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How To Survive A Visit From Your In Laws

1324012756612_5703688My in laws have finally left and surprisingly, I survived. I pretty much avoided them and stayed out of their way as much as possible. Unless of course they took us out to eat. Because HELLO, FREE FOOD! Who the hell doesn’t like a free meal?! Nobody, that’s who.

If I didn’t avoid them as much as I was able to, I would probably be writing this with pencil and paper from a prison cell. I would’ve been all Orange Is The New Black but really though, orange just isn’t my color.

Well, it isn’t really anyone’s color, except for maybe super hotties like Mark Ruffalo, Ryan Gosling, Chris Hemsworth, Liev Schrieber, or perhaps even the always gorgeous Kerry Washington and Robin Wright.

But I’m totally getting off point here.

For the low, low price of zilch, zero, nada, you too can follow these easy steps to survive your visiting in laws.

Take notes, people! There may be a pop quiz later on.

Step 1: Drink… A Lot. Vodka or wine in a coffee mug is a great choice. Especially one that has been hand painted by your child. It will look sweet and innocent but at the same time, you’ll be getting plastered. It’s a win win.

Hiding your alcohol intake will be one less thing your mother in law will judge you by and bitch about. It will also make it more tolerable and entertaining when your in laws tell you stories about your spouse growing up that you’ve heard 1oo times before.

Step 2: Fake an illness (cramps, bloating, pms, mad cow disease, problematic anal warts) and hide out in your bedroom with chocolate and a good book. Make sure to let out a few groans of pain in their presence.

Step 3: Fake raging diarrhea and hide out in your bedroom with chocolate and a good book. Nobody questions diarrhea. Ever.

Step 4: See steps 1-3.

Happy visiting!

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The Trash Can Dance Off

oscarthegrouch1When my husband and I first got married, it was a really tough adjustment living with someone else. But we were in (mostly) newlywed bliss. Despite the several polite, newlywed fights, followed by the make up sex, rinse and repeat, we could do no wrong in each other’s eyes. Even when we wanted to kill each other at times.

About a year after we married and he graduated college, he joined the Navy, went to OCS, and came back home 3 months later. We soon hauled ass to Georgia where he went to school for 7 months. During this time, the newlywed bubble seemed to be popping and that’s when I noticed that my “perfect, could never do anything to annoy me husband” started to do those little annoying things.

When it came to taking out the trash, we were both stubborn as hell and still are. Hence, the trash can dance off.

You may know it. The trash can starts filling up and you stick your foot in it to smash it down and there you are with one foot in the trash can, one foot on the floor, and you may even add a little wiggle while weighing your foot (while wearing shoes) on the trash, stuffing it down as far as you can.

Because you don’t want to be the one to take it out. I leave feeling satisfied that I won’t have to deal with it, only to find out the next morning that he seems to have done the same thing. That’s when we know, without ever speaking about it, that the trash can dance IS ON! This game has been played between us for many, many years.

I’ll spend the day stuffing the trash down, certain that when my husband gets home, he will see it bursting at the seams and will take it out. My husband will come home and be certain that I’ll see that the trash can is bursting at the seams and he’ll think I’ll end up taking it out.

I’ll see the trash can right before bed with the lid poking up as if to say “Please, please one of you stop this silly shit and take me out! I’m going to explode!” I think to myself “There’s no way my husband will be able to put anything else in it the next morning.” And I will be certain that a fresh, new trash bag will be in it by the next day.

Nope.

That butthead is trying to out trash can dance me!! I’ll stuff it down even more with my foot but the lid isn’t having it and still pokes up. Fine, then I just won’t throw anything away today.

But even adding one tissue or paper towel to the trash makes the trash can wave the white flag and surrender. Damn it! Okay, okay, I’ll take it out this time.

But the next time my husband and I have a trash can dance off, I will win.

Oh yes, I will win!

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Despite 3 bathrooms, my kid ALWAYS wants to use the one I’m using. For clarification purposes, I’m not in the bathroom right now. No, really, I’m not.

It never fails. No matter when I need to make a quick trip to the bathroom, my daughter decides all of a sudden that she has to go to. Then it’s a mad dash to get there. We have a guest bathroom but I just don’t like using it.

Mostly because my husband uses that one a lot and so does my 5 year-old. And our 2 cats eat in there so you have to dodge whatever cat food they knocked out of their bowl and onto the floor without it sticking to your bare feet. I guess cat food tastes better off the floor than from a bowl. What animals!

My husband has his own bathroom and the little hummingbird and I share one.

I don’t use the hubby’s bathroom because to be honest, ewww… boys. Walking into his bathroom is like walking on the set of Nightmare On Elm Street, where at any time Freddy Krueger could jump out of nowhere. His bathroom is clean-ish but scary at the same time. When I must walk in for emergency purposes, I swear the music from Psycho starts playing in my mind.

No, you can't make me! I will not go into my man's bathroom!

No, you can’t make me! I will not go into my man’s bathroom!

I’ll slowly open the door. His shower will be dripping. The smell of man pee starts to hit me. There will be an empty roll of toilet paper, just waiting to be changed. His sink will have hair all over from when he shaved that morning. And there will be a big ass ball of clumpy dried soap on the dispenser.

Am I the only one that actually cleans my soap dispenser just so that ball of goop doesn’t form?

But anyway, back to the hummingbird.

She’s not afraid to use his bathroom.  So, I usually ask her to use his so I can use mine. But nope, the battle of the butts is what we usually resort to. Whoever gets their butt on the toilet first wins of course. I’m sure that’s quite a sight. We’ll run up the stairs side by side, giggling all the way up, and we drop trou as soon as we hit the bathroom door.

If she does win, and let’s face it, she is younger and faster, I’ll just wait until she’s done. The hummingbird always asks me why I don’t just go into the hubby’s bathroom and that’s when the Psycho music starts going around in my mind.

SCREECH, SCREECH, SCREECH, SCREECH.

What I imagine happening ever time I take a shower.

What I imagine happening ever time I take a shower.

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When my husband wants to drag me out into the wilderness to go camping, I’m pretty sure it’s because he’s planning to kill me and I start thinking about who I want to play us in the Lifetime movie, Camping With A Killer.

We stopped by Stephen King's house in Bangor on the way to the cabin. Squee!

We stopped by Stephen King’s house in Bangor on the way to the cabin. Squee!

I would hope someone like Jennie Garth would play me but the way things are going for him, it would probably be Shia LaBeouf in a blond wig. I think Kanye West would be a fantastic choice for the role of my husband because Kanye is so damn angry all the time and you need that kind of drama in a Lifetime movie. Could you imagine?

Hey, honey, let’s roast some marshmallows and make some s’mores.

I don’t wanna make any fucking s’mores, damn it!! I’m Kanye West!!! I’m THE MOST CREATIVE person in the world.

Ummm, okay, how about if we go kayaking?

Fuck that noise, I’m Kanye. I AM THE MOST IMPACTFUL ARTIST OF OUR GENERATION.

Well, then, can you read the hummingbird a bedtime story?

No, no I can’t! I AM SHAKSPEARE IN THE FLESH! I don’t need books to read. I’m KANYE! I’m YEEZUS, BABY!

Yes, yes we need Kanye for my Lifetime movie. Talk about ratings gold.

So, anyway, my husband had his birthday recently and wanted to go camping for a few days. He saved his ass by reserving a cabin for us instead of actually sleeping in a tent.

I still got eaten alive by bugs, we didn’t have any air conditioning, and we reeked of bug spray, sunscreen, and smoke from the fire so I still considered it camping.

The second day that we were there, we hung out by the lake for most of the day. Next to us were 2 couples who had about 8 or 9 kids between them and I was in awe over how laid back they were.

We dubbed one of them “the chill couple”.

With just my 5 year-old, I admit I can be a helicopter mom so seeing the chill couple was fascinating. Nothing their kids did seemed to phase them. Chill couple gave their kids money when they asked for it, and the kids came bag with a ginormous bucket of cotton candy and ring pops. Their kids asked if it was okay if they ate it now and chill couple was all suuure.

They were the kind of parents I wish I could be as far as not having anything phase me. I worry about everything when it comes to the hummingbird. I thought it would get better as she got older but I worry more now that she’s out in the real world a little more. And don’t even get me started about her beginning kindergarten in the fall and all the worry I have about that. Eeek!

Anyway, nothing ever bothered chill couple the whole afternoon, no matter if their kids whined, were fighting, or however many times they yelled out Watch! Watch this!! from the lake.

As we were driving back to our cabin that night, my husband let me in on a little secret of chill couple.

He told me they had been slamming back beers since early that morning.

AHA! The secret to chill parenting is lots and lots and lots of alcohol. Duh!

The hummindbird caught a fish.

The hummindbird caught a fish.

I actually had a really nice time once the shock of the wilderness and being eaten alive by horse flies and mosquitoes wore off. Sidenote: Moose have been in the news more frequently here as far as being involved in car accidents. They said the reason they’re more prevalent in the summer is because more cars are on the road AND the summer bugs of Maine drive moose crazy so they run out of the woods into the roads here.

So, yeah, 1,000 pound moose are driven so crazy by the damn bugs here which is why they run into the roads. Now I don’t feel so bad about bitching so much when it comes to the bug bites I get just from being outside a few minutes because even big ass moose can’t handle it.

On the way back home, it took a few hours to get back into civilization and wi-fi and we drove through a really small town that had signs on either side of the street. To the left. Vote Yes! A few feet after that: Vote no!

On the right: Vote YES! Vote no!

We had no idea what this tiny town was voting over but they had the yes and no signs on both sides of the street for at least a mile and it was like watching a tennis match.

Then the husband and I were talking about some of the things we did as kids to our parents. I forgot how that even came up but we agreed that one of the worst things we did was when we would go out shopping with our moms. Back then, they had circular clothes racks and the hubby and I were talking about what a kick we got out of hiding in the middle of the rack.

As I would hear the panic grow in my mom’s voice as she would be calling my name and looking for me, I would be in the clothes rack, giggling like crazy. The hubby also had fond memories of doing that to his mom.

We talked about some more bad behavior like that and that’s when I came to the conclusion that we were total assholes. If the hummingbird ever pulled that on me, unlike the chill couple, I would probably have a heart attack.

Once we finally got home, I actually missed our little cabin but after firing up my laptop and the television, I soon got over that. But, yes, we had fun. And I came out of it alive.

Sorry, Lifetime.

What are you doing this summer?

Comments { 8 }

The promiscuous parakeet and the nympho cat.

When my husband and I first got married, we lived in an apartment that only allowed pets like fish or birds. I don’t know why but we decided to get a parakeet. I’ve never really cared for birds — with their chirping and squawking and their flappy wings flap flap flapping around.

The first parakeet we got was Alfalfa and he was this pretty blue bird. We said we would just have one bird so of course less than a week later, I wanted another one. My husband and I had been in a pet shop and spotted this gorgeous lavendar and white parakeet. That bird’s name was Raptor.

So, Alfalfa and Raptor took over our house pretty quick and the would love to fly into our living room and sit on top of the window curtains while pooping all over.

Yeah, I was not thrilled and found that a bird as a pet was not for me. While we were finding them a new home, we found that Raptor was quite the slut.

One night, Raptor was perched on my husband’s finger and stared rubbing up against his thumb.

We thought “Awwww, how cute. The bird’s being so affectionate”.

Raptor kept on rubbing against his thumb and started making this weird chirping.

We looked at each other and started cracking up. This freaky deaky bird was masturbating. On my husband’s hand.

Ewww.

After that, Raptor would find whatever it was to rub up against whenever her was out of his cage and would go to town. Against our file cabinet, books on the desk, our pencil holder, anything.

We finally found a new home for the birds and said goodbye to the little horn dog.

Not long after, we moved into another apartment that allowed cats and got our kitty, Zira, who we had for over 14 years. We didn’t get her fixed until about a year after we got her so she was in heat a few times.

I don’t know what the hell it was but when she was in heat, the sound of my voice drove her crazy. For some fucked up reason, it got her excited.

Ewww.

Each time it lasted for several days and no matter what came out of my mouth, Zira would be cat moaning MEOWR RRR MEOOWWW.

It was funny but annoying as hell.

Example:

Hubby: Hey, I’m home!

Me: Hey!

Cat: MEW MEW RAWRRR

Hubby: Any plans for dinner?

Me: I was thinking…

Cat: MEOW MEOW MEOWWWWRRRRR

Me: we could have…

Cat: MEOW RAWR MEOWWW

Me: Zira, stop it!

Cat: MEOOOOOWWWWWRRRRRRRRRR RRR RRRR

Me: pizza.

Cat: MEOWWWWWWWWWWW OWWWWW OWWWWW RRRRRR

Even after she got fixed, she was like that for a few more years. As crazy as it made me at the time, looking back, it was fucking hilarious.

*Silverspun Pickups

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That awkward moment when you and your husband are about to go at it and he accidentally pokes you in the ass.

I’ve had my share of sextastrophes in my time, some funny, some cringeworthy… some before my husband.

Whip cream can be pretty damn awesome but if you wait too long, it can be a sextastrophe. During one encounter, it was fun and delicious. Then, about an hour later, it turned sour and the stench was so incredibly nasty.

He was still into it and it was all I could do to keep from gagging. Thankfully, shower sex took care of the problem.

You’re not really sure what to expect the first time the clothes come off. Sure, a penis comes in all shapes and sizes but the crooked ones are tricky. This guy I was seeing when I was younger had such a crooked penis, it could practically be a boomerang.

I’ll never forget standing there and looking at it, thinking how the hell is THAT supposed to work. It didn’t and was the most awkward sex I ever had. Never saw the guy again.

Then, there are those times when something happens that’s absolutely hysterical. My husband and I were being really passionate and everything was in sync. I felt our cat jump on the bed and rub up against my foot. Soon after, my husband had a weird look on his face.

He asked me what I was doing with my hands and I said nothing. That’s when we discovered our cat was licking his ass crack. Well, better her than me. I don’t think I ever laughed so hard in my life.

The one thing I could do without is the accidental ass poke. After all the years that my husband and I have been together, I still get that surprise every now and then.

BUTT POKE!

In my head:

WHOA HO HO HO HO. Wrong hole!! How does he still do that after all of this time?

I’ve had a baby and my vagina is kind of like this big hole now. But he still misses and tries to put it in my ass?

Oh my god… maybe he wants to put it in my ass. Why didn’t he mention this beforehand???

Oh wait… nope… he finally got it right.

Sextasrophe diverted.

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I’ll pass on the carrots.

*This is really gross.

As long as I’ve been with my husband, 19 years, he always has a big bowl of baby carrots whenever we have pizza.

Fine, no biggie, right?

CRUNCH, CRUNCH, CRUNCH, motherfucking CRUNCH!

It’s one of those teeny tiny relationship things that doesn’t seem like a big deal but drives me up the wall after all of these years. Crunch, crunch, crunch is what I hear for what feels like forever.

While we were having pizza the other night, the hummingbird was chewing a carrot and started gagging. The closest thing to me was the big bowl of carrots, filled to the brim.

Gross Alert… she puked in the carrot bowl.

After she finished, my first thought was YES, there go the carrots!!

Yay, I didn’t have to hear that carrot crunch for once!

Thank you, my pukey 4 year-old. Thank you.

*Somewhat Damaged

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