Stachetastic Deux? Oui!

I think I may have a slight obsession with all things Mustache...... it all started with this little number and has now become Ree-Dick-U-Lass!!

I can't help it - the "Mustachio" is timeless: always cool, always hip, always funny and never not hilarious.

Here are a few of my obsessions:

Are you kidding me??? Who does not want these?????

Or these??? I NEED to drink my wine out of these glasses. No other wine glasses will EVER, EVER, EVER do.

I really want this hanging in my bathroom. I only own four necklaces.... but have no fear - because I will hang this (see below) on it as well.....

Ugh, these are soooo cool!! Because you can do this (see below)

NEVER NOT FUNNY. Never. Not. Funny.

Poof. Your mac (Please tell me you are not reading this on a PC - once you go Mac, you'll never go back, right A?) is now incognito.......now where the hell did that laptop go?

Just a really cool print for our unborn baby's unborn room.....

That's only a taste of my obsessions. Now I don't actually own any of these... but with Christmas just around the corner - I might want only mustache gifts or I might give only mustache gifts..... hmmmm...... perhaps both.

Where is all this fabulous stuff available at? Etsy.com Etsy is all things handmade and all things freaking fantastic!! Check it out! (But be prepared for hours of your life to be consumed....)

A Blast From the Past!!

Many of you probably don't know this about me, well maybe you do if you read this blog entry, but I have a degree in Journalism. In order to get said degree, I had to do a three-month-long internship (it felt like 3 mother f-ing years). Which just so happened to be for my hometown newspaper. This required me to leave my super cool and funky college town and return to my mom's house (My mom is super cool and funky too, but you get the gist.) Not a happy camper.

Thee only cool thing about writing for a newspaper was that the Outdoor Editor let me write 2 guest columns.

Here, for a repeat performance, is one of those columns.

I admit it.

I am deathly afraid of outhouses.

Laugh all you want. (Everyone always does.) Admitting this fear is embarrassing enough.

It is not the smell that bothers me, or the flies that buzz around. It is not the occasional spider web or the fear of falling in. It is not the idea of going where other’s have “gone before,” or even the dark trek out to the loo in the middle of the night.

I am not afraid of the splashing thing or the sitting on the seat. I am not afraid I’ll drop something important, never able to retrieve it.

Nope, it’s the little, dirty old man that lives “down there” in the pit and tickles the behinds of unsuspecting users.

OMFG!! This is him! This is him!

I’m not crazy, I am aware there is really not an unhygienic person who lives in the hole, yet he has haunted me ever since I can remember.

No matter what my mother tells everyone, my borderline “outhouse phobia” is ALL her fault. I must have been fine with the whole outdoor bathroom thing before the “incident” ruined me, because being afraid of an outhouse is obviously a learned behavior.

It happened one summer evening when my family and I were camping. I was at that tender age when I took my mother’s word as the gospel truth. As I was walking to the john, my mother casually told me to be careful about the little old man.

Well that was it. That was when it all began. And it has stuck with me throughout all my outdoor adventures.

While attending a three-day concert at the Gorge in Washington State during college, I knew I would be forced to use the portable potty. So when Mother Nature called, I made my best friend go in with me. Here we are, cramped inside a sea green outhouse, with a thousand people waiting to go and I cannot sit and do my business without fear of the little old man and his long scratchy index finger. My best friend is laughing at me. It’s over a hundred degrees in that thing. People are yelling at us to hurry and I am petrified. Needless to say, it was a long couple of days.

Another time, I was camping with a boyfriend at this little rustic place on Rock Creek in Montana. After a fabulous day of fishing, I had to go. Making him stand guard for the hundredth time while I did the deed, he became fed up and pleaded with me to use the outhouse behind the cabin.

After much protest and mostly to just make him shut up about it, I gave in. I thought that day would be the day my life with outhouses would change forever.

Yeah right. I walked into the old wooden outhouse and again, I was terrified.

If the fate of the free world rested on my and an outhouse, I would use it to the best of my abilities.

I love the outdoors and I love being close to nature, so I will continue to do my natural thing as close to her as possible.

This was printed with a PICTURE of me and THOUSANDS of people read it. The day this got printed was a Thursday and over the course of the next coupla days I got: a free lunch because the waitress recognized me from the picture and said her husband laughed so hard he was crying and she knew he would want to pay for my bowl of Chili; I got a wedding proposal - not for marriage but some guy at the bar recognized me and wanted to take me as his date to his brother's wedding. Really? I also got emails and phone calls and a shout out from some DJ at a Rodeo Dance. Really?

I was known for the rest of the summer as "The Outhouse Girl" but I wasn't embarrassed because this "Outhouse Girl" didn't pay SHIT for her drinks all summer long!

Ain't Nothin' but a G-Thang, Baby!

I love music.

I know a lot of people do (clearly) but I couldn't even imagine the world without it. And I love it all - a man and his guitar, Rap, Country, whatever.

My music loving really started going when my dad bought me my first CD player in the 7th grade. It was a 5 disc changer with removable spreakers, the creme de' la creme. What he failed to buy me were some CD's to go in it. (Typical male.)

Well, that's kinda not the whole truth. There was the CD, Enigma, in one of the disc holders when we opened it. Apparently the workers accidently left it after they were using monk chants mixed with some nice beats to show the quality of the sound.

(And for those of you who can't remember Enigma. Let me, ah, enlighten you.)

I'm 13 years old. I'm not about to listen to scary-ass monk chanting and some breathy woman singing/orgasm-ing in........ um, Latin?

Nope.

My first ever REAL CD was........... wait for it............................

Snoop Doggy Dog's Doggystlye.

I'm serious.

And I can still, to this day, rap EVERY SINGLE song.

Please note the Parental Advisory sticker on the bottom left-hand. I'm going to have to go ahead and attribute my potty mouth to this CD. But wait, how did I acquire this soundtrack when the purchaser had to be 18 years or older, you ask?

My grandmother.

I'm serious.

My grandma bought me THIS!!!! (Please listen to the link until my favorite part at 1:38, wherein Snoop so eloquently states, "You's a flake, and I'm the big dog. I scratch you off my balls with my mother fuckin' paws.") Genius.

But the best part is when we went to the music store to actually get the CD. It was the day after Christmas, the place is a frickin' mad house and she asks the super-hot-teenage-boy worker this.....

"Um, yeah, can I have the Snoopy Dog Dog record?"

SNOOPY DOG DOG????

RECORD?????

I was dying, dyyyy------innnnng, you guys.

I mean, I was 13 years old. Everything and Everyone already normally embarrassed me and then this????

I'm surprised I didn't melt into the floor of that music store right then.

But when we went back to her house and she asked me to play her a song I played her this.

Paybacks are a "mother fuckin' bitch. Ya better aks somebody."

P.S. I'm so so sorry G-ma. I was a wretched little punk 13 year-old. But thanks again for this CD, as it has made me the gangsta that I am today.

Tick. Tick. Tick. Do I hear my biological clock? Someone grab me a hammer.

So I have been thinking, a lot, lately about Z and I having a kid.

Mom and friends, please pick your mouths up off the floor.

I KNOW!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!

Who am I? What is this woman who has held 3, count em' 3, babies in her whole life even thinking??

I don't know what the fuck is happening to me? I mean, I just said, well typed, the word fuck.

People with potty mouths should probably not procreate. (Wow say that sentence 10 times fast.) I totally know I will have that child that tells all the other children swear words in pre-school. "My mommy says Fuck."

Great.

But seriously, after more than a halfa bottle of wine with my friend Tuesday night, I woke up my sleeping husband. (More than halfa bottle of wine and disturbing someone's peaceful slumber? Zero mommy points for me.) And proceeded to tell him that we needed to talk about having babies. Like, RIGHT NOW!

He thought I meant, I wanted to "Have Babies" like that was secret code word for me wanting to do it.

Ewe. Whaaaaaaa?????

As if I would ever describe sex as "Have Babies" - that is so gross and 19 kids and Counting - ish.

So, I quickly burst that bubble and told him we've never really talked about having kids.

I mean, we both know we want children, at some point, and we have been married almost 5 years and I just turned 30 and he's turning 31 and I've been reading other people's blogs about their kids and seeing fun family pictures and on my trip back to Montana I hung out with some pretty rad kids and precious babies and baby cloths and baby rooms are so cute and 4 year olds say the coolest things and I wrote a children's book for god's sake and and and ...... but but but

But I need to lose 10 pounds before I get knocked up because I don't want to have to lose 10 extra pounds ON TOP of baby weight and what's that whole bullshit thing they say about NOT DRINKING for 9 months and wait, can I eat sushi and raw tuna - NO? Well I don't eat meat - what the hell am I going to eat for 9 months then? And you all know that every time I throw-up I cry and call my mom - I'm sure she'll love those fun-filled first-trimester phone calls. And why do I have to be the pregnant and the hormonal one?

AND WHY IS IT THAT THE ONLY THING A MAN HAS TO DO TO HAVE BABIES IS HAVE A GOD DAMN ORGASM???????

Gee - that seems really fair.

And I know me. And some of you know me.

How happy do you think I will be all fat with water-retained cankels all the while not being able to sleep at night because I can't sleep on my back and it's hot in the house and all I want is this weird little being that's making me have to pee 50 times a day out of my body and Z cracks open a cold beer.

Oh, hell no.

The left hand would be for Z and the right hand would be for all the non-prego beer drinkers in the world! (Well, and for the prego beer drinkers as well.)

It's all very scary to me.

And of course because I can be completely ego-centric. I will think I am thee only pregnant person in the whole entire world, nay, the only person to ever be pregnant, like ever, in the history of mankind. And that NO ONE could possibly know how I was feeling and Holy Shit how f'ing bad do these f'ing contractions hurt????

Then I will say really, really mean things to Z and blame him for knocking me up in the first place and then I will be the biggest sissy ever and change my mind about the whole "giving birth" scenario and then I will probably end up having a C-section and then that will shoot my "birthing plan" straight to hell and because I can be a complete control freak, this will make me spiral out of control until the hospital staff kicks me out and I have to have my baby on the sidewalk in front of the hospital where all the smokers are and then they will blow their second hand smoke into my newly born son or daughter's face. And then I will kill them and then Z will be stuck raising this kid all alone.

Forget it.

I just changed my mind about the whole baby thing.

Whew - mama needs a big ole' glass of wine.

Reality TV Bites

So before I get into my month-long love affair I just had with my beloved Montana; I have to talk about the tid-bits of time I got to just sit and watch some TV.

Now this is kinda a big deal because I don't often just sit and watch TV at my own house because there are a kajillion other things that need to be done.

Not to mention I had an epiphany around this time last year and sold our huge ass flat screen exclaiming, "No one who makes any difference in the world

sits around and watches TV!!" My husband went along with my episode (pun intended) and just watched as his TV got hauled away.

*Side Note: I realize he is kinda awesome and also a catch and a keeper (and apparently a rainbow trout)...... but he's from New Zealand so it wasn't like he was watching football on the damn thing with his buddies while they stuck their hands down their pants and burped the alphabet.

I digress.

We didn't have TV for a solid 9 months until I cracked my shit (again) and wanted to watch movies on something other than this computer that's in our little computer room while sitting on this uncomfortable computer chair, which to be honest is just a normal kitchen table chair. So I got on Craigslist and found a huge old TV for $20 bucks.

But again, I digress.

While on vacation I got an hour or two of down time and watched some "Reality TV."

Like this little gem. 19 Kids and Counting.

As an only child, this shit is scary yo'.

About the life and fun times of the Dugger family that have 19 kids (and apparently still counting.....which means like MORE??) and then some of those kids have kids.......... yikes!! They are religious (obviously) so the girls have to wear dresses (Cause the Bible says that???) don't cut their hair (Cause the Bible says that?) And apparently mama and papa have no concept of contraception.

Don't get me wrong I could not care-less about what people wear or what they choose to believe. You wanna wear ice skates and a clown nose to school? By all means. You wanna think that JC will not like you because you done wore a pair of $150 dolla jeans that made your ass look fabulous? That's your gig.

But let's get a grip people.

The dad, I think his name is Jim-Bob (Yeah you read that right.) needs to take a fucking cold shower and stop making an honest woman out of his wife. Seriously. She has born 19 kids!!! If she doesn't stop with the calving she's going to have to straight pick her uterus up off the ground and push it back in threw her vajayjay (Yeah you read that right.) And his wife, I mean it's your body sister but the words I think you should start to use a lot more are "no" and "headache".

And what about the mind-numbing Jersey Shore??

Hell to the NO!!!

I'm sorry MTV but ARE YOU SERIOUS?????? That show made me want to adjust the color on my TV screen from all the bad fake tanning and those people are so stupid they made me puke in my mouth a little. What bullshit show is this??

Dear MTV & Dugger Family,

Stop. Please just stop.

Love,

me

P.S. Fist Pumps for Jesus.

I'm Back!!

I have to start out by saying that I thought about this blog a lot while on my Montana Adventure. I missed you. And we have much to catch up on.......

But, I have been back home for almost a week now and there have been some BIG THINGS happening and it's all been such a blur since I got back on the island and I just need a second to catch my breath but there are things to be done and my life to get in order and yoga classes to attend and bills to pay and weight to be lost and friends to catch up with and a house to be cleaned and husbands and Boyfriends to be loved and and and and

AGGGGGGHHHHHHHHHHH!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!

This is what happens when you go away from your "real life" for a month.

But it was all so so so worth it.

Updates and Pictures of my awesome vacay coming soon because I just wanted to show you this first!

Oh, I'm sorry, you asked what I do? I write these, suckas!!!!!

Yup. That's right. That's the book I wrote. In my hands.

It's just gorgeous and colorful and fabulous and pretty much the best children's book that there ever was. It even smells really good; like a real book!!!

I'm serious. Even Mother Goose ain't got nothin' on this baby. Okay - that's a bit of a stretch but seriously it's pretty dang near that great.

The illustrations are just brilliant. And it must be the writer (aka. NOT artistic in any way, shape, or form!) in me because every time I look at it I think about how my job was a piece of cake compared to the work that the illustrator did......... AMAZING!!

Can't wait to get it out to all my family and friends and the public - soon!!!

Fun Stuffs 2.0

Yo, Yo!!

So I don't know if you know this but, I am turning thirty in a coupla weeks. I don't really give a shit because people still don't even believe I am old enough to drink. Especially when I go home to Montana and give the waitress my Hawaiian I.D. They glare at me, shake their heads and walk away. I smile and think, "When that stops happening, I'm gonna be sad."

So, I'm not too hung up on the big three-oh. I am hung up on the joint party me and my friend are having. It's a clam-bake, sailor-attire, keg-a-PBR drinkin' shindig and I just got this from ebay.

You can't really tell but it's a customized captain's hat!! YESSS!!!

I also got my husband a sailor hat, we are going to write "Cabin Boy" on it. He's pretty excited. I also just scored this parrot ring that I will wear with the above hat at above mentioned party.

I mean really, how could I not have spent $3.50 on this baby????

If this all isn't enough for you guys, I forgot I also ordered some fun stuffs that was on sale, but because I live in the middle of the ocean, the stuff takes FOREVER to get here so I forget about it until the mail lady leaves it on my lanai.

Items such as these........

Well, technically not the gold head band, but the awesome old-man glasses. I hope to get my prescription lens put in but will have to take them to my Eye Doc. to see if he will do that....please keep your fingers crossed......

I also thought this T-Shirt was hilarious, a little outdated for the joke, but hilarious none-the-less. I hope to rock it on the golf course with my pink golf clubs and matching golf hat sooner rather than later. (For the record: The old Hawaiian guys always laugh when I rock up with my pink clubs and pink plaid golf hat but when they see my game, they ain't laughing so hard - suckas.)

Could be mistaken for beastiality but I ain't even gonna go there......

So - those are the fun stuffs this time around.

Heading to visit my family in a week on the mainland. Me mum doesn't have Internet at her house (She's so old-school, ay?) so I may not be able to write about all my Montana shenanigans, but many of you readers will be hanging out with me so that's even better!!

I will try to get one last shout-out in before I head to Mon-tucky.........