Mon-Chee-Chee Mon-Chee-Chee, Oh So Soft And Cuddly. Except In Mexico Where You Act Like D-Bags. Mexico Part Dos.

It has been a few weeks you guys, and you know how it is: You wait months to go on your fantastic vacation and it feels like forever and then it finally comes and then goes by so quickly. Like, about 5 minutes after you get home and back into Mommy Mode and your kid acts like a wanker and then breaks his arm and you have to deal with Houston traffic and you forget the vacation ever happened. Still....It's so totally worth it.

Ok....So our first day there we decided to walk up the beach to check things out. The next thing I know The Hub is saying "Monkeys! Monkeys!" The man knows how much I love them, and have always wanted to hold one. One time we were at a party and there were little monkeys in dresses but the stupid lady who had them wouldn't let anyone hold them. Really? Then take them home! Or at least don't put them in mother-effing dresses AND CUTE LITTLE BONNETS if you don't want anyone to want to hold them, you jackhole!  I was totally pissed! But the guys who had these Mexican monkeys were letting you hold them and have your photo taken for 5 bucks. Really? 5 bucks? Cuz I would pretty much give them the entire contents of The Hub's wallet plus a dry humping for a chance to hold a friggin' monkey. They had two, and at first I was drawn to the teeny tiny one with the mohawk, but the more I looked at him the more I thought he looked like a punk a-hole. The bigger one was not as cute, but looked much nicer. Obviously I am not a good judge of monkey character, cuz here's what happened:

So the monkey was sitting on my arms. So far so good. Then the dude is all "Let's put him on your shoulder!" And so since I assumed that this guy new what he was doing, I was all "Yeah! That sounds amazing!" And so he sits on my shoulder. And things are going well. And I'm happy. Then something pisses the monkey off. I'm pretty sure the monkey guy gave him some sort of hand signal that meant "Kill this stupid blonde girl so her husband will be distracted and we can totally steal his wallet!" And then the monkey a-hole went bonkers and started to pull my hair and yell at me. And The Hub didn't really care. So he wasn't distracted. And it all happened so fast. So the monkey guys didn't even get to steal his wallet. Obviously they overestimated Steve's love for me. And of course the guys didn't photograph the attack, so I had to draw it in crayon for you. And I made myself look much cuter in the drawing cuz in real life I had no makeup on and was sweaty and windblown and looked like a doofus. You're welcome.

When you love monkeys as much as I do (did) and you've waited about 35 years to hold a real live one instead of a plastic thumb-sucking Mon-Chee-Chee, and the real live one turns out to be a total douchebag, it is very disheartening. It's like if I finally got to meet Paul Rudd and after I hugged him and told him how much I loved him, he started pulling my hair and screaming in my ear. Not cool, Paul. Not cool at all.

And I'm starting to think that the animal kingdom has an issue with my hair. A few years ago when my suspicions about crows being a-holes were confirmed, it involved my hair. I was at the zoo with some friends, and while they were all looking at the big map a crow dove down, landed on my head, pecked it once, and flew away. I was like, "Oh my god! Did you guys see that? That hurt!" And everyone was like "What are you talking about?" And I'm all "That giant crow just attacked me!" And they're all "Yeah, ok. Whatever." And went back to looking at their maps. Then the d-bag crow did it again! Only this time when he landed he held on to my hair tight with his stupid claw feet and pecked my head like a mo-fo. And this time Ethan was pointing and yelling, so everyone looked up from their stupid map and felt like insensitive losers. Because this time I had blood on my head and the crow was trying to fly away but his feet were stuck in my hair and if he had been stronger, you guys, he woulda flown off with me and totally murdered me and fed me to his babies. Or sold me into some kind of crow slavery situation where I'd have to live out the remainder of my days in a treetop somewhere making out with birds. And I'm pretty open to new/weird things, but being a crow slave is not one of them.

So anyway,  now I'm in the market for a new animal to be my #1 obsession. I'm leaning toward miniature horses, but I know that horses can be unpredictable a-holes too. Because I've been bitten by one. Had one try to eat my shirt. And been bucked off of two. And you're probably thinking that if I had a miniature horse I wouldn't try to ride it. But you'd be really wrong. But at least I wouldn't have far to fall. But I can tell you one thing. My new obsession won't be a badger. Or an iguana. Cuz those guys don't have any respect for boundaries. I don't either. But I don't have to cuz I'm awesome and I'm human and they're animals. 

When I'm on the beach, I like to sleep with windows/doors open. Whatever it takes to hear the waves and feel the breeze. Well, when I mentioned this to our Bartender/Waiter Roberto, he said that he wouldn't recommend that because once a badger got into someones room and another time an iguana got in. So The Hub said we were gonna leave the doors open anyways, because (a) we had a moat, and (b) neither of those things were gonna hurt us if they got in. And I'm like "Dude! I've heard about badgers! They are total badasses! Why do you think high school sports teams are named after them? Haven't you heard of teams called things like 'The Fighting Badgers'? I'm pretty sure they kill people. And don't iguana's bite? I mean they're cute and all, but do I wanna wake up with one in my bed? N-O!" And Steve says that since there is a language barrier, they probably mean a mouse or something and the Spanish word for it is badger. And since I like the ocean breeze and waves so much, I decided we could leave it open.

Above is a photo of our "Moat". Which is actually totally useless without Sharks, Piranhas or Crocodiles.  And although Steve thought the killer animal-less moat was enough to protect us, I decided to build a Badger Barrier out of furniture, towels, and The Hub's belt, which I used as a makeshift lock. The Hub said that my lame barrier wouldn't keep anything out, but it made me feel better. And if anything got in and totally attacked and ate Steve in his sleep, at least I could say that I did something to try and prevent it. And like I told you before, Vacation Hub is not the brightest bulb and I really didn't trust his ability to judge our safety. Or lack thereof. And one morning I saw this:

These are definitely mother-effing Chupacabra marks, you guys. So really, I almost died on  this vacation twice. And I pretty much think Mexican animals/creatures suck balls.

And on one beach walk we saw some kind of hatches in the sand and I told The Hub that I thought that they were hatches to The Looking Glass, which is the ocean station that Charlie died in on Lost. And I told him we should try to open it. Then I got all sad about Charlie, cuz he'd gotten off drugs and was in love with Claire and was really doing good before he went and drowned. And another day on a beach walk, we went on an awesome jungle path and it totally reminded me of Lost again. And I told The Hub that if we got lost, instead of focusing on the polar bears and monsters and Others, we were gonna spend our time building really cool Casitas and Palapas and stuff and make everything much more resorty and fun. And I decided that the Lost people were probably just kinda lazy and pretty easily distracted. And then I heard a noise and crouched down to the ground and saw a few sets of khaki-clad legs walk by, which I told The Hub looked just like the legs the castaways saw when they first discovered The Others. And that was when I realized that I would probably get distracted too. And then I saw a tropical plant that looked perfect for using as a female urination device, ala The Whiz, which would really help me to pee lots easier if we were lost in the jungle, but not quite as easy as if he had just bought me the damn whiz thing is the first place. And that's when he said, "You just pretty much always have some kind of narrative going on, don't you?" And I said that yes, yes I do.

This leaf would totally work as a pee funnel if I needed it. Which The Hub said I didn't at the present moment.

And one day when we were walking around downtown, some local guy asked The Hub if he wanted to buy some pot. HE ASKED THE HUB! Which I found totally hysterical since he looks nothing like a guy who would ever buy pot. I even told him he was imagining it and that he probably misunderstood him. Then later he claims her heard the guy ask another person, so I decided to believe him. I guess that Super-Relaxed Vacation hub also looks like a stoner.

And at one point we went into a store that had these mannequins:

I know that lots of chicks are into getting boob jobs nowadays, but I don't really think  that our mannequin population needs to get on that bandwagon. Cuz, ya know, at first I thought "Cute dress!" Then I realized that there was really no point in me trying it on because there was no way in Hell that my boobies were gonna fill that out. Is this what the Mexican population thinks that white women's boobs look like? Really? Then the locals must've thought me and my regular boobies were total freaks of nature.

And this ending sucks balls, but this post is waaaay too long and I'm starving. So...The End.

Spring Break. Why MTV Cameras Don't Film Mine Is Beyond Me.

Once again, I lied to all of you. I cannot be trusted. When are you gonna learn?

I said I was gonna write more about Mexico this week, but that's gonna have to wait until next week. And I'm probably gonna have to make it all up because at this point I really don't remember much. And you know what the interesting thing about me is? When I make stuff up it's not nearly as good as the real stuff. I'm the kind of person who doesn't really need to make stuff up because weird crap just happens in my vicinity. Sometimes I am involved and sometimes I am not. But it happens.

Anyway....this week was Spring Break week for us. And because my child is gifted and not at all clumsy, just like me, he went and Spring Broke his arm. But at least he broke it by falling out of a tree this time, and not from falling off a couch, like he did last time. Falling out of a tree is much more manly than falling 12 inches. And this time he got a waterproof cast. Which is totally rocking my world. When you have a regular old cast on a 4th grade boy, I assume things get pretty dirty and stinky pretty damn fast. I shudder to think about it.  So 2 days after the ER visit, we went to my Carpal Tunnel/Bone Spur Shoulder F@cktastrophe Doctor (more on that another time) and he walked in the room and saw Ethan, then me, and was like, WTF? So I told him I like coming in to see him so much that I am now just breaking the bones of my family members so I can see him more often. He laughed, yet looked slightly frightened. And there was a poster on the wall of a hip and Ethan asked if he had a bomb in his hip  like the person on the poster does:

Totally looks like a hip bomb. And I probably have one. Cuz that's just how effed up I am.

And since we got the world rockin' waterproof cast, we got to go to 6 Flags and he got to get drenched on all the water rides. And while I waited for the boys to ride things that I wasn't into, I met lots of interesting people. Which is one of my favorite things to do at theme parks. Or anywhere, really. Once when the boys were in a line for over an hour, I got the life stories of about 5 people. One of the worst things that ever happened to me was when we went to Disneyland a few years ago when I had just lost my voice from that stupid a-hole Dr. who paralyzed my cord, and I saw hundreds of interesting people and couldn't talk to any of them. I almost needed sedating.

This is Ethan, me, and TJ (the nephew) at 6 Flags. Still dry.

And we got home late last night. And I was tired. I am too old for theme parks. On the way out of the park I saw Tweety Bird and I didn't even try to P-Hug him. Or her. I never could figure that situation out. If I see a person in a furry costume and I do not attempt a P-Hug, you know that things just aren't right. (If you are a newbie and clueless about P-Hugs, you can either consider yourself lucky, or you can click here.)

And I'm super duper tired today. It's 8 o'clock and I'm pretty much done for. But even though I was exhausted all day I still went to Pilates and Physical Therapy. And I really didn't even whine too much. And I was still chatty. Cuz it takes a lot to kill my chattiness. And when I got home I even cleaned my closet. And believe me you guys....THAT is a chore. When I was done, Ethan gave me this snack because, and I quote, "You've been working so hard cleaning your closet that I thought you could use a nice snack for energy."

How cute is that?

So basically, I've been busy this week. And most of the people I know are gone anyway. So I'd be writing about Mexico for nothing. And I know this is all totally boring, but it is what it is people. Some people go to Cancun and drink too much and sleep with strangers and maybe get on some Girls Gone Wild videos. Me? I go to 6 Flags and clean my closet. I'm wild like that.

Anyway, before I go I want to share photos of a few gifts I got this week:

Thank you Cathy AND Anne, who both got me these awesome mustaches. Now I have enough for two weeks of extreme sexiness. Plus, never again will I get confused and wear The Sherrif on a Monday cuz I now know Monday is for Heroes.

Thank you Jeanette, for these awesome chip clips. They are amazing. But they're making me fat, because I now can't stay away from the chips!

And recently my friend Shari gave me a mustache beer glass and a container of mustache bandages. Now I can fill my mustache glass with beer, get drunk, fall down, hurt myself, and bandage myself up with mustaches. My life is now complete. For reals. I'm so lucky to have such nice friends and readers who spend their hard earned money getting me weird stuff. And then there's Melissa, who posted on my FB today that she saw some cool mustaches yesterday and thought of me. To which I replied "Thanks for buying them for me, you Jackwagon." Buy me something or don't buy me something. But don't tell me about the awesome thing that you didn't buy me. That's such a Steve-goes-to-Australia-and-doesn't-buy-me-the-whiz kinda move.

ADHD Has Totally Invaded My Brain. Oh...And I'm Kinda Like Snow White. But Can't Remember The Words To Any of Her Songs.

Yesterday was an ADHD day for me. I got NOTHING done. Well, except Pilates. And Physical Therapy. And lunch with Melissa. Who went and got herself knocked up. Not at lunch. And not by me. By someone else. A few months ago. I assume it was her husband, but she really hasn't said. And it's not something I would ever ask someone, since, you know, I have such decorum and shit. So I just use my blog to insinuate these things. Cuz that's how I roll. And if you're my friend then you totally expect it. But I'm all cranky with Melissa because we had plans to go to the Roller Derby and the drag bar and now she's with child and she can't do fun things. And she doesn't seem to want me to go to the Roller Derby without her, but I said hey...I'm not the one who got herself all knocked up. I know all about birth control. Not. My. Problem.

I didn't mean to write about all that. It was not pre-meditated, Melissa. And I suppose I could go back and change her name to protect her identity, but (a) I'm too lazy, and (b) she has pregnancy brain and will forget this ever happened. But she also has pregnancy hormones so before she forgets about it she will probably cry. Good luck with that episode, Melissa's husband.

Anyway, I am writing to tell you guys that I will continue my Mexico stuff next week. I've had trouble concentrating this week. I've still got Mexico brain. But I had 15 minutes to kill so I thought I'd write something. Even if it is lame. It so is.

My friend Cathy and I went on a walk this morning and I thought for sure that I saw a a monkey crossing the street at me. I would not be surprised at all if that a-hole followed me home from Mexico (more on him next week), and so I was frightened for a minute. Then I realized (actually, Cathy realized. Cuz I was too scared to deduce) that it was a squirrel with a monkey tail. Totally weird. And totally Mother Nature effing with me. So I decided he was cute and I here squirrely here squirrely'd him and he came to me. And he got on my shoe and looked at me and made little monkey-tailed squirrel noises. Then he went to climb a tree. And I followed him. And I tried capture him before he got too high. And Cathy was saying "You are NOT taking a squirrel home!" Like she's the boss of me. And she seemed frightened yet impressed with my animal prowess. And I told her that I'm exactly like Snow White. Except more whorey. And I don't have a bunch of midget slaves. Which sucks for me. Then she said her stomach hurt. I think it was from laughing at me but she may have been periody. I didn't ask. (Decorum)

So I called The Hub to tell him about the squirrel and how I can talk to animals like that dog whisperer talks to dogs. Which I can also do. Ask Anne. One time, when her dog was digging holes in the yard I talked to him for her. He still dug the holes. But that's because he's an a-hole and not because he didn't hear me and totally get what I was saying. But anyway, I called Steve and he said what was wrong with me? Did I want to get rabies? And I said that the squirrel-monkey looked very young and not at all rabied and was too young to have them yet. And he said they get them from their mom's when they're born. Like he's a squirrel-monkey expert or something. Like he knows anything about rodent/primates. And I said what...do they get them from the vaginal canal like a herpes baby? And is it really fair to assume this particular squirrel-monkey's mom was the rodent/primate equivalent of a herpes whore? No. No it's not. And I'm thinking that if this squirrel-monkey was born by c-section then he's totally rabies free. Which is possible. Cuz you guys, we don't know what's going on their world. Think about it.

Ok...so while I was writing that paragraph, The Boy came home and asked for a snack. So I went into the kitchen and HOLY CRAP BALLS there was a freakin' Tarantula in my kitchen. I am not kidding. I have not seen a spider that big in years. The last time was at our old house when I was home alone and this alien spider got in and I put an upside down tupperware bowl over it and stacked about a hundred books on top. Then sat on the kitchen island and stared at it. For about an hour. Until The Hub got home. That's normal, right? I'm not gonna go killing anything that big because it's like squishing a mouse. It's just gross. So anyway, there was one of these d-bags in my kitchen just standing there like he owns it, and I admittedly lost my shit. And thank god The Boy was here because he came running, and I pointed at it like a catatonic freak, and he said "Don't worry. I got this loaded." And he grabbed a shoe and took care of it. But it took 3 hits. Because it was enormous. And while screaming, I scooped it into a dustpan and dumped it in the toilet. And here is a picture of it:

This is the spider in my toilet. Which is only clean because my housekeeper was just here. And he's squished and shriveled. So remember that he was much bigger before The Boy went into attack mode.  And I've added some pictures to help you get some perspective and see just how big he was pre-attack/death. These are all quite accurate. Trust me on this.

I gave birth to a terminator. So I pretty much rock. But I think that being a Snow White animal magnet sucks if it's gonna go magnetizing big ass spiders to my vicinity.

So I Went To Mexico. I Also Gained 6 Pounds. Even In Paradise Margaritas Have A Buttload Of Calories.

Ok, so like I told you guys, I was on vacation last week. And I sat it that chair all day. And I didn't announce it on here beforehand, because (a) The Hub got mad that I recently announced that he was out of the country and invited murderers to come and have a drink with me and get all murdery on me, and (b) I wasn't sure that his parents (who were watching the boy) could really handle themselves against murderers or kidnappers if it came down to that. They're just really nice, and I really don't think that they possess my extreme ass-kicking skillz. So I just refrained from talking about my trip on here. And it was hard. Because I like to blab about everything. EVERYTHING. So this was really something huge, you guys. The fact that I didn't tell you. Also, I thought if I told you then some of you would want to tag along. And while I would have enjoyed that, The Hub probably wouldn't. And he's the one who's paying. So anyway, now you all know that I can keep a secret. So feel free to tell me some. Please. And I promise I (probably) won't write about it. Unless, you know, it's really, really juicy.

Anyway, if you are a friend of mine, then you know all about a wonderful creature called "Vacation Steve". This is a magical creature more rare than a unicorn, although not quite as amazing, due to the fact that Vacation Steve is a person and not an awesome white horse with a horn and a rainbow mane (yes, my dream unicorn has a rainbow mane. And wears a crown. And can dance. And also talks in a british accent). But he's still pretty great. "Vacation Steve" rocks my world. He is super-relaxed. Super-agreeable. Super patient with all of my antics. He seems to think that almost everything I do or say is cute. Vacation Steve doesn't really comprehend money, and is not able to do the maths. He even asked me to do some maths. ME! Vacation Steve is also kinda clueless. Vacation Steve really, really, REALLY sucks at scrabble (I kicked his ass multiple times, even after many margaritas, and even though he would not accept the word "weenieflaw" thereby costing me 30 points...Dude, let's say someone's weenie has a scar or something -I don't know how or why someone would have a scar on there, maybe because they denied their wife her rightful Scrabble points, I don't know, but let's say they do- THAT would be called a weenieflaw. Duh). Vacation Steve is the perfect man. And by the time we were in the air on the way to Mexico, I had Vacation Steve all to myself.

The first day at our resort, we had a few (too many?) drinks and then went back to our room, where Vacation Steve made me the happiest woman in the whole world. Get your minds outta the gutter, people. He made me happy by trying to sexily swagger into the room and walking straight into the glass sliding door. Hard. With me on the other side, witnessing the smackdown up close. One second he looked sexy, then the next second he slammed his face into the glass, then looked confused, then angry at the nerve of the door for being in his way. And I literally fell down and laughed harder than I think I've ever laughed. Sure, I guess my reaction made him feel like I didn't care, because he kept saying "Don't worry, I'm OK. Thanks for asking." But holy crap you guys, that was one of the funniest things that I have ever seen in my life. And every time I thought about it last week, I laughed so hard I cried. Literally. So... Thank You, Vacation Steve. Best. Thing. Ever. Oh...and I'm glad you're ok.

I told Vacation Steve that if we chatted up any fellow vacationers (which is usually my main thing to do on vacation),  I was to be referred to as "Striker". Striker is a pro-bowler (due to the carpal tunnel wrist thing I have to wear looking like a bowlers wrist thing, according to my friend Stephanie) who gave birth to 10 children for the sole purpose of being able to use them as human pins so she could practice at home, thereby saving money on bowling alley use.  Cuz duh....Striker has 12 mouths to feed and not a lot of extra cash to waste. I asked Steve what his story was, and he said he was a mute/catatonic, I suppose because he is not a chatty kinda guy. Even when he's Vacation Steve. Bo-ring. But unfortunately, the fellow resorters were not chatty. At all. And Steve found it somewhat disturbing and out of character for me that I was not talking to everyone in my path. And so did I. But these people gave a definite "Don't talk to me" vibe. Which usually makes me wanna talk to them even more, but since they all looked very coupley and honeymoony, I decided to leave them alone. Which Steve also found surprising, since I really don't have any boundaries or respect for other peoples boundaries. Even though I was dying, DYING to know their stories, I refrained from invading their space, and instead I just made stories up. Which is fine with me.  But they may have come off better with the truth than they did with what my imagination told me. Oh well. Their loss.

We had two women at our resort (mother and daughter, we think) who liked to go topless. Which was interesting. And hard not to look at. And this gave me an amazing amount of entertainment every day. Especially after I finished my book and had nothing to do while Steve read his. Vacation Steve is very relaxey, but he'll still shoot you a death glare if you try to talk to him while he tries to read. And since Vacation Steve is not super smart, it takes more concentration for him to read. I totally get it. So I entertained myself for days by laying in my beach chair and watching men walk by, and seeing how long it took for them to notice that there were naked boobies on full display. I would narrate (what I believed to be) their thoughts as they made the amazing discovery. It generally went something like this: "Oh, what a beautiful day! Boy, I'm having a nice stroll! Look at those waves. Amazing. And this sand! It's so white and....Boobies! Boobies! Boobies! Two sets of boobies! That's four whole boobies! Boobies! Boobies! Now look back at the ocean so the wife doesn't know you're looking at the boobies. The fantastically naked boobies. Now smile at the wife so she thinks you're thinking about her. Ok. She bought it. Now turn back to the right...Boobies! Boobies! Boobies! I! Love! Boobies!" So basically, you guys, in case you didn't know...men like boobies. A lot. And you know what? I like watching men discover boobies. It's like watching a child open a Christmas gift that they really, really wanted. Watching tons of men, one by one, discover these naked boobies...well, it brought me joy. They've been looking at the same old boobies for God knows how many years, and here were some surprise beach boobies. Like a gift from Heaven. The joy was contagious. But I will tell you one thing that I learned about boobies: Naked beach boobies and water shoes don't mix. Walking topless across a beach with big rubber water shoes on is NOT sexy. They're like clown shoes. And a naked clown in clown shoes would look ridiculous. Although there's probably someone out there who thinks that would be hot. But they're stupid.

So I have more vacation stuff to talk about, but I just realized this is really long and my stupid carpal tunnel is acting up. So I will continue later, and just leave you with 2 more photos:

This is me at THE BEST BAR EVER! Drinking beer + swinging = happiness in my book. Plus, when people really get their drink on it has got to be amazing to watch. Cuz what could possibly go wrong combining swings and drunk people?

And this picture looks weird because I took it in the dark and had to adjust the colors and crap so you guys could see it. But basically, it's Steve thinking about killing me. With that knife. This was near the end when I think he'd had about enough of me. I took this photo for proof. Just in case I disappeared. But of course he'd try to hide it. So after I took this with my iphone, I sent it to my friend so there'd be proof. I'm always one step ahead, so he'd better watch his ass.

I'm Not Dead. But I Spent Most Of The Past Week Horizontal, Half-Naked, and Bloated.

Don't worry you guys....I am bloated from beer and guacamole, but I am alive, relaxed, and well.

I know some of you thought I died. My FB friends were wondering where I went, since they can always count on me to post something stupid at least once a day. And after the quarantine week from hell, I can understand how some of you could think that I maybe ran away from home. Well, I did. I went to here:

And I laid in a chair and looked at this all day:

Don't hate me. I would have taken you all with me if I could. True story.

I missed you guys and I missed being online for a week. Believe me. I felt really out of touch. One morning Steve said something along the lines of "I feel like I don't know what's going on in the world", and I said "Yeah, me too! I wonder who won the Oscar's, and I wonder how James Franco did with the hosting. I bet he sang something. And probably danced. Because that guy does everything. He's nominated for a freakin' Academy Award! He's really smart. He's getting graduate degrees at two Universities. And he films movies in between classes. He's a published author. He paints. He's on General Hospital, just for fun. When he doesn't have that mustache, he pretty much rocks." And Steve said "I was thinking more about what was happening in Egypt or in the stock market. But your stuff is probably more important."

Still, we survived 5 days together. 

So anyway, I'm back. And within the next few days I will get my ass in gear and tell you about my trip. Preview: A monkey sat on my shoulder. And I think we both enjoyed it for about 15 seconds. Then he had to go and be an a-hole.