Opinions, Farts, and Fraternities. What?

You know what is hard? Being funny is hard. Entertaining people for FREE is hard. Rocks are hard. Trying to be kind to assholes is hard. Life is hard. Parenting is hard. For some, shutting their nasty pie hole is hard. Not gagging when I wipe my kids’ butt or when I brush my teeth is hard. Surviving this last week of summer vacation is hard.

You know what isn’t too difficult? Laughing. Being nice. Scrolling on by something you don’t like. Making a peanut butter and jelly sandwich. Pouring and drinking a glass of wine. Dancing to a great song. Wasting the day away on Facebook. Watching a Johnny Depp movie. Being nice. (This one is so easy I had to mention it twice)

My dad always told me that opinions are like assholes because everyone has one.  Most people wouldn’t sit down in a five-star restaurant and rip an earth-shattering fart because it just isn’t appropriate.  While it may hurt like hell to hold in that fart, it just isn’t done.  You clinch your cheeks and you pray that nothing escapes before you make it to a more appropriate fart-ripping venue.  Once you are in the comfort of your own gaseous bubble, you let that baby flow and you sigh in relief.

These interwebs have made us more open to farting in public.  Except we do it verbally and verbal farts are by far the worst. More disgusting than the ones that come after eating onion rings  with a side of deviled eggs.  Their smell is revolting and they have a tendency to linger for days.  They can take the most wonderful post about babies and rainbows and unicorns and turn it into a post about religion and politics and gun control.  Before you know it, that one verbal gassing has spread and it forces others to start releasing their own juices and before you know it, the entire post smells worse than a fraternity house after a two-day kegger leaving an unsuspecting house-mother in its wake.

It takes hours to clean up the mess and days to air out the house.  The house-mother can often be found in tears constantly dousing herself in Lysol wondering why in the hell she took this job.  The pay sucks and the rewards are few and far between.  Yet she stays.  She learns to breathe through her mouth and to stay locked in her room on the weekends.  She stays because she loves it.  She adores the conversations, the company, sometimes she even joins in and farts with the best of them.  When it’s right to do so.

I’m not gonna argue with you, sometimes it just feels good to fart.  It feels good to let it out and to share it with those around you.  It is refreshing and damn it, you just feel better when all is said and done.  It doesn’t mean that those around you enjoy it.  That they want to take a deep breath and inhale your aroma.  That they enjoy your gas as much as you do.   That it is the right place and right time to let one fly. Unless you ARE at a kegger, then by all means….let em rip.  Most people would never even know.

What in the hell was I talking about?  Right, opinions.  It’s normal to have them.  It’s also normal to want to share them. It’s just common courtesy to not be an asshole about it.  It’s easy to do, just squeeze your cheeks.

Opinions, Farts, and Fraternities


Dear Google,

Let me blow the dust around in here and see if I can make this work.  I know it’s been a while and I really have no one to blame but myself.  Well, I have others to blame but really does pointing fingers at others really help?  Actually it does, but I always try to take those moments in which someone really pisses me off and use it to my advantage.  To use it for a learning experience.  To tell those people to suck my nose holes and come back bigger and badder.  So let’s do it.  Let’s write again, because it just feels good.

It really sucks when you love to write and you have this amazing (to yourself) blog, and you let other people rain on your parade and suck the life out of everything you have busted your ass to build.  I’ve been trying to figure out why in the hell I can’t write words.  Why can I not take the thoughts in my head and put them on this cyber paper for people to read?  Why have I become so gun-shy? What in the fuck am I so damn worried about?

It’s hard in this “business” (can you classify a hobby in which you make no money doing a ‘business’?) to not let people get to you.  You get an idea and you start to write and BOOM, you see someone else just wrote a post on that exact same topic.    You see a friend bust their ass to create something fabulous and before you know it you see it elsewhere with their watermark removed and some other asshole taking the credit for work they didn’t do.  Everywhere you look there is someone being a douchebag.  This constantly lingers in the back of your mind as you question every single word that you write.  Asking yourself if this word or that word will bring out the trolls.  Wondering if you will be under fire for writing what you want to write on your blog that you aren’t forcing anyone to read.

I’m not gonna hide my feelings about the last post I wrote.  It was hilarious.  The funniest thing I have written in quite a while and it felt so GOOD to write it.   I have no shame in saying that because damn it, if you can’t find boobs funny you need to remove the stick from your ass.  That post was rocking along, great comments, great page views, not one person voiced their irritation with my use of the words boobs, tits, fun bags, mammaries, rack, hooters, and other terms of endearment that we use for our breasteses.  Then I got an email from Google themselves telling me that I had seventy-two hours to either edit the “sexually explicit” post or delete it all together or they would pull all advertisements from my site.  I felt like I had taken a kick right to the gut.  I hadn’t realized that I was writing erotica, I thought I was writing about motherhood.  What in the frickety-frack was going on?

I vented to some friends and tried to understand.  I immediately shut down.  The words stopped, the desire to write stopped, a little bit of my passion was stripped.  I’m not normally one to take shit like this so seriously, but this one really got to me.  Maybe it was a misunderstanding. Maybe it was a mistake.  I was hurt and I was insulted. Then it hit me, Google is just being an asshole.  Then the anger set in.

Dear Google,

I wanted to write you a quick note to thank you for taking the time to really read my site before deeming it inappropriate for your ad network.   I work really hard to make sure that my site is as sexually explicit as a blog written by a mother of five young kids can be. I would like to apologize if the word ‘boobs’ is just too much for you to handle, but if I’m being honest I think there are many other topics I could have breached that could have been incredibly more offensive.  

You see, I work really hard to write content that is appropriate for my readers.  Things that they can relate to.  Things that make them laugh/cry/scream/shake their head in agreement.  Seeing as ninety-five percent of my readers are women/mothers/grandmothers/aunts, we all have boobies.  Most of us have already lamented and accepted their tube-sock appearance and have come to grips with the fact that our mammaries will never be as spectacular as they once were.   I pride myself on the fact that I am not afraid to write the things that others may be embarrassed to talk about.  If I can help make one person feel better about themselves, or to know that they aren’t alone on this crazy road we call parenthood, then I am doing exactly what I set out to do when I started this blog.  

Your promise of removing your ads from my site did not scare me, it made me angry. Not because I was going to miss out on those pennies a day that I made from allowing you to put your quality ads in my sidebars, but because you attempted to bully me into changing my words to fit your idea of appropriate material.  It was quite clear to me that you didn’t take the time to really read my words.  That you didn’t take five minutes to see what my site is about and to read the comments and see that not a single person was offended.  That you missed out on a really good laugh.  

I don’t give two shits about your ads.  You have the ability to choose and you chose to remove yourself from my site.  No big whoop. What I do care about is that I have let you affect my writing.  That I allowed you to infiltrate my thoughts and make me question everything that I have ever written.  That despite the undying love and support that I am fortunate enough to see every. fucking. day from my readers, I have let you enter the recesses of my brain and shut off all confidence that I had in my abilities.  No more Google.  NO. MORE.  I will not let you win because I KNOW in my heart that I am capable.  That I am just flat-out fucking amazing.

It is amazing to me that you are so quick to judge.  That of all the sites on the interwebs, you jumped on one word.  A word that ninety-nine percent of people do not find even remotely offensive.  I can only hope that in the future, you would take the time to actually read a few posts from time to time.  That you wouldn’t judge a post based on one word in the title (BOOBS).  That you would not attempt to bully someone into censoring their own words, on their own site, in which they allow YOU to place ads on.  Censorship is so last century.

Thank you for giving me a couple of weeks to realize how fabulous I am.  For helping me to realize that I don’t have to succumb to the corporate greed.  That I am in control of what I think, what I write, what I promote.  That it is OK to just be me.  I actually needed it. 

You just can't argue with Ben

You just can’t argue with Ben



Don’t Be An Asshole

At some point in our lives, we are all an asshole.  Don’t try to deny it and act like you aren’t because even the nicest of you have at one time or another had one of those fits of raging assholeyness.  Some suffer from momentary slips into the world of assholes while some have their own mailing address at 1 Asshole Way.  I can admit that I have had many a time in which my inner asshole has reared it’s very ugly head (hell, this post may even be one of them), but fortunately I can acknowledge it, be one with my inner asshole, and reign it in when the need arises.  Unfortunately many suffer from such severe cases of asshole-itis that they are unable to even recognize the fact that they are in a perpetual state of being a raging asshole.  This is a very serious condition.  One that if left untreated can affect the lives of all that come in contact with those infected.

In an effort raise asshole awareness, I present to you this list of some of the most common offenders.  The more you know, the more you too can prevent the spread of assholey behavior.

The I’mabetterparentthanyou-hole:  Usually found at places like the park, the pool, any place with a germ-infested play place.  This asshole will most likely be found with an arsenal of anti-bacterial wipes and hand sanitizer.  It may be difficult to control your mouth around this one due to their ridiculous requests for you to stop your children from using the slide until their child is outside the three feet safety circle at the bottom or to please not splash little Sally as they jump in the pool because she is still getting adjusted to the water temperature.  By all means be prepared for the apocalypse if you don’t follow little Johnny into the play place to supervise his every move.  There is a very good chance that you are constantly being judged by this one and you will witness an extreme amount of eye-rolls and unintelligible mumbling under their breath, especially if you take a more laid back approach to your parenting. No matter what you do, you are wrong in the eyes of this asshole.

The Doc-hole:  We parents know this one way too well.  You show up early for your kids’ appointment out of fear of being late because you know that if you are tardy even by a few minutes you will have to reschedule and pay a cancellation fee.  This guy though, works on HIS schedule.  Yours is insignificant.  They call you back into that six by six cell, I mean examination room, and you wait.  Two hours later you leave with a migraine and the dreaded “it’s a virus” diagnosis knowing damn well that you will return in a weeks time to repeat the entire process again because it was actually NOT a virus.  Warm up your credit card, here comes another co-pay.

The Jock-hole:  This kind of asshole thinks that they know all there is to know about sports.  Can often be found on the bleachers yelling instructions to the players or screaming at the refs.    These instructions are usually the complete opposite of what the players should actually be doing and nine times out of ten they don’t even know what the rules are.   Jock-holes usually believe that their offspring will be the next big thing in sports.  Be sure to test your kids’ coaches for this terrible affliction as it has been known to run rampant amongst them as well.  There are many wonderful coaches out there, find them and never leave them or be one of them yourself.

The Lazy-hole: Can be found anywhere.  Is popular in the office, in volunteer groups, on the interwebs, and in your house.  These assholes are willing to take all the credit when awesome things happen but are not willing to get off their lazy ass to do any of the work needed to actually make it happen.  This person could be disguised as your boss, your co-worker, a fellow board member, or even your children.  They have no problem stealing your work and claiming it as their own. These types are hard to combat, but they don’t like the word NO.  Use it.  Frequently.

The Sancti-hole: This asshole doesn’t even realize how big of an asshole he really is.  They spend most of their time pretending to be perfect and angelic while in reality they secretly do all the things they preach against.  They are great at giving the appearance that they live that picture-perfect life, but behind closed doors they are miserable.  They spend a shit-ton of time on Facebook clogging up your news feed with posts full of useless information that they don’t even understand themselves.  This asshole is like a bad rash, they will go away for a while but when they return they will be even more irritating than before.

The Sarcasa-hole:  This one is dangerous.   Their sarcasm is so far advanced that they were able to be a major asshole  and it took you a couple of hours to figure it out.  You have to watch out for these, they are very tricky.

The Ihopeyourotinhell-hole:  This one is the one I have no tolerance for.  They can often be found on the internet because they are too chicken-shit to show their faces in public.  They spend their days in their mother’s basement trolling the interwebs for ways to lash out at unsuspecting posters.  They usually make hurtful comments in an attempt to spread the herpes.  They use phrases like “I hope all you fuckers burn in hell” and “why don’t you just go kill yourself”.  Whatever you do, DO NOT ENGAGE this type of asshole.  You just can’t argue with this kind of stupid.

Mega-hole:  This is the beast of all assholes.  A culmination of all breeds.  The asshole of all assholes.   You must take extreme caution when dealing with one of these creatures as they are the Dark Side of the asshole world.  Before tackling one of these head on, be sure to brush up on your Jedi mind tricks because these assholes can turn you into one of their own faster than my kids can destroy my living room.

Please my friends, use this guide and be prepared when you encounter an asshole.  They usually travel in packs so never let your guard down.  Together we can raise awareness and conquer this terrible disease.






It Really is OK to Just Say NO

Early on in childhood we are taught to say no. Say no to strangers, say no to drugs, say no to peer pressure. Even as parents we drill the same skill into our own little people. We stress to them the importance of using the word when something doesn’t seem right. That it is okay to give their friends a nice firm NO when they are being pressured to do things that they know are wrong.  To say NO if they don’t want to do something.  Makes you wonder why after all the years of being told to say it, we are so scared to use it as adults.

I’m do know that I’m not afraid to use it with my kids:

Mom, can I have a cell phone?  No, you are ten.

Mom, can I have candy?  No.  I ate it all.

Mom, do you love me more than the others?  No.  I love you all equally, just some days I may like one of you more than the others.

Mom, do you have a wiener?  Thankfully, no.  If  I did you wouldn’t be calling me mom.

Smell my feet mom!  Not just no, but HELL NO.

Did you fart mom?  Nope.  Not me. I would never do that. <ahem>

While I love to piss my kids off on a daily basis by reminding them who is the boss around here, I often forget when approached by adults that I even know that the word NO is part of my vocabulary.  Why do we have such a hard time saying that one little word to other adults, are we afraid of looking like we can’t handle it?  Scared that we will be considered less of a woman/man/parent if we just say we can’t do it right now?  Maybe it’s a little bit of mom guilt mixed in with that middle school mindset that we won’t be accepted if we don’t agree with every offer that is thrown our way.

This is extra difficult when the offers involve our kids.  Sitting on the PTA board or coaching a ball team.  Going on that field trip or making those cookies for the program.   Never able to say no.  Always willing to adjust our schedules to do what needs to be done.   Never able to just walk away.  Feeling as if we don’t say ‘yes’ that the job won’t get done.  Forgetting that in most instances that one little word could alleviate so much stress from our lives if we would just use it.  Just once it would keep us from trying to squeeze in one more meeting in an already over-packed day.  Stop us  from making just one more trip to the store for supplies.  Give us an evening to reconnect with our already over-scheduled families.

Maybe it is that part of our human nature that has this desire to constantly please others.  The feeling of never letting someone down.  What happens when we become so overwhelmed that we forget to make those cookies or that meeting slips our mind?  Disappointment and guilt.   That’s what happens.  Then we sit in the soup of despair and shitty feelings kicking ourselves in the ass for not being organized to write something down.  For forgetting that we received that reminder call three days ago while we were juggling fixing lunch, finishing folding that load of laundry, and wiping the three-year-old’s butt.  It is hard to believe that we, the uber-involved incredibly organized, could possibly overlook one little thing.

Here’s the deal, we ARE over-scheduled.  We do strive for the acceptance of our peers, even as adults.  We always want to appear as if we have it all together, even though we know in our hearts that we are falling apart and will be hopping aboard the crazy train any day now.  In all reality, no one really gives a shit if you say “no, sorry, I just can’t make it to that meeting.  I haven’t had dinner with my kids all week and I promised them that tonight was the night”.  No one is going to think you are a raging bitch if you turn down that seat on the PTA board.  OK they might, but if they do then maybe they are the bitch.  No one else but us is looking our for us and what we need.  What our families need.

The key is to find our balance.  To find what is truly important to YOU.  You want that seat on that non-profit?  Grab it.  You want to be the room mother for your kid (s)?  DO IT.   You want to run a bakery from your kitchen?  Good for you.  Do you have to do it all ?  No way.  Find your passion and do that.  You aren’t telling the others to piss off, you are just saying that you want to be able to be fully invested in what you are doing.  There is only so much room on our plates.   To be truly involved with your whole self may take a little more effort  but the rewards are ten-times greater than only being involved with just a piece of yourself.

We can no longer look at  ’no’ as a word worthy of being placed on George Carlin’s list of dirty words.  We can’t be afraid to say it to our kids, we know they aren’t afraid to say it to us.  We can’t avoid it just because we are afraid of not being accepted into the cool kids club.   If that club looks at you differently because you have priorities and can make a decision based on what is best for you, then maybe it isn’t as cool as you thought it was.  There comes a time where that one little word can make the difference between spending time with the family that you love and adore or spending it doing something that makes you miserable.  The choice is yours.

Find your true passion

Did you buy the book yet?  PLEASE don’t tell me NO.    Get all the details right here.

Don’t Let the Guilt Get You

I screwed up.  Not in a “I used salt instead of sugar in those cookies” kind of screwed up.  More like a  ”I now feel like a total asshole mother” kind of screwed up.  It wasn’t over anything major, but to my fifth grade daughter it was kind of a big deal.  Now I have this immense feeling of guilt.  Mom guilt.  Different from any other guilt you will ever feel and it sucks.

This isn’t the first time I have dropped the ball on something.  I have forgotten to take someone to a birthday party, or missed that meeting about an activity.  I have forgotten to call little Susie’s mom to see if Susie can come over for a sleepover.  As parents we have unlimited opportunity for failure.  Every second of every day presents us with an opportunity to fuck something up.  There is no other job on the planet that you can enter into with absolutely no training whatsoever and then be left to deal with the pressure, the guilt, and the repercussions of not doing something right.

When I took that first job flipping hamburgers, I wasn’t allowed to start cooking the hamburgers right away. Hell no.  I had to master the potato peeling and onion chopping first. I had to be able to make perfect patties and golden brown french fries before I could be trusted with the spatula and a hot grill.  I received on the job training before being entrusted with the important tasks.  There is no on the job training that comes along with parenthood.  Sure, there are thousands of parenting books that you can peruse.  There are millions upon millions of magazine and internet articles that you can sort through and read.  Most likely you have friends or acquaintances that you can ask for advice.  The thing is, your parenting skills will be completely different from everyone else’s.  Don’t fall for the ideal of being the “perfect” parent.  You are just setting yourself up for disappointment.  You will be a GREAT parent, but there is no such thing as the “perfect” one.

At some point we have all royally screwed up something for our kids.  Maybe we have that day that we didn’t make the time to play that board game.  Maybe we forgot to write that letter of encouragement for them to read before their state assessment tests.  Maybe we were taking a few seconds to read an email instead of watching them go down the slide.  Maybe we were busy writing a piece for a book and didn’t spend the afternoon giving our kids scissors and glue guns. It doesn’t mean we love them any less or that we wish that they didn’t exist, it just means that we as parents are so consumed with trying to prove to everyone else that we can do everything when in reality we are drowning in our own sea of over scheduling and pressure to overachieve, present company included.

Am I a failure as a mother because my kids are currently parked in front of the television long enough for me to finish this post? No I’m not.   Do I feel a slight twinge of guilt that I am doing that?  Absolutely.  Does it mean that I am lazy parent who only focuses on her needs instead of the needs of her children?  No effing way.  It means that I deserve to take some time for myself.  To do the things that I enjoy and that make me a better mother.  It means that I have things that I  like to make time for besides wiping butts and playing Chutes and Ladders for the five millionth time.  It means that in order for me to be the parent that I need to be I have to take the time to tend to myself, even if that means locking the door just so I can poop in peace.

If you can honestly look in the mirror and say to yourself that you don’t have needs.  That you are the ideal parent.  That your sole purpose in life is to be the beck and call girl for your kids.  That you don’t ever make mistakes and suffer from mom guilt.  You are full of shit.  I mean, you have it oozing out of every orifice.  Instead of filling yourself with these unrealistic expectations, why not tell yourself that it is OK that you forgot to make that phone call.  That you aren’t ruining your kids if you let them have pop for lunch.  That it is OK that you forgot to do something.  That they won’t be traumatized for life if they have to go out into the backyard and play by themselves for fifteen minutes while you switch the laundry or eat that bag of M & M’s that you’ve been hiding in the cabinet.

We all make mistakes.  We all have the guilt.  We all have those days where we want to pack our bags and run away to the Bahamas with Johnny Depp.  Well, I do at least.  We can’t sit around criticizing each other and ourselves for the choices that we make for our own children.  We can’t constantly attack each other because we do things differently.  We can’t look in that proverbial mirror and beat ourselves up because we have those moments of doubt.  Because we forgot something.  Because we made a mistake. Because we just wanted to take a few minutes for ourselves.  Guilt will eat you alive if you let it.  We need to support each other despite our differences.  We must have the belief in ourselves that we are doing something right.  That we have one, or two, or five little people who think we are better than sliced bread.  That these kids will turn out just fine.  Have faith in YOURSELF.  You’ve got this.  WE’ve got this.


Have you bought the book yet?  NO??  WHAT ARE YOU WAITING FOR????  Talk about a good way to remind yourself that we aren’t perfect.  Go ahead and get a copy for yourself and feel free to get a copy for all of your mom friends too.  You will laugh, you may cry from laughter, you will definitely no longer feel alone.  All positive reviews will be sprinkled with glitter in celebration.  Get all the details right HERE. 

Are You REALLY Gonna Eat That?

My friend Ninja Mom asked me to jump on the Character Assassination Carousel.  I thought about it for about two seconds and quickly agreed. Well, I agreed to give it a shot but I get motion sickness so I won’t actually jump ON the carousel.  Hell, I can’t even watch it go around and around without having to suppress the urge to revisit my lunch.  If you don’t mind, I’ll just sit here in my recliner while you all go around and around and around.

It was after I agreed to this that I started to poo my pants.  What book will I choose?  Can I really take apart a beloved children’s book?  What if the people (AKA, YOU)  hate me afterwards?  What book will I choose?  How in the frickity-frack am I going to do this without looking like a total toad?  So like any sub-par writer would do, I went looking for things I could borrow inspiration from some past riders/writers on the carousel.  I read Frugalista Blog’s assassination of Rumplestiltskin,  The Underachiever’s Guide to Being a Domestic Goddess’ deconstruction of Walter the Farting Dog,  and of course I had to go back to the very beginning and read Ninja Mom’s own take on The Giving Tree.   Well shit, that was a huge mistake.  Not because I don’t love them all, but now I realize that there are so many great bloggers that went before me and blew it out of the water and now here I sit feeling the pressure.  Oops, sorry.  Excuse me, that one slipped.  Pressure makes me gassy.  *Deep breath, you can do this*    Alright, here we go,  jump aboard the Character Assassination Carousel kids, I’ll watch you from over here while sipping my drink.

After some serious combing through the littles’ bookcases (yes, that is plural because just one bookcase would not suffice), I decided to go with the one book that drives me crazy.  The one book that I love to hate.  The one book that really makes absolutely no sense to me whatsoever.  I think it is time for “There Was an Old Lady Who Swallowed a Fly” to bite off more than she can chew.    When I made this decision, I immediately went to Amazon to read the reviews.  I thought surely someone else on the planet had a deep-seeded hatred for this book.  Nope.  Every review I read was about how much they LOVED this book and WONDERFUL it is to read to their kids.  Crap.  I’m in the minority….again.  Par for the course I guess.  Let me  just fill you in on exactly WHY I would love to bury this poor woman in a really big box.


Nice dress Granny.

There was an old lady who swallowed a fly. I don’t know why she swallowed a fly. Perhaps she’ll die

Does anyone really know why they swallowed a fly?  I suppose some people in the jungle, or contestants on Survivor,  may eat them for a snack, but I have really been trying to cut back on my fly intake.  I’m sure they are high in protein or something, but I’m not a big fan of wings and legs  and those creepy little eyes that they have.  Not to mention I don’t imagine that they are very filling.  Wait just one minute… Eating flies could KILL me? Guess I better adjust our summer menu. Bummer, flies are so cost-effective.  Dime a dozen round here thanks to the cows and their poo.

There was an old lady who swallowed a spider that wriggled and wriggled and jiggled inside her.  She swallowed the spider to catch the fly.  I don’t know why she swallowed a fly. Perhaps she’ll die.

 Um…yeah.  You lost me at spider and wriggling inside her.  That’s just gross and repulsive and wrong and did I say gross?  I know the average person eats a spider at least once in their lifetime,  but at least that occurs without our knowledge.  Why would anyone in their right mind knowingly eat a damn spider?  Who gives a flying rip about the stupid little fly that you just ate, they don’t live that long anyway, but a SPIDER?  ARE YOU NUTS?

Next she eats a bird in order to catch the spider.  Well, if she wouldn’t have been off her rocker to begin with and eaten a nasty ass spider, she wouldn’t need to be eating a bird now would she?  I’m all for eating a little yard-bird.  Fried up with some mashed potatoes and gravy, but this crazy lady is eating a whole bird.  Legs, feathers, beak and all.    How in the hell is she doing this?  Does she have a jaw like a snake?  Is she a sword swallower?  My gag meter is on high alert.  This is just redonk-a-donk.


See the foreshadowing? Can you guess what is up next?

As if a fly, spider, and a bird aren’t filling enough the old woman decides that she needs to eat a cat.  A freaking CAT.  What they forgot to mention is that immediately after eating said cat, the old woman had to be rushed to the ER to have a ginormous hairball removed from her esophagus.  A cat.  This is the dumbest book ever.  But wait…there’s more!

After the hairball removal, the woman regains her appetite and resorts to eating a dog.  It doesn’t specify the size of the dog, but does it really matter?  Who in the hell eats a dog?  As if there is room enough in her gut for the dog to chase the cat.  I want to know how in the hell this woman isn’t dead yet.  The fly and the spider I can see.  They are small and easily swallowed.  A whole bird, followed by a whole cat with a dog chaser?  This lady is a freak of nature and has got to have the worst case of indigestion on the planet.

Just when you think it can’t get any worse, the woman swallows a cow.  Not a steak, not a juicy hamburger, not a little bit of stew meat.  A whole cow.  I know many people don’t like to waste any part of the animal, but seriously.  I can barely eat an entire steak on my own yet this old woman ingests an entire cow without even chewing it.  Not even an inkling of steak sauce or ketchup first.  Does she die from this?  Of course not.  Here are my issues with this: 1.  Cows don’t eat dogs, they eat grass and grains.  Herbivores, not carnivores. Very poor judgement on part of our dear old lady.  2.  A WHOLE COW?  This is just asinine.

Let’s not forget the piece de resistance…a horse.  She swallows a horse to catch the cow.  As if she shouldn’t already be dead from intestinal over-extension, she swallows an entire horse.   This just in…eating an entire horse will kill you.  I could buy into death by getting thrown from a horse, or being caught in a wild horse stampede, or even death by hoof to the forehead, but eating an entire horse? Cheese and rice this is has got to be the most overrated book in my bookcase.

 I get that these books are for entertainment purposes, but this is just over the top for me.  ”Mommy, you can’t really eat a horse.”  No kids, you can’t.  That’s why dear granny is dead.  Moral of this story?  I really don’t have a damn clue.  Don’t eat yourself to death?  Don’t get started eating bugs because it only leads to bigger things?  If you are going to eat large animals whole make sure to wear a tacky dress?   That’s the best I got.  Go away Granny, you are dead.


I suppose she looks happy. I would think she would be a tad uncomfortable.

Thanks to Ninja Mom for letting me play along.  I hope you enjoyed this spin on the Carousel and will share me with all of your friends.  You never know, you may just find that we all share a mutual disdain for this adored children’s book.  Don’t miss the next ride on the Carousel when the always hilarious Kelley’s Breakroom assassinates yet another beloved character.



A Full Serving of Laughs With a Side of Advice


Every day, hundreds of people decide to start a blog.  One of the best resources for advice is to ask other bloggers, and for some reason, people come to me for advice.  Little do they know that I don’t  have a damn clue what I am doing here, I just pretend I do and usually just pass on the advice that I have been given.   I have made many, many mistakes in my first year of blogging so instead of giving my advice,  I have asked some of my very funny friends to help me.  So please  sit back, adjust your Poise pad, have your notebook ready to take notes, and I hope a little advice from my friends goes a long way.


I have just started setting up my blog and I am not very good at design.  Can you give me some insight into what will keep my readers visual interest?  Thanks for your help~Color Blind

Dear Color Blind,

 A suggestion from my friend Paige Kellerman is to always put your entire post in red.  Readers love the interactive feel of having their corneas slowly burning while digesting your well thought-out content.  This is stellar advice if you are striving to drive your readers one step closer to blindness.  

Another important thing to remember is the organization of your sidebars.  There is nothing better than the appearance that you are in fact an advertising guru and not a writer.  I know personally, I love it when I try to read a blog and the ads have vomited all over the text.   As a matter of fact, Anna from My Life and Kids suggests this; Before writing your first post, be sure to load up your blog with ads, pop ups, and video ads. Make sure you get paid for every single page-view before you even start!  Brilliant Anna.  Simply brilliant. Once you are getting rich off of those ads, Kim from Let Me Start By Saying suggests you hire someone to create some fabulous graphics to fill the inches of open space in-between your ads; The more dancing graphics you have on the sidebars, the better, she suggests.

One last item  for you to consider adding just to make sure that your readers are fully annoyed before they leave.  From Allison motherhoodwtf?; People LOVE opening up a website and finding that it’s musical. What a great surprise! Pick your favorite music and give your readers a chance to get to know the bands you love.   Nothing would start your reader’s day off right like having to change their pants.  Take it from Kerry at HouseTalkNAdding music to your site is not good for the bladder impaired. It startles me into kegels every time.  Of course this decision is completely up to you, but I don’t know too many people who appreciate a heart attack brought on by Metallica first thing in the morning.

Hope this helps you just a bit.  Just remember, busy is key.  You want the words to be the last thing your readers look at.


I have been blogging for a while now, but  I simply cannot figure out why I am not getting any comments.  Could you please give me some helpful hints to help increase my comment count?  ~All Alone

Dear All Alone~

Comments are the bloggers equivalent of a football player’s slap on the ass.   JD from Honest Mom suggests you take these steps to help increase comment count; Be sure to make your would-be commenters jump through TONS of hoops to leave a comment on your blog. For example, don’t allow them to comment with their name and blog URL – make them register for an obsolete AIM or Open ID account! And of course, don’t forget to make them struggle to translate a CAPTCHA to leave a comment. We all love doing that! Ah yes, nothing like creating yet another account on another website on which you will never remember your log-in name and password.  That will surely get them to come back and comment on future posts.  

If you implement this plan and you are still not seeing an increase in your comments, you have no choice but to take it one step further.  Ninja Mom insists you take this final step to ensure you will see an immediate comment count that would make even the most popular of bloggers jealous; Add extra layers of security. Word verification’s good for keeping out spammers, but what about testing the loyalty of your 5 readers? Consider having them complete an accounting exam, or identify all of the former US vice presidents before being able to comment.  Boom.


Everyone tells me that I should comment on other blogs in order to help promote myself, to make my blog more visible to others.  I have been doing that but am not seeing an increase in visitors.  What do you think I’m doing wrong? ~Too Wordy

Dear Wordy~

Maybe your comments are too long and complex.  Take this advice from Robyn at Hollow Tree Ventures, it is certain to work;  Make sure to leave a comment – “LOL” always works, even on a serious post – to indicate that you enjoyed a blogger’s work. Then casually mention that you’ve started following them. A request for a follow-back and a link to your blog shows that you’re genuinely interested in developing a long-standing relationship, based on your appreciation and respect for whatever it was that person wrote about, which you really did read, pinkie-swear.

If that doesn’t work, you may have to resort to using DG’s favorite comments;  be sure to use the 3-two-word comments that bloggers love most…”loved it!” “well said!” and “amen sister” – this really conveys the point that the blog was total shite and/or you didn’t read it. That should really draw in the new readers.  Try it and get back to me.


I am have been working really hard trying to make a connection with other bloggers but am not getting any requests for guest posts or to join any communities.  Can you help me with that? ~Anti-Social

Dear Anti-Social~

Might I suggest you take in these suggestions from these more experienced bloggers;

Meredith from Mom of the Year: If you want to be featured in a series that a blogger is running, instead of asking her to participate (or ever commenting on her blog or contacting her in any other way), write a post about how stupid the blogger is and how she was snotty for not including you.  Publish the post, don’t tell her about it, and let her find it by checking her traffic sources.  This is truly the best way to go about networking and building relationships within the field.

Stephanie from Binkies and Briefcases: Need a blog mentor? Be sure to research your area and find all of the big bloggers who live around you. Email them and invite them to lunch. If they say no look up their phone numbers and call them directly. Be sure to leave lots of personal Facebook messages as well. You want them to know you are VERY interested.

Anna from Random Handprints loves it when she follows a blogger on Twitter, and then finds a DM asking her to visit their site, pin to their really great Pinterest Board, join their Google+ circle, not to mention buy their eBook, contribute to their IndieGoGo fund, and of course, like their Facebook page.  Because who doesn’t want to be hounded by every person they decide to follow on Twitter?  I know I love DM’s asking me to follow them on Facebook.  I just run right on over. 


I can’t seem to grow my readership, can you give me some suggestions on how to get more reads on my pieces? ~Struggling for Survival

Dear Struggling~

This may be a multi-level problem, first of all take this suggestion from Kathy at kissing the frog:  Feel free to write in stream of conciousness style while centering your text. Don’t bother with that silly spell check – just hit “publish” as soon as you’re done unloading your thoughts. You will appear spontaneous and quirky that way.

Courtney from Our Small Moments suggests that you try this:  Conventions stifle creativity.  No one really cares about commas, paragraphs, and periods, especially avid readers.

Once you have the spelling and grammar down pat, you may try this advice from Jen at PIWTPITT:  I love it when bloggers only write something new every three weeks or so.  I make sure to take time out every day to visit just to make sure I haven’t missed something.  I so look forward to that one post a month and it really keeps that blog fresh in my mind.

Since this is my blog, I suppose I will offer up this one piece of advice.  Please make sure to post two or more times per day.  It is super easy for me to keep up with all those posts since I have nothing else to do with my day but sit and read only your posts.  Please, once you have an idea, write it and post it even if you just posted something an hour ago.  No need to save that for another day when you don’t have an idea to write about.

If you get nothing else out of this post, I hope that at least you could get a good laugh.  Really, these ladies are some of the funniest people I know and their expertise is second to none.   None of us are perfect, but at least we can have fun and laugh about it.