The Bachelorette: Esta Telenovela Roca!

Five bucks to the first person who can translate that.

Okay, too easy.

However, fifty bucks to the first person who can translate what the heck Jillian is thinking by choosing Wes; the man that Meridith and I watched in utter disdain this week until Mer finally blurted out, "I don't want to be too dramatic, but I wish someone would just go ahead and shoot me in the face."

Nah, not too dramatic at all.

Kudos to my friend Kasey (who lives in Texas and is one of several reasons that state is looking better and better to me...I'm coming for ya, Kase!) who texted me halfway through the show the reminder that watching The Bachelorette must be akin to watching Mexican soap operas, all the drama, the tears, the running towards men and jumping into their arms, drinking wine in hot tubs, etc., etc.

I mean, seriously folks, between the love I have for The Bachelorette and the love I have for guacamole - it's a wonder I haven't switched nationalities.

So, on with the show...

This week two big things happened.

#1. We found out that not only is Wes a loser, but he is also a loser who has apparently killed all the men in his family and buried them in the backyard so that he can be surrounded by only women who fawn over him and believe his low-down, scum-sucking, rotten, twisted lies.

#2. EDDIE CAME BAAAACCCCCKKKKK!!!!!!!!!

And now you know why I watch. Because last night, at my food poisonous weakest, as I was curled up on the couch just wishing that someone would put either me or Jillian out of our misery, there was a knock on the door - and it was Ed.

And suddenly everything was right with my world. (With, you know, the exception of the vomiting and diarrhea.)

Did I not tell you all last week that this season was just getting good? When when when are you all gonna start listening to me? (I would just like to say that I also made a prediction that bangs were making a comeback - and they did. And that body waves were making a comeback - and I still stand beside that.)

So stick with me, my lovelies, I can lead you to the highest heights with both your hair and your reality television choices.

And that right there is enough for us to be lifelong friends.

There's Nothing Worse Than A Big Harry Comin' Atcha.

It's Sunday night at 7:34pm and I know if I don't write this post now, while I have the strength, it won't get writ.

I have just finished watching The Women and I cried.
Because it was sad? No.
Because it was good? No.
But because I feel so truly awful that I cried all the way through the movie.

Food poisoning, I had gotten by just fine without ever meeting up with you.

The Women is just one of 136 movies that I have watched in the past 24 hours thanks to a case of the food poisoning. Or at least we think it's food poisoning (Thanks, WebMD!). But the chills, the body aches (ohhh, the body aches) and the good ol' Texas grip have kept me, shall we say, busy for the past day or so. In fact, it you'll excuse me...

Okay, I'm back.

So Saturday I am listening to Remi tell her favorite Bible Story of the moment, David and Goliath. However, when you watch the story of David and Goliath on Veggie Tales they go by different names - which can lend itself to being somewhat confusing when a three year old tries to relay it. So she's in the back of the car repeating what I believe to be the story of David and Goliath, only with names like Derek and Harry. (Who knows, I don't ask.) And though her retelling of the story was quite cute in itself ...durn it, I have to take a quick bathroom break again...

Okay, I'm back.

...it was the last sentence that summed my weekend up perfectly, "Mom, how would like to look up and see a big Harry?"

Oh, Remi. I think this weekend I did.

I Heart Nard-Dog

Happy Meal.

Well, summer is here and that can mean only three things:

1. Momma no longer gets to post every day because these kids, they are everywhere.

2. Momma no longer gets to potty alone because these kids, they are little freaks and won't leave the room.

3. And Momma has now changed her Netflix plan from "two movies a month" to "how about you just keep 'em coming, whaddayasay?" It was the best plan, I assure you.

Our morning ritual is the same every day. We head into Cool Springs for some swim lessons, followed by a drive thru at Chik-fil-A where I order a 3 count chicken mini and we each (if I'm lucky) get one. Momma usually gets the short end of that chicken stick, let me tell ya. So I order a sweet tea so that I won't completely hate the world.

Then we go somewhere that's free (THANK YOU PUBLIC LIBRARIES!) or we head straight home. Or sometimes we do both; we go to the public library, have to leave early thanks to child rearing issues (what's the issue? I can't seem to rear my child, that's the issue) and head straight home.

And it's on the little jaunt home that we inevitably end up having the same conversation day after day after day after day. It's become quite comforting, to say the least. It goes like this:

Remi: Mama, are we going straight home?

Me: Yes, baby.

Remi: Mama, can I watch Tom and Jerry at home?

Me: Yes, baby.

Remi: And mama, I'm hungry.

Me: I know baby. What do you want to eat.

Remi: I want some jelly and some peanut butter. And I want a sandwich around it. And I want one cookie. And I want those chips. And I want some wahhhhhrrrmelon and strawberries.

I try to drive her crazy by offering up other goods: crackers? cheese? turkey sandwich? two cookies? cantaloupe instead of watermelon?

But the answer is always the same, "no. Just some jelly and some peanut butter. And I want a sandwich around it. And I want one cookie. And I want those chips. And I want some wahhhhrrrrmelon and strawberries."

I have offered McDonalds, Chik-fil-A, Subway and KFC. She'll have none of it.

She has decided what her summer lunch of choice is and she won't budge from it. Not one bit.

And I'm jealous, really. Jealous that a peanut butter and jelly doesn't really do it for me anymore. Jealous that licking the cheese from Cheese Puffs off my fingers is no longer the highlight of my day. I'm also a little frustrated at the fact that watermelon (though delicious and refreshing) is not something I would choose to indulge in every single day when I know darn well its a diuretic! What's wrong with me? And when did I become too good for Tom and Jerry?

Remi's got the right idea. Her meal cost nothing. Well, hardly anything. You buy the ingrediants and they'll last you a month at a time. Buy them at Wal-mart and they'll last you 7 or 8 months......(seriously, there is something I don't trust about their jelly.)

It's her Happy Meal.

When did we get too old to have one?

What's your Happy Meal? Nope. You can't say chips and cheese dip. You don't get to type in "Sushi and fried rice." Not this time. This time think like a child. What is the meal that makes you a little happy and a little 8, all at the same time?

Mine is peanut butter and grape jelly with Doritos. Crushed up. And eaten at the same time with my sandwich.....bite after bite after. It's a side of fresh peaches and Very Berry Fruit Punch. It's eating it off a paper plate while I lay on the couch in just a t-shirt and watch The Love Boat.

I just told you my 4th grade summer. And now, I'm smiling.

What's yours?

The Bachelorette: What The Heck Show Am I Watching?

I can almost guarantee you that last night's episode of The Bachelorette was one of the nights when, oh, I don't know, my Granny decides to see what all the fuss is about. Or my mom decides to sneak a peak of the show I am so obsessed with. Or my mother-in-law decides to see just how sick and twisted her daughter-in-law really is.

Yep, the one night that the show is absolutely so bizarre will inevitably be the one night that everyone in my life decides to watch it.

So if that is the case - if you found yourself tuning in last night due to complete and utter curiosity (and also because The Real Housewives of New Jersey has ended and you had an hour until Jon and Kate came on) - then I must tell you, WHAT YOU SAW WAS NOT TRULY WHAT THE BACHELORETTE WAS ABOUT!! I implore you people, give it one more shot.

To be perfectly honest, there were moments when even Meridith and I looked at each other and said, "What is happening here?" Did anyone else feel that way? So here are a few high-lights and low-lights from last nights show. Please feel free to add your own.

1. Where was Jillian? She may have been talking into the camera, but she certainly wasn't there. Did anyone else notice this? She looked completely spaced out the entire show....she's grieving Ed. We all are.

2. Tanner. Tanner. Tanner. Dear Tanner, pull your pants up, put her shoes on and go home. I have never before gotten The Bachelorette and Cinemax confused until you showed up.

3. Seriously? A romantic dinner served on ice sculpted chairs, tables and glasses? Where am I? Canada? The last date I went on I stood in line and ordered a Burrito and split a Reese's while watching a movie. That's real life, people.

4. Reid, you were a nice little surprise. I like neurotic. And I adore sarcastic. So all in all I was pleasantly surprised. I think she was too. I would now like to lift my 30 pound ice glass in a toast to you, but I'm too out of shape to try.

5. Jake went home. This was a high-light for me as I felt that Jake, though kind and gentlemanly, was a tad too cheezerific. My gut tells me that on his way home he helped an old lady cross the street, pulled a child out of a well, and landed his plane on the Hudson. I could be wrong, but I rarely am.

6. I would like to reserve number six to discuss Wes. But I really do not believe that he is worth discussing. And may I just be totally 8th grade right now and add..."also 6 is totally in the number 666 which is like, totally, the sign of Satan. And Wes is - for sure - Satan. And I hate him. And also six rhymes with sticks - and I would totally love to hit Wes over the head with a stick and send him straight to 666, which totally, don't tell my dad I said this, means h-e-double hockey sticks."

7. Thank the Lord for Tivo which allowed Meridith and I to rewind the "Next week on...The Bachelorette" 100 times and sigh deeply in hopes that the person coming back to sweep Jillian off her feet is none other than - ED!

Stay tuned my lovelies, it's just gettin' good.

To My Baby Daddy.

This weekend is Father's Day. And though I would really love to write a post about my father and how much he means to me and how much I truly adore the man, he politely asked me to never mention him on this blog again. Apparently he "knows people" who read this blog and therefore would like to be de-tached from me in every way possible.

I figure he ain't the only one.

So I will respect his wishes and leave him outta this one. Though he's gonna be sorry. This post is going to be heartfelt, meaningful and sappy. He's gonna wish he was a part of it. Oh, yes he is.

So here are my top ten reasons why my husband is The World's Best Dad. (Oh sorry. Did you all not know this was a contest? It is. And your husband lost. Oops.)

10. When my husband and I were newlyweds we would occasionally talk about children. Mostly it was when were in a restaurant and a child was acting up beside us and we would roll our eyes and say things like, "I would take that child out of this restaurant and..." - well, you get the picture. But during that time my husband was adamant about the fact that he would never - ever - ever - kiss our children on the lips. Never. Ever. It was gross. It was just weird. I told him he would, he swore he wouldn't. He does. In fact, last night as I was making bacon and eggs for dinner he was rolling in the floor kissing our daughter all over her face - lips included and screaming "these lips belong to daddy and don't you ever forget it!"

Oh...and side note. Our children act like rebel hostiles in a restaurant on almost every occasion and he never - ever - takes them out of the restaurant. He's alllll talk.

9. Every time he walks in the house from work he kisses me. Even when Remi runs screaming into his arms he walks straight toward me and says, "Momma first. Always, momma first." Gosh I love that.

8. You know what the biggest threat around our house is? Not a spanking. Not a time-out. Not the threat of no Tom and Jerry after dinner. It's that when daddy gets home from work there will be no play time. Play time with daddy is like bringing Six Flags into your living room. And it works every time. "Remi, if you don't straighten up I will tell daddy there will be no play time tonight." "He won't throw me up? Or do 'sack of potatoes' or tickle me or play hide and seek?" "Nope." "Then I be good girl, momma." And she always is.

7. Rocco is adopted. And The AG thinks he looks just like me.

6. He knows every word to the opening credits of "Mickey Mouse Clubhouse," "Diego," "Dora," and "Winnie the Pooh." As well as to "Life is A Highway" and "Hard to Handle" by the Black Crows. That's my man.

5. He makes plans with Rocco. "We will do this..." and "we will go to this..." and "I will take you to this..." or "I can't wait to teach you this..." And he plans on keeping every one of them.

4. Remi is adopted. But he always says, "I don't think we adopted her, I think we've always had her. She acts just like you and looks like me." And I couldn't' agree with him more.

3. He would move heaven and earth to make them happy. He would even move to Texas.

2. One night I was listening to him say his prayers with Remi and instead of saying the same ol' "Now I lay me down to sleep..." prayer, I heard him begin to pray, really pray, with her. In a few weeks I was laying down in my bed not feeling well and it was Remi that prayed the same prayer over me that he had prayed with her; protection, healing, God's touch. And from her daddy she learned to say, "Thank you Jesus. And it's in Your name we pray. Amen." He did that. Not me.

1. His kids and their momma can talk him into anything. Absolutely anything.


Happy Father's Day, Mr. Attorney General.
You're better at this than I could have ever imagined.

Dear Director, You Look Lovely.

Dear Vacation Bible School Director,

I would like to volunteer to serve.

Yeah, I said that.

Upon some further investigation into scripture I have realized that it does, indeed, say we should help to serve our local church body.

So? Here I am! Where do I sign up?

Oh, but before you put my name down just anywhere on that ol' list of yours I have a couple - just a little bitty smidgen, really - of things I'd like to ask of you...

1. Would it be possible to place me somewhere to serve that might be, I don't know, fun? Not that every part of VBS isn't fun - it is. It really is. But I just mean somewhere where there is a lot of a-c-t-i-o-n going on allll the time. I mean, I am a pretty "with it" person (or so my mom tells me) so would you mind placing me in an area of high traffic and even higher chit chat. Of course, I mean chit chat with adults, which leads me to number two...

2. I am not a big fan of kids.

3. When you are considering placing me in an area of servitude would you think long and hard before putting me anywhere without air conditioning. It will be embarrassing to call in sick on day two, but I'll do it. Try me.

4. Another thing to remember is that kids - with the exception of my own, and even that's a gamble - really don't like me.

5. I like to talking to adults. But not mean adults, who can't understand why they can't drop their child off an hour early and pick them up an hour late. Or mean adults, who want to know how their little tyke ended up with a broken arm. Or mean adults who roll their eyes and say things like, "Jeremy is really too old for this kind of thing, but I have to have time to tan this morning so he's coming even though he hates it." Oh, and that reminds me...

6. I really don't like super happy people, either. So don't stick me with anyone who drinks four cups of coffee before 8am, who thinks singing "I Am A C, I Am A C-H, I Am A C-H-R-I-S-T-I-A-N" is just the catchiest thing she's ever heard, or who looks good in shorts.

7. Did I mention kids are not really my thing?

8. Do not - I repeat - do not make me wear a T-shirt. I don't like wearing t-shirts that are matchy and proudly announce what our theme is and that we are in VBS week. I feel certain that anyone who sees my face for that entire week will know that we are in the midst of VBS week. Also, I cannot squeeze Laverne and Shirley into a thin, cotton, tee. I've tried.

9. Kids? Nope.

10. So to repeat, I like high traffic, chatty areas, populated by adults and in almost freezing conditions. I do not like t-shirts, kids or women who look cute in shorts.

Oh my goodness, thank you so much for allowing me the chance to serve this year. I am honored to just be a humble part of what God is going to do in the high traffic, chatty areas of our local air conditioned facility.

Oh...and don't thank me. Thank Him.

Melissa

Bachelorette: Ed Is Dead

You know, I missed posting yesterday and so I was all pumped to watch The Bachelorette and write about all the geeky things the guys said and how it creeps me out just watching Wes breathe...but then tonight I watched The Bachelorette and, well, nothing.

Nada.

Zip.

Zero.

Nothing at all happened.

Well, I mean Jillian went sledding. Jillian made snow angels. Jillian cried. But heck, Jillian does those things every week.

Okay, one thing did happen. Ed went home. Which left me staring helplessly at the screen while I cried into my spaghetti.

Meridith didn't cry though. Nope. She looked right into the T.V. and yelled, "ED! I'MA COMING ATCHA ED! WAIT FOR ME! I'MA COMING!"

But the poor guy had to choose between losing his job back home or leaving the show. And let's be honest, this recession is no time to be shucking jobs in hopes that you may or may not get time in a hot tub where you may or may not be all alone with the woman of your dreams and ten other men and you may or may not get a rose.

Life is a gamble, I suppose.

Ed...we hardly knew ye.

P.S. In case you're wondering what that tombstone means, I have no idea. But I found it humorous nonetheless.

Sweet, Sweet Summertime.

We went and picked berries. Did you hear me people? That means I got out of my air conditioned car and did something that requires bending over. Do they mail the Mom of the Year award to me, or do I have to go somewhere and pick it up?

I want to get all Southern Living on you right now and say something about these strawberries like, "A gathering of strawberries will pull friends and family to your table if topped off with plenty of homemade cream and laughter." But instead all I can say is...these only cost $5! So on this day I was being active AND thrifty. Hellllooooo, two for two.

I honestly don't know who's more handsome.
But I know who makes more money - so that's the one I'm stickin' with.

She held this strawberry so gently. So sweetly.
Then she crammed it into her mouth like she'd been on a medical fast for the past week.

This is the face of both guilt and innocence.

Hope you're summer is as sweet as this.
Have a good weekend, my friends.

You Give Love A Bad Name.

Today's Stretch Marks post is a special collectors edition of an interview conducted with Meridith.

Sweet Meridith. Sweet, innocent Meridith. Sweet, innocent, single Meridith. Meridith: The worst bachelorette in the history of the world. And now you will know why...

~~~~~~~~~

Me: So Meridith, tell me where you were on Sunday morning.

Mer: I'm not funny at this. And then you're gonna write this...no, that's not funny...you're gonna make up stuff...no, stop.

Me: Meridith, just tell me where you were on Sunday.

Mer: I was at church.

Me: Meridith, what church was that? Was it "Bedside Assembly?" The church you've been going to the past several weeks? The church with Bro. Sheets and Sister Pillow?

Mer: No, this was actually church church.

Me: Okay, Mer. What happened on Sunday at church that made you call me in a panic from the church parking lot?

Mer: Well, I was actually going to text you while everyone was giving offering but I thought that might be inappropriate so I waited to call you.

Me: And what did you call me about?

Mer: I wanted to tell you who was in church...who was only two rows in front of me.

Me: And who was that?

Mer: Danny Gokey.

* For those of you having trouble following us, Meridith is sitting in church with Danny Gokey. He is single. She is single. He sings. She voted for him.

Me: Meridith, did you enjoy your conversation with Danny?

Mer: I enjoyed the view.

Me: That is not what I asked.

Mer: I didn't talk to him. I was respecting his anonymity.

Me: Let me ask you this...did he get up and speak at church?

Mer: Yes.

Me: About his stint on American Idol?

Mer: Yes.

Me: That's not anonymity.

Mer: Melissa, he just started a foundation in the name of his deceased wife. I have a feeling he's not over it.

Me: What exactly is your point?

Mer: I don't' know how to answer that question. That was my answer. I can't be the silly girl that runs up to him and acts interested. Wait, don't type that...stop it. STOP!!!

Me: Meridith, how do you expect me to marry you off if you won't play by my rules?

Mer: I never asked you to marry me off. You're not my father.

Me: Don't get too serious, too heavy.

Mer: I told you I'm lame on paper.

Me: Meridith, you're not lame on paper. You're Andy Richter to my Conan O'Brian.

Mer: Okay, anyway...I didn't talk to him because I didn't want to be some pathetic groupie girl. I didn't want to come across as needy. Desperate. One-without-a-life.

Me: But I had the perfect opening line.

Mer: I was not going to say that!!!

Me: All you had to do was walk up and say, "Adam - I loved you on American Idol. I voted for you the night you wore the snakeskin pants."

Mer: (Laughs) I would have ended up saying something lame like, "I was so touched by your ministry."

Me: But see? We could work that to our advantage if you would have just said, "I so badly want to be touched by your ministry."

THE END.

Have a Gleeful Wednesday, Y'all!

This makes me so happy.



And for those nay-sayers out there who will watch this and go, "what the heck is this about? And what kind of dorks would actually do this?" (I know who you are, by the way) Let me go ahead and answer your questions for you.

1. This is GLEE CLUB. And glee club, my friend, is all about the nerd jam.

2. And I'm the dork that would actually do this. And did.

So just watch it and tell me you didn't feel happy afterwards. I dare you.

Don't stop believin'.

The Bachelorette: Don't Hate Me Because I'm "Too Perfect."

This show just keeps getting better and better.

And here's why:

1. Juan and David are kicked off on the same night.

This, my lovelies, is called irony. And though irony is usually only used on really deep shows like LOST or General Hospital, it is now used on dating shows as well. I must say I've never been so happy to see a momma's boy and a truck driver kicked off a game show. (And by momma's boy I mean "one who loves his momma and lives to make her happy and has tendencies like his momma." And by "truck driver" I mean "one who drives a truck.")

2. Tanner rats out the guys and then refuses to fess up.

This was a classic Bachelorette moment for many reasons. Mainly because I think Tanner did the right thing in telling Jillian that there were some weasels in the group, but secondly because he stood there so terrified that the other guys would know he was the rat that it looked like he was going to potty on himself or cry. I wasn't sure which. I was crossing my fingers for an emotional cry fest. Durn.

3. Ed.

4. Jake the pilot from Texas.

Jake, the pilot from Texas, has a condition. This condition is known as the _____ ______ syndrome. You may ask why I left those little blanks blank and I'll tell you. When I was in high school there was a guy who was so nice and so kind and so cute that he made me throw up a little in my mouth. Which is a shame because he was a really great guy he was just a bit, how shall I put this, cheezy. And though there are a lot of girl who want a great guy - not a lot want a greatly cheezy guy. And since I have some friends who I went to high school with who read this blog I fear that I cannot put his name down. (Though chances are they would totally agree.)

So my rescue plan for Jake, the pilot from Texas, would be this: wake up one morning and don't shower or put product in your hair. Wear jeans that have holes in them that were actually torn by hard labor or a bar fight - don't buy them that way. The next time Jillian tells you to be more yourself and quit trying to be so perfect, don't smile at her, just look her straight in the eyes and say "why don't you say that with your top off?" Women love that.

5. Ed.

6. Jillian finds the date with Kypton to be the most romantic and "real-life" one yet. Really? Could it be because you went to a grocery store and bought stuff to make dinner, at home, in the kitchen, just the two of you? Really?? That is more romantic and "real-life" than repelling down the Bonaventure hotel in Los Angelos or jumping into a hot tub with 12 other men while sipping wine on a rooftop? Hmmm. That's weird.

7. Wes, the skeev, tells Jillian that he has 12 or 13 more songs that he'd love to sing her. Liar. What he meant to say was "I have 12 or 13 more chords I know on my guitar that will allow me to sing the words 'they say...they say love, it don't come eeeasssyyyy' in different keys. Wanna hear it? Back at my place?" Yuck.

Why do I get so mad at this show each and every week and still watch it? Why? You know the answer...so go ahead and say it. That's right: it's called IRONY, people.

Your thoughts?

Group E.

Please don't think that I am going to let the fact that out of 46 comments on Friday, almost 40 of you could, in fact, do the crab crawl. That shall not go unnoticed - I assure you. I am just praying about how to address the issue without hurting any feelings. Because my gut tells me that if you can crab crawl we can't be friends. And if you crab crawl AND you do crafts or if you can crab crawl AND still be 6 months pregnant...well, lose my number. That's all I'm sayin'.



So my sweet Attorney General knocked my socks off this weekend, he really did.






I cannot begin to tell you how all kinds of excited I was. I was more excited to see this concert than I was to see Twila Paris at Knotts Berry Farm circa 1981. This band, for me, is the pinnacle. And that's saying something because the last pinnacle for me was when he took me to see Celine and she started her concert on the bow of a boat. And her heart went on. And on. And on.


That's right. If you're keeping score I've seen Celine Dion...Twila Paris...don't forget the Russ Taff / David Meece tour... and well, that about covers it. But now......COLDPLAY!!



Oh, and this group. Though I have to tell you I had no idea who they were until Meridith informed me their big song was on Grey's Anatomy. That's Mer for ya - she knows every example has to have a TV reference or I'm lost as a goose.









Oh? Did I not tell you Meridith went? Yep. She loves her some Coldplay too. Here we are giving the AG our best sexy pose. I don't know what she's doing, but I think it's time this mama bear gave her some pointers. As you can see, I've (as the kids would say) "got. it. goin'. on."








Don't worry, I'm not even going to brag about our seats. Though they were all kinds of awesome.
















And I'm certainly not going to make you jealous by telling you how they walked off they stage and proceeded to come right up to where we sitting and sing. RIGHT BESIDE US! And at one point I could have sworn on my mother's life that Chris Martin's sweat hit my face; but upon further investigation it was the girl in front of me who's gum flew out of her mouth.







And though there's nothing like waking up at 3AM singing...
"Those who are dead / are not dead / they're just living in my head" it didn't bother me.

The Attorney General was bothered, however, when I told him that I thought the La Vida Loca concert was one of the most amazing things I'd ever seen. Because as you know, Ricky Martin sang La Vida Loca. And this, my lovelies, is NOT Ricky Martin.








Not even close.

Fat and Crabby.

Today's comment box had better be full. That's all I'm sayin'.


There were so many things I was considering posting about today: my favorite summertime treat that I love to take to grill out's even if people get sick of it and ask me to just bring paper plates...the fact that the AG is taking me out tomorrow night for something that I can barely even talk about for fear I'll drool on myself...or the fact that So You Think You Can Dance is back on and once again I truly believe that if someone would give me a chance I could do some pop and lock.


But I have decided to forgo every bit of the aforementioned items for this one thing.


Tuesday I took Remi to a Tiny Tumblers class because, and I'm gonna be honest, I cannot watch that child flip over another thing in my house without worrying that her neck is gonna snap and I'm gonna get blamed for it. So in an effort to support her decision to flip around the house and pick things up with her toes I took her to her first class. It was in this class that they did the "Crab Crawl."


A simple crab crawl; don't you remember it from elementary school? You simply crawl backwards or forwards using your hands and legs. Watch here if you don't remember.



How to Do Crab Crawl Exercises -- powered by eHow.com


Is something wrong with me?


I cannot do it.


I cannot do it.


I cannot do it.


I have tried. Over and over. But I cannot, under any circumstances, lift my rear end up off the floor. And yes, I've considered that there might be something wrong with my floor.


So on this Friday would you do me a favor? Just try it. Right now, where you are, lay out on the floor and try the crab crawl. Go ahead...I'll give you a second.


Now, see that little comment area? Let me know how it went. Don't leave me a message on how I shouldn't be so hard on myself - it's a little late for that - I currently have a three year old laughing in my face. Just give me a "yes" or a "no" okay? And just know that if the yes' outweigh the no's I will be considering drowning myself in an icebox pie later in the evening.


Is it just me or do you think the fact that I can't do a crab crawl is a pretty sure sign that I can't do pop and lock? Never say die!!!!!!!!

How To Have a Wicked No. 3

By Remi Radke.

Here are my tips for having a super awesome three year old birthday. It beats wearing stupid hats and pretending like we're having fun playing outside even though it's 108 degrees in the shade.

You heard it here, folks.

Tip #1: Start your day with a healthy breakfast; it's your choice, after all, it is your day. I chose strawberry pancakes with whipped cream and bacon. Then, after eating 2 1/2 bites, hide under the table and scream "but I'm full." Your mom will get a real kick out of it.

Tip #2: Have your parents get into a varied array of arguments over whether or not they should be spending hundreds of dollars to take a 3 year old to Chattanooga for an entire weekend. Have your dad say things like, "It would cost us less to hire some stupid magician or have pony rides than it will for us to take two kids and four family members to Chattanooga." Have your mom say things like, "I waited nine years for this baby and so help me she WILL see an IMAX movie on her birthday." Have your mom win.


Tip #3: Ask for a Snow White Costume. Wear it everywhere that will embarrass your dad to death. Decide that either you will wear your Snow White dress or you will go naked - his decision. You will find that he will opt for the costume.

Tip #4: Get gifts. Great gifts. Train sets. And dolls. Get the most excited about the bug catcher that cost $6.99.

Tip #5: Only take along people that will spoil you rotten. Here are some of my personal favorites...

Tip #6: See an IMAX. Get really bored in the middle of it and ask your Poppy for some popcorn and a coke. See Poppy run. Sit on Poppy's lap. Spill Coke on Poppy. Take off Poppy's glasses and drop them. Watch Poppy's blood pressure go up.

Tip #7: Whenever you are walking through the aquarium, make sure to get tired. Then give sad eyes to Bubba and he will pick you up and carry you for as long as you need. Works every time.

Tip #8: Throw a temper fit. Just to remind everyone that 3 is really not that old.

Tip #9: Beg your mom to buy you cupcakes from Gigi's. The kind with strawberries inside of them. The kind that are pink. With tiaras. Watch her drive 2 hours with them in the back of her hot car. Then refuse to eat one because you would rather have gum. Watch mommy get so frustrated she eats three right in a row.

Tip #10: On the last day go for a hike with your family. Convince them that taking you up a mountain and through caves is a good idea. Watch mom suggest she stay in the van because "Rocco is tired." Watch how everyone feels about my mom's evil plan to sleep and read a People magazine while I beg people to hold me, cry that I'm scared and loudly proclaim "if you don't take me to tee-tee I will tee-tee in my panties" every 20 feet.







Tip #11: Start now planning for next year. Vegas! Here we come!

The Bachelorette: Instability At It's Finest

I like Jillian, I do. I like her hair and the way she says "aboot" instead of about. I like the fact that she's spunky and that she can pull off a denim short set that I wouldn't wear in my worst nightmare. I do not, however, like the fact that she obviously forgot the memory verse that a good dose of Sunday School could have brought her...James 1:8. "A double minded man is unstable in all his ways."


Enter: David.


Not since I watched the 48 Hours Mystery about the couple from Long Island who were axed to death in their bedroom have I been so worried that someone was going to die. For those of you who are not watching the Bachelorette let me fill you in on David. He is three things that every girl loves in a man: angry, drunk and expletive laced.


And as Meridith puts it, "The angrier he gets the lazier his right eye gets." Are you in love yet? Yeah, I know. Us either.


I could talk about Juan, the contractor from Texas who the Attorney General said is "one date away from realizing it isn't women he likes."


I could talk about Wes, the country music crooner who apparently wrote an opening line for a country song when he was 12 and has been unable to veer from it ever since. For the love of corn, if I hear him bust out in "They say...they say that love, it don't come eeeeaaazzzzyyy" one more time I am gonna hurl.


I could talk about Kypton, but I'm afraid he'd hear me since HIS EARS ARE HUGE.


But instead I will just talk about the fact that Ed and Robby might be the two cutest bachelors I've ever seen. I love them. And I want her to love them. And then I want her to break one of their hearts. And then I want ABC to ask the loser to come back and be the next Bachelor. And then I want Meridith to go on the show and win that losers heart.


After all, Meridith should be with a big loser.


Kidding.


I loved Ed from the beginning. But I have always had a thing for men who have a touch of "sexy nerd" to them. Has anyone seen the AG? Honestly, the AG wrote the book on Sexy Nerd. Just ask him - he'll tell ya.


And then there's Robby. Who looks like Jimmy Kimmel's little brother. His smile is adorable. And you know what I love most about it? It doesn't come with F-bombs and cheezy country lines.


Your thoughts America?

Oh. My. Lord.

How long has it been my friends? A year? Two? It certainly feels like it. Or is that just me?


To me it feels like when you were back in the 10th grade and you missed a week of school because you had strep-throat and when you finally get back to school after a whole week you know absolutely NOTHING about what your buddies are talking about at the cafeteria table. It's a lonely feeling. Or is that just me?


I am so happy to be back with you all. Make no mistake about it, my computer is still jacked up. I have a virus that I apparently received by email and I'm not naming any names but I really wish the sweet lady who gave birth to my mother and sends me $20 on my birthday every year would quit forwarding me stuff she finds on the internet. That's all I'm sayin'. But again, I'm not naming any names.


So anywhoo I have this virus and it won't let me do anything at all that has to do with Blogger. I have been reading y'alls blogs this week and it won't let me leave comments or create new posts. It won't let me contact them through their website. Nada. Believe me, I could take this personally. But I'm more mature than that. So I've just decided to sit idly by until Blogger contacts me and tells me that they have missed hearing from me and want to make sure I'm happy with their service and if there is anything they can do to facilitate me. And if that doesn't happen then I will probably bury myself in some Blue Bell and lie under the covers for three days. But like I said...I'm pretty mature.


But oh the stuff I have to tell you all.


Like...


The Bachelorette. I want to talk about it. I must talk about it. I have to talk about it. So I am going to need for you all to watch this show and then discuss it with me on a weekly basis. Give me your word on this, 'k?


Or the fact that I never even got to talk to you all about Kris Allen winning AI. Can you believe it? I was so dedicated to posting and then just before the finale - KAPOW! - my computer closes for business. Oh my gosh, I just realized something. Maybe it was Adam Lambert who had my computer taken over by a virus. Or maybe it was that devil possessed KISS group he was singing with. Oh, I kid. They're not demon possessed. Although don't think my youth pastors growing up didn't try to make us think they were by playing their songs backward and hearing them say "We have sex and drink alcohol and smoke cigarettes while talking about the devil and all the stuff that rhymes with devil."


Or the new show I'm obsessed with on A&E aptly named, Obsessed.


Or the day I slipped in the shower.


Or Remi's third birthday extravaganza in Chattanooga with the entire family. At one point during the weekend I slept in the van for 2 hours just to avoid hiking.


Did anyone watch the episode of Glee that premiered after American Idol? I will be discussing this later on this week due to the fact that I loved it so much and the lead actress was me all during high school (with the exception that I'm blond and she's not.) Oh yes, she's that obnoxious.


The hot sandwich I ate off the pavement. Long story. Okay, short story.


Berry picking. Yes, y'all. I went berry picking. Which means the Lord is probably coming back very shortly.


Rocco. Just because it's Rocco and he's adorable and I'm deeply passionately in love. 'Nuff said.


Okay, so see? We have so much to catch up on. And I shall be doing just that. Later this week. I'm so happy to be back. Even though I'm having to use the AG's computer and he's glaring at me across the room. (FYI: I'm not scared of him. At all.)


So until we meet again...


Oh, and by the way...I won't be discussing the day I slipped in the shower.


Or the hot sandwich.


Goodbye.