Motherhussy

Generic Beach Scene

posted by Anonymous @ 1:35 PM 4 comments

President McKinley Assasinated!

posted by Anonymous @ 1:31 PM 2 comments

1979

So today I found this ultra-cool, super swank, mega-hip station on iTunes. I’m listening to it right now as I type, although I shouldn’t even be typing—I should be vacuuming, but I’m not—I’m typing. Anyway, the station is Luxuria Music. I’m not going to review the station much more than to say that it kicks polyester-blend, terry-cloth covered ass! The station plays the kind of stuff you may hear while sitting on an orange couch, wearing a brown turtleneck sweater and cotton-knit blend bellbottoms, as you get ready to gingerly sip an ice-cold Tab. That’s EXACTLY what it sounds like. So, that’s the extent of my review on Luxuria Music.

While listening to the station I drifted off and started imagining, what would it be like to live in the 70s? With all the happy trumpets, tambourines, and “bom-bom-ba-da-da-doms”, I imagine it was nothing short of Eden. I was only present for a mere year in the 70s, so I can’t say that I remember much about it—although I do have a picture of me wearing a pair of plastic pants and looking much like a stoned 7-month-old, so that only supports my notion of the 70s being paradisiacal.

To support my exaggeratedly positive attitude about the 70s, I’ve compiled a short list of “What Was Good About the 70s” (Not to be compared with VH1s “I Love the 70s”).

1. I was born in the 70s
2. Women’s Lib gained steam
3. Pink Floyd and Led Zeppelin
4. Shaft and Bruce Lee
5. All the many shades of brown one could find on the television screen
6. LHTP—beeyotches!
7. Gerald Ford on the Simpson’s…oh, wait—that’s present day
8. The Girl from Ipanema –oh, wait—that was the 60s
9. Shaggy hair?
10. Scooby Doo?
11. That noise that people could make on the keyboard that sounded like extraterrestrial humming…you know that sound, don’t you?
12. Jimmy Carter?
13. That “bow-chica-bow-wow” that guitars could only make from 1970-1979

Okay, I can’t really think of much more to add to the list. Damnit! If I were only born earlier, this would have been a good blog. Anyway, give Luxuria Music a spin, “you won’t be sorry for long”.

posted by Anonymous @ 5:33 PM 2 comments

When the Honda Element first came out, I was dead-set on the fact that it was horribly odd looking and I would never drive one. Well, I'm still not driving one, but I'm actually starting to think they're pretty hip. I credit most of my newfound insight to their commercials. For those of you who aren't familiar with these commercials, please visit:

www.elementandfriends.com

I think I like the commercials because the voice of the Element reminds me of my sister's ex-husband Randy. Basically, when I knew Randy, he was a pot-smoking snowboarder that watched a lot of Cartoon Network. At age 20, that was okay by me as long as he was cooking for us. Randy was a pretty good cook too, smart pot smokers usually learn to cook well. If they're smart.

This blog doesn't have much purpose, only to spread the word of the funny commercials put forth in the name of the Honda Element. Although I may never buy one, I can imagine who would.

posted by Anonymous @ 6:11 PM 6 comments

Holy Reading

Recently I’ve been turned on to the author Anne Lamott. I’m sure that some of you have read her stuff, but if you haven’t I highly recommend it. Her writing is a pure, unadulterated, insanely humorous joy to read. I’m not talking about the cheesy, manipulative “Chicken Soup for the Suicidal Soul” or anything like that. I’m talking about they type of joy that you experience when you find out that the neighbor you thought was perfect in every way, is actually having an affair with the sleazy guy at the used Honda car lot in Lomita—that type of joy. I think it’s referred to as “Shadenfreude”.

Some of the joy I derive from her books stems from the fact that she and her son either get along wonderfully, or don’t get along at all. I experience that on a daily basis with Cody and Colton and I used to think that I was bi-polar parenting and needed to get back on drugs, or start drinking again on a regular basis. Come to find out it’s semi-normal to one minute wish you had sold your children on the black market for a sizable sum, and the next minute wish that you had a millions of dollars so you could buy a small island for your children to rule exactly as they pleased. I just thought I was going insane. I know, I know. It’s old news to many parents that parenting is both an eternal albatross and a blessing lottery at the same time. But to me, I feel I’m just becoming aware of the fact that it’s okay not to always enjoy what I’m doing as a mother, and wish for something else. I think it’s only fair for me to feel this way since often I am told, “Mom, you’re the best mom on the whole-wide-world” and then seven minutes later I’m told, “You’re the worst freaking Mom ever!” Usually the second phrase is accompanied by a door slamming, and/or something cute and stuffed being thrown hard enough to leave marks on exposed skin.

Another reason I find joy in Anne’s books (yes, we’re on a first name basis now) are her views on religion and faith. She has a way of describing Jesus, God, and Saints so they aren’t scary. I’ve been brought up thinking that 99% of the time God wanted to kick my ass for something. I’ve been brought up thinking that I’m a sinner, and as hard as I try I will never be what I ought to be. To me religion, and all the commandments that come along with believing, felt like someone telling me that I have to dig to the center of the molten Earth with a KFC spork, and once I started digging with the spork—I was told that I could never do it, that I would never make it to the center of the Earth—but keep on going anyway, jackass. It seemed pointless. So, when it came to religion in the past—I just gave up. It was easier to just pull away from organized religion and try my best to abstain from murder, adultery, and prison. I could do that. Once I pulled away from the scary God—I started forming my opinion on what my God was like. Yes, my God. My personal belief is that since we are all unique like snowflakes, and none of us are exactly alike in thought, spirit, or being—that we must have our own unique relationship with God, our own God. My God was going to be a kind, understanding, easy-going, accepting (but not too accepting) God—for starters. This is the type of God I find throughout Anne Lamott’s books. In one her book “Plan B: Further Thoughts on Faith” she writes about Jesus maybe not always going to the mountains to pray when things got heavy, but possibly instead throwing back a beer or two and “then he may have gone bowling, slinging the ball bitterly down the alley until he felt better.” I like that visual a lot.

As a few of you know, I’ve been experiencing religion again—it seems for the first time. I’m experiencing religion with a pair of “just woken up” eyes. I’m looking around and religion is everywhere. It’s in the news, it’s on the streets, and it’s in every single person in the world. Even the absence of religion is a religion in itself. I’m not necessarily considering myself “born again” or anything of that nature—just becoming aware. In this time of my personal religious awareness, it’s nice to have an author like Anne Lamott who can in one sentence be writing about coming down off of cocaine, and in the next sentence be writing about the grace of God. Isn’t that when we need God the most anyway, when we are at our worst? When we hate ourselves and our surroundings, when we think that we’ve sunk the deepest we can sink, when we think that there is nobody there that understands—that’s when we need to find a God we can have a beer and go bowling with.



p.s. readers: Did I mention that I didn't find Anne Lamott on my own? A BIG thank you, thank you, thank you to Katherine for turning me on to Anne! (how's that for props?)

posted by Anonymous @ 12:52 PM 3 comments

Objects In Mirror May Be Closer Than They Appear

posted by Anonymous @ 3:53 PM 3 comments

Think Fast!

posted by Anonymous @ 2:31 PM 4 comments

Random Shout Out to the Tiny Handful of Semi-Regular Readers of this Blog (In No Particular Order)

Columbia, Missouri
Tuscon, AZ
Alpine, UT
Las Vegas, NV
O-Hi-O
Long Beach, CA
Mountain View, CA
Torrance, CA (That's me reading my own blog. I just gave a shout out to myself. I don't think that's sad at all.)

posted by Anonymous @ 8:40 PM 5 comments

Random Shout-Out to Friends I've Lost (in no particular order)

Carrie E.
Michele and Liz
Lizette and Jenae
Cally S.
Megan C.
Laura Y.
Daisy W.
Kyle O.
Brant
Mindy H.
Mike R.
Mike H.
Sara
Allan
Dave L.

If I've left off anyone, you aren't my friend--or you ARE my friend. I will add you to the list when you become NOT my friend for some reason or another.

*FYI: These people are not dead (not that I'm aware of) we just lost contact when they became pregnant or married or when I became pregnant or married. Either that or I was just an asshole to them.

RIP--I still think of you all from time to time.

posted by Anonymous @ 7:28 PM 5 comments

Be Strong

"I must rise above it, it is a concoction of sugar and fillers--a mere confection," I said to myself. But I knew, deep down inside, as much as I tried to fight it, I would eventually succumb to the fluffy goodness that went by the curious name of "marshmallow peep".

posted by Anonymous @ 3:37 PM 7 comments

Contacts

The receptionist at the eye doctor probably wouldn't have been as nice to me this morning had she known that when she called to confirm my appointment, I took the call in a pair of 99 cent panties--AND NOTHING ELSE!

Add that to the list of "Things You Can Only Do While Your Children Are Away Visiting Their Old Man in Utah".

posted by Anonymous @ 1:43 PM 5 comments

While the Mice are Away

I don’t know if I’m the only parent that does this, but when my children leave out of town or to a friend’s house overnight, my level of responsibility drops to that of a newly emancipated teen. Let me add to that last description—a newly emancipated lazy teen. Let me add to that even further—a newly emancipated lazy, unhealthy teen. I could add more describing words to that one sentence (reckless, wild, undisciplined, unruly, disrespectful, gravy), but then that would end up being my whole blog, and nobody wants that. What I’m meaning to say is that having the children gone is often like being young and having your parents leave for the weekend. It’s little scary and a lot of fun.

Normally, as you all know, my schedule is fairly hectic starting from the time I wake up to hear Anthony’s sweet voice lulling, “Bitch! Get in the shower! You’re going to make the boys late for school, you lazy hussy!” (Just kidding. That would be really sad if he spoke to me that way, but it would be super funny for, like, three seconds before I kicked his ass…HARD!) From dropping the boys off at school, I’m off to work.

The task of digging up kitschy religious publications from underneath the sink in the church office usually keeps me quite busy at work, almost to the point of tears. Actually, I did cry once at the church a long, long, long time ago, but now that I got that out of the way I can focus on finding interesting artifacts in odd corners of the church office. It is a task, let me tell you. After dusting off from work, I often find myself at the library for an hour or so, straining legal research information through my sive of a brain. From the library it’s on to the Esplanade to try to cram in a few minutes of Dr. Laura’s psychotic radio pulpit preaching. (“You need to take care of your man. If you don’t take care of your man, some other slutty woman will take care of your man!”) From there it’s to school to get the boys, home to help them with their homework and make them a snack, all while trying madly to do dishes, prepare dinner, and hide the dust and mold that has settled in the house during my time away at work. It’s exhausting I tell you! Well, all that is going to change for a few days while the boys are in Utah. Actually, it has already.

Currently, while I type this, I am sipping on a Hansen’s vanilla coke—and it’s not diet! To add to the immaturity, I’m sipping it through none other than a Red Vine! For those of you puzzled at this combination, ask any child younger than 10 years of age and they will tell you that Red Vines® are the official soda sipping straw of the adolescent (they will tell you in that in those exact words). Actually, while I type, the straw just slipped into my coke—now it’s a vanilla cherry coke, I guess. Now, I wouldn’t dare trying any of this while Cody and Colton were here. They would immediately mimic the behavior resulting in $500.00 worth of new charges at the dentist, and a long night of caffeine induced boy fights sprinkled with with hysterical impersonations of the entire Desperate Housewives cast. Children’s Benadryl® anyone?

In addition to my childish spell of poor nutrition, I’ve also been indulging in the following:
 Movies that say the “F” word
 Novel reading (normally the only time I get to read is during my afternoon “evacuation”)
 Staying up past midnight
 Waking up after 7:00 am
 Listening to talk radio—24/7!
 Cussing out loud while driving
 Buying meals from places that take longer than six seconds to prepare the food
 Shutting the door on the boys’ room and pretending like it's a guest bedroom for starving artists

Oh, I know, I’m downright evil aren’t I? But I'm sure other parents do this as well. Maybe even worse—I’ve heard of parents that burn effigies of their children while dancing around in the moonlight drunk on mint juleps. Honest. I’m not that bad though. I do miss the little chaps. There was nothing like flying to Utah and sitting there squished lovingly in the middle of them on the plane. Cody leaned up against the window and placed his legs across my lap, while Colton snuggled in to my shoulder and fell asleep. They both slept almost an hour on our way there. At home, they won’t stay still for four seconds, let alone take a nap for an hour. I guess it was the lull of the plane’s engine combined with exhaustion from anticipation. Or it may have been the Children’s Benadryl®. Whatever it was, it was nice spending that time with them in quiet coziness. I bet they had no idea that while I was there cuddling with them, like a teenager plotting a kegger when his/her parents are away at a Christian marriage retreat, I was plotting my wild week without them. They’ll be back on Saturday, so now it’s just a question of what to do next, do I walk around naked in the house or drink milk out of the carton? Do I take a nap in the middle of the day or catch the afternoon version of Oprah?

The possibilities of what I might do are limitless. For now, I think I’ll start off with another round of Red Vines and coke. Huzzah!

posted by Anonymous @ 3:05 PM 4 comments

California is cool...

But you can get some great, cheap shizz at Down East Outfitters in Utah!

posted by jez @ 5:59 PM 6 comments

It was an allergic reaction--to life!

I haven't had much time to blog because I have been too busy feeling sorry for myself. I'm done now, so look forward to some more laughs (or sympathy laughs) from the ever-so-exciting life of Charise, the Motherhussy.

Some adventures I've had this week:

Taking Colton to the doctor's, like, ONE BILLION TIMES only to find out that it was what mother's intuition had initially told me--his rash was an allergic reaction due to his PCP changing his athlete's foot RX mid-week. I (I mean, Anthony) will probably end up paying ONE BILLION DOLLARS to Healthcare Partners for the whole debacle.

I got my first crappy grade in class Tuesday. I guess the A's had to stop sometime, I was getting an ego anyway. After class, I decided to buy some artichokes for dinner at Ralph's. Ralph's didn't have any, so I decided to get a little bit of delicious Alpine Lace swiss cheese for a snack--the deli was closed. My hunger panges not yet defeated, I headed to McDonald's. Two regular hamburgers, please (and a bunch of Big Macs for the men). When I got home and looked in the bag--my hamburgers were no where to be found. I ended up eating a small bowl of shredded wheat, shortly thereafter I spent the remainder of my night crying while I watched Sex in the City.

Wednesday, I cried at work like a PMS-ing pregnant woman (yes, I realize that is impossible, but I wanted to put emphasis on the hormonal factor). It had to happen sooner or later, right? I mean, everyone has at least ONE day at work that they cry, right? Right? Please tell me that you all have cried at work. (FYI: If you ever are in a situation where your coworker is getting all emotional on your a**, cheesy postcards will snap them out of it like a charm)

Thursday--LOVELY THURSDAY! No clouds, sunshine, Diet Coke flowing like nectar from the God's, and I'm leaving the scene of the crime (the crime being my week) for a few days.

Friday--Don't bother me, I'll be in Utah pretending I'm still as cool as I was when I was 21. Did I mention I'm visiting my pregnant sister--she's cool.

posted by Anonymous @ 1:56 PM 5 comments

Because writing about my life is boring....and because I'm starving.

PostSecretRecipe.com (because I steal other peoples ideas and spin them so they entertain me.)

NOW I have an outlet for my creativity and my late night hunger panges.

posted by Anonymous @ 3:01 PM 3 comments

JFK for Pres

posted by Anonymous @ 10:09 AM 10 comments

"I'm Pregnant!"

...is the no-fail, classic April Fool's phrase. It's the lie that keeps on giving, until you actually are pregnant and nobody believes you.

posted by Anonymous @ 7:19 PM 2 comments