So this one time…

So this one time my doctor found a lump in my breast and after my mammogram and breast ultrasound the radiologist’s office stamped my credit card receipt with a stamp that said “Have a nice day!” (I was fine, by the way.) I sure as shit hope they have other stamps. “Hey. It’ll be okay. or “Sorry about that, life sucks sometimes.” Stupid radiologists.

So this one time I was taking a field sobriety test (long story. I wasn’t driving, but a group of us were parked on the side of the road and since no one would admit who was driving originally SOMEONE who passed a field sobriety test had to drive so they gave us all tests. I guess that wasn’t too long of a story, actually.) Anyway, while I was taking the test a june bug flew in the cop’s eye and he never ended up finishing the tests after that. And that’s how I got to drive everyone home. I ran over the curb on the way out.

So this one time I showed up for a college class I’d been skipping and realized there was an exam and I HADN’T BEEN TO THAT CLASS SINCE THE LAST EXAM. I eavesdropped on a study group- they were discussing the five possible essay questions the teacher had given out and they covered two of the questions while I  furiously wrote notes. When I got the test it was one of the questions that group had discussed. I made a B.







And then sometimes…

I sent this text to my husband and best friend the other day:


Some days I have so much belief in the goodness of our species, and the next day I look down and there is a pile of fingernail clippings on the floor under my chair at the oil change place.





Bathroom Billy Holiday Impersonator

So guess what would be the MOST reassuring thing to hear if some weird psycho burst into a ladies room?

Some 6’6″ drag queen with muscley arms and a cigarette raspy voice tell me: “Honey, hold my purse, I got this.”


Best defender ever!

Seriously people, not a woman alive dislikes drag queens- they’re the best! This Bathroom Bill thing is full on ridiculous. I’d pee next to a set of size 13 heels pointing the “wrong” way in the stall next to mine, no problem.

Also- because I can’t let this go- the conservative right thinks “psychos will use the bill to enter women’s restrooms.” Yeah, hi. That’s already a thing? No one is protecting the women’s bathroom door- they know that right? Can someone please tell the conservatives that it’s heterosexual men attacking women? And to maybe focus on fixing that instead and not use it as an excuse to jack with transgender people?  ‘Kay thanks.

I blame The Silence of the Lambs for this. It’s not the dress part of the “dress made out of other peoples’ skin” that is the problem…


It was a normal day.

Heading to our niece’s birthday party, we were ALMOST there when the toddler started throwing up. Our eight year old was sitting next to her and gagged and puffed out her cheeks and turned towards her older sister. Monty Python came instantly to mind.


Accurate Squash Recreation

Screeching halt. Older children pile out of the car. Clean up is spotty and Mcguyvered from a Target bag, napkins of various origin, and an old water bottle from under the drivers seat. How long it’d been there I have no idea, but maybe the leached out phthalates would have a disinfecting property. I have my doubts, but beggars and choosers and all.

Once we’re at the party the toddler gets a bath because of Puke Hair and we chalk it up to a long car ride after a lunch of raspberries and cheese cubes.

It wasn’t the car ride.

After having to borrow not one but two teeshirts for myself from my sister in law, no extra clothes remaining for the toddler, and the other brother and sister in law vowing to take the older girls home later- my husband and I set off for home, over an hour away. Me in the back seat (puked on again at this point, but I’m not asking for shoes this time for Christ’s sake) holding a towel around the baby, and we’re trying to navigate by memory through the neighborhood.

And that’s when this happens.

“Did we take a left on Kaanapali Ln. or was it Kipahulu Dr.?”

“No, no, left on Manawianui Dr., right on Moku Manu Dr., and then another right on Heleakalaka Dr.”

“Man, I don’t recognize Keanahululu Ln., I think we went to far.”

“Does Lamaloa Ln. run into Nuuanu Dr., you think?”

“Crap! There’s Keanahululu Ln. again!”

That’s right, on top of everything else we were now lost in Tahitian Village in Bastrop, where all the streets have Hawaiian names! LONG and difficult and inexplicable Hawaiian names- none of which is “Aloha.” (Someone tell the developer Tahiti isn’t Hawaii)


(We made it out of the neighborhood and the toddler was fine the next day, but it was a confusing and puke filled commute. Commpuke? Maybe. And if you think for a MINUTE that I didn’t google map the neighborhood so I could use accurate street names you don’t know me very well.)