Guns N’ Roses and my peanut butter covered autograph. Sounds way more kinky than it is.

g-n-r1I was born in Los Angeles but when I was 3 years old my mom and I moved several states away to a very small town. Think Footloose but without Kevin Bacon and Sarah Jessica Parker and without the dancing. My mom remarried 4 years later and had my younger sister.

When I was 12, I decided I wanted to live with my biological dad aka sperm donor who lived in California. He was a musician, played guitar and was a singer, and had talent that he eventually wasted. At the time, he was married to my stepmother aka stepmonster aka crazy bitch.

I moved back to California a few weeks before my 13th birthday and kept hearing about this L.A. band that was about to blow up, Guns N’ Roses. Not long after, I saw their first video, Welcome To The Jungle, and was hooked. Flash forward to when I was 14 and living with my sperm donor in North Hollywood.

I just saw Guns N’ Roses a month earlier opening for the Rolling Stones at the L.A. Coliseum and was crazy about them. I found out from a classmate where GN’R bassist Duff McKagan (who I loved at the time and wanted to marry) and drummer Steven Adler (way before he was an obvious mess) lived. The school I went to wasn’t far from Ventura Blvd., which was close-ish to where they lived in Studio City.

My friend Michelle and I decided to hit Duff’s house first. We weren’t sure if he lived in some gated house on lockdown (he should have to save himself from us) and we came up with some lame reason to come knocking on his door so we wouldn’t seem like crazed fans. Ha!

I was going to pretend that I had lost my dog (told you it was lame) and even before knocking on his door, we went to some of his neighbors and fake knocked just in case he saw two crazy teenage girls outside from his window. We thought if he saw us doing this then he would really think I lost my imaginary dog. Because rock stars don’t have anything better to do than look out of their windows all day.

I was surprised by his house, no security gates, no burly bodyguards. We walked right up to his door and rang the doorbell. Nothing. Tried it again. Nada. Then I saw him peeking around a corner from inside his house. Smart man. He even came up to the door but didn’t answer it. Very smart. Then he disappeared and we gave up and went on our way. I’ll never forget, on his porch there was a paper plate with dry cat food so he was probably feeding some stray cat which made me love him even more.

A few days later we skipped the last period of school to walk over to Steven Adler’s house. I don’t know where I got the energy back then because now there isn’t any way you could get me to walk as far as we did. We saw that he lived up this steep hill and even for two 14 year olds we thought holy crap, that’s a big ass hill to walk up. We finally made it up the hill but before we made our way to the front of his house, we had to spray our hair with Aqua Net (I always kept a big can of it in my purse) and put on a few layers of black eyeliner, melted with a lighter of course.

His house was trickier as it had a tall, white wooden fence around it and a security code entrance. Smart man. I was looking through the cracks in his gate to see if anyone was home and saw a few adorable pugs sitting on top of his couch through his picture window in his living room.

So Michelle and I walked over to the intercom with the intention of pressing the call button. The conversation went something like this:

Michelle: Go ahead, press the button.

Me: No way! You press it.

Michelle: I can’t press it, I’m too scared. You press it.

Me: I’m not pressing it, you press it.

The conversation went on like that for a few minutes and finally I said that we might as well leave so I started walking down the sidewalk in front of his house. Michelle stood by the intercom debating whether or not to press the call button. All of a sudden his garage door starts opening and I thought “Oh crap, did I trigger something?” I looked to my left and saw Steven Adler driving up in a black BMW.

I stood there frozen then I tried to get Michelle’s attention. I freaked out and started racing down the sidewalk past his garage to get the hell away since I was too nervous to meet him.

I thought Steven Adler (who was much cuter in person) would see us and close the garage door but as I was speed walking past, not at all obvious (heh), he got out of his car, came up to me, put his hand out, and said “Hi, how are you!” Wha? Me?

I guess I wasn’t invisible like I was hoping so I squeaked out “Hi, I’m fine” and shook his hand. I thought I was going to faint because OMG it’s Steven Adler, the drummer from Guns N’ Roses! Michelle finally realized what was going on and walked down to the garage although the chit-chat between me and him seemed like forever until she got there since I was so. freaking. nervous.

He signed autographs for the both of us, mine said “So Fine Babe” and of course hers said “To My Michelle”. He was truly the nicest, sweetest guy to us. He also gave us both hugs. OMGOMGOMG. I did not want to let him go.

I was so careful with his autograph while we were walking back home. I didn’t have a backpack because I was too cool for one at that age. I had it in my binder and would check up on it on the walk back to make sure it was still there.

The next morning I still couldn’t believe I met him so while I grabbed some peanut butter and toast, I stood there staring at his autograph while thinking I needed to frame it so nothing would happen to it. Then I looked at the clock and saw that I was late for school as usual.

As I was rushing to put his autograph in a safe place, I wasn’t thinking and grabbed it with my right hand that had a glob of peanut butter on my thumb. I raced to wipe it off and ending up smearing it half way across his signature. OMGOMG.

Not long after that I framed it and always kept an eye on it whenever moving after my hubby joined the military. But after 10 moves over the course of 14 years, the autograph is long gone. I find comfort in knowing the peanut butter stain is keeping the autograph company.

*For my mom. After several years of resisting Guns N’ Roses, she was out visiting me about 5 years ago and heard Sweet Child O’ Mine on the radio. She told me she never realized what a great song it was and played it over and over and over again when we were in the car and at home. Or maybe she was just getting back at me….hmmm.

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Twas The Night Before Christmas: Told by the little hummingbird.

Hi everyone, it’s the little hummingbird here! I can’t read yet and I’m still learning to talk but just pretend I can do both.

Twas the night before Cwismas when awl thu the house.

Not a cweature was…

*drops book on floor, runs to get blankie from crib, picks book back up*

*flips page*

The childwen were nestled all snug in their be-des.

*flips page*

*flips page*

*closes book*

*looks at cover*

*opens book up*

He spwang to his sleigh, to his team gave a whi-il

*flips page*

I heard him exclaim as he dwove out of sight,

Happy Cwismas to awl, and to awl a gu night.

Mwah! Bye-byes!

Happy Holidays!

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Thanks to my husband, I received the worst Christmas card ever.

After my husband graduated college, he was planning on getting a job using his engineering degree. When his school had a job fair, some recruiters from the Navy were there. At first the hubby and I thought “no way”.  

But when the great job offers we thought he was going to get never happened and the only offers he got payed less than a job in fast food, we thought about it more seriously. It didn’t hurt that he would be getting more money.

Two of my uncles and two cousins have been in the military but, with the exception of his grandfathers, there hasn’t been anyone else from my husband’s family that has been. When he finally decided to join and go to Officer Candidate School two months later, his parents were less than thrilled.

I know my mother-in-law was furious with me and blamed me. When my hubby and I got married, I was 20, he was 21, and his mom thought we were making a huge mistake. When she married my father-in-law, she was 19 and 3 months pregnant with my husband’s older sister, so her concerns about us being too young seemed a little hypocritical.

I still think that’s why there’s so much tension between me and my mother-in-law. She thinks I stole her baby boy and threw him in the Navy even though he was the one that made the final decision.

He was away at Officer Candidate School in Florida for 3 months and it was awful to have him gone so long. Up until 4 years ago, he was deployed frequently and although I dealt with it, I never got used to him being gone all the time.

We had only been married a year when he joined the Navy so we were still in the honeymoon stage. He graduated OCS and came back home about a week before Christmas. We were going to, ahem, have a few days alone, then we were going to see his family.

He had already bought some presents and put them under our little tree. One of the presents was in a jewelry box and I got so excited. I thought maybe, just maybe, it was a diamond pendant necklace. Looking back, that’s pretty ridiculous thinking since we were young, just starting out, and so broke we couldn’t even afford a toaster.

But sure, my hubby is able to afford a diamond pendant necklace for me. Heh. It actually ended up being a U.S. Navy necklace which was sweet but in my mind, I was expecting a diamond. Then there was the card. Oy!

Since he was gone for 3 looong months, I was expecting a card that was really romantic. I took so much care in picking out his gifts and getting him a really sweet card even though I usually like funny cards.

When I was in the middle of opening the card he gave me, I was expecting it to say how much he loved and missed me. Instead, it was a total crap card. Really. It had a picture of a deer. taking. a. crap. in the woods. I admit, now it’s pretty damn funny but then, not so much.

He had been waiting for my reaction and once I had opened up the inside of the card, he was laughing. I, on the other hand, wondered if I could use the card as a murder weapon and tried to hold back tears. So much for romance.

This holiday remember, if a loved one forgets to give you a card or it isn’t what you expect, know that it could be much worse. You could be given a card with a deer taking a crap in the woods.

A reenactment of a deer taking a crap in the woods. *Face has been edited to protect the innocent.

 **Update. My hubby finally redeemed himself, 10 years later, when he was the card for our 11th anniversary.

*Face edited to protect the not so innocent.

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Guest Blogger: Mandi from My Life The Mom. Does Santa equal lying?

*Not long after I started my blog, I came across Mandi’s blog, My Life The Mom, and this was the first post I read. It was such a sweet post about her daughter and it’s little things like that which I embrace about mommyhood. I’ve been reading Mandi’s blog since. She is expecting her second child and I’m so excited for her!

She was there to help keep me sane when my family and I moved from the east coast to the west coast during the summer and were stuck in a hotel while trying to find a house. Mandi was also there when we moved into a house from hell and had to move *again* after only 3 weeks because of mold. Thank you Mandi!

Santa = Lying?

I am hearing that more and more these days and I don’t quite understand it.  I mean, I get it – you aren’t telling your child the truth because technically you are telling them a lie – but I guess I don’t get it at the same time.

When I found out that they were Santa, more like figured it out because my parents weren’t so sneaky with their Santa gifts and hiding, I don’t remember thinking oh-my-gosh-Mom-and-Dad-I-can’t-believe-you’ve-been-lying-to-me-all-these-years-and-now-I’m scarred-for life-I-can’t-handle-the-pain!

I’m pretty sure it was more like sweet, now I know and the little girls don’t! It was fun to think of Santa coming that night, waking up early to see he’d been there, looking for ski sleigh tracks in the snow, half eaten cookies and a note in scribbly writing.

We had that one figured out though, pretty sure they either just shook like crazy or they had our dear old piano teacher write it for them!  It’s a fantasy that is part of being a kid and something to get excited about every year.

I also heard someone saying that they don’t want their kids looking at Santa and Christmas as just a time for gifts.  They should want to give to others and learn there is more to it than Santa.  And I get that too, but isn’t it okay to want sometimes?

I know we probably do it too much, and in my house I’m sure that’s true, but I’m okay if my children want things.  In my mind, it’s another part of being a kid!  Now wanting and expecting are a totally different topic that we won’t get into!  ;)

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Domo Arigato Mr. Roboto. And why my brother-in-law is living up to his name, yet again.

Last week I tried to do some free association writing but this week I decided to do a too much info post instead. I was doing the TMI posts on my site almost every week up until a few months ago.

The first part of the title of this post has nothing to do with, well, anything really. But it’s better than what I was going to have previously. Since I couldn’t think of anything, I almost went with Enter Title Here. Yep, major suckage.

Earlier, I was changing my daughter’s diaper while she was in the middle of a toddler tantrum. The first thing I thought of doing to distract her was to sing the Styx song, Mr. Roboto.

She calmed down and stared at me, eyes wide. I don’t know if it was my awful singing voice or my even worse robot dance moves that got her attention. Either way, score one for this crazy mama because the tantrum was averted! Aaand now you will probably have that song stuck in your head for the rest of the day. You’re welcome.

My little girl turned 20 months this week, sniff. I can’t believe she will be 2 years old in 4 months AND I have major baby fever. To my surprise, it started when she was about 6 months old. The baby fever has gone from a light tapping in my uterus to a jackhammer. I should really get that checked out.

It doesn’t help that in about 3 weeks I will be celebrating my 8th 29th birthday so I feel like the clock is really ticking.

I wanted to start trying for another little babe around my daughter’s second birthday but despite my crazy baby fever, I wouldn’t mind waiting even longer.

Last year my mom sent a package to us with our Christmas cards along with my little girl’s very first one (with the exception of the one we gave the hummingbird) but the package never arrived. We would joke about all kinds of scenarios about why we never got it. “It probably hates the snow and is chillin’ out on a beach somewhere, drinking pina colada’s”.

Since we didn’t have a house yet when we moved from D.C. to N. Cali over the summer, we forwarded our mail to my in-laws. This year when my mom sent us our cards along with the most awesome Xmas decoration, she made sure to get a tracking number.

Saturday morning my hubby got a call from his mom saying they just received our long-lost package. Yay!

My brother-in-law proved himself to be even more of a douche, didn’t think that was possible, when my in-laws sent out a draft of their Christmas letter to see if we wanted them to add or change anything i.e. what we wanted people to know (or not know) had happened this year.

He bitched about the format they used when emailing it and complained about the punctuation in the letter. I guess the douche doesn’t know the meaning of a draft. His douchiness had me feeling bad for my in-laws…..dammit.

My hubby suggested to his parents that they use PDF when sending the email or else the file would be too big with the pictures included. This was the douche du jour’s response when first asked if he wanted anything to be changed in the letter:

First, let me say how clever it was to ask for revisions, and then send the letter as an uneditable PDF. That’s a great way to keep the requested revisions to a minimum. But, being the hardheaded guy that I am, I exported the text, edited it in Word, and have attached that. I also attached a PDF of my edits in case you don’t have Word.

Thanks,

Douche

Oh yes he did! No wonder his own kids can’t stand him. My hubby told me the douche has way too much time on his hands and it would be better spent with his kids. Screw movie night, this was our entertainment on Saturday.

After emailing back and forth, the in-laws figured he would finally be happy with the absurd changes he wanted but then he sent this (of course names have been changed):

 Couple of little things. Would recommend closing comma after “Laura Ingalls”; “Then we both went out in April,” to contrast with going out by herself earlier; “blessed to have The Wiggles, Elmo, and…” — comma after Elmo, to maintain consistent use of serial comma.

The President of Douchebags

Bwahahaha, it’s times like this when I really, really love having a blog. :D

*Update. The douche is STILL correcting their Christmas letter. I’m never one to do things like this but I replied over his douchey behavior. Actually, I came to my senses right before and just sent this to my in-laws. And dammit once again for my brother-in-law making me feel bad for my in-laws. ;)

Wow, when you asked if we wanted any changes to be made, I didn’t realize every single thing you wrote, especially punctuation, would be picked to death. You’ve been doing this long enough and know what you’re doing. I think it looks great. Looks like somebody just needs to write their own Christmas letter.

Love, Elle

Since I’m on the subject of my brother-in-law being a huge douche cookie, have I got a yummy cookie recipe for you. Yep, that’s a pretty awful segueway.

I found this recipe for cranberry shortbread cookies years ago from a Pillsbury cookbook. It is so easy that I can actually make them and not screw them up. That’s saying a lot. While baking, they make your house smell Amazing!

Super Simple Cranberry Sugar Cookies

1 (15.6-oz.) package Cranberry Quick Bread & Muffin Mix

3/4 cup butter, softened

3 tablespoons of sugar

Heat oven to 350. In large bowl, combine quick bread mix and butter; mix well. Shape dough into 1-inch balls (hehe); place 2 inches apart on ungreased cookie sheets.

Flatten balls (hehe) to 1/8-inch thickness with bottom of glass dipped in sugar.

Bake at 350 for 9 to 11 minutes or until golden brown. Cool 2 minutes; remove from cookie sheets.

Then eat all of the cookies by yourself while catching up with shows on your DVR. When your hubs asks you where all of the cookies are, say “What cookies? I have no idea what you’re talking about.”

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Welcome to the world, Elliot!

I have been following Jess’s blog, Here Comes The Sun, since last April when she first found out she was pregnant. In July she found out her son has gastroschisis. He will need surgery and will be in the NICU for awhile.

On top of that, her husband, Aaron, who is in the military, left for South Korea soon after. They had both been planning to move there but since she was high risk, she decided it was best to stay with her family in the States.

Her husband arrived home from South Korea on December 14 and is on leave for the next 2 months so he can be with his family. Jess was going to be induced on December 16th but Elliot has perfect timing and her water broke on Wednesday the 15th.

Elliot Reid arrived on Thursday, December 16th at 10:08 am weighing 6 pounds 3 ounces. He is already loved by many and although these coming months will be difficult, he’s proven that he’s a fighter. I can also tell by the pictures I’ve seen that he is such a sweetie.

Congratulations Jess and Aaron!



Praying for Elliot

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The bad.

I found out Wednesday evening that my beloved aunt had a massive stroke. She died Thursday afternoon. She’s my mom’s only sibling and I can’t even imagine how difficult this is for my mom.

There isn’t any way I can put my feelings into words because I’m too heartbroken.

My aunt was put into a medically induced coma. When they ran some tests, they found that she had very little brain activity and she wasn’t able to breathe on her own. My poor uncle had to make the decision to take her off of life support.

We know she wouldn’t have wanted to be kept alive by machines.

I’m pissed off and keep thinking WHY HER? I’m so fucking angry.

My uncle doesn’t want a service for her of any kind.

She was a teacher and was actually going to start her retirement today, Friday.

I keep hoping it’s just a bad dream that I’m going to wake up from.

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