Once upon a time, I was a single gal, living in Lincoln Park, and judging all the women pushing around double strollers with Cheerios in their hair. I now have 3 sons, no paying job, and boogars wiped on every article of clothing I own. Help me.
Forget the selfish and self-absorbed hags of Sex in the City; they never did much for my inner lesbian. I like real women. I love real women! The author of We Band of Mothers provides an accurate picture of what it means to be a Real woman.
One of my favorite features of this brilliant blog is "Funny Things My Husband Says"
e.g. -Funny Things My Husband Says
I figure I should probably give a page over to some of the funny things that come out of my husband's mouth that could probably make up an entire blog (except he doesn't know how to type and can barely turn on the computer). I will continue to add to these as I remember things or as new material comes in. Friends and family are welcome to submit any of their favorite Joe-isms to email@example.com:
NEW! C'mon lady! (in the car at the ATM machine behind a particularly slow patron). It's not like you got to program the f*ckin' thing!
Why the f*ck is there braille on the toll booth? (driving to our friend's house up north)
A$$holes are a test from God. If you can get through life without killing one, you go to heaven.
An affair? (a suggestion I made during one of my paranoid-laced pregnancies). You think I'm having an AFFAIR? Like I need two of you in my life?
Every woman is crazy. It's just knowing full well how much crazy you can marry.
Tell the DJ (from our wedding) that if he plays one Rush song, he's not getting paid and I'm punching him in the face.
The only reason your friends think I'm grumpy is because you tell them I'm grumpy. I'm happy, goddammit.
This south side, St. Baranbas Parish bride of one lucky lad, exudes intelligence, warmth, and fierce indepedndence. That is sexy. The Prada and botox'd trout mouths who strut up and down North Michigan Ave. are sad things indeed. They seem so unhappy and uncomfortable in the skin God gave them.
Get a load of these babes! Pleasure yourselves in the world of Real Women.
Monday, September 12, 2011Sex & the City for the Target Crowd
It had been a long week. The school stuff. The bus stuff. The 10-year anniversary. So I did the only thing I could think of when Joe headed off to the firehouse Sunday morning: I got a sitter and called the girls: Atheist-Friend and BFF (I'm still working on a better blog moniker for her).
It was time for breather. Or a bender. I wasn't picky.
We decided on Champp's sports bar because (1) Atheist-Friend likes the salads there, (2) I like the Bears, and (3) BFF likes a good Long Island Iced Tea. A few beers and a 4-shot of Ibuprofen to kill my migraine did just the trick to ready me for our day ahead.
After lunch, we hit a litany of stores. Perhaps there are husbands out there who believe these shopping excursions are completely selfish in nature and designed to feed an insatiable desire for over-priced shoes. I am going to blow the lid off that stereotype right now. If anyone is interested in the truth behind the non-glamorous purchases middle-aged women make, keep reading:
"House shorts" (Atheist-Friend told us she needed a pair for cleaning the house. We couldn't quite figure out what she was talking about until she showed us a pair. Apparently, they are just soft, comfy shorts that are way too inappropriate for a 40 year-old woman to wear in public. So they are relegated to in-house use only, hence the name.
Squash for some very odd macaroni and cheese recipe that Atheist-Friend found
A pack of Cottenelle wipes
A vat of pretzel pub mix for hubby
Clothes for daughter
A book on the mortuary arts
A pack of Swedish Fish (that I ate most of)
House Shorts (because now I was just curious)
Jeans for Danny
The Jaycee Duggar biography
A new back-up hair dryer (the old back-up is out of play because our current hair dryer fizzled out today)
Rice Krispie Treats for the kids' lunches
There is so much more at this treasure trove of sexy feminity!
Click my post title for We Band of Mothers! God bless you,Marianne!