2.  Not everyone can be good at geography.

Now I know why when people ask me where I'm from and I say "Long Island" they say - "Oh, New Jersey?" And, um, P.S. it's shaped like a fish, not a loaf of bread you accidently loaded the milk on top of.

3.  I am in Texas, right?  I thought you could carry a gun to Kindergarten in Texas.

4.  Cowboy boots are cool (and so am I).

Text exchange between me & Biggie…

Peeved:  I’m in Texas, what kind of souvenir do you want?

Biggie:  Cool Texas.  Bring me back either a v-neck t-shirt or some other cool thing

Peeved:  Cowgirl hat?

Biggie:  Nooooooo.  I have one. ummmm a cool back pack or something.

Biggie:  No…  I want a cute pair of heels!

Peeved:  How about a bright yellow pair of cowgirl boots?

Biggie:  Yes please.

Peeved:  Would you really wear them?

Biggie: Heck Yes.

Peeved:

Biggie:  Amazing!  I would so wear them.

Peeved:  You know I picked them out, right?  And that I think they’re cool, right?  Biggie…  This is MY daughter, Biggie, right?…

5.  Yep, everything is bigger in Texas all right.

Yes, folks, it is possible for a Shar-Pei and a human to breed. Put. It. Away.

6.  No, they are not paying you enough to wear that outfit.

At first I thought it was just your average atrocity. Then, I realized it was a uniform at one of those tourist dens down on the Riverwalk. Honey... ask for a raise. You certainly ain't going to make a living on tips in that getup.

7.  These people are one degree and five steps away from going rabid and ripping each others carotids out.

A) It’s 100 degrees outside

B) They have no stroller

C) They are wearing blue jeans

D) They are on a “family” vacation

I would have hung around for the show, but I didn’t want to get blood on my good shoes.

8.  It is actually possible to get sick of Mexican food.

There are only so many enchiladas a person can eat. Margaritas, on the other hand, I could drink for breakfast, lunch & dinner.

9.  Even the most comfortable shoes suck after an hour of walking.

These boots may be made for walking, but none of my shoes were. Thank goodness I brought the Pumas!

10.  Hot goose poop rivals two-day dead skunk for most offensive odor on the planet.

What is the difference between a porcupine and a hedgehog?

Do bees poop?

He's been contemplating it for years now...

Why do viking hats have horns on them?

Only the blue ones.

Do hedgehogs have tails?

Maybe this guy would know.

Do airplanes have batteries?

Why is the sky blue?

Why do girls have to wear high heels to work?

Do we come from dinosaurs?

Why won’t God make you give me a puppy?

Hmm…. so, that’s what encyclopedias are for.

Say what you mean, already!

Smalls’ pre-K class is gathered around for circle time and they start off the activities by playing the alphabet song on the CD player.

Smalls: (sticking fingers in her ears) I am so over this song.

Teacher:  Smalls, what’s the matter?  Why are you sticking your fingers in your ears?

Smalls:  Because, Ms. Teacher, I just don’t get it!

Teacher:  What do you mean “you don’t get it,” Smalls?

Smalls:  Well, I just don’t get it.  Is LMNOP one letter?

Teacher:  No, it’s 5 letters.  (writing on board)  See…  L… M… N… O… P.  Five letters.

Smalls:  Then why do they say it LMNOP, like it’s one letter?

Teacher:  Because it goes with the music of the song.

Smalls: (sticking fingers back in her ears)  Well, that’s just silly.  If it’s five letters, they should have made the music fit five letters!

Image from lmnop magazine

 

Never underestimate a four-year-old.

Smalls and my sister-in-law are were walking to the ice cream shop in town the other night.

BabySister: Smalls, you have to hold my hand.

Smalls:  Why, Aunt BabySister?

BabySister:  Because, you know, there are cars on the road and there are strangers…

Smalls:  If I see a stranger, I know what to do.

BabySister:  You do?  What’s your plan?

Smalls:  Well, I would run away as fast I can and I would climb a tree and I would hang upside down like a sloth and then they wouldn’t even know what to do!

BabySister:  Hmm… good plan.

photo courtesy of brazilianfauna.com

 

Don’t try to label me.

Driving home from work on our nightly commute together, I usually ask Smalls about her day…

Peeved:  So, what did you do today?

Smalls:  We learned about animal doctors.

Peeved:  Oh, that’s fun.  Would you like to be an animal doctor when you grow up?

Smalls:  No, when I grow up, I’m going to be Smalls.

Peeved:  No, I mean, what do you want to do as your job when you get older, Smalls?

Smalls:  Job?  I don’t want to WORK!

Peeved:  Well, most people have to work.  If you have to work, what would you want to do.

Smalls:  I want to be a colorer and a painter… NOT an “artist”!

Peeved:  Well, good.  Because being an artist isn’t a job anyway.

photo of a Pollack from ibiblio.org

 

Are you there God?  It’s me, Smalls.

Smalls:  Mommy…  God makes everything, right?

Peeved:  Yes, honey, God made everything in the world.

Smalls:  Then, why did God make me a human?

Peeved:  Because, you were a gift to mommy and daddy and we are humans.

Smalls:  But, I really wanted to be a cheetah!  I didn’t ask to be a human!

Peeved:  Well, I’m sorry honey.  That’s how God made you.

(silence for about 3 minutes…)

Smalls:   Mommy… God is in heaven, right?

Peeved:  Right.

Smalls:  And when you say prayers, they go up to heaven, right?

Peeved:  Yes.

Smalls:  And God is supposed to hear your prayers and answer them, right?

Peeved:  Yes.

Smalls:  (tearing up and whining) Well, then, how come every night I pray that I will wake up as a cheetah and every morning I’m still a stinky human!??

Peeved: Um… (stifling laughter)

kids courtesy of Peeved, cheetah courtesy of... God?

Grease? Yes. Chicago? Yes. Moulin Rouge? Hell yes. Burlesque? Bob Fosse just sashayed in his grave.

Tonight, having been ousted from my room by a Care Bear Movie infatuated four-year-old and booted off the computer by a boy infatuated twelve-year-old, I decided to indulge in a little guilty pleasure: House Hunters International. Don’t judge. At least I don’t yell at the TV like my mom does when the idiots pick the wrong house. Besides, it could be worse… last night it was Real Housewives of Beverly Hills. Oy vey! Anywho… I’m minding my own business and out of nowhere – BAM! – exactly how low we as Americans have stooped slaps me in the face. Vanilla Ice has his own show. No, wait. Vanilla Ice has his own home improvement show. Bob Villa just turned over in his grave.

What? He’s not dead yet? Did you hear that? (dun dun dun dun na na na…) That’s him putting the finishing touches on his custom coffin and getting the table saw ready.

Lord help us all.

ecards.com

I learned how to re-gift from my mother.  She’ll recycle just about anything.  When Biggie was a baby, she pulled out the clothes from the late 70s… um, thanks mom.  Another time, I was eating ravioli in what I thought was a brown sauce…

Stepbrother (let’s call him Stepdoucher – more on that another time): What are you eating?

Peeved:  Ravioli in brown sauce.  Mom made it for me.

Stepdoucher:  Ew.  I bet it tasted better last week when it was ravioli with red sauce.

Peeved: [spit, cough, choke] What??

Mom:  Oh, stop.  It’s fine.  I re-worked it.

***** 

Last year, her and AJenda had a ridiculous re-gift exchange that went something like this:  AJenda buys overpriced bowl set from one of Mom’s hairbrained catalog schemes.  AJenda is pissed that she paid so much money for what she thought was a set of stacking serving bowls big enough to hold chips.  Turns out, they are big enough to hold about two handfuls of peanuts and a couple of MnMs.  AJenda regifts the bowls to Mom for her birthday – “I thought they would look nice in your house.”  Mom, in turn, regifts the bowls to AJenda for her birthday 10 months later – “I felt bad, you ordered them and they go so nice with your house – I hardly used them.”  You can imagine, this did not fly with AJenda.  Come Christmas, there was a familiar looking package under the tree with Mom’s name on it.  My mother, who is the queen of Christmas shopping at Big Lots and Kroger but expects her own gifts to come in small packages and sparkle, just says, “this better not be those damn bowls.”

Alas, this year, there was no reappearance of the damnbowls and Mom did a great job of picking presents.

Mom:  You girls really liked your presents?

AJenda:  Absolutely, the scarf is lovely.

Peeved:  Yep!  I liked mine, too.  My favorite was the little change purse that looked like a vintage purse.

NotBonJovi:  My favorite was the sweatpants!  Thanks Ma!

Mom:  Ha!  I just want to let you know that out of all the gifts, only two are regifts…  the scarf and the little purse!

Peeved:  Well, your regift skills are improving!  Thanks Ma!

Later that night NotBonJovi went to put on his sweatpants.  They were a little short.  They were a ladies XL.

I guess it could have been worse... (photo courtesy of codeodor.com)

For those of you that care where I’ve been for the last three weeks, it went something like this: 

Dec 17 – 22:  Last minute Christmas shopping and decorating the house.

Dec 23: Bieber!  Smalls gets the gift of a stomach bug that keeps on giving.

Ignore the rest of those girls, he was only singing to HER!

Dec 25:  Blessed temporary reprieve from illness and a white Christmas in the South – thank you Santa.

Dec 26:  Peeved gets the gift of a stomach bug that keeps on giving.  Mr. Peeved gets it, too.  You know, just to keep things fun.

Dec 27 – 29:  Netflix!  There is a reason some movies go straight to video.

Dec 30: Sickie remnants, but must clean house and go food shopping for company coming over.

Dec 31 – Jan 2:  House guests!

Jan 3 – 4:  Actual work in the office.  (How do I do this again?)

Jan 5 – 8:  Trip to NY for Grandpa’s funeral.  (Even stuffing my face with pizza and bagels couldn’t make me feel better – believe me, I tried.)

And, now, I’m home and work was cancelled today because we have a blizzard (READ: 3 inches of snow).  I’m about to improvise some sleds, but thought before I do, I better take a moment to check in and give all of you your Christmas presents.  It’s a regift, of course:

• When good intentions go bad
• Mission: Accomplished
• You can’t handle the truth
• So there I was…
• Revenge of the Mom
• Rollin’ in my 5.0
• How to get blood from a stone

... and to all a good night.

Peeved:  Okay, girls, Mommy has to run into Macy’s real quick and pick up some presents for Smalls’ teachers.

Smalls:  Are we getting them Zhu Zhu Pets?

Peeved:  No, Smalls, I think they’d like purses better.

Smalls:  Oh.  Can we stick a Zhu Zhu Pet in the purse?

Peeved:  No.  Let’s just get them purses and then you can make a nice card for them.

Biggie:  Where are we going?

Peeved:  Macy’s.

Biggie:  Oh, cool.  I totally need skinny jeans.  Macy’s has the best skinny jeans.

Peeved:  We are not shopping for skinny jeans.  We are going to get out of the car, go directly to the purses, select three purses, pay for them and leave.  Understood?

Biggie:  But the skinny jeans are right next to the door closest to the purses. I could just…

Peeved:  Here’s the deal.  Ready?  I just need to grab these things real quick.  You all need to behave because Santa is watching and if you don’t behave you’ll get coal in your stocking.  Smalls, you’re in the stroller.  Biggie, you’re pushing the stroller.  You both stay right next to me and offer your opinions if and only when asked.  I need you to be my elves tonight.  We are not shopping for ourselves, we are shopping for gifts for others.  Got it?  Elves.  Helpers.

Biggie:  Fine!

Smalls:  Fine!

I love elfyourself.com - check it out.

*****

A condensed version of the events that took place inside Macy’s on December 13th at approximately 7:03 p.m.:  touch, touch, touch, drop, yell, whine, whine, whine, yell, disappear, reappear, yell, skootch, skootch, skootch the stroller, heart attack – where the hell did Smalls go?, yell, cheer/dance, cheer/dance, cheer/dance, yell, stroller derby, near fatal collision with purse rack, yell, don’t touch your sister-stand right there and don’t move-Smalls get your feet off of the stroller wheels, purchase of the closest three purses, step routine, step routine, step routine, yell, time out in the corner, whine, whine, whine, yell, touch, touch, touch…

****

[In the car on the way home]

Peeved:  I don’t want to hear a word – A WORD! – from either one of you.  Biggie, that was embarrassing and disrespectful.  You are twelve years old and I had to put you in time out in the corner of Macy’s.  You should be ashamed of yourself.  How hard is it to stick your hands in your pockets and behave yourself for five freaking minutes?  I asked you to help me.  You did exactly the opposite.  You think it’s okay to misbehave now because I’ve already done my shopping for you?  Well, you have another thing coming.  Santa doesn’t bring trampolines to kids that don’t behave.  Get my drift?  You need to learn to listen.  I told you not to touch anything and I don’t think there was one item in that store that you didn’t leave a fingerprint on.

Smalls:  Yeah, and she…

Peeved:  I don’t want to hear anything from the Peanut Gallery!

Smalls:  Yeah, well I don’t want to hear anything from the Peanut Butter Jelly Gallery!

Peeved:  Oh no you don’t.  I’m mad at you too.  You were not wearing your listening ears.  Mommy told you to sit in the stroller and what did you do?  You skootched halfway across the store.  I look away for one second and you’re over in Petites walking around with the stroller hanging off your butt.  When we get home, it’s dinner and bed for you.  No show tonight.  Biggie, it’s homework and bed for you, too.  Give me  any lip and I’ll take away your electronics for a week.

****

Peeved:  Here, eat your dinner.

Smalls:  That’s not dinner.  That’s cereal.  I want dinner.

Peeved:  Well, we don’t have anything in the house.  And, after the way you acted in the store, I’m certainly not going food shopping with you.

Smalls:  I want dinner. [lip quiver]  Cereal is not dinner.  [start of cry]  You need to have something with bread for dinner.  [full on crying, now]

Peeved:  Fine!  I’ll go make something out of nothing.

*****

[in the kitchen]

Smalls:  [sobbing in the other room - then... silence]

Peeved:  Smalls…  what are you doing?

Smalls: [in the most pathetic four-year-old voice you can imagine]  Looking at a picture of you [stifled sob] …  when you were happy.

Peeved:  What?

Smalls:  You’re with daddy… [stifled sob]... and …  you’re smiling [full on crying again]

*****

Dear Future Therapist of Biggie & Smalls,

It is all exaggerations and half-truths, I swear.

Sincerely,

Peeved

• never take your contacts out after eating a handful of wasabi almonds
• don’t drink a dry martini immediately after brushing your teeth
• you can’t trust a man to throw out a potholder with a hole in it
• before you leave the bathroom it’s always a good idea to check and make sure your skirt isn’t stuck in your pantyhose
• don’t assume that bar toilets don’t have lids
• you probably shouldn’t buy sunblock that comes with a free bottle of aloe vera lotion

I got this by googling "streaky sunburn" - not sure how to credit the photo.

I learned that last one back when I first met Mr. Peeved (you know, when I was skinny and cute and fun) and we went to a friend’s wedding in Charleston.  I also learned that you should never try to pee in a public restroom while drunk and wearing a pair of roller skates.  Alas, that is a story for another time.  Despite the fact that we had remembered every last thing, including the gin, the tonic, the limes and the roller skates, we somehow forgot to pack sunblock.  So, we did what any self-respecting beach partiers would do… we picked some up at the local gas station. 

On the third day, as we’re getting ready for the wedding:

Mr. Peeved:  Baby, you look beautiful.

Peeved:  Thanks.  Can you zip me up?

Mr. Peeved:  Sure.  Hey, you look a little pink – did you wear sunblock yesterday?

Peeved:  Yeah.  Does it look bad with the green dress?

Mr. Peeved:  No…  well…  it’s just…

Peeved:  Oh my God! What?

Mr. Peeved:  Did you put it on yourself?

Peeved:  Yes!  What???

Mr. Peeved:  It’s, um, a little streaky is all…

Peeved:  What?  What do you mean? [running over to the mirror]

Mr. Peeved:  It’s not bad…

Peeved:  Holy shit!  I look like a freak!  I have to meet all of your friends for the first time and I look like…

Mr. Peeved:  Like a one-armed retard put on your sunblock?

Peeved:  Where’s my gin & tonic?

Yep, there's a reason I'm posing like that.

Since then, anytime something is done half-assed around the house, we blame it on the one-armed retard.  Not politically correct, I know, but as an inside joke, pretty damned funny.

A few months ago, there must have been an eclipse of a blue moon, because I found myself home alone with a bottle of wine and nothing to do.  Bored, I went to the “bathroom closet” to get things out to paint my nails.  I just so happened to come across a box of Sally Hanson Hair Remover Wax Strips.  I don’t know what these were doing in my closet, as I have never waxed anything but poetic in my entire life.  Well, two glasses of pinot and I’m all about trying out a little bikini wax. 

Have you ever seen 40-Year-Old Virgin?  Steve Carell was not acting.  That shit HURTS!  I tried the first strip…  after pulling myself up off the floor and wiping away my tears, I decided two glasses of pinot wasn’t going to cut it.  I sobered up faster than a 13-year-old when the cops start knocking on the door.  One more glass and I went in for the second and third strip…  JESUSF’INGCHRISTONACOWBOY’SHORSE!!!!!!  That was it.  I was done.  I didn’t care that there was only a few patches of smooth skin, I would rather give birth again than to try to make it work.  The next night, Mr. Peeved and I went out to dinner for his birthday.

Peeved:  Okay, I have to tell you something.

Mr. Peeved:  What did you do now?

Peeved:  Why did I have to do something?

Mr. Peeved:  Because, you’re always doing something.

Peeved:  What’s that supposed to mean?

Mr. Peeved:  Oh, just go ahead, c’mon… what’d you do?

Peeved:  Okay, well…  I had a few glasses of wine last night and I…

****

Mr. Peeved:  Are you serious?  What is wrong with you?

Peeved:  I don’t know, I thought it was a good idea at the time!

Mr. Peeved:  You are unbelievable.  I leave you alone for an hour…

Peeved:  I know, I need help.

Mr. Peeved:  Well, at least now we can say we know who the one-armed retard is.

photo from: www.datehookup.com (watch me get flagged at work now)

(A footnote:  before you get all pissed off at me for using the big, bad “R” word, read my About page.  I don’t care what you think, so don’t bother telling me all about it in the comments.  Further, a note for my loyal readers:  sorry I’ve been MIA.  Work and holidays has me in a tizzy.  I’ll try to be better, but everything is okay.  Thanks for your concern and for keeping up the peeve in my absence. )

It’s Tuesday, too.  It has been all day.  Tuesdays are like the 20th birthday of the workweek.  Not quite humpday – so what’s the point?

Rain means that everyone drives like a douchebag hopped up on coffee and diet pills.  Guess what?  Everyone is going to be late.  Now stop honking, stop trying to cut me off and, for the love of puppies, stop riding your brakes.

We don’t need to revisit my umbrella issues, do we?  Umbrellas are to me what picture books are to Stevie Wonder.  Absolutely useless.  Smalls’ daycare doesn’t have covered parking.  What’s worse than driving home in rainy rush hour traffic?  Driving home in rainy rush hour traffic with wet pants slapping around on your ankles, a full bladder and a lightening strike that sends all the traffic lights in a 5 mile radius out of commission.  Oh, and a four-year-old singing Rudolph the Red-Nosed Reindeer at the top of her lungs.  Over, and over, and over again.

Remember that great scene with Kathy Bates’ character in Fried Green Tomatoes?  You know the one where she just guns it into the snotty girl’s car?  Hmm, if only.

This is me today. (photo from some random site that just happened to have a pic of grumpy bear - www.datavis.com)

If you ever watched Montel Williams, you’ll know most psychics are a bunch of BS.  They get little bits and pieces of information and spin them to suckers who ooh and ahh about their talents.  OHMYGODHESTOTALLYPSYCHIC!  Save it.  I don’t believe in psychics, I don’t believe in ghosts and I don’t believe in horoscopes.  (I am extremely superstitious, however, so I just knocked wood.)

photo from funnyaussiesigns.com

Friday night found me and the girls hanging out at my sister, AJenda’s house.  We were sitting around her dining room table having dinner with her husband (who,much to her disappointment, is not Bon Jovi) and my mother.  Mom has always had the most interesting friends.  From the rockstar’s hairdresser wife to the down-and-out dog breeding mother of six, to the guy in line next to her at the supermarket.  She sure knows how to pick ‘em.  Recently, she has started hanging out with the self-proclaimed “gays” – a gentlemen couple that lives in her townhouse complex.  One of “the gays” is a psychic.  A very powerful psychic.  My mother is his medium/channel/what-have-you.  I wish I were making this up.

A redacted version of the conversation (because my mother threatened to take a wooden spoon to me if one word of this “makes it on that damn blog of yours”):

Ma:  So, OneOfTheGays, he’s a very strong psychic.  Very strong.  I told you this.  You aren’t even going to believe this.

Peeved:  Oh God.  Pass the wine, please.

NotBonJovi:  Here, Peeved.  You may want to keep that near you.

Ma:  Yeah, oh yeah.  This is creepy.  You aren’t going to believe this.  So, he had a vision.

Peeved:  Blarbedy, blarbedy.

Ma:  I am serious!  He had a vision and I know it’s for real.

AJenda: How do you know it’s for real?

Ma:  Well, the vision took place here, in this house.  And…

Peeved:  Dun! Dun! Dun!

Ma:  Knock it off!  I’m serious Peeved!  Just because you don’t believe in this shit doesn’t mean it’s not true!

AJenda:  Yeah, let her finish, Peeved. (kick under the table, refill of wine glass)  How do you know it’s real, Ma?

Ma:  Because.  He knew when you walked in the house the stairway was right in front of the door to the left and that it has beige carpet.

Peeved:  Dun! Dun! Dun!  Every house with two stories in suburbia has beige carpet on the stairs and most are right when you walk in the door.  It was a lucky guess.

Ma:  Oh yeah?  Well, how did he know it was on the left?  And, how did he know she had stairs?

NotBonJovi:  C’mon, Ma.  Really?  I don’t believe in all that.  Lucky guesses.

Peeved:  Yeah, or the picture you have of AJenda’s kids on the stairs that’s sitting on your mantle.

Ma:  I don’t have a picture of the kids on the stairs…

AJenda:  Yes, you do, mom.

Ma:  Well, regardless.  There’s more…  OneofTheGays, he’s not the only one who’s psychic.  Your mom’s no slouch, you know.

Peeved:  NotBonJovi, grab that wine from AJenda, I’m going to need it.

*****

Mom's Christmas Gift (get yours at amazon.com)

Later that evening, I was somehow manipulated into putting the lights on AJenda’s Christmas tree.  (One day, I will figure out how she managed to harness the power of manipulation and wield it like Wonder Woman with a lasso.)  Plug the lights in.  Untangle the lights.  Pull the tree out from the wall.  Start to wrap the lights around the tree by walking around it in circles.  AJenda is “supervising” and Ma is sitting back and keeping track of all the spots she’ll have to go back in and fix later.

AJenda:  It looks great, Peeved!  Doesn’t it look great, Ma?

Ma:  Well, I don’t know, there’s a little empty spot right there…

Peeved:  We can adjust it once I’m done.

Ma:  Oh, AJenda, go and take that candelabra off the wall there.  Peeved is going to hit her head on it.

Peeved:  It’s fine, Ajenda, don’t get up.  I’ve been around the tree five times already.

AJenda:  She’s fine, Ma.

Peeved:  (hitting head on candelabra)  OUCH!  Son-of-a!

Ma:  See.  I told you I’m psychic.

It must run in the family. I had this sudden vision of a headache the next day. Although, whether from the wine or the run-in with the candelabra, I'll never know. (photo: indietravelpodcast.com)

 

Brunch, on the other hand…

Buy yours today at atrocities.com

For more things I WON’T be shopping for on Black Friday, stop by the FB page today.  Bring your own atrocity, and don’t forget the wine.  Gobble! Gobble!