctor coming in and saying she was sorry, and that as part of procedure she had to scope me to make sure everything came out. Silence. And then, this:
No, it's not a kewpie doll. That's my daughter. Somehow through all that chaos she managed to do just what I had asked her to do. She held on. The doctor showed me her heart beating ever so rapidly and we joked about how she had never seen such a formed figure on her ultrasound machine before.
I like to think it was my daughters way of letting us know in no uncertain terms that she wasn't going anywhere.
Due to the chaos that had just ensued, my doctor decided to err on the side of caution and put me on bed rest for the remainder of my first trimester. Not easy for a girl who likes to think she's got a bigger planner than Oprah. But for my daughter, I rested.
As time went on we saw this:
(remember my dream?)And then this:
And finally, this:
Now, I'm not going to say that my pregnancy was smooth sailing after that huge ordeal. I had bouts of terrible heartburn, to where I felt like someone had lit a pilot light in the back of my throat. At seven months I had to kiss my heels goodbye, for my once pretty little toes had been replaced by Hobbit feet. Through out my entire third trimester I felt like my vagina was lifting 50 pound weights. I wish I could make that last one up but it's true. My entire pelvic region was having a major anxiety attack. I jokingly referred to it as ETSD - Early Traumatic Stress Disorder. I couldn't complain too much though, because it was all just a reminder that I still had something so precious inside of me, gearing up to grace the world with her presence.
So, 365 days ago I had
and today I have
Never underestimate the difference a year can make.
Tuesday, September 15, 2009
Perception is Not Always Reality
That One Girl: On a scale of 1-10, 10 being you're absolutely sure you want to marry me and spend the rest of your life with me (as you've stated in the past), where do you fall?
Him: 8
That One Girl: Huh?
Him: Huh?
That One Girl: Did you say 8?
Him: Yeah.
That One Girl: Oh.
Him: What? Is that bad?
That One Girl: It's your answer.
That One Girl promptly moves "ring with diamonds" given last Christmas to right hand and closes Kleinfeld.com website.
Thinks to self "time to readjust thinking because apparently I have forgotten, nothing is quite as it seems"
Him: 8
That One Girl: Huh?
Him: Huh?
That One Girl: Did you say 8?
Him: Yeah.
That One Girl: Oh.
Him: What? Is that bad?
That One Girl: It's your answer.
That One Girl promptly moves "ring with diamonds" given last Christmas to right hand and closes Kleinfeld.com website.
Thinks to self "time to readjust thinking because apparently I have forgotten, nothing is quite as it seems"
Where's Oda Mae and Her Magic Closet When You Need Her?
If you are a woman, and you are breathing, I think I may be spot on in saying that at some point and time in your life you had a crush on Patrick Swayze. Black, White, Asian, Latina, 6 years old or 75 years old and using a walker, admitted OUT LOUD, or held in the confines of your "kissing pillow" - you had a mad crush on the man.
And honestly, how could you not? Those piercing eyes, the cleft in the chin, the swaying hips - OH MY GOD! I'm getting all hot and bothered right now just listing those things. The man single-handedly revitalized the formal dance class studio, AND had kilns working overtime all over the world! I mean c'mon - after seeing Ghost, what woman didn't turn to her husband/boyfriend/lover and say "Honey, we are signing up for a pottery class TO-MOR-ROW" ?
Hell, I was in high school and after seeing it attempted to recreate the scene with my high school sweetheart (no, I wasn't a fast-ass, I was a teenage girl "in love", with hormones - and just so you know - yes, I would snatch Emory BALD if I EVER found out she did some of the crap I did as a teenager - INCLUDING recreating movie love scenes). But I actually broke out my childhood pottery wheel and tried to make it work. Yeah. Not so much. Decided to try with Play-Doh instead. Yeah ummmmm, remember how your mom always said "make sure you don't get the Play-Doh on the carpet"? Well, let's just say I found out the hard way why she said that.
But seriously though, Swayze took us ladies to another place. He gave so much of himself to his characters that we actually believed we could have what they were having.
Hands up. How many of us tried the lift scene from Dirty Dancing? How many? I did. Sure did. Except I wasn't smart enough to try it in a pool and when my cousin dropped me on the hardwood floor, I bruised a rib and busted my lip. BUT, P. Swayze made me believe I could do it. And I did do it - ten years later after some serious ballet classes and lots of practice. And I felt what Baby felt. Free. Light. Sexy. Fabulous. That was him. As a woman, he made us feel. Even if our significant others sat on the couch day in and day out, scratching Lord knows where with God knows what, for that short period in time we believed that they had the potential to be the Johnny to our Baby...or the Sam to our Molly. He ensured us that our awkwardness is what made us sexy, and the openness of our hearts is what made us human.
For these things, I will forever openly admit my crush on Patrick Swayze.
He rests in peace, and lifts me in my dreams.
And honestly, how could you not? Those piercing eyes, the cleft in the chin, the swaying hips - OH MY GOD! I'm getting all hot and bothered right now just listing those things. The man single-handedly revitalized the formal dance class studio, AND had kilns working overtime all over the world! I mean c'mon - after seeing Ghost, what woman didn't turn to her husband/boyfriend/lover and say "Honey, we are signing up for a pottery class TO-MOR-ROW" ?
Hell, I was in high school and after seeing it attempted to recreate the scene with my high school sweetheart (no, I wasn't a fast-ass, I was a teenage girl "in love", with hormones - and just so you know - yes, I would snatch Emory BALD if I EVER found out she did some of the crap I did as a teenager - INCLUDING recreating movie love scenes). But I actually broke out my childhood pottery wheel and tried to make it work. Yeah. Not so much. Decided to try with Play-Doh instead. Yeah ummmmm, remember how your mom always said "make sure you don't get the Play-Doh on the carpet"? Well, let's just say I found out the hard way why she said that.
But seriously though, Swayze took us ladies to another place. He gave so much of himself to his characters that we actually believed we could have what they were having.
Hands up. How many of us tried the lift scene from Dirty Dancing? How many? I did. Sure did. Except I wasn't smart enough to try it in a pool and when my cousin dropped me on the hardwood floor, I bruised a rib and busted my lip. BUT, P. Swayze made me believe I could do it. And I did do it - ten years later after some serious ballet classes and lots of practice. And I felt what Baby felt. Free. Light. Sexy. Fabulous. That was him. As a woman, he made us feel. Even if our significant others sat on the couch day in and day out, scratching Lord knows where with God knows what, for that short period in time we believed that they had the potential to be the Johnny to our Baby...or the Sam to our Molly. He ensured us that our awkwardness is what made us sexy, and the openness of our hearts is what made us human.
For these things, I will forever openly admit my crush on Patrick Swayze.
He rests in peace, and lifts me in my dreams.
Monday, September 14, 2009
MeMe Monday - oh Supah Supah Supah.......
Oh the scandal scandal SCANDAL I am about to unleash by participating in MeMe Monday TODAY!!! The topic - 5 white lies you have told....ugh...I am so done for....Okay...
btw - Supah, you owe me for this one...lmao!
1. To college boyfriend - "Oh my god Yes! Yes! That is sooo it! You're so workin it! Oh my god I'm almost there...yes yes YES!!!!"
- yep, you guessed it. I FAKED IT - BIG TIME (and many times)! I was young and didn't want to hurt his fragile college boy ego. He really thought he was doin' somethin' and I just wanted it to be OVER, so yes. I faked it. And I'm damn glad I did because when I wrote "The Bad Girl's Guide To Faking A Good One" for my creative writing class, I totally got an A+ on that junk!
2. To cop - "Yes sir, I know I was speeding. I am on my way to an emergency appointment with my Obstetrician."
- this was a bad lie to tell, and I immediately felt horrible for it and asked for forgiveness....but I really couldn't afford a ticket at the time...and I was obviously pregnant - so I used it to my advantage. Bad, I know.
3. To family - "I'm dating the most AWESOME guy!"
- I was dating my vibrator. Which was pretty damn awesome, and I had named him - so does it really count as a lie?
4. To self - "You'll get back in those size 14's in NO TIME!"
- Four months later I have yet to stop buying the mini Haagen Dazs cups from Kroger... but damn them for making them 10 for $10!
5. To Honey - "The kids must have found your secret stash of Mike n Ike's, Lemonheads, Lifesavers, AND Laffy Taffy! You should do something about that."
-Yes. I sacrificed my stepkids for some damn candy. I consider it payback for all the hell they've given me from day one.
So there ya have it - now that I have secured my spot in purgatory, I will go redeem myself in yet ANOTHER mini ice cream cup. 14 shmourteen....I'm HOT!
Ah damn - it was just 5 white lies RIGHT?!
btw - Supah, you owe me for this one...lmao!
1. To college boyfriend - "Oh my god Yes! Yes! That is sooo it! You're so workin it! Oh my god I'm almost there...yes yes YES!!!!"
- yep, you guessed it. I FAKED IT - BIG TIME (and many times)! I was young and didn't want to hurt his fragile college boy ego. He really thought he was doin' somethin' and I just wanted it to be OVER, so yes. I faked it. And I'm damn glad I did because when I wrote "The Bad Girl's Guide To Faking A Good One" for my creative writing class, I totally got an A+ on that junk!
2. To cop - "Yes sir, I know I was speeding. I am on my way to an emergency appointment with my Obstetrician."
- this was a bad lie to tell, and I immediately felt horrible for it and asked for forgiveness....but I really couldn't afford a ticket at the time...and I was obviously pregnant - so I used it to my advantage. Bad, I know.
3. To family - "I'm dating the most AWESOME guy!"
- I was dating my vibrator. Which was pretty damn awesome, and I had named him - so does it really count as a lie?
4. To self - "You'll get back in those size 14's in NO TIME!"
- Four months later I have yet to stop buying the mini Haagen Dazs cups from Kroger... but damn them for making them 10 for $10!
5. To Honey - "The kids must have found your secret stash of Mike n Ike's, Lemonheads, Lifesavers, AND Laffy Taffy! You should do something about that."
-Yes. I sacrificed my stepkids for some damn candy. I consider it payback for all the hell they've given me from day one.
So there ya have it - now that I have secured my spot in purgatory, I will go redeem myself in yet ANOTHER mini ice cream cup. 14 shmourteen....I'm HOT!
Ah damn - it was just 5 white lies RIGHT?!
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